諸經要集 12

English (machine translation) 12

Language: English

12.1

Compiled by the śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Monastery

12.2

Section 20: Desires and Hindrances (comprising three occasions)

12.4

Occasion of Expounding the Intent
Occasion of the Five Desires
Occasion of the Five Hindrances

Upon respectfully examining the sūtras and treatises, practitioners cultivating the Way all state that the five desires are the root of obstructions to the Way. If one does not learn to cut them off, there is no way to realize sagehood. Wishing to know their root, three kinds are briefly expounded: first, the internal five sense faculties; second, the external five sense objects; third, the five consciousnesses produced from them. It is on account of these three that defiled desires can arise. Therefore, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra states: "Good son, it is like a vicious elephant whose mind is not yet tamed; if someone mounts it, it will not go according to his wish, but will stray far from cities and towns to a wilderness. For one who is unable to properly restrain these five sense faculties, it is also just like this: they will carry a person far away from the city of nirvāṇa, to the wilderness of birth and death. Good son, it is like a flatterer advising a king to do evil; the flattering ministers that are the five faculties are also just like this, constantly urging sentient beings to commit immeasurable evils. It is like an unruly son: if he does not receive the instructions of his teachers, elders, and parents, there is no evil he will not commit. If one does not tame the five faculties, it is also just like this: not receiving the instructions and good words of teachers and elders, there is no evil they will not commit. Good son, when ordinary beings do not restrain the five faculties, they are constantly plundered and harmed by the hells, animals, and hungry ghosts, just as hostile bandits harm good people." Furthermore, the Yijiao jing states: "The thieves of the five faculties bring calamity across successive lifetimes; their harm is extremely severe, and one cannot but be cautious. Therefore, the wise restrain them and do not follow them, holding them in check as they would thieves. Even if one were to indulge them, in no long time one would see their destruction." Now, as to the "hindrances" (nīvaraṇa), they have the meaning of covering over: that is, they cover and obstruct the practitioner, causing his disposition and nature to become confused and submerged, and his concentration and wisdom unclear, obscuring the good person. Being the direct obstructions to cultivating the Way, they are therefore called hindrances. Hence the Abhidharma treatise states: "That these hindrances are able to prevent good qualities from becoming manifest is the meaning of hindrance. Covering and obscuring the mind, they obstruct the various good qualities, preventing them from developing; hence they are named hindrances." The former five desires arise from the external five sense objects, while these five hindrances issue forth from the internal five sense faculties.

12.7

Second Occasion: The Five Desires (subdivided into three occasions)

12.8

First: The suffering of being bound by desires. When discussing the five desires, once their faculties exist, the five desires immediately arise, binding sentient beings so that they cannot attain liberation. Therefore, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra states: "Ordinary beings are bound by the five desires, allowing Māra Pāpīyas to carry them off at will, just as a hunter captures monkeys and carries them home on his back. Good son, it is like a king who remains securely within his own territory, enjoying peace and bliss of body and mind; but if he goes to another's territory, he incurs manifold sufferings. All sentient beings are also just like this: if they can abide within their own domain, they attain peace and bliss; if they go to another's domain, they encounter the evil Māra and undergo manifold sufferings. 'One's own domain' refers to the four bases of mindfulness; 'another's domain' refers to the five desires." The five desires are form, sound, smell, taste, and touch on the bodies of men and women. These five desires have yearning as their meaning; clinging greedily to the five sense objects is called desire. Together with the objects touched and conditioned by the mental consciousness, they are called mind-objects. These six sense objects are not only called the domain where Māra roams; they also earn the name of vicious thieves. Therefore, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra states: "Just as six great thieves are able to plunder the wealth and treasures of all the people, so too are the vicious thieves of the six sense objects: they are able to plunder the good wealth of all sentient beings. Just as the six great thieves, entering a person's house, can plunder all that the family currently possesses without distinguishing good from bad, suddenly reducing the exceedingly wealthy to poverty, so too are the thieves of the six sense objects: entering a person's faculties, they can plunder all good dharmas. When the good dharmas are exhausted, the person is impoverished, destitute, and exposed, becoming an icchantika. Therefore, the bodhisattva clearly observes the six sense objects as six great thieves."

12.9

Second: The suffering of being obstructed by desires. In discussing the faults of desires, they are the evil Māra of the five desires and the vicious thieves of the six sense objects, which the Buddha judged to be false delusions, confusing and obstructing the buddha-nature. Therefore, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra states: "Although the five consciousnesses of sentient beings are not a single thought, they are nonetheless tainted, and furthermore, being erroneous and inverted, they increase all taints. All ordinary beings attach to forms, and so on up to attaching to consciousness. Because they attach to forms, a mind of greed arises; because a mind of greed arises, they are bound by forms, and so on up to being bound by consciousness. Because they are bound, they cannot escape birth, old age, sickness, death, sorrow, lamentation, great suffering, and all afflictions." It also states: "If there is a bodhisattva who claims his precepts are pure, and although he does not engage in union with a woman, speak playfully with her, or listen to her voice, yet when he sees a man pursuing a woman, or a woman pursuing a man, he immediately conceives greedy attachment—such a bodhisattva accomplishes the dharmas of desire, breaks the pure precepts, defiles and degrades his brahmacarya, and renders his precepts impure; he cannot be called fully endowed with pure precepts."

