北山錄 2.4

Persons of manifest capacity affirm existence (manifest means clear: relying on the teachings of words and discourses, they traverse the gates of practice and realization). Persons of subtle capacity affirm non-existence (subtle means silent: transcending the marks of words and discourses, they leave behind the realm of deliberate activity). Opposing one another, [each] takes [their own view] as the Way (those who speak of the ultimate are still confused about the conventional; those who preserve the conventional have not yet understood the ultimate; each clings to it as the Way). Like a single wheel galloping down a highway, or a single wing soaring to heaven—how could they together succeed? (Single means solitary. Wing means feather. A carriage fundamentally turns by two wheels; a bird flies with two wings. Now if one is not completely penetrated in the ultimate and conventional, it is like a carriage with a single wheel or a bird with a single wing. Together means uniformly.) Yet if the Way is not magnified, being held as an authority by creatures, it will lack that whereby anything is accomplished (lack means not having. Accomplished means successful. If one does not magnify the Way of the ultimate and conventional and yet wishes to be a master to creatures, one will surely achieve nothing). Therefore, taking the two gates of ultimate and conventional as the pivotal summary of the Way, one blows the ten thousand existences into a single point, and stills the multitude of activities at the cessation of all omens. Boundlessly, it is truly the level road to enter the non-dual Dharma gate (subsuming the myriad existences into a single import, and silencing the multitude of thoughts to obliterate their signs; regarding whatever one confronts, one is clearly without obstruction; not grasping inner or outer, the middle is fundamentally non-existent; this then is entering the non-dual gate). Why is this? Converging at the utmost and casting off emotional grasping is called the ultimate; initiating subtly and engaging in activity is called the conventional (one does not necessarily take reaching the supreme realm as the ultimate, nor does one take engaging in the marks of conditioned activity as the conventional. How could it be expected to be so?). That which is ultimate is the emptiness of nature (meaning the emptiness of the true nature, the principle of perfected nature); that which is conventional is provisional existence (meaning dependent illusory existence). The existence of provisional existence is called apparent existence (such phenomena are fundamentally non-existent; relying on conditions they exist, but when conditions disperse, they are absent; it resembles the existence of illusory transformations). The emptiness of the emptiness of nature is called true emptiness (because above the true nature, the hundred negations and four marks are clearly ungraspable). Therefore, the awakened master establishes that the ultimate and conventional conflict in appearance (the ultimate is wuwei, and the conventional is saṃskṛta; because the two dharmas are different), yet unifies the ultimate and conventional in non-duality (the ultimate is principle; the conventional is phenomena. Phenomena do not arise without principle; principle is not manifest without phenomena. Without the conventional, one cannot speak of the ultimate; without principle, one cannot discuss phenomena. Being neither identical nor separate, they are non-dual). When the Middle Way is clearly illuminated, one radiantly harmonizes with the subtle; never has there been a single phenomenon obstructing the mind. If it is like this, in what does the simple and easy principle not manifest? In what are the enduring and great endeavors not fully prepared? (The Commentary on the Appended Phrases says: 'Being easy, it is easy to know; being simple, it is easy to follow. Being easy to know, it attracts affection; being easy to follow, it brings success. Following the sentiments of the myriad things and penetrating the will of the world, one can accomplish enduring and great works.') Although asaṃkhyeyas are said to be distant, the Dharmakāya has nothing outside it—how is one awakened therein? (Asaṃkhyeya is translated here as immeasurable. From the initial generation of the mind in the ten faiths to the end of the worldly supreme stage is called the first asaṃkhyeya; from the path of seeing to the end of the seventh bhūmi is called the second asaṃkhyeya; from the eighth bhūmi to the path of liberation is called the third asaṃkhyeya. Attaining Buddhahood only outside these three asaṃkhyeyas, is it not distant? Yet the principle of the Dharmakāya is originally blended and unified; although delusion and awakening differ, it is not something attained from outside.) Therefore, when speaking of the ultimate of the myriad