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Chinese Original: https://blog.sina.com.cn/s/blog_e2c0f730010301ib.html
English Translation:
Selected Analyses from the Recorded Sayings of Chan Master
Hongzhi Zhengjue
Seeking through forms and sounds misses the true path
A talk by Teacher Hong Wen-liang
Date: December 31, 2000
Venue: Main Hall, Enpo Buddhist Charity Association,
Singapore
The Diamond Sūtra says, “If one seeks me by form, or seeks
me by sound, that person practices a deviant path and cannot see the
Tathāgata.” Think about it: many friends who cultivate now take this as a fine
and beautiful state. The Diamond Sūtra clearly says so, yet when we practice we
forget it. Many people while sitting, reciting the Buddha’s name, or counting
breaths, hear something by the ear—mantras or the Buddha’s name resounding
there—and at that moment feel it is very special and are certainly delighted.
Apart from the body, the nose smells fragrance; entering a Buddha hall,
sitting, reciting, chanting scriptures, before long one seems to sense the
whole room filling with fragrance—the scent of sandalwood—how marvelous, and
one is pleased. But is this not exactly what the Diamond Sūtra calls “seeking
me by form, seeking me by sound”? To use form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and
mental objects to seek the Buddha is to be unable to see the Tathāgata; it says
such a person travels a deviant path—this is the way of Māra.
Yet in actual cultivation we fail to attend to this; we
forget and set it aside. This must be examined. Today’s theme—seeking through
form and sound, the path is not yet correct—comes from a line in Chan Master
Hongzhi’s “Inscription for the Pure Joy Room.” It has the same intent as what
the Diamond Sūtra just stated.
“Seeking through form” means seeing buddhas and
bodhisattvas; “seeking through sound” means hearing mantra tones—as if only
then one has skill in practice. In that case the path is not yet correct;
practice in this way is untenable. “Not yet correct” is like walking a deviant
path; it is not right. Such a simple matter, yet we insist on not believing it.
Neither going nor coming depends on appearances
If seeking through form and sound leaves the path not yet
correct, how then should we seek? In practice, should it not be good for
buddhas and bodhisattvas to appear? It is indeed good—but do not make a fuss
over it. Do not take it as a fine sign of progress—do not! Why is “seeking
through form and sound” incorrect? “Motion and stillness do not depend on mind;
going and coming do not depend on appearances.” (In the original text, the
character for “appearance” lacks the “human” radical.) Let me explain why this
is so, adding a little brain physiology with simpler language.
First, “going and coming do not depend on appearances.”
Suppose someone walks in; we say he has come in. After a while he leaves; we
say he has gone out. Do we not base his appearing and disappearing, his
entering and leaving, on his visible appearance? “Going and coming do not
depend on appearances” means: do not rely on the bodily appearance to determine
going and coming. How then do we know that he has come and gone? Even for
someone of great attainment, or a truly awakened practitioner—what Chan calls “illumining
the mind and seeing one’s nature,” truly discovering right awakening—if a
person comes and goes, does such a one refrain from relying on the person’s
appearance to say he has come and gone, and instead rely on what—his mind? his
feelings? his thoughts? If the awakened one knows what the person is thinking,
then when the thought comes, he knows he has come; when the thought leaves, he
knows he has gone. Because the awakened one is awakened, he knows what is in
that person’s mind. If this were so, then indeed he would not depend on
appearance; he would know the other’s mind. “Ah, without looking at him, I look
elsewhere; he has come in. I did not look at his appearance, but I have the
ability to know his mind. As his thinking draws nearer, I know he has come.” Is
this the meaning? If not, then what does “going and coming do not depend on
appearances” mean?
Since we cannot rely on the bodily appearance, how do we
know another’s coming and going? The Buddha said, “If one sees me through form,
seeks me through sound, that person walks a deviant path and cannot see the
Tathāgata.” We all think: “To see the Buddha, I must not see through his body.”
