宗鏡錄 30.3.3

30.3.3

[such a person] is a true fellow-practitioner, a true scion of the Dharma King, continuing the lineage of the Three Jewels and keeping it from interruption. If one cannot contemplate the mind born of itself in a single thought and answer these questions one by one, one is a retinue member of heavenly Māras and non-Buddhists, driven by them, precisely situated in the prison of the three realms without any prospect of escape. If in one's citta one is not content and seeks to be pulled out, one will inevitably fall into the pit of the two vehicles and the three evil destinies, severing for oneself the dharmakāya and the life of wisdom, and exterminating the retinue of bodhi. Such a person ruins the house of the Great Vehicle in the Buddha's Dharma-realm. How lamentable, how lamentable! What can be done? If contemplating the mind born of itself involves such gain and loss, contemplating the mind born of other, born of both, or born without cause is likewise so. Explanation: These thirty-six questions on contemplating the mind ascend to match the compassionate mind of all Buddhas of the ten directions, leaving no kindness unrequited, and descend to meet the sorrowful supplications of the multitude of living beings in the dharmadhātu, responding to every resonance. Up to the wondrous gate of practice, the protocols for delivering beings, the mutual containment of teaching and contemplation, and the complete interpenetration of principle and phenomena: it reaches to the fruit and embraces the cause, benefiting both oneself and others; the ten bodies respond everywhere, and the four lands are encompassed. Merely contemplating one's own one mind, nothing is not fully provided. As the verses of the treatise say: 'If one does not cast food to the black crows, / how could one repay the kindness of the white crow? / Not only is the field poor, / but there is no seed of equanimity. / If the rain of Dharma does not fall, / the Dharma-seeds will surely wither. / Each will lack provisions for future lives; / forfeiting the three benefits leads to suffering.' The commentary explains: This verse clarifies that failing to cultivate the contemplation of the stations of mindfulness means lacking the seed of equanimity; failing to abide in reliance on the prātimokṣa means not having a fertile field. Why so? Now, contemplating the stations of mindfulness of the Great Vehicle means contemplating the body of the five aggregates of birth-and-death as neither withered nor luxuriant, which is itself the great quiescent absorption. The Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: 'Form is liberation, nirvāṇa,' and so forth up to 'consciousness is liberation, nirvāṇa.' If one cultivates this contemplation of the stations of mindfulness, this is contemplating all living beings of the six destinies as being themselves the great nirvāṇa of permanence, bliss, self, and purity, fully endowed with the knowledge and vision of the Buddha, like Sadāparibhūta's consummation of complete faith. A sūtra says: 'Giving to the lowliest beggar in the city is equal to [giving to] the Tathāgata Duḥprasaha.' If so, how could one distinguish between what is a field and what is not a field, what may be given to and what may not be given to? Therefore, the contemplation of the stations of mindfulness is itself the seed of equanimity. If one does not cultivate it, one sees a difference between birth-and-death and nirvāṇa, and a disparity between ordinary beings and sages. Taking sages as the field of reverence, one reveres them and gives; taking ordinary beings as the field of compassion, one loathes them as lowly and does not renounce [wealth for them]. Hence it is said: 'there is no seed of equanimity.' Now, taking a king as an analogy is an analogy for lacking the seed of equanimity. Long ago there was a king; [the story] merely borrows the white crow to symbolize the sage and the black crows to symbolize ordinary beings. The king symbolizes living beings who do not cultivate the stations of mindfulness—persons who do not cultivate the seed of equanimity of the stations of mindfulness. Thus he discriminates between the two fields of compassion and reverence. However, when internally one lacks the way of the round contemplation of the seed of equanimity, externally one cannot broadly propagate and convert [beings to] the Great Vehicle. How could one repay the Buddha's kindness? Furthermore, breaking the Tathāgata's prohibitive precepts leaves one without a fertile field. Therefore the verse says: 'If the rain of