phenomena, they take emptiness as their nature (the lush green bamboos are all suchness; the dense yellow flowers are nothing but prajñā); when discerning their provisionality, they take existence as their characteristics (relying on the provisional, it is the characteristic of true emptiness). Since emptiness and the provisional are of one substance, and neither of the two extremes can be grasped, how could this not be the Middle Way? (Emptiness is nature; the provisional is characteristics. Characteristics do not separate from nature; nature does not separate from characteristics; therefore it is said to be of one substance. The two extremes are the two margins. Because the two extremes cannot be grasped, one accords with the Middle Way.) For this reason, observing the arising of phenomena: they do not possess a self-nature, but arise dependent on those myriad conditions. Since they depend on conditions, phenomena are fundamentally non-existent (the dharmas of the myriad phenomena fundamentally have no self-nature; when conditions assemble they arise, and when conditions disperse they cease. Just as mental dharmas depend on four conditions and physical dharmas on two conditions, unable to arise of themselves, they are without substantiality); they are rooted in emptiness (the phenomena of provisional existence take emptiness as their root). Emptiness contains phenomena, and relies on phenomena to be revealed. Once revealed through phenomena, then emptiness is phenomena; outside of phenomena there is no emptiness (the emptiness of wuwei contains the phenomena of saṃskṛta; wishing to reveal wuwei, one must rely on saṃskṛta; saṃskṛta can reveal, while wuwei is that which is revealed). Like the moon in the water: when conditions gather, it is seen; who can call it empty? Its form is insubstantial and has no location; who can call it existent? (The moon is fundamentally in the sky, while its reflection drifts upon the water. Who can say it is empty? The water fundamentally has no moon, it is merely the drifting of a provisional reflection; who can say it is existent?) Therefore, the sage marvelously embodies the interval between existence and non-existence, and can accomplish the functioning of existence and non-existence; this is called the supreme (thus the sage fully understands their substance and function). Qingbian said: saṃskṛta is like an illusion, and wuwei is like a flower in the sky (The Treatise on the Jewel in the Palm says: 'Saṃskṛta dharmas are like an illusion, because fundamentally they do not exist; wuwei dharmas are like flowers in the sky, because definitively they do not arise'). Now, illusory dharmas are provisionally existent; they fundamentally go from existence to non-existence (a hare's horns fundamentally do not exist; an illusionist uses a handkerchief to make them provisionally exist. Outside of the handkerchief there are no hare's horns at all. It is like saṃskṛta dharmas relying on myriad conditions to be provisionally existent; outside of the myriad conditions the provisional dharmas are originally absent. Thus it is going from existence to non-existence). Flowers in the sky fundamentally do not exist; they fundamentally appear as existent from non-existence. Apparent existence from non-existence is serene in the ultimate realm (the true nature fundamentally does not exist and does not arise, just like flowers in the sky. Acting as the support for saṃskṛta, it thus appears as existent. Understanding that this apparent existence is fundamentally non-existent, it is immediately the serene ultimate realm). Going from existence to non-existence, it returns again to the absence of things (if, through the provisional existence of saṃskṛta dharmas, conditions disperse and return to the origin, it is fundamentally without things). Tapping both metaphors to express the Dharma, then the Dharma has no abiding place (the two metaphors: the illusory dharma metaphors the saṃskṛta of true nature; the flower in the sky metaphors the wuwei of true nature). Yet those who are skilled in letters grasp the periphery but do not grasp the overarching principle; those who are skilled in the learning of the mind know the ultimate but do not know the manifestations (when things arise there are manifestations; after manifestations there are numbers. The periphery means the edge; the ultimate means the end. Those who follow texts, although they find the narrow path of the periphery, do not grasp the overall principle of the destination. Those who transmit the mind-seal, although they find the marvelous gate of the ultimate, do not know the initial omens and manifestations). Clinging to the two shores without obliteration—herein lies the trouble (one attaches to existence through texts; the other attaches to emptiness by rejecting all characteristics. Each clings to the margin of one shore).