For example, Avalokiteśvara is one figure, Mahākāla is another, Vajra Ḍākinīs another—we distinguish
which deity it is by bodily form, or we think chanting a mantra indicates which
bodhisattva has arrived. It says we may not do this; actually this is not the
meaning of the Diamond Sūtra. If a dog runs in or a cockroach crawls in, that
is neither a bodhisattva nor a human being. If you have truly awakened and seen
the nature, you will not take the dog’s or cockroach’s appearance as the fact
of coming and going. Then what? Do we rely on the nature of the Tathāgata? “The
Tathāgata’s nature has neither coming nor going.” How do you know it has
neither? Because the books say so. We must inquire: why is it said thus? The
Śūraṅgama Sūtra also
says: nothing truly comes or goes. Fine—what truly exists? Movement or
stillness arises due to conditions.
What is this “existence” in fact? Practically speaking, when
we say a person or a dog has come in, we see an appearance arriving and
leaving. Speaking thus is expedient speech. In daily talk we may say,
“So-and-so has gone out; so-and-so has come in”—that is permissible. But in
ultimate truth, in its true scope, there is no coming or going. This does not
mean erasing appearances, nor that one who has attained becomes blind, saying,
“Though he clearly comes in, I cannot see.” That would make you a blind person
from over-cultivation. It is not like this! One who has attained sees him come
and sees him go—dogs, cats, birds, even fish in the pond—all fine—there is
coming and going. It is not that high attainment annihilates appearances. The
true meaning of appearances coming and going is like appearances in a dream:
there is coming and going in the dream, but when awakened the dream’s comings
and goings are gone—provided one truly awakens. Before awakening, one does not
know; in a dream there truly seems to be coming and going. This is an analogy.
Śākyamuni Buddha also knew that people do not dream in the daytime, yet the
daytime realm shares the same nature as a dream. We have difficulty fully
accepting this. Obviously it is daytime; I have not slept. You want me to
regard this as dreamlike—I cannot. Dreaming is one thing at night; meeting
together in the day is another. To forcibly regard the day as a dream is hard
to accept, is it not? Yet using the dream analogy helps to clarify: the comings
and goings we see now are like dream appearances. It is easier to understand
this way, though still not easy to actually take daytime as dreamlike, because
the two seem utterly different. Thus when we read sutras or hear Dharma
explanations that phenomena are like dreams and illusions, inwardly we may nod
yet feel it strange; it is hard to do.
How appearances arise
Let me use modern science for explanation, which meets less
resistance. For example, how do I see him? Not by the ear or the nose, but by
the eye. How does the eye see him? There must be light and distance. If he is
too close—no space between his face and my eye—I cannot see him. There must be
distance and light; the light must be on; the eye must be healthy—a blind
person cannot see; the brain must be healthy—a person in a vegetative state
cannot see, because there is no visual cognition; one who has just died still
has intact eyes but there is no picture, no response. (All dharmas arise from
causes and conditions, therefore they are without self-nature.)
Ordinarily we say someone has arrived. How do we know? The
person’s appearance—his look—passes through the eye with the help of light. The
eye is like a camera; the camera does not know what it has captured. Our eye is
the same. The appearance falls, inverted, upon the retina; the inverted image
lands there. That alone we do not yet know—because the eye, like a camera,
merely receives. The image on the retina is transformed into another kind of
signal—speaking simply—this message is sent to the brain region specifically
for vision. The brain has many cooperating divisions—some for seeing, some for
hearing, smelling, tasting, thinking. When someone comes in, an appearance—just
like a camera—the eye moves and this stimulus or message is sent along nerves
to the visual cortex. It receives the message, like a television receives a
broadcast. That area of the brain changes—the neurons change. Note this
neuronal change is not “the person’s appearance.” Do not suppose the dog is the
dog’s shape, the cat the cat’s shape, the fish the fish’s shape, directly
entering the brain. No! The appearance reaches only as far as the retina, and
that retinal image is inverted—head down, feet up. Then this message is relayed
to the visual cortex, which “uprights” it into a normal orientation. Beyond the
retina there is no longer the shape or existence of that appearance.
To simplify: when I see him, what actually happens is this:
owing to light, an alteration occurs upon my retinal cells; the retina converts
“this message,” not “this image,” into another message and sends it to the
visual center, where neuronal changes occur. (When I rap on a table, vibrations
through the air change; sound arises.) When I see him, because of various
conditions, the neurons responsible for seeing alter; but in the brain there is
no “his image.” These are correlated changes: red makes one pattern, white
another, green another—different patterns move there.