12.10

Furthermore, the Dazhidulun states: "The bodhisattva contemplates the manifold impurities. Among all ruins, the ruin wrought by women is the gravest. Things like knives, fire, thunder, lightning, bolts, enemies, and poisonous snakes may still be briefly approached; but a woman's stinginess, jealousy, anger, flattery, seductive filth, quarreling, and covetousness cannot be approached. Why is this? Women and petty persons have shallow minds and meager wisdom; they are intimate only with desire, not considering wealth, status, wisdom, virtue, or reputation. Exclusively practicing lustful evil, they destroy people's roots of goodness. Wooden fetters and chains, being locked in prison—though said to be hard to loosen, are still easily opened; but the shackles of women bind a person, and the defiled attachment strikes so deep a root that there is no escape. It is the gravest of all diseases, as the Buddha said in verse:

12.11

"Better to have a red-hot iron rod / Turned and rolled within one's eyes / Than with a defiled mind / To look lustfully at a woman's form. / Smiling, striking alluring poses, / Arrogant yet feigning shame, / Turning the face and casting glances, / Sweet words, jealousy and anger, / Gait seductive and filthy, / Thereby to bewilder men. / The snare of lust spreads far and wide, / And all men drown within it. / Sitting, lying, walking, standing, / Turning to look with clever charm, / Foolish men of shallow wisdom / Are intoxicated by them. / Holding a sword against an enemy, / One may still prevail; / But the female thief harming men / Cannot be restrained. / A viper bearing venom / May still be held in hand; / But a woman's passion bewildering men / Must never be touched. / A person of wisdom / Ought not look upon them; / If one wishes to observe them, / One should regard them as a mother or sister. / Looking closely and contemplating them, / They are heaps of accumulated impurity; / If the fire of lust is not extinguished, / One will be burned to ashes by it."

12.12

The faults of form being thus, the rest—smell, taste, touch, and so forth—are all likewise. That all sentient beings, since beginningless time, have perpetually sunk into birth and death and been unable to escape is truly because the fetters of female form are difficult to untie. Blind and without the eye of wisdom, seeing the pit of birth and death, they plunge into it. Now, considering that both monastics and laity do not observe the perils of desire, but rush headlong toward them—on what day will they turn back and escape this fault? Their minds are constantly defiled and cannot let go for a moment. When even the precepts do not survive, how could there be concentration, wisdom, or contemplation of the buddha-nature? Therefore, a verse in the Nirvāṇa Sūtra states:

12.13

"Committing evil and not repenting at once / Is like milk turning into curds; / Like ashes covering over a fire, / The foolish tread lightly upon it."

12.14

Third: Rebuking the suffering of desires. As the Dazhidulun states: "A practitioner should rebuke the five desires, saying: 'How lamentable that sentient beings are constantly afflicted by the five desires, yet seek them without cease, about to plunge into a great pit! When obtained, they become ever more severe, like fire scorching a scabies rash. The five desires are of no benefit, like a dog gnawing a bone. The five desires increase contention, like crows fighting over meat. The five desires burn people, like holding a torch against the wind. The five desires harm people, like treading on a vicious snake. The five desires have no reality, like what is gained in a dream. The five desires do not last, like something borrowed for a brief moment. Foolish and deluded worldly people greedily cling to the five desires without letting go until death, on account of which they will suffer immeasurable pain in future lives. When these five desires are obtained, there is momentary joy; when lost, there is great suffering. They are like a knife smeared with honey: the one who licks it covets the sweetness, unaware that it cuts the tongue.' These five desires are called form, sound, smell, taste, and touch. These five things are the direct hindrances for the meditator; if one wishes to cultivate concentration, they must all be abandoned." (The preceding three sections generally contemplate the five desires; the following five sections specifically rebuke the five desires.)

12.15

First: Rebuking the fault of the desire for form. For example, King Bimbisāra, on account of form, entered an enemy state alone and stayed in the chamber of the courtesan Āmrapālī. King Udayana, on account of defilement by form, severed the hands of five hundred rṣis. Various causes and conditions such as these are called rebuking the faults of the desire for form.

12.16

Second: Rebuking the fault of the desire for sound. Sound has no enduring characteristics; heard for a moment, it immediately ceases. Foolish people do not understand that the characteristics of sound are impermanent, mutable, and perishable; therefore, within sounds they falsely give rise to fondness and delight, clinging to sounds that have already passed away with persistent mindfulness. For example, when five hundred ṛṣis were living in the mountains, a kinnarī was bathing in a pool on the Snow Mountains; hearing her singing, they instantly lost their meditative absorption, their minds becoming madly intoxicated and wanton, unable to maintain self-control, losing their virtues, and later falling into the evil destinies. A person of wisdom contemplates the arising and ceasing of sound, how what precedes and what follows do not exist together and cannot reach each other; knowing thus, one is not defiled or attached. For such a person, even the music of the devas cannot disturb him, let alone human sounds. Various causes and conditions such as these are called rebuking the faults of the desire for sound. Therefore, the treatise states: "For example, when five hundred ṛṣis were flying, they heard the singing of kinnara maidens; their minds became attached and madly intoxicated, and all lost their supernormal powers of flight, falling to the ground at once. Furthermore, when the śrāvakas heard King Druma of the Kinnaras playing the lute and singing songs praising the Buddha with the true mark of all dharmas, Mount Sumeru and the various trees all shook at that time. Mahākāśyapa and other great disciples all danced upon their seats, unable to remain still. The bodhisattva Divyamālya asked Mahākāśyapa: 'You are the most senior elder, foremost in practicing the dhūta austerities; why now can you not control your own mind?' Mahākāśyapa answered: 'Regarding all desires of humans and devas, my mind is unmoved. But this is the sound of the reward of the bodhisattva's immeasurable merits, and furthermore is produced by wisdom through supernatural transformation; I cannot withstand it. It is like the winds rising from the eight directions, which cannot move Mount Sumeru; but when the kalpa comes to an end, the vairambhaka wind arrives and blows upon Mount Sumeru, making it like rotten grass. Just as the asura lute constantly produces sound of itself, playing according to one's will without anyone plucking it—this neither has a distracted mind nor a concentrated mind, but because it is born as the reward of merit, it produces sound according to will—so too is the dharmakāya bodhisattva: without discrimination, without a distracted mind, and without the mark of expounding the Dharma, all on account of the causes and conditions of immeasurable merit and wisdom."

