宗鏡錄 32.21

32.21

Answer: This is the very beginning of the arising of delusion, the start of the revelation of reality, the root of confusion and awakening, and the source of defilement and purity. Therefore it is said: ‘That which is supremely wondrous, numinous and pervasive is designated the Way.’ Thus outside citta there is no Way, and outside the Way there is no citta. It is subtle, wondrous, and exceedingly deep; it is not the realm of ordinary people or followers of the Hinayāna. Bodhisattvas know it partially; only a Buddha penetrates it completely. Because those of the two vehicles only awaken to the four dwelling-places [of affliction] and do not comprehend avidyā, the consciousness arisen from this avidyā is not their sphere. At the beginning of the ten faiths, when a bodhisattva first generates the mind [of bodhi], they contemplate the substance of cause and effect in the dependent origination of the fundamental consciousness's own-nature, and thereby succeed in establishing right faith. The Saṃgraha says: ‘When a bodhisattva first arises, they should first contemplate the real causes and conditions of all phenomena.’ This is what is meant. The real causes and conditions are none other than the one mind, the fundamental consciousness. This, then, is the start of the revelation of reality. The Awakening of Faith says: ‘Because of not awakening to the one dharmadhātu, citta does not correspond; avidyā discriminates, giving rise to all defiled minds.’ The ‘one dharmadhātu’ means that the non-dual true citta is the one dharmadhātu. This does not mean ‘one’ in the sense of counting; it means that it is empty, interfused, equal, and non-dual in accordance with principle, and is therefore called ‘one’. This, then, is the very beginning of the arising of delusion. Furthermore, it is because of not recognizing avidyā that one becomes a sentient being, and by fully comprehending this avidyā one becomes a Buddha. This, then, is the root of confusion and awakening. Furthermore, the one dharmadhātu in its entirety serves completely as the gate of arising and ceasing, and in its entirety serves completely as the gate of tathatā. Accompanying the dharmadhātu leads to escape and liberation; opposing the dharmadhātu leads to bondage and saṃsāra. This, then, is the source of defilement and purity. For this reason, the thousand sages look up to it as mother and teacher; the host of worthies take refuge in it as sovereign and guide. It is the framework and backbone of all sūtras, the compass of all phenomena. To speak of it in essence, nothing exceeds this. Therefore a sūtra says: ‘Citta is the root of phenomena; citta creates heaven, citta creates hell.’ If one were separated from the citta of sentient beings, what other ultimate or conventional matters would there be? For all phenomena are merely like shadows and echoes. As Layman Xiang said: ‘Shadows arise from forms; echoes follow upon sounds. Playing with the shadow wearies the form, not knowing that the form is the root of the shadow; raising the voice to stop the echo does not recognize that the sound is the source of the echo. Seeking nirvāṇa by eliminating the body of affliction is likened to removing the form to search for the shadow; seeking the Buddha-Way by departing from the citta of sentient beings is likened to silencing the sound to search for the echo.’ Hence we know that confusion and awakening are of a single track; foolishness and wisdom are not distinct. Giving names where there are no names, right and wrong arise based on those names; establishing principles where there are no principles, disputations arise based on those principles. What is illusory is not real—who is wrong and who is right? What is false is not substantial—what exists and what is empty? One should know that gain is without anything gained, and loss is without anything lost. Therefore we know that if one merely comprehends the one mind, all phenomena are calm and extinguished. As the Avataṃsaka-sūtra states, the elder Muktaka said to Sudhana: ‘If I wish to see the World of Peace and Bliss and the Tathāgata Amitābha, I see them as soon as I wish. If I wish to see the World of Sandalwood and the Tathāgata Vajraprabhāsa; the World of Wondrous Fragrance and the Tathāgata Ratnaprabhāsa; the Lotus World and the Tathāgata Ratnapadmaprabhāsa; the World of Wondrous Gold and the Tathāgata Śāntaprabhāsa; the World of Abhirati and the Tathāgata Akṣobhya; the Well-Abiding World and the Tathāgata Siṃha; the Mirror Light World and the Tathāgata Candrabodhi; the World Adorned with Precious Lions and the Tathāgata Vairocana—all such [Buddhas] I see immediately. Yet that Tathāgata does not come here, nor does my body go there. I know that all Buddhas and my own citta are both like dreams; I know that all Buddhas are like reflections and shadows, and my own citta is like water; I know that all the physical marks of all Buddhas and my own citta are both like illusions; I know that all Buddhas and my own citta are both like echoes. Because I know thus and remember thus, the Buddhas I see all come from my own citta. Good