How can such changes “command” the brain to produce an
image? Suppose seeing red moves like this; white like that; green like another;
yellow like yet another. How could you possibly transform that into an image
appearing before your eyes? Because we ourselves have this capacity—not
something we think up. We cannot willfully turn these changes into an image
before us. It is not our fabrication. There are such changes here, and
naturally an image seems present before our eyes. A flower appears as the image
of a flower before us; yet in fact the flower’s image is not manifest “over
there.” Without the entire chain of light, retina, and visual pathways to
neuronal changes, we would not know an image of a flower “here.” The image does
not directly enter the brain. Recognizing this is crucial! It is here, in
me—within a brain area for vision—that changes arise because there is a flower
before me. It is not that the image enters the brain. From this place—these
brain changes—we, with our inherent capacity, convert these changes into an
apparent image before us. Got it? The neuronal change is simply: when seeing
you it moves thus; seeing him it moves so. Is that “movement” your image? Does
that neuronal change equal your image? No. It is merely differing neural change.
Red, white, long, short, round—the scale and scope of change differ—and we have
the astonishing capacity to let such neural motion appear as dog, cat, fish,
blue sky, white clouds before our eyes. Remarkable! It is only neuronal
alteration—not an image projected into the brain. These are two utterly
different things. We must be clear: do not “seek through form and sound.” All
of this is only cellular change within the brain; and the visual neurons are
extraordinarily steady in their response.
Pre-existent morality, concentration, and wisdom
The same holds for hearing. Auditory neurons receive
frequency patterns: on “ah” they move like this, on “ee” like that. Are they
stable? Very! A given “A” tone always makes the same movement. If sometimes it
moved this way, other times that way, we would be lost. This is what is meant
by “originally pure”: profoundly steady—not that we first cultivate
concentration and then it becomes steady. Regardless of moods, when “A” arrives
it moves thus; when “B,” thus; when “C,” thus. Our faculties never mislead us.
They keep precepts; they abide. Whether drunk or sober, they move as they
should. It is not that when drunk, the “A” waveform shifts and we hear
something else. If interpretation fails, that is the fault of the
discriminating function. The auditory cells themselves do not waver: pleased or
displeased, they move exactly according to the sound. They are faithful to
their office—equally so. How do we come to hear A and E? There is wisdom
here—an innate wisdom, not learned from books, Dharma talks, or empowerments.
That our eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind bring in information that
allows us to veridically experience “this kind of flower,” “this sort of
sound”—if not wisdom, if not miraculous power, what is it? We already have it.
Why then speak of seeking morality, concentration, and wisdom? That is a
deception. Yet why do we emphasize it? Because we take what is not self to be
self; thus we must cultivate morality, concentration, and wisdom. What is not
you is troublesome, prone to evil and disorder; it must be trained and tamed.
In truth, what we are—the functioning essence of the six faculties in
operation—is our very self, our true self. The functioning-essence—six
faculties with six kinds of functioning—has different modes but is one
functioning, one essence, moving together as one with the great storms and
earthquakes of the cosmos—thus there is no “self-appearance.” It is only
because we posit an “I” that problems arise.
The meaning of “not relying on appearance” is this: the
flower’s image does not rush into the brain for the brain to read and say, “Oh,
this is a white flower!” It is not like that. No image runs into the brain.
Borrowing light’s configuration—shape, size, spatial relations—the appearance
is converted into another message and sent into the brain; the brain receives
and changes accordingly. From this change, we have the capacity—we have
wisdom—specifically non-discriminating wisdom. Why non-discriminating? Because
no thinking is stirred. Therefore this change appears as “white flower.” Why
not “Liu Miss”? Because there is no thought stirred. It is by this innate
wisdom—this is the great miraculous power spoken of by the Buddha, possessed by
everyone. Otherwise how would a change here appear as a white flower, and a
different change there as a fish? Did we ever have to think or exert effort?
Not at all. It is inborn. So, when you say an image comes and goes, what we
actually have are physical relations—light, distance, and so on—inducing neural
change here. There is change and then no change. Is there still “the image”?
No. There is no image—only neuronal motion. Where is the “appearance”? Nowhere.