12.17

Third, the rebuke of the fault of craving for fragrances: people say that attachment to fragrances carries little guilt, yet attachment and desire for fragrances open the gate of the fetters (saṃyojana). Even if one has kept the precepts for a hundred years and been able to cut them off, in a single moment one can destroy them. For example, there was an arhat who regularly entered the dragon palace. Having finished eating, he handed his bowl to a novice (śrāmaṇera) to have him wash it. In the bowl there remained a few grains of rice. The novice smelled them and found them extremely fragrant; he ate them and found them exceedingly delicious. Thereupon he devised an expedient: he went beneath his master's rope bed, holding the legs of the rope bed with both hands. When the master's time came, he entered the dragon palace along with the rope bed. The dragon said, 'This [person] has not yet attained the Way; why have you brought him along?' The master said, 'I was unaware.' The novice obtained food and drink, and he also saw that the bodies of the dragon maidens were upright and wondrously fragrant beyond compare; his mind became greatly attached, and he immediately made an evil vow: 'By cultivating merit, I shall seize this dragon's place and dwell in his palace.' The dragon said, 'Hereafter, do not bring this novice.' After the novice returned, he single-mindedly practiced dāna and maintained the precepts, exclusively seeking what he had vowed, wishing soon to become a dragon. At that time, when he circumambulated the monastery, water issued from beneath his feet; he knew of himself that he would definitely become a dragon. He went directly to the side of the great pool where his master originally entered, covered his head with his kāṣāya, and entered. He died immediately and turned into a great dragon. Because his merit was great, he at once killed that dragon; the entire pool turned red. Before this had happened, the masters and the monastic community rebuked him. The novice said, 'My mind is already set, and the signs in my mind have already manifested.' He brought the saṃgha to the pool to behold it. Such circumstances as these stemmed from the fault of attachment to fragrance. Furthermore, there was a bhikṣu who was walking back and forth (caṅkramaṇa) beside a lotus pond in a forest. Smelling the fragrance of the lotuses, his nose received it and his mind became attached. The deity of the pond spoke to him, saying, 'Why have you abandoned your place of quiet meditation beneath the forest to steal my fragrance? Because of attachment to fragrance, all the dormant fetters are aroused.' At that time, another person came into the pond, gathered many of its flowers, dug and pulled up the roots and stalks, leaving everything in disarray, and departed. The deity of the pond was silent and said nothing. The bhikṣu said, 'That person destroyed your pond's flowers, yet you said nothing at all. I merely walked along the pond's edge, and I was rebuked and scolded, being told that I was stealing the fragrance.' The deity of the pond said, 'The wicked people of the world always abide in the filth and dung of guilt, submerged head-deep in impurity; I do not speak with them. But you are a good person who practices meditation, yet you are attached to this fragrance, ruining your good deeds; therefore I rebuke you. It is like clean, white fine cloth that is spotted and soiled by a foreign substance—everyone sees it. That wicked person is like black clothing: spotted with black on black, no one sees it; who would question it?' Various such circumstances as these are called the rebuke of the fault of craving for fragrances.

12.18

Fourth, the rebuke of the fault of craving for tastes: one should awaken oneself [thinking]: 'Merely because of greedy attachment to fine tastes, I will have to undergo the suffering of retribution, having molten copper poured into my mouth and swallowing burning iron pellets. If I do not contemplate food, and my gluttonous mind is stubbornly attached, I will fall among impure worms.' For example, a novice's mind always craved curd. Whenever dānapatis offered curd to the saṃgha, the novice would always receive the leftover portions; his mind was fondly attached to it, rejoicing and unwilling to part with it. After his life ended, he was reborn inside that jar of leftover curd. The novice's master attained arhatship. When the saṃgha was distributing curd, he said, 'Slowly, do not harm this curd-loving novice.' The people said, 'This is a worm; why do you call it the curd-loving novice?' He replied, 'This worm was originally my novice. Merely because he greedily craved the leftover curd, he was reborn in this jar.' When the master received his portion of curd, the worm came along in it. The master said, 'Curd-loving person, why have you come?' and immediately gave the curd to it. Furthermore, there was a king named King Candrabhāga (Yuefen). He had a crown prince who was fondly attached to fine tastes. The king's orchard-keeper delivered fine fruits daily. In the orchard was a great tree upon which a bird was rearing its young. It would regularly fly to the Fragrant Mountains (Gandhamādana) to take fine, fragrant fruits to nourish its chicks. When the chicks squabbled over them, one fruit fell to the ground. The orchard-keeper saw it in the morning; marveling at its extraordinary nature, he immediately presented it to the king. The king prized this fruit for its remarkable fragrance and color. When the crown prince saw it, he at once demanded it; the king, loving his son, gave it to him. The crown prince ate the fruit and tasted its flavor; his desiring mind was deeply attached, and day after day he wished to obtain it. The king immediately summoned the orchard-keeper and asked for its origin. The orchard-keeper said, 'This fruit has no seed [here]; I found it on the ground and do not know where it came from.' The crown prince wept and would not eat. The king pressed and reproached the orchard-keeper: 'I rely on you to obtain it!' The orchard-keeper went to the place where he found the fruit, saw that there was a bird's nest, and knew the bird had brought it in its beak. Concealing himself in the tree, he waited, wishing to seize it. When the mother bird came, he immediately snatched the fruit and delivered it; it was like this day after day. The mother bird grew furious, and in the Fragrant Mountains took a poisonous fruit whose fragrance, taste, and color were made to resemble the previous ones. The orchard-keeper snatched it and presented it to the king. The king gave it to the crown prince to eat; before long, their flesh rotted and decayed, and they died. Various such circumstances as these are the rebuke of the fault of craving for tastes.

