宗鏡錄 45.2.2

45.2.2

Nature is empty and tranquil—this is the contemplation of emptiness. These two are non-dual, and the nature of form is inconceivable—this is the contemplation of the Middle Way. The three have no before or after; they are all the one mind. The unobstructed nature [explained] above is profound, wondrous, and difficult to conceive; how can beginners enter into it? Now I shall summarize: if only one can know that phenomena and principle are unobstructed, and that the sense faculties and sense objects are unified as suchness, then thoughts will not arise, and one will naturally enter into it. Therefore, principle is present right within phenomena—how could there ever be any obstruction? Outside the mind there are no objects, so thoughts naturally do not arise. In this way, one enters into the one mind of the mirror of the source and achieves the dual practice of śamatha and vipaśyanā; only then can one consummate the adornment of concentration and wisdom, benefit oneself and benefit others, and complete inexhaustible practice. Moreover, if a person whose mind is not at peace remains within the triple realm, having not entered the gate of śamatha and vipaśyanā and not being one who trains and studies, their passions are pulled by the myriad objects and their mind gives rise to hundreds of thoughts. Flung into the firebrand wheel of the five desires, they never have a moment's leisure; sunken into the dungeon of the five turbidities, when have they ever briefly escaped? The dust-nets are thousandfold, densely and constantly cloaking the ground of the mind; the ropes of craving have ten thousand knots, strand upon strand binding the field of emotion completely. They rear high mounds upon the mountain of pride, horizontally blocking the dharmadhātu; they churn huge waves in the ocean of greed, swallowing whole the currents of desire. Like ants gathering and bees swarming, they toil incessantly in conditioning; like rats pilfering and dogs thieving, they scurry about plotting. The flames of the eight sufferings burn ceaselessly; they are ever submerged in the river of the two kinds of death. Transmigrating in birth and death, entangled in suffering and distress—all of this is simply because they cannot calm their own minds. Now, for the solitary awakened person amid the long night of birth and death, the defilements of ignorance, and the great dream of the triple realm, who wishes to cut open the net of craving, penetrate the origin of suffering, and seek the great tranquil bliss of the Tathāgata: directly accord with the gates of pacifying the mind as described above, without prioritizing concentration or wisdom. Concentration is the substance of one's own mind; wisdom is the function of one's own mind. Because concentration is wisdom, substance is not separate from function. Because wisdom is concentration, function is not separate from substance. When both are blocked, both disappear; when both illuminate, both are preserved. Substance and function mutually accomplish each other; blocking and illuminating are unobstructed. These two dharmas of concentration and wisdom are the essentials of cultivation, the great purport of the patriarchs and buddhas, equally expounded by the sūtras and treatises. Therefore, the Lotus Sūtra says: 'By the power of dhyāna-concentration and wisdom, one attains the realm of the Dharma.' It also says: 'Adorned with the power of concentration and wisdom, by this one delivers sentient beings.' A verse in the Avataṃsakasūtra says: 'Deluded views of sentient beings always follow and bind them; the beginningless dense forest has not been cut away. Arising together with volition and born alongside the mind, they constantly shackle each other without interruption. They are merely false thoughts and not real things; not separate from the mind, they have no location. Displaced by the realm of dhyāna-concentration, they still regress; only when extinguished by the adamantine path are they destroyed once and for all.' The Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra says: 'Practicing concentration and wisdom equally, one clearly sees the Buddha-nature.' It also says: 'First, shake them with concentration; later, pull them out with wisdom.' The Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: 'Dhyāna-concentration is the father, and wisdom is the mother; they can give birth to all guides.' It also says: 'Through the power of karma one enters birth and death; through the power of concentration one transcends birth and death.' Therefore it is said: without wisdom, dhyāna has no way to exhaust its tranquility; without dhyāna, wisdom has no way to unfold its illumination. Why is this? Dhyāna without wisdom is merely phenomenal concentration; if one attains wisdom and contemplates the nature of the mind, it becomes supreme concentration. If wisdom does not attain dhyāna, it is merely scattered, wholesome discrimination; if wisdom possesses concentration, it is like a lamp in a windless chamber, tranquil yet capable of illuminating, free from fluctuating discrimination, thereby constituting true wisdom. If concentration and wisdom are practiced together, with movement and tranquility harmoniously merged, then thought after thought one enters the gate of samādhi, and with profound tranquility one exercises boundless illumination. As with the various teachings and various proofs above, harmonized and analyzed in this manner, trimming the verbose to keep the essential, discarding the false to preserve the true, through countless myriads of expedient gates, all sentient beings are led to enter entirely into this mirror of the source. It is like having a jewel in a pouch: if one does not reach in and display it, who would know of it? It is like a gold treasury in a room: without meeting a wise person, how could it be excavated? If a pearl is concealed in an inner garment and not pointed out by a close friend, how could one attain wealth? Like the family treasure of the poor son, without the guidance of the elder, how could he inherit it? Even if one clearly understands, believes, and enters without doubt, it still depends on the individual to overcome oneself and accomplish it, to smelt and polish residual habits, and directly achieve correspondence. At all times, one must never forget to illuminate. Weighing for oneself what is raw and what is cooked, one should adapt to each situation: this is the time to cultivate concentration; this is the time to cultivate wisdom. If the mind is restless and scattered, one must practice samādhi; if the mind is dull and sunken, one should open the gate of wisdom. If one resides in the stages of seeing and cultivating [the path], this is the time for practice, not the time for realization. If one abides within the stage of ultimate identity, this is the time for realization, not the time for practice. One must not hurriedly grasp realization like those of the two vehicles, sinking into the ocean of the reality limit and drowning in the pit of liberation. Nor should one emulate the unlearned monk who falsely claimed the unconditioned and sought ascent only to fall, like an ascetic non-Buddhist who merely casts himself into the net of views, expecting awakening yet meeting delusion. This gate of concentration and wisdom is the path of true cultivation: the bright sun illuminating the gate of the source, the swift vessel sailing the ocean of awakening, the two wheels carrying the great white-ox cart, the two wings soaring to the sky of the supreme meaning. Through equal training, one clearly sees the Buddha-nature; adorned [with them], one can deliver sentient beings. Becoming the king of the Dharma realm relies on these two powers; emerging from the depths of the ocean of birth and death completely depends on dual cultivation. Dispersing delusions and chaos like the wind blowing clouds, destroying ignorance and darkness like the sun illuminating the world, it shakes the deep thorns of wrong views and uproots the thick roots of ignorance. It serves as the yin and yang of the great ocean of awakening, and acts as the father and mother of the King of Precious Flowers. It provides the foundation of the One Vehicle and strengthens the ramparts of the myriad practices. In accord with this, one can enter the mirror of the source. Previously, drawing upon the Tiantai teaching, five hundred gates of pacifying the mind were explained, all to adapt to capacities and apply medicine according to the disease. Now, according to the teachings of the patriarchs, there is one more gate that is the most concise and essential: that of 'no-mind'. Why is this? If one has a mind, there is unease; if one has no mind, there is natural bliss. Thus a verse by an ancient worthy says: 'Do not make a companion of the mind; with no-mind, the mind is naturally at peace. If you take the mind as a companion, as soon as you stir you are deceived by the mind.' The Lotus Sūtra says: 'The Dharma King who destroys existence.'