son, you should know that a bodhisattva cultivates all Buddha-dharmas, purifies all Buddha-kṣetras, amasses wondrous practices, tames sentient beings, gives rise to great vows, enters into sarvajñā, attains sovereignty, playfully wanders in the inconceivable gate of liberation, attains the Buddha's bodhi, manifests great supernormal powers, goes everywhere throughout all dharmadhātus in the ten directions, and universally enters all kalpas with subtle wisdom—all such things come entirely from their own citta. Therefore, good son, you should assist your own citta with wholesome dharmas; you should moisten your own citta with the water of the Dharma; you should purify and govern your own citta regarding sense-objects; you should strengthen your own citta with vigor; you should make your own citta broad and open with forbearance; you should make your own citta pure and white with realization of wisdom; you should make your own citta bright and sharp with wisdom; you should open and develop your own citta with the Buddha's sovereignty; you should make your own citta vast with the Buddha's equality; you should illuminate and inspect your own citta with the Buddha's ten powers.’ The commentary explains: ‘Citta encompasses all phenomena. This means that not only does one-moment contemplation of the Buddha arise from one's own citta, but the myriad practices of a bodhisattva and the substance and function of the Buddha-fruit are also not separate from citta. It also eliminates the error of false grasping, namely the view which holds: “All phenomena are citta; letting it be as it is, is Buddha. Why wear oneself out with the myriad practices in vain toil?” Now it is clarified: although citta is indeed Buddha, it has long been obscured by defiling afflictions. Therefore, through the supplementary cultivation of the myriad practices, it is made brilliant and clear. It only says that the myriad practices come from citta; it does not say that non-cultivation is correct. Furthermore, since all phenomena are citta, how could cultivation obstruct citta? Therefore it is said: rolling up, unrolling, and transforming reside solely in citta; longevity, early death, gain, and loss are governed solely by citta.’ Therefore, ‘the three hundred poems of the Odes may be covered in a single phrase’; the five thousand teachings [of the canon] can be unified by the one mind. It is truly the essential ferry for entering the Way, the profound mirror for practice. It truly speaks deeply of the Buddha's intent and wondrously penetrates true emptiness: lowering the head and raising the hand completely enter the perfect cause; giving rise to a thought and stirring the mind all coincide with the fundamental fruit. It digs up the dry earth of the ordinary person to see the water spring of all Buddhas; it revives the scorched sprouts of the two vehicles to bear the fruit of eternal bliss; it transforms poison into amṛta; it turns curds and butter into ghee. It determines father and son, fully entrusting the family treasures; it brushes away expedient traces, suddenly opening the jewel treasury. What is recorded now in the Mirror of the Source purely investigates the correct source of the patriarchs and Buddhas. If one wishes to see the Way and cultivate practice, there is nothing outside one's own body and citta. As the verse in the Avataṃsaka-sūtra says: ‘The body is the treasury of the true Dharma; citta is the unimpeded lamp. Clearly comprehending that all phenomena are empty is called delivering sentient beings.’ Hence we know that the body is the convergence of dharmas: not a single dharma lies outside my field of the body. Citta is the light of wisdom: not a single wisdom is separated from the ocean of my citta. If one is deluded about this, the body becomes an accumulation of suffering and the source of illness, while citta acts as avidyā, a hostile bandit. One must first examine the traces of faults and afflictions to be cured, before establishing the gates of merit that can cure them. Thus, among the faults produced by all sentient beings, none exceed body and citta. If one wishes to counteract them, it is only through precepts and wisdom. If one cultivates bodily precepts, then the precepts become urgent and wondrous practice is accomplished; if one cultivates citta's wisdom, then the vehicle becomes urgent and the true nature is revealed. Therefore, when both vehicle and precepts are urgent, principle and practice are both perfected; primary and auxiliary aid each other, and only then does one enter the mirror of the source, illuminating inside and outside, a single Way, clear and empty. As the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra says: ‘Furthermore, one who does not cultivate the body cannot contemplate the body; although it is without fault, it is constantly an enemy. Good son, it is like a man who has an enemy constantly pursuing him, seeking an opportunity against him. Once a wise man becomes aware of it, he focuses his mind and carefully guards himself; if he does not carefully guard himself, he will be harmed by him. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this: they are constantly nurtured with food, drink, cold, and warmth; if they are not cared for and guarded in this way, they will instantly disintegrate and be ruined. Good son, it is like a brāhmaṇa serving the god of fire, constantly offering incense, flowers, praise, prostrations, and offerings, serving him for a full hundred years. If he touches it even once, it immediately burns the man's hand. Although this fire received such offerings, it never has a single thought of repaying the kindness of the one who served it. All sentient beings are also like this: although for many years one supplies it with fine incense, flowers, necklaces, clothing, food, drink, bedding, and medicine for illness and emaciation, if it encounters internal or external adverse conditions, it instantly perishes and is ruined, remembering nothing of the kindness of previously supplying clothing. Good son, it is like a king who keeps four venomous snakes, places them in a single chest, and entrusts them to a man, commanding him to care for and feed them. If among these four snakes, one should mistakenly become enraged, it can harm the man. Terrified, the man constantly seeks food and drink to guard and care for them at all times. The four great elements, the venomous snakes of all sentient beings, are also like this: if one element becomes enraged, it can ruin the body. Good son, it is like a man long sick who should seek medical treatment with a sincere mind; if he does not diligently seek it, he will undoubtedly die. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this: one should always restrain the mind and not allow it to be heedless; if one is heedless, it will perish and be ruined. Good son, it is like an unbaked earthenware vessel that cannot endure wind, rain, striking, throwing, mallets, or pressure. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this: they cannot endure hunger, thirst, cold, heat, wind, rain, striking, or harsh scolding. Good son, it is like an ulcer that has not yet ripened; one must always guard it well and not let anyone touch it. If someone touches it, it causes great suffering and pain. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this. Good son, it is like a mule becoming pregnant, which harms its own body. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this: when there is wind and cold within, the body suffers pain. Good son, it is like a plantain tree: when it bears fruit, it withers. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this. Good son, it is also like a plantain tree having no core of solid substance within. The bodies of all sentient beings are also like this. Good son, it is like snakes, mice, and weasels, which constantly harbor hostility toward one another. The four great elements of sentient beings are also like this. Good son, it is like the king of swans, who takes no pleasure in graves and tombs. Bodhisattvas are also like this: regarding the grave and tomb of the body, they also do not greedily delight in it. Good son, it is like a caṇḍāla who, continuing for seven generations, does not abandon his occupation; therefore he is despised by others. The seed of this body is also like this: the seed of semen and blood is utterly impure; because it is impure, all Buddhas and bodhisattvas despise and rebuke it. Good son, this body is not like the Malaya Mountains, which produce sandalwood; nor can it produce utpala flowers, puṇḍarīka flowers, campaka flowers, mallikā flowers, or varṣikā flowers. Its nine apertures constantly leak pus, blood, and impurities; its place of birth is foul and filthy, ugly and repulsive, and it constantly shares the same place with various worms. Good son, it is like the world: although there may be a supremely wondrous and pure park, if a dead corpse enters it, it becomes impure; everyone abandons it together and does not give rise to love or attachment. The rūpadhātu is also like this: although it is pure and wondrous, because there is a body, all Buddhas and bodhisattvas abandon it together. Good son, if anyone is unable to make such a contemplation, it is not called cultivating the body. As for one who does not cultivate the precepts: Good son, if one is unable to contemplate that the precepts are the ladder to all wholesome dharmas and also the root of all wholesome dharmas—just as the earth is the source from which all trees grow, so the precepts are the leader of all wholesome roots, like a merchant caravan leader guiding all merchants; the precepts are the supreme banner of all wholesome dharmas, like the supreme banner erected by Śakra, lord of the devas; the precepts can forever cut off all bad karma and the three evil destinies; they can heal malignant diseases, like a medicinal tree; the precepts are provisions for the perilous path of saṃsāra; the precepts are armor and weapons that destroy the evil bandits of saṃyojana; the precepts are an efficacious mantra that extinguishes the venomous snakes of saṃyojana; the precepts are a bridge for crossing over evil karmic deeds—if anyone is unable to contemplate