12.19

Fifth, the rebuke of the fault of craving for touch: this touch is the cause of the fetters and the root of binding the mind. Why? The other four sense objects each correspond to their separate portions, but this one attaches across the entire body; because it is difficult to abandon, one constantly commits grave offenses. At that time, the Bhagavat recounted a jātaka condition for the bhikṣus: In the distant past, there was an ascetic (ṛṣi) in the mountains of the kingdom of Vārāṇasī. In the middle month of autumn, he urinated into a washing basin. Seeing a stag and a doe mating, his lustful mind was moved, and semen flowed into the basin. A doe drank it and immediately became pregnant. When her months were complete, she gave birth to a child whose appearance resembled a human, except that his head had a single horn and his feet were like a deer's. When the doe was about to give birth, she went to the side of the ṛṣi's hut and gave birth. Seeing that the child was human, she entrusted him to the ṛṣi and left. When the ṛṣi came out, he saw this deer-child, reflected on the original cause, and knew it was his own child; he took him in and raised him. When the child grew older, he diligently taught him learning, so that he mastered the eighteen great treatises. He also learned seated meditation, practiced the four immeasurables (apramāṇa), and attained the five supernormal powers (pañcābhijñā). Once, while climbing the mountain, he encountered heavy rain and slippery mud; his feet being unsuitable, he fell to the ground, breaking his kuṇḍikā water pot and injuring his foot. Thereupon, he flew into a great rage, filled his kuṇḍikā with water, and incanted that it should not rain. By the ṛṣi's merit, the dragons, ghosts, and spirits all caused it not to rain for his sake. Because it did not rain, the five grains and five fruits did not grow at all; the people were destitute and had no further means of survival. The king of Vārāṇasī was sorrowful and distressed; he commanded his great ministers to gather and deliberate on the matter of rain. The wise deliberated, saying: 'It is rumored that in the mountains of the ṛṣis there is a Single-Horned Ṛṣi (Ekaśṛṅga). Because his feet are unsuitable, he fell while climbing the mountain and injured his foot; in anger, he cursed the rain, causing it not to fall for twelve years.' The king reflected, saying: 'If it does not rain for twelve years, my kingdom will be finished; there will be no more people.' The king immediately offered a reward: 'Whoever can cause the ṛṣi to lose his five supernormal powers and become my subject shall be granted half the kingdom to govern.' In that kingdom there was a courtesan named Śāntā, who was beautiful and immensely wealthy; she came to answer the king's recruitment. The woman asked the people, 'Is this a human or not?' The crowd said, 'He was born of an ascetic.' The courtesan said, 'If he is human, I can ruin him.' Having spoken thus, she took a golden platter filled with fine treasures and said to the king, 'I shall ride upon the neck of this ṛṣi when I return.' The courtesan immediately sought five hundred carriages carrying five hundred beautiful women, and five hundred deer-carts carrying various sweetmeat balls (modaka), all blended with various medicinal herbs and colored to resemble mixed fruits, along with various highly potent fine wines whose color and taste resembled water. Wearing bark clothing, they moved among the forest trees to resemble ascetics. Beside the ṛṣi's hut, they built a grass hut and dwelt there. When the Single-Horned Ṛṣi was wandering, he saw them. The women all came out to welcome him, offering fine flowers and wondrous fragrances to the ṛṣi. The ṛṣi was greatly pleased. The women inquired after the ṛṣi with sweet words and respectful phrases, brought him into their room to sit on fine bedding, and gave him the fine, clear wine as pure water, and the sweetmeat balls as fruits and melons. Having eaten and drank to his fill, he said to the women, 'Since my birth, I have never obtained such fine fruits and fine water.' The women said, 'We single-mindedly practice goodness; therefore heaven grants us our wish to obtain this fine water and these fine fruits.' The ṛṣi asked the women, 'Why are your complexions so plump and flourishing?' They answered, 'We eat these fine fruits and drink this delicious water; therefore we are plump like this.' A woman addressed the ṛṣi, saying, 'Why do you not live here?' He answered, 'I could live here too.' The woman said, 'We can bathe together,' and he agreed to that as well. The woman's hands were soft, and touching them moved his mind; thereupon, he bathed reciprocally with the women. Desire arose increasingly, and eventually culminated in intercourse. He immediately lost his supernormal powers. Heaven poured down a great rain for seven days and seven nights, allowing them to enjoy food and drink. After seven days, the wine and food were completely exhausted, and were followed by mountain water and tree fruits, whose taste was not delicious. He asked for the previous ones again. They replied, 'They are exhausted. Now we should travel together; not far from here is a place where they can be obtained.' The ṛṣi said, 'As you wish.' Thereupon, they set out together. Not far from the city, the woman lay down on the road, saying, 'I am exhausted and can walk no further.' The ṛṣi said, 'If you cannot walk, ride upon my neck and I will carry you.' The woman had previously sent a messenger to inform the king: 'The king may observe my skill and wisdom.' The king ordered his carriage prepared and went out to observe it. He asked, 'By what means was this achieved?' The woman said to the king, 'By the power of expedients, he is now like this and has no further capabilities.' [The king] had him dwell in the city, providing him with good offerings and reverence, satisfying all his desires, and appointing him a great minister. After staying in the city for a few days, his body grew increasingly emaciated; his mind longing for meditation, he delighted in abandoning worldly desires. The king asked the ṛṣi, 'Why are you unhappy and growing so emaciated?' The ṛṣi answered the king, 'Although I have obtained the five desires, I constantly remember the leisure and quiet of the forest where the ascetics wander; I cannot put it out of my mind.' The king reflected to himself: 'If I forcibly oppose his will, it will cause him suffering; if suffering reaches an extreme, he will die. Originally, I sought to eliminate the calamity of drought; now that it is achieved, for what reason should I forcibly take away his intention?' He immediately dismissed and sent him back. Having returned to the mountains, with vigorous effort he before long regained the five supernormal powers. The Buddha told the bhikṣus: 'That Single-Horned Ṛṣi was myself. That courtesan was Yaśodharā now. At that time, she bewitched me with sweetmeat balls; because I had not yet cut off the fetters, I was bewitched by her. Now she wishes again to bewitch me with medicinal sweetmeat balls, but it is impossible.' From this matter, know that the phenomenon of delicate and soft touch can move even an ascetic, how much more an ordinary fool! Various such circumstances as these are called the rebuke of the fault of craving for touch. Being able to rebuke the five desires in this way, one then eliminates the five hindrances (nīvaraṇa).