How could this attain the path of the Middle Way?) Therefore, those who stagnate in existence drift into eternalism, while those who sink into emptiness plunge into annihilationism. (Those who conceptualize existence grasp all phenomena as eternal, like the non-Buddhists who hypothesize the four universal eternities, or the Hīnayāna adherents who posit that all exists. Those who grasp emptiness are like the non-Buddhists who hypothesize the seven types of annihilationist theories, or those in our own tradition who dismiss all phenomena as completely empty.) Rather than plunging into annihilationism, it is better to drift into eternalism. With eternalism, there are still dharmas to practice; with annihilationism, there is no good that is not abandoned. When [good] is abandoned, one falls into wrong views; when one practices, one gradually advances toward the true Path. (Just as when one dismisses Bodhi and Nirvāṇa as completely empty, it is said that it is better to cling to existence; even if it were as vast as Mount Sumeru, one should not dismiss it into emptiness even to the size of a mustard seed.)

Nowadays, there are those who remain bound to annihilating existence and seizing emptiness as the supreme gate. (Like those in recent times who speak of Chan and stagnate in the way of annihilating existence, immediately clinging completely to emptiness as the ultimate Way.) Let us ask them: Is this emptiness graspable, or is it ungraspable? (If so, what fault is there?) If there is an emptiness that can be grasped, then emptiness is simply existence. (Since emptiness can be grasped, is it not existence?) This is merely using a mind of attachment to seize an indeterminate void. (This is merely an emptiness of complete destruction and obliteration.) What does it have to do with the principle of cultivating practice and seeing one's nature? If emptiness is ungraspable, then it is relinquished together with existence. (Existence is also ungraspable; how does it differ from emptiness?) Having been relinquished together with existence, it is then also preserved together with existence. (Since existence cannot be grasped and emptiness is preserved, if existence is relinquished, emptiness also cannot be grasped; what hinders also preserving existence?) Why preserve only the path of emptiness? One who is capable of both dual relinquishment and dual preservation, completely free and unburdened—(abiding in characteristics, emptiness and existence are not absent; merging with truth, existence and non-existence are both obliterated)—only then may be called [the possessor of] the Great Being's correct contemplation and the profound illumination of the place of practice. (Because one is free from the characteristics of the two graspings, it is named truly abiding in Consciousness-Only.)

Nāgārjuna said: Suppose someone travels to a foreign country and stays at an inn. (An inn is a lodging house.) The host of the inn entertains him, and just as the food and meat dishes are being cleared away—(clearing away means removing the meal)—the guest stands up and asks, "What made this so flavorful?" (Seeing the food was delicious, he stood up and asked.) The host said, "It is because our country has salt sauce." When he retired, he said to himself, "When salt sauce is merely mixed with flavors, it is already so wonderful; how much more so if it were tasted alone!" He then made known the host's kindness. (Making known means clarifying; it means clearly remembering the host's words.) Because of this, he went in secret to a sauce merchant's shop, (in secret means surreptitiously; a sauce merchant sells it) greedily indulging his own desires; staying in an empty room, he ate to satiety, (eating to satiety means overeating to excess) and died of excessive thirst from the salt. Those who take one-sided emptiness as the Path ultimately bring harm upon themselves through emptiness. (Stagnating without penetration is what causes harm.) The *Madhyamaka-śāstra* says: If someone clings to the view of emptiness, the Buddhas cannot convert them; this is a warning against fearing attachment to annihilation.