thus, it is called not cultivating the precepts. As for one who does not cultivate citta: one is unable to contemplate that citta is light, agitated, and fluctuating, hard to grasp and hard to tame, galloping and fleeing like a great rogue elephant, momentary and swift like lightning, restless and unsteady like an ape, like an illusion, like a mirage, being the root of all evils. The five desires are hard to satisfy, like fire obtaining fuel, or like the great ocean swallowing all rivers, or like Mount Mandara where grasses and trees proliferate. One cannot contemplate that saṃsāra is false and unreal, leading to delusions and bringing about afflictions, like a fish swallowing a hook. It constantly leads first, with all karmas following, like a cowrie shell leading its young. It is greedily attached to the five desires and takes no pleasure in nirvāṇa, like a camel eating honey even unto death without regard for fodder. It is deeply attached to present pleasures and does not contemplate future faults, like an ox greedily desiring sprouts without fearing the whip and rod. It gallops everywhere through the twenty-five states of existence, like a fierce wind blowing tūla-cotton. It seeks what should not be sought, seeking insatiably, like a foolish person seeking heatless fire. It constantly delights in saṃsāra and does not delight in liberation, like a nimba bug delighting in the nimba tree. Deluded, it loves and clings to the foulness of saṃsāra, like a prisoner delighting in the jailer's daughter, or like a latrine pig delighting in residing in filth. If anyone is unable to contemplate thus, it is called not cultivating citta. As for one who does not cultivate wisdom: one does not contemplate that wisdom has great power, like a garuḍa bird; it can destroy evil karma and destroy the darkness of avidyā, like sunlight; it can uproot the tree of the aggregates, like water floating objects away; it burns away false views, like a raging fire. Wisdom is the root of all wholesome dharmas, the seed of the mother of Buddhas and bodhisattvas. If anyone is unable to contemplate thus, it is called not cultivating wisdom. Furthermore, if anyone cultivates and amasses [the four dharmas of] body, precepts, citta, and wisdom as spoken above, they can contemplate all phenomena as identical to empty space; they see no wisdom, see no wise person, see no folly, see no foolish person, see no cultivation and amassing, and see no cultivator. This is called a wise person. Such a person can cultivate and amass body, precepts, citta, and wisdom. This person can cause the karmic retribution of hell to be experienced lightly in the present life. Even if this person performs extremely heavy bad karma, by reflecting and contemplating, they can make it slight and light, thinking: “Although my karma is heavy, it is not equal to wholesome karma. For example, even if raw cotton weighs a hundred pounds, it can never equal a single ounce of real gold. If one throws a pint of salt into the Ganges River, the water does not become salty, and those who drink it do not notice. It is like a vastly wealthy person who, although owing millions in jewels to others, cannot be bound or made to suffer. It is like a great fragrant elephant who can break iron chains and walk away with sovereignty.” A person of wisdom is also like this.’ However, although the contemplation of the body as impure above was given to break ordinary people's attachment to this toxic body as the root of suffering—wherein they do not plant the fruit of bodhi and only sink into the mire of the five desires, unable to benefit themselves and others, which is why it was rebuked and demolished—yet if one relies on these karmic traces to continue the right cause, then without entering the great ocean of afflictions, it is difficult to seek the jewel of awakening; without residing in the defiled soil of worldly toil, how could the pure flower blossom? Therefore the Avataṃsaka-sūtra says: ‘Not loathing the suffering of saṃsāra, one only then perfects Samantabhadra's practice.’ Again, as the Mahāratnakūṭa-sūtra says: ‘The Buddha said to Upāli: “A person of the śrāvaka vehicle, up to and including, should not give rise to a single thought of taking on a future body; this is called a śrāvaka maintaining the pure precepts. Yet for a bodhisattva, this is called a great breaking of the precepts. Up to and including, when a bodhisattva-mahāsattva practices the Great Vehicle, being able to endure taking on bodies for immeasurable asaṃkhyeya kalpas without giving rise to loathing or distress, this is called a bodhisattva maintaining the pure precepts. For the śrāvaka vehicle, this is called a great breaking of the precepts.”’ What is recorded now in the Mirror of the Source gathers the wondrous intents of the definitive meaning across all Mahāyāna sūtras solely for the purpose of awakening to the source and practicing the Bodhisattva-Way. It expounds the wisdom of Avalokiteśvara's Universal Gate, with traces accommodating square or round; it enters Samantabhadra's inexhaustible source, operating citta without boundaries.