Dharma does not fall, / the Dharma-seeds will surely wither.' These two lines clarify that when the four assemblies lack the capacity for precepts and wisdom, the sages do not respond. Why so? The Nirvāṇa Sūtra says that Cunda himself said: 'In my body now there is a fertile field, free from all weeds and waste. I hope only for the Tathāgata's rain of nectar-Dharma to water my bodily field and cause the sprouts of Dharma to grow.' Yet now the four assemblies do not cultivate the way in reliance on the stations of mindfulness, so they lack the seed of wisdom; they do not abide in reliance on the prātimokṣa, so they lack a fertile field. Since there is no seed, living beings have no capacity to move the sages; how could they attract the response of the sages' rain of Dharma? How could the sprout of living beings' Buddha-nature not wither? Thus, internally lacking good capacity and externally lacking the sages' response, the sprouts of the Dharma-seeds wither as well. This forfeits the bliss of the three benefits of nirvāṇa in the present and the future, instead further inviting the suffering of the three paths. Again, the verse says: 'Being able to repay the kindness of the white crow, / one universally casts food to the black crows.' The commentary explains: This verse clarifies that having the seed of equanimity and also having a fertile field, one can cast food to the black crows and can repay the kindness of the white crow. Why so? The Buddha and the sages can awaken living beings so that they are not harmed by the snake poison of the three poisons and various kleśas; this is the sages' kindness toward living beings, just as the white crow awakened the king so that he was not harmed by poisonous snakes. A sūtra says: 'Practicing in accordance with the teaching is called repaying the Buddha's kindness.' Now practitioners, relying on the contemplative wisdom of the stations of mindfulness and abiding in reliance on the prātimokṣa, are practicing in accordance with the teaching, which is called repaying the Buddha's kindness. Furthermore, being able to guide and transform all living beings through their own practice is universally casting food to all the black crows, being able to repay the kindness of the white crow. Again, the verse says: 'Guarding the corner of the nose in ānāpāna, / and cultivating the contemplation of the impure: / by ānāpāna one attains the four dhyānas, / yet does not escape the suffering of naraka. / Through the impure [contemplation] one claims to be an aśaikṣa; / inverting one's bowl, one accepts food from a woman. / Even if one is reborn according to one's dhyāna, / one falls into the difficulty of the long-lived devas. / For such causes and conditions, / one must compose the Treatise on Contemplating the Mind.' The commentary explains: This clarifies the inversions of cultivating dhyāna in phenomenal characteristics. The line 'Guarding the corner of the nose in ānāpāna' indicates the chapter topic on cultivating the four dhyānas with outflow. The line 'and cultivating the contemplation of the impure' indicates the chapter topic on cultivating phenomenal dhyāna without outflow. 'Guarding the corner of the nose' means settling the citta on the nose. 'Ānāpāna' means counting breaths. Because of counting breaths, one can attain the four dhyānas and eight concentrations. Long ago there was a monk who attained the four dhyānas and considered himself an arhat; facing death, he slandered the Buddha and fell into hell. Long ago there was a monk who studied the contemplation of the impure; for a short while he subdued his citta and thoughts of desire did not arise, so he regarded himself as a sage. Later he went out to a village to beg for food; seeing a woman offering food, lustful thoughts immediately arose, and his emotions became confused and his citta intoxicated: inverting his bowl, he accepted food from the woman. Now, attaining dhyāna through counting breaths, even if one does not give rise to slander and does not fall into hell, one is reborn according to one's dhyāna and falls into the difficulty of the long-lived devas. Therefore we know that if one cultivates the way in the four stations of mindfulness of the one mind, not forgetting the compassionate father's instruction, one is a truly filial descendant; merely entering the mirror of the source, there is no kindness that is not repaid. Therefore, if the citta is correct, the ten thousand dharmas are all correct; if the citta is deviant, the ten thousand dharmas are also deviant. If, apart from one's own citta,