The scripture says: When the monk Abhimānika heard Root of Joy (Harṣamūla) teach that lust, anger, and delusion are the Path, (when Bodhisattva Harṣamūla taught that lust, anger, and delusion are the Path, it is like saying: First draw them in with the hook of desire, and then cause them to enter the Buddha's wisdom) he could not accept the principle, and resentment and arrogance arose in him. Root of Joy, seeing that it would be of benefit in future lifetimes, forcefully imparted it to him without hesitation. (Although he did not understand now, it would ultimately become a good cause in future lives. Hesitation means harboring resentment.) Yet today, those with wrong views mistakenly seize upon these words, take them to mean that all characteristics are empty, and commit evil without shame. (Being without shame means feeling no compunction. Hearing the teaching of emptiness without grasping its meaning, they immediately dismiss characteristics as entirely empty and feel no shame.) How could they have captured the meaning of the scripture?

However, the *Classic of History* states: "The August One establishes the supreme standard (huangji); assemble his supreme standard, and return to his supreme standard." "August" means great; "extreme" means the center. (Whenever establishing affairs, one must use the Great Center way. This differs slightly from the wording in the *Book of Documents*.) None but a sage can aspire to practice the Way of the Great Center. (The Way of the Great Center refers to the Nine Divisions: the first is the Five Elements; the second is reverent practice of the Five Matters; the third is diligent practice of the Eight Governings; the fourth is harmonious use of the Five Periods; the fifth is the establishment and use of the Royal Standard; the sixth is the orderly practice of the Three Virtues; the seventh is the clear practice of examining doubts; the eighth is the thoughtful practice of the various omens; the ninth is the joyful practice of the Five Blessings and the awe-inspiring practice of the Six Extremities. These nine are for sages, gentlemen, emperors, and kings.) The *Book of Rites* says: "Is not the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong) supreme?" (The sixteenth chapter of the *Book of Rites* is the "Doctrine of the Mean" chapter.) *Yong* means ordinary/constant; using the center is the constant Way. Therefore, the Royal Standard is the center of centers for the myriad transformations, and the Doctrine of the Mean is also the center of centers for the myriad transformations. (What is called the myriad things each has the Way within them.) It is the nature of supreme virtue; it is the form and appearance of the myriad things. (It is the director of the myriad transformations, the true master of yin and yang.)

The Ancient Sage [Laozi] said: "Thirty spokes converge on one hub; it is where there is nothing that the utility of the cart lies." (This is from Chapter 11 of the *Daodejing* of Laozi. Thirty spokes represent the many; one hub represents the few. Using the few to integrate the many. This cites the entity of the shafts and carriage box to aid the function of what is formless.) "Clay is molded to make vessels; it is where there is nothing that the utility of the vessel lies." (Molding means mixing; clay is earth. Mixing earth makes earthenware vessels; having the hollow space inside provides the function of containing things.) Therefore, having existence constitutes the vessel; (like conditioned phenomena) having non-existence constitutes the utility. (Like unconditioned phenomena being manifested by means of conditioned phenomena.) Non-existence is the center; (using the center as an analogy for the supreme Way) the center indicates oneness. Therefore it is said: "Heaven attained the One and thereby became clear; Earth attained the One and thereby became tranquil." (A passage from Chapter 39 of Laozi. When things attain the function of the Way, Heaven is clear and Earth is tranquil. When the function is lost, the reality is destroyed.)

The *Classic of Changes* says: "Spirit has no definite direction, and the *Changes* has no fixed form." (A passage from the *Xici*. Spirit is the unfathomability of yin and yang; the *Changes* goes wherever transformation leads, and cannot be illuminated by a single direction or a single form.) It also says: "One yin and one yang is called the Way." (The Way is the designation for what is silent and formless. Although yin and yang are different, there is nothing else to await besides the One. In yin, by having no yin, yin is generated; in yang, by being without yang, yang is completed. Therefore it is said: "One yin and one yang.") However, whether one lifts their skirts or wades depends on the depth, and the teachings of the three gates differ. (The *Analects* says: "If deep, wade across with clothes on; if shallow, lift the skirts." The *Erya* says: Crossing water with clothes on is called wading (li); if it is shallow, one enters with clothes lifted (jie). Lifting the skirts refers to holding up one's garments. Lifting and wading are metaphors for the depth and shallowness of practicing the contemplation of the Path.)