12.20

Conditions of the Five Hindrances, Part Three

12.21

Question: What are called the five hindrances? Answer: First, the hindrance of sensual desire (kāmacchanda); second, the hindrance of ill will (vyāpāda); third, the hindrance of sloth and torpor (styāna-middha); fourth, the hindrance of restlessness and remorse (auddhatya-kaukṛtya); fifth, the hindrance of doubt (vicikitsā).

12.22

First, as for the hindrance of sensual desire: it refers to sitting upright to cultivate meditation while the mind gives rise to sensory desires, with deluded thoughts succeeding one another, seeking them ceaselessly, which ultimately brings about disaster. As in the Dazhidulun: Śubhāṅga, by thinking of the king's daughter, generated a lustful mind from within that was even capable of burning his own body and extending to the heavenly shrine; how much more so when the blazing poison of desire is born—will it not burn all wholesome dharmas? If the mind is attached to desire, there is no way to approach the Way. Therefore, a verse in the treatise states:

12.23

A person who has entered the Way and possesses shame and conscience, / holding the bowl to gather in sentient beings: / how could they indulge in the dust of desires / and submerge themselves in the five passions? / Having already abandoned the pleasures of the five desires, / casting them away without looking back, / how could one wish to obtain them again, / like a fool eating their own vomit? / When seeking desires, there is suffering; / when obtaining them, there is much fear; / when losing them, there is much feverish distress— / in none of them is there any place of joy. / Since all these afflictions are like this, / how can one abandon them? / By attaining the meritorious bliss of dhyāna, / one will not be deceived by them.

12.24

Second, the hindrance of ill will (dveṣa): Ill will is the root of losing all good qualities, the condition for falling into the evil destinies, the enemy of the joy of the Dharma, the great thief of the virtuous mind, the storehouse of harsh speech, and the axe of disaster. If while cultivating the Way one thinks: 'This person harmed me and harmed my kin, and praised my enemy; and in calculating past and future, it is also like this'—these are the nine grounds of vexation, because of which ill will arises. When thoughts of ill will cover the mind, it is called a hindrance. One must urgently abandon it and not allow it to increase. As it is said in the Dazhidu lun, Śakra Devānām Indra questioned the Buddha with a verse:

12.25

"What thing, when killed, brings peace?
What thing, when killed, brings sorrow no more?
What thing is the root of poison,
that swallows and destroys all good?"

12.26

The Buddha spoke a verse in reply:

12.27

"Killing ill will brings peace;
killing ill will brings sorrow no more.
Ill will is the root of poison;
ill will destroys all good."

12.28

Having known this, one should cultivate loving-kindness and compassion, eliminating [ill will] through patience (kṣānti) and making the mind pure. Contemplating sound as empty and nominal, one should not give rise to ill will. Therefore the Dazhidu lun says: 'The bodhisattva knows that all dharmas are unarisen and unceasing, and that their nature is entirely empty. If someone expresses ill will, reviles, strikes, or kills, it is like a dream or an illusion. Contemplating the sound, it is originally nonexistent; it is merely the sound of wind arisen from conditions—what need is there to be angry?' Therefore the treatise says: 'When one wishes to speak, the wind in the mouth called udāna returns inward down to the navel. Striking the navel, a reverberation emerges. As the reverberation emerges, it strikes seven places and arises; this is called speech.' As the verse says:

12.29

"The wind named udāna
strikes the navel and emerges upward;
this wind strikes seven places:
the neck, gums, teeth, and lips,
the tongue, throat, and chest.
From within these, speech is produced.
Foolish people do not understand this;
deluded and attached, they give rise to ill will and folly."