When one holds the Great Center within and practices virtuous instruction without, Heaven and Earth are in harmony, and ghosts and spirits cause no harm. Therefore, Dating and Hexu (both were rulers who governed prior to [...]) mastered the art of the ring's center, unifying the myriad transformations in wuwei. (They did not treat only their kin as kin, nor did they treat only their sons as sons.

act through wuwei and transform on their own.) In ancient times, in the ancestral temple of Duke Huan of Lu (Duke Huan was the son of Duke Hui of Lu, born of Duke Yin's younger brother's wife Zhongzi), there was an inclined vessel (shaped like a small earthen jar; used to hold water; when empty it tilts—qi means to tilt—when half-full it stands upright, and when full it overturns; a metaphor for holding to the centered and upright). It showed people the outward mark of centeredness and uprightness. For when centered it is upright, and when upright, emptiness and fullness meet their proper measure; standing exceptionally upright, it begins in the eyes and ultimately responds in the mind, profound and dependable (set up especially so that one first sees it with the eyes and in the end awakens to it in the mind, profound and trustworthy). The Book of Documents says: “Firm yet not tyrannical, simple yet not arrogant” (text from the “Canon of Shun”; firmness, if misdirected, lapses into tyranny; simplicity, if misdirected, lapses into arrogance). “The Master was mild yet severe, authoritative yet not fierce” (text from the Analects; mild means gentle; yet severe; though severe, he was not fierce). All these are sagely people and noble persons weighing the principle of things, their minds harmonising with affairs, and not losing the mean (although the above are explanations from external texts, they all adopt the meaning of the Doctrine of the Mean; the Venerable Master of Beishan intends to show that those who study emptiness and those who study existence ought to attain the mean). The Treatise on Great Wisdom compares the great person’s observation of form and emptiness to the apprentice of an ox-butcher (text from the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa; identical in meaning to the text of Zhuangzi). Master Zhuang took it to be Cook Ding butchering an ox, his eyes seeing no whole ox (Cook Ding butchered an ox for Lord Wenhui; wherever his hand touched, his shoulder leant, his foot trod, and his knee pressed, there was a slithering and swooshing, and the knife went chok, not failing to sound in rhythm with the dance of the Mulberry Grove, and in harmony with the movements of the Jingshou; he met it with spirit rather than viewing it with eyes; with a single knife over nineteen years he butchered several thousand oxen, yet the blade was as if newly whetted; between those joints there are spaces, and the blade has no thickness; inserting that which has no thickness into that which has space, how spacious and roomy it must be for playing the blade! This is Master Zhuang’s fable to illustrate the Way, taking its meaning of smooth application without impediment). For what reason? The body of an ox, bearing horns and hanging dewlap (hu means the flesh of the neck), is existence; between the bones and joints there is nonexistence. When a blade of no thickness enters a body with spaces, how could it not be spacious? What ox is there? The ox-butcher showed its ease (before butchering the ox, all he saw was an ox; after three years, he never saw a whole ox, meeting it with spirit). The apprentice of the ox-butcher showed its difficulty. It is like a good cook or a mediocre cook changing knives sooner or later (a good cook changes his knife yearly because he cuts; a mediocre cook changes his knife monthly because he hacks; this differs from the nineteen-year knife). Therefore, one who embodies the mean is not obstructed by concrete things (one who attains the Way cannot be obstructed by things). Mount Meru is admitted into a mustard seed; the vast ocean is poured into the tip of a fine hair (weihan means the sea). Truly this can be easily attained (the sense of the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa). The ancient sage [Laozi] said: “The rhinoceros has nowhere to thrust its horn; the tiger has nowhere to place its claws; weapons have nowhere to insert their blades” (this means not seeking to harm things and having no mind to harm; hence there is no place to thrust a horn, place claws, or insert blades). Master Zhuang said: “A great flood reaching the sky does not drown him (a great flood means the sea; ji means to reach up to; text from the ‘Carefree Wandering’ chapter); a great drought that melts metal and stone and scorches earth and mountains does not make him hot” (he does not alter his appearance on account of cold or heat; his integrity is not stripped away by worldly things). Zhongni saw the old man of Lüliang plunge into a cataract of thirty ren, swimming by relying on loyalty and trustworthiness (seven feet make one ren; relying on the way of loyalty and trustworthiness, he did not fear perils). Is it not that, possessing the principle of the Great Mean and harmonising with the nature of various things, they were able to reach this? Therefore, treading on water and heading into fire, touching blades and walking on perils, the body can leap lightly, the ears can hear thoroughly, and the eyes can see through clearly, precisely because the mind is empty (Laozi says: “Empty their minds, fill their bellies”). Because the mind is empty, it does not oppose the myriad things (connecting with them without distinction of self and other). The myriad things also accord with oneself profoundly; one’s vast nature nowhere fails to harmonize (seeking things with an empty mind, what one encounters accords profoundly). Furthermore, water and fire are harms to things (water can drown and drift; fire can burn and scorch; both are harms to things); yet fish are nurtured in springs (fish and dragons attain water and live), and beasts are born in fire (as with fire-rats and fire-turtles, which are all born amidst fire). Do they resort to techniques for resisting water and fire? It is merely that their natures accord with dryness and moisture, and their qi conforms to cold and warmth. Hence they tolerate each other without conflict, and generate each other without injury; when genuine, they remain whole (since they do not harm each other, believe that water and fire can keep things whole). How much more so for one who possesses the Way, whose virtue is complete across the myriad kinds? Therefore, when great persons cultivate this mind, they term it chan; chan means quiet contemplation (in Sanskrit samāhita, translated here as quiet contemplation; this concentration can bring quietness and stillness to the mind's thoughts). When external sensory objects are insufficient to stir emotion, they term it ding (in Sanskrit samādhi, translated here as correct concentration); ding means single-minded absorption. Those who claim that the body itself is the Buddha, discard images and shrines, and dwell in the station of the Great Sage are truly foolish, rebellious, and cruel to themselves (such as the followers of Vajra Chan). If tested against water and fire, how could they be so fortunate as to escape? (If thrown into water or fire, how could they escape harm?) Those of inferior understanding are confused by their idle talk and do not examine their actual practice; following the blind in seeking a straight path is difficult indeed! (It is like the blind leading the blind). Those who practice the Way must understand the mind, practice with the mind, and direct the mind—examining these three within themselves before speaking of what they have attained. Understanding the mind means comprehending its reality and delusion; practicing with the mind means extinguishing its love and hate; directing the mind means transforming its defilement and purity (as in: when the mind is pure, the realm is pure). Today, beginners merely desire the appearance of knowledge, yet fall short in the rest; why seek to deceive themselves? (Today’s Chan teachers often claim attainment and deceive others; frauds like the Shanguo and Vajra Chan are numerous). Therefore, great compassion is boundless, and the fragrant rice is boundless; great wisdom is unobstructed, and the ten-foot-square chamber is unobstructed (as with Vimalakīrti’s boundless great compassion, the fragrant rice he fetched was inexhaustible, and the wise conduct he cultivated was unobstructed; what his ten-foot-square room accommodated was also unobstructed). The sūtra says: “When one attains buddhahood, one is endowed with the thirty-two marks, etc.” (text from the Lotus Sūtra). Only then may it be called eternally ended. Hengyue and Tiantai (namely Great Master Huisi residing on Nanyue);