12.30

Furthermore, the Upāsaka-[śīla]-sūtra says: 'A person of wisdom, when encountering vile revilement, should reflect thus: "The words of this revilement do not arise at the same time. When the first word arises, the subsequent word has not yet arisen; once the subsequent word has arisen, the first word has already ceased. If they are not simultaneous, how can it be a revilement? It is simply the sound of wind. Why should I be angry?"' Therefore the Dazhidu lun says: 'When a bodhisattva contemplates sentient beings, even if they revile him for hundreds of thousands of kalpas, he does not give rise to a mind of ill will; even if they praise him for hundreds of thousands of kalpas, he also does not rejoice. He fully understands that sounds arise and cease like a dream, like an echo.'

12.31

Third, the hindrance of drowsiness and torpor: The internal mind becoming dark and muddled is called 'torpor' (mian). The five sense faculties becoming obscured, abandoning control of the limbs, lying down slackly, and nodding toward deep sleep is called 'drowsiness' (shui). This hindrance of drowsiness and torpor can destroy true joy in both this life and future lives. Such an evil phenomenon is the most unwholesome. Why? The other hindrances can be removed through sensory awareness, but sleep is like a dead person, lacking all awareness and sensation; because one is unaware, it is difficult to eliminate. As the Dazhidu lun says, a bodhisattva admonishing sleepy disciples spoke a verse:

12.32

"Do not sleep embracing a dead corpse,
a temporary human designation of various impurities!
Like one with a severe disease, an arrow penetrating the body,
when all bitter pains have gathered, how can you sleep?
Like a person bound and led to execution,
when disaster is about to arrive, how can you sleep?
The thieves of the fetters are not yet slain, the danger not yet removed,
as if lodging in the same room with a venomous snake,
or like standing in battle amid naked blades—
at that time, how could one sleep?
Sleep is a great darkness in which nothing is seen;
day after day it cheats and deprives people of their clarity.
With sleep covering the mind, nothing is seen;
with such great loss, how can you sleep?"

12.33

Fourth, the hindrance of restlessness and regret: There are three kinds. First is restlessness of the mouth: being fond of chanting verse, disputing right and wrong, useless conceptual proliferation (prapañca), worldly talk, and the like; this is called restlessness of the mouth. Second is restlessness of the body: being fond of riding horses, galloping in negligence, wrestling, arm-grappling, snapping fingers, and the like; this is called restlessness of the body. Third is restlessness of the mind: the mental disposition being dissipated, indulging thought in external objects, thinking about literature and worldly skills, various evil discursive thoughts, and the like; this is called restlessness of the mind. The nature of restlessness destroys the mind of leaving the household. Therefore a verse of the Dazhidu lun says:

12.34

"You have already shaved your head and donned dyed robes,
and hold an earthenware bowl to walk begging for food.
How can you delight in and cling to the ways of frivolity and restlessness,
indulging your sentiments in negligence and losing the benefit of the Dharma?"

12.35

Having no benefit of the Dharma, one also loses worldly joy; having recognized its fault, one must urgently abandon it. As for what is called 'regret': if there were restlessness without regret, it would not constitute a hindrance. Why? Because during restlessness, one is still engaged with sensory objects; later, when wishing to enter absorption (dhyāna), one only then regrets what was done before, and grief and vexation cover the mind; therefore it is called a hindrance. This has two kinds: First is giving rise to regret because of prior restlessness, as explained above. Second is a person who has committed great and heavy sins, constantly harboring dread; the poisoned arrow has penetrated the heart, firmly stuck and unable to be pulled out. As a verse of the Dazhidu lun says:

12.36

"Doing what should not be done,
and not doing what should be done,
one is burned by the fire of regret and vexation,
and in future lives falls into the evil destinies.
If a person is able to repent of sins,
having repented, let him sorrow no more.
In this way the mind is peaceful and joyful;
one should not constantly brood upon it.
If there are the two kinds of regret—
either that what should be done was not done,
or that what should not be done was done—
these are the marks of a foolish person.
It is not through a regretful mind
that what was not done can be done;
once all evil deeds have been done,
one cannot make them undone."

12.37

Fifth, the hindrance of doubt: Because doubt covers the mind, one cannot obtain a concentrated mind regarding dharmas. Because there is no concentrated mind, one gains nothing from the Buddha's Dharma, like a person entering a jeweled mountain who, having no hands, can take nothing. Furthermore, while general doubts are very many, they do not necessarily obstruct concentration. Those that presently obstruct concentration are three kinds of doubt: first, doubting oneself; second, doubting the master; third, doubting the Dharma. First, doubting oneself: thinking, 'My faculties are dull and dark, and the defilements of my sins are deep and heavy; am I perhaps not a proper vessel?' Giving rise to this self-doubt, concentration and wisdom will not arise. If one wishes to study the Dharma, one must not deprecate oneself, because roots of goodness from past lives are difficult to measure. Second, doubting the master: 'That person's deportment and appearance are like this; he himself does not yet possess the Way, so how can he teach me?' Giving rise to such doubt and haughtiness obstructs concentration. The method for eliminating it is like gold inside a foul leather pouch: because one desires the gold, one must not discard the leather pouch. The practitioner is also like this: although the master is not pure, one should still form the thought of him as a Buddha. Third, doubting the Dharma: worldly people mostly cling to their original thoughts, and regarding the Dharma they receive, they are unable to receive and practice it immediately with a mind of faith and reverence. If indecision arises, the Dharma will not permeate the mind. Why? As a verse of the Dazhidu lun says:

12.38

"Like a person at a fork in the road,
who in hesitation and doubt takes nothing,
with regard to the true mark of all dharmas,
doubt is also like this.
Because of doubt, one does not diligently seek
the true mark of all dharmas.
This doubt arises from ignorance;
it is the most evil of evils.
Among wholesome and unwholesome dharmas,
saṃsāra and nirvāṇa,
there are definitively real dharmas;
do not give rise to doubt regarding the Dharma.
If you harbor hesitation and doubt,
you will be bound by the wardens of the King of Death,
like a lion seizing a deer,
unable to attain liberation.
Though having doubts in the world,
one should follow the wondrous and wholesome Dharma;
just as when observing a fork in the road,
one should follow that which is good and advantageous."

12.39

Question: Unwholesome dharmas are limitless and boundless; why abandon only five dharmas? Answer: Among these five dharmas, although the names seem narrow, the meaning covers the three poisons, and also comprehensively subsumes the eighty-four thousand gates of defilement. The first, the hindrance of sensual desire, is the poison of greed. The second, the hindrance of ill will, is the poison of anger. The third, the hindrances of drowsiness-and-torpor and of doubt, are the poison of delusion. The single hindrance of restlessness and regret is the equal distribution [of the three]. When gathered together, they form four divisions of defilement. Within each single one there are twenty-one thousand, and within the four together there are eighty-four thousand gates of defilement. Therefore, if one can remove these five hindrances, one will be able to fully abandon all unwholesome dharmas. It is like being freed from debt, or recovering from a severe illness; like a starving person arriving at an abundant land, or freeing oneself from among evil bandits, peaceful and without distress. The practitioner is also like this: by removing these five hindrances, his mind becomes pure. For instance, if the sun or moon is covered by five things—namely smoke, clouds, dust, mist, or the hand of an asura—it is not clear; the mind is also like this. Joining the analogy, it may be understood. The eulogy says:

12.40

"The five desires darken the conscious spirit;
the five hindrances obscure the power of merit.
The six sense faculties become the accumulation of suffering;
the six thieves disrupt mind and form.
The waves of desire drift along with passions;
the net of craving weaves following the mind.
The three poisons obstruct [realization of] the emptiness of persons;
the four floods drift on without rest.
Though the supreme gold endures past autumn,
cutting the tallies has not yet reached the end.
Since observing the pigeon is boundless,
how can the monkey's climbing here be subdued?
Unless one cuts off the hindrance of desires,
how could one ascend far away?
With equal steps reaching the Jeweled City,
together we behold the virtue of the Benevolent One."

12.41

Section 21: The Four Modes of Birth (Having six topics)

12.42

Topic 1: Explaining the Purport
Topic 2: Matching Names
Topic 3: Mutual Inclusion
Topic 4: The Five Modes of Birth
Topic 5: The Intermediate State (antarābhava)
Topic 6: Entering the Womb

12.43

Topic 1: Explaining the Purport

12.44

Practicing goodness induces joy, leading in the short term to [rebirth among] humans and gods, and in the long term to the attainment of the fruit of buddhahood. Doing evil brings about suffering, incurring in the short term [rebirth in] the three wretched paths, and in the long term straying from the noble path. Foolish people do not believe this, but the wise can know it. Therefore there are bodily distinctions among the four modes of birth, and physical differentiations across the six destinies. Light and darkness follow different paths; rising and falling take different ways. The principle of karmic conditions is crystal clear; the retribution of cause and effect is an unchanging rule.

12.45

Topic 2: Matching Names

12.46

As the Prajñāpāramitā-sūtra says: 'First, egg-born; second, womb-born; third, moisture-born; fourth, apparitionally born.'

12.47

Furthermore, the Oral Explanation of the Twelve Nidānas in the Āgama says: 'There are four kinds of birth: First, belly-born, which refers to humans and animals (this is womb-born). Second, born from the combination of cold and heat, which refers to insects, moths, fleas, and lice (this is moisture-born). Third, apparitionally born, which refers to gods and hell-dwellers. Fourth, egg-born, which refers to flying birds, fish, and turtles.'

12.48

Furthermore, the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra says: 'Animals are immeasurable. Briefly stated, they inhabit three places: first, water-dwellers, namely fish and the like; second, land-dwellers, namely elephants and the like; third, air-dwellers, namely birds and the like. Alternatively, when seeing various animals with the divine eye, there are four kinds of birth. What are the four? First, womb-born, namely the kinds such as elephants, horses, cattle, and sheep. Second, egg-born, namely all birds such as snakes, vipers, geese, ducks, chickens, and pheasants. Third, moisture-born, namely the kinds such as fleas, lice, and nits. Fourth, apparitionally born, such as the long-faced dragons and the like.' Therefore the sūtra says: 'Birth is the arising of new faculties; death is the cessation of the faculties of sensation.'

12.49

Furthermore, the Samantapāsādikā says: 'First, form-birth; second, formless-birth. Form-birth can be destroyed; formless-birth cannot be destroyed. The birth of the formless relies upon form-birth. Form and mind mutually rely upon each other to jointly establish the conventional person, which is called birth. Causing what comes before not to induce what comes after, and what comes after not to follow what comes before, is called death.'