When Great Master Zhiyi dwelt on Mount Tiantai), his "threefold contemplation in a single mind" (referring to mahāprajñā, the mahā-dharmakāya, and mahānirvāṇa. First, entering emptiness from the provisional: contemplating form as immediately empty, and thus manifesting the dharmakāya; second, entering the provisional from emptiness: contemplating emptiness as immediately form, and thus manifesting prajñā; third, the equality of emptiness and the provisional: stating that form and emptiness are not different, and this is therefore nirvāṇa) accomplished the three virtues of the perfect letter *i* (these three aforementioned dharmas are mutually requisite and fulfilled; they are called the "three virtues," and also called the "perfect letter *i*". The three dots of the Sanskrit letter *i* are like the three eyes upon the face of Maheśvara), which he derived from Nāgārjuna. Jiaxiang's dual practice of the provisional and the real accomplished the full endowment of compassion and wisdom (Hui[ji] was a monk of Jiaxiang Monastery in Kuaiji, whose learning traversed the inner and outer [teachings], who excelled in the sūtras, vinaya, and treatises, and who composed commentaries on the *Brahmā Net Sūtra*, *Nirvāṇa Sūtra*, etc. Because of great compassion, he delighted in liberating sentient beings; because of great wisdom, he delighted in severing [delusions] and realizing [the fruit]. They rely upon each other like a person's two feet), which he derived from the *Avataṃsaka* (this is attaining the purport of true nature). Bodhidharma focused his thought on wuwei without thinking or worrying, which he derived from nature-emptiness (he arrived here during the Tianjian reign era of the Liang). Yet in recent times, people do not know that emptiness is not separate from the provisional; discarding existence to seek emptiness, deviant teachings have arisen from this (because true emptiness is not separate from provisional existence). How can it be that those who tread the conventional know that the provisional is not separate from emptiness (those who tread phenomenal things must know that phenomenal things rely upon emptiness), and thus realize that what I do is not called conventional (although conventional, if one can realize one's person, how could it be called conventional)? Those who dwell in the ultimate know that the ultimate is not separate from the provisional, and thus illuminate that my non-doing is not called the ultimate (those who dwell in the ultimate, if able to know that the ultimate is revealed through the conventional, then do not grasp at the ultimate and stagnate themselves). Therefore, the Great Sage preserved the triple realm as non-arising; the two vehicles annihilated the triple realm as non-arising (the Mahāyāna speaks of the ultimate by directly identifying with the conventional; the Hīnayāna speaks of the ultimate by annihilating the conventional). The partial and the perfect are superior and inferior in this regard (the Mahāyāna attains liberation through perfect penetration; the Hīnayāna stagnates itself through partial clinging). A sūtra says: "Although knowing that all buddha-realms and sentient beings are empty, one constantly cultivates the pure land to teach and transform all living beings" (although knowing that characterized phenomena are empty, one does not abandon liberating sentient beings). This is called walking the Middle Way. Thus, when casting gold or painting silk, who could call it existence? When crossing the legs and closing the eyes, who could call it emptiness (when one understands within intentional activity, who could say that the marks of intentional activity fall into existence? When one realizes within non-activity, who could say that non-activity falls into the emptiness of non-activity)? Only those who can embody and realize practicing along the non-path to penetrate and join the Buddha path can begin to be spoken to of the ultimate (only those who can embody and realize the non-path and can penetrate and join the Buddha path may discuss the utmost principle). What can those of narrow and solitary views say of this (how could those who are confused about emptiness and attached to existence know this path)? There was [a monk named] Zhibao who was scrupulous about his reputation and integrity, standing solitary and aloof; he was able to win renown for upholding the vinaya, but could not empty his mind to accord with the Dao (merely clinging firmly to minor moral codes, he was blind to the way of perfect penetration). In cold, he would enter the water; in heat, he would approach the fire; when thirsty, he would eat salt. His death was mournful, and with pity he became a temple spirit. Although he exerted his discipline with sincere devotion, he did not know whence the Dao arises. Cold and heat are the constant orders of heaven and earth, yet he was still obstinate and went against them (stubborn and perverse); how much less