12.50

Furthermore, the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra says: 'The Buddha-nature of sentient beings resides within the five aggregates. If one destroys the five aggregates, it is called killing living beings. If one kills living beings, one will immediately fall into the evil destinies. Relying on this saṃsāra, there are therefore the four modes of birth: born relying on a shell is called egg-born; emerging from being enclosed is called womb-born; arising conditioned by moisture is called moisture-born; suddenly appearing is called apparitionally born. What sentient beings encompass does not exceed these four.'

12.51

Topic 3: Mutual Inclusion

12.52

As the *Mahāvibhāṣā-śāstra says: 'Within this desire realm, all six destinies are fully included. The form and formless realms each include a minor portion of the six destinies. The reason they differ is that the desire realm is a distracted plane; sentient beings create karma through mixed defilements without purity, being either wholesome or unwholesome. Because of these differences, they receive retributions according to their karma, with many distinctions. The upper two realms are exclusively planes of concentration; sentient beings are calm and still, and the karma they initiate is also uniform. Therefore there are no distinctions of multiple destinies.' Question: How do the four modes of birth and the six destinies mutually include one another? Answer: As explained in the Abhidharma, gods and hell-dwellers are solely apparitionally born. The ghost destiny has only two: namely womb-born and apparitionally born. Humans and animals each possess all four modes of birth. Therefore this treatise asks: 'Do the modes of birth subsume the destinies, or do the destinies subsume the modes of birth?' Then it answers itself:

12.53

"Birth subsumes all destinies;
the destinies do not subsume birth.
Because birth adds the intermediate state,
you should know it is not subsumed by the destinies."

12.54

Thus we know that [modes of] birth are broader and the realms are narrower. Because apparitional birth is broad, it encompasses two whole realms and portions of three realms. Within the hell realm, birth is exclusively apparitional. Question: Given that the devas of the six desire [heavens] engage in desire in the same way as humans, why is there no womb-birth [among them]? Answer: Although their experience of desire is the same, the execution of the act is not identical. Therefore, texts such as the Loutan jing and the Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna-sūtra state that the Cāturmahārājakāyika and Trāyastriṃśa devas dwell on the ground; when they engage in desire, male and female unite physically, no different from humans, yet they do not emit semen, which is different from humans. From the upper four heavens upward, it is completely different throughout. When the Yāma devas engage in desire, they embrace with joyous intent, or achieve consummation merely by holding hands, without reaching copulation. In the Tuṣita heaven, playful intent, conversation, and laughter constitute consummation, without waiting to embrace. In the Nirmāṇarati heaven, mutual gazing constitutes consummation, without waiting for conversation and laughter. In the Paranirmitavaśavartin heaven, merely hearing the sound of voices or smelling fragrance constitutes consummation, without waiting for mutual gazing. Therefore they differ from humans. Because devas are apparitionally born, they arise through transformation from the mother's knees. Apparitional birth in the ghost realm is well known. Womb-birth [there] is rather obscure; as those with pure vision have explained, in the past in Rājagṛha there was a woman who was possessed by the essence of a ghost and gave birth from her body to five hundred ghost children. Furthermore, the Abhidharmakośa-śāstra states: A ghost told Maudgalyāyana, 'By day I give birth to five children, and by night I also give birth to five children. As soon as they are born, I devour them, yet I am never sated.' This is womb-birth among ghosts. The asura realm also possesses the two births of womb and apparitional. Because they have mating pairs, there is womb-birth. In the beginning of the kalpa, asuras emerged from the heavens, which is apparitional birth. Furthermore, according to the Guanfo sanmei jing, the primordial female asura originally emerged from the moist mud and eggs of the great ocean; including both womb and apparitional, they also possess all four births. As for humans possessing all four births: womb-birth is visible in the present and well known. Egg-birth is as spoken in the Nirvāṇa-sūtra: for example, the mother of Viśākhā gave birth to a flesh-egg, from which emerged thirty-two eggs. As the *Vibhāṣā-śāstra states: Question: How is it known that there is egg-birth among humans? Answer: As the Buddha taught, in the land of Jambudvīpa there were many merchants who entered the sea to gather jewels. They obtained two cranes. [The cranes] transformed themselves as they wished, leaving one [with each merchant]. Playing together with them, sleeping in the same chamber, and copulating with them, they ultimately laid two eggs. As the eggs gradually matured with warmth, two boys were born. Later, having grown up, they went forth to cultivate the path and attained the fruit of arhatship; one was named Sīvali and the second was named Upasīvali. Question: How is it known that there is moisture-birth among humans? Answer: As taught in the sūtras, there was King Mūrdhata, the Venerable Cāla, the Venerable Upacāla, the Pear Maiden, and the Mango Maiden, etc.; these are instances of it. Question: How is it known that there is apparitional birth among humans? Answer: It is like the humans at the beginning of the kalpa. Those who attain the noble Dharma are never again born from eggs or moisture. Question: Why are they never again born from eggs or moisture? Answer: Egg-birth and moisture-birth are subsumed under the animal realm. As for animals possessing all four births: womb-birth, egg-birth, and moisture-birth—these three can be seen with one's eyes and are well known. As for their apparitional birth: according to the Loutan jing, the garuḍas of the four births in turn eat the nāgas of the four births. The apparitionally born eat [nāgas of] all four [births]; the womb-born eat [nāgas of] three births (excluding apparitional); the egg-born eat [nāgas of] two births (excluding apparitional and womb); and the moisture-born in turn eat only the moisture-born one (excluding the other three, as is understandable).

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諸經要集 — Classical Chinese