could he merge his mind with external things and the self (the twentieth patriarch, named Jayata, arrived in the city of Rājagṛha and saw a dhūta monk who prostrated and chanted throughout the six periods of the day, having few desires and knowing contentment, constantly sitting without lying down, and eating only one meal a day. The Venerable One told the assembly, "What do you think of this dhūta?" The assembly said, "He is inconceivable, constantly cultivating pure conduct. Is this the Dao? Indeed, it is as the Venerable One says." [Jayata] said, "Now this dhūta will before long fall, for he is vastly distant from the Dao; because having something to attain in the mind is not called the Dao." The assembly said, "How do you know?" The Venerable One said, "I do not seek the Dao, nor do I fall into inversion; I do not prostrate during the six periods, nor do I show slight or arrogance; I do not constantly sit, nor am I indolent; I do not eat one meal, nor do I eat assorted meals; I do not know contentment, nor am I greedy." When the dhūta heard this, he immediately gave rise to respect. In Tianzhu he was called the all-wandering dhūta, who was Vasubandhu)? Therefore, in life he toiled his body, and in death he sank into ignominy. Yet for the Hīnayāna, compared to the Mahāyāna, upholding the vinaya is breaking precepts (as the *Yogācāra* says: if a bodhisattva sees a sentient being about to commit evil karma, he cuts off that being's life and himself incurs the karma of killing, in order to make that being escape a body of suffering, etc.); energetic diligence is indolence (indulging in and dallying with minor dharmas is indolence); faith is an obstruction to wisdom (having faith in the small fruit and not giving rise to great wisdom): the principle is evident here. Those who grasp at forgetting words as being the Dao are indeed quite similar to this. He who speaks without understanding words speaks rash words; he who does not speak without understanding words speaks cautious words; he who speaks by inheriting words speaks learned words (inheriting the words of others); he who understands words and does not speak speaks quiet words. If one desires to eliminate words but does not succeed in the mind that forgets words, then although the echo is quieted outwardly, the passions remain agitated inwardly; this is indeed not forgetting them (though the mouth suppresses words, if the mind pursues fame and profit, this is not succeeding in the mind that forgets words). One who can realize that words arise from things, that each and every thing transforms of itself, and that the speaker also transforms of himself, speaks all day long and is constantly silent; this is called truly forgetting words (one who, though speaking, has a mind unattached). And in the sūtra, Vimalakīrti's silence followed upon all the previous bodhisattvas having spoken until words were exhausted (not speaking is truly entering the non-dual Dharma gate); what more was there to say? Zhuangzi's "Wuwei did not answer" was addressed to Zhi's northern wandering; because that man could not embody words as directly being the Dao, he did not answer (answering means seeking an answer; one's own verification does not ask for an answer). As the sūtra says: "This Dharma cannot be shown; the characteristics of words are extinguished and quiescent" (text from the *Lotus Sūtra*; this discusses the characteristics of the ultimate truth)—could it be that it is not spoken? Therefore, prajñā and upāya are the two endowments of the Perfect School; if one discards expedient means, prajñā shines in isolation (in Sanskrit, *prajñā*; here it is called wisdom. In Sanskrit, *upāya-kauśalya*; here it is called expedient means. Expedient means and wisdom rely on each other as essence and function. If one discards the function of expedient means, the essence of prajñā shines in isolation). Therefore, the utmost Dao integrates heaven and earth, embraces the myriad things, and sets transformations in motion. One who attains it enters a single dust particle and expands through the dharmadhātu (a single dust particle is not narrow; the dharmadhātu is not broad); one who loses it travels the dharmadhātu and is constricted within a single dust particle (for one who does not attain its Dao, though it be the dharmadhātu, it is narrower than a fine dust particle). Between Mount Tai and the tip of an autumn hair,

how far apart are delusion and awakening (Mount Tai and the tip of an autumn hair are unequal in large and small; the states of delusion and awakening also differ in penetration and stagnation)!