“Going and coming do not depend on appearances.” We have always already been in
this state—not because we perfected morality, recited, kept precepts, and
visualized. Dogs and cats are the same; not just humans. Buddhas too: a
Buddha’s step and our step are the same. When the Buddha hears “ah,” we hear
“ah”; the same tone. The Buddha will not hear it as “ee.” If we hear “ee,” the
Buddha—were he present—also hears “ee.” In this capacity there is no difference
between ordinary beings and Buddhas: mind, Buddha, and beings are not two—this
is said constantly. Yet we insist on cultivating to become some great master,
on “awakening”—when in fact we are originally awake; not recognizing it is
called delusion. Recognized, where is there delusion or awakening?
The coming and going of appearances are only the brain’s
neurons changing. When there is such a change, it “moves thus”; when the
appearance is absent, it no longer moves thus. It is only the difference
between motion and no motion here. Where is “your appearance” in this? Nowhere.
To take the coming and going of your appearance as coming and going—neurons
would protest. This is what Buddhism calls inverted delusive thought.
Understand this first; then sutras become intelligible. I am not speaking “my theory,”
nor is the Buddha speaking “his.” This is simply how things truly move. He
pointed it out. The Buddha did not propound an opinion or theory. Whether or
not you grasp theories, we function this way. Ear, eye, nose, tongue, body
sensations—alike. The hardest is that we fail to distinguish “mind” and
“thought.”
A thought arises—the thought “flower.” Only when the mental
faculty moves does the thought “flower” arise; it is not seen by the eye but
arises in mind. The mental faculty lacks a concrete form like eye or ear by
which we can discriminate; it is diffuse. For example, thinking “flower” is
like ear hearing A, B, or C: the change for “white flower” is one pattern; the
change for “dog” is another. When the ear receives a sound and the auditory
cells move, will that alone let you hear? Movement alone is still only
movement. We have another capacity—the sixth consciousness—that differentiates.
“Ah—A; B; red; white”—it reads the change as distinct sounds and names. The
same with the mental faculty: a thought of “white flower” enters; the mental
base receives this visit and also changes. At that moment do you already know
it is “white flower”? Not yet. Only when discriminating consciousness adds its
function do you say, “Ah, I thought of a white flower, of a dog.” Do you
understand me? It is not that as soon as the mental base moves you immediately
know “dog.” A thought arises, but you do not yet know what thought it is.
Without the discriminating function, it is merely a thought’s coming, like the
ear receiving a waveform without yet distinguishing dog from cat. These are the
same sort of situation.
The “speaking Dharma” of the insentient
Those who cultivate by the mental base are more common among
Chan patriarchs. The Buddha saw the morning star—this was the eye faculty.
Seeing peach blossoms, too—this is “going and coming do not depend on
appearances,” originally not the appearance’s coming and going. A peach blossom
falls from the tree; we see it fall (ordinarily this is our realm). But
suddenly, that once, in the visual cells’ moving—in the difference between
motion and no motion—there is a change of suchness, and “that change itself is knowing.”
There is not an additional “knower” apart from it reading the change. This is
the final move. Ordinarily we invert things by taking the change to be
something for an “I,” with a separate capacity, to read—the visual or auditory
change—and then calling that change “delusive thought.” This is wrong. Because
the change itself is knowing; hence “knowing without striking against
phenomena, illuminating without adopting an object,” therefore “seeking
through form and sound leaves the path not yet correct.” If we do not
investigate from here—if one seeks the Buddha by form or sound—even if one can
recite the Diamond Sūtra fluently, does one understand its true meaning?
Now we borrow scientific knowledge to assist understanding:
originally it moves like this, but we do not know and think there is an “I”
that sees and hears. So we take coming and going to be appearances, whereas in
fact here there is only change. One can even see clearly that the change itself
is awareness—there is no additional faculty that looks at the change and reads
it, projecting it as an external image. The change itself is knowing; do not
fabricate another “knower” to read the change. Calling it this or that is mere
expedience. In reality there is no “subject and object.” There is no positing
of a “knower” that knows a “known.” Thus the flower—the image of the
flower—arises as change here; and the change itself already includes knowing.
There is no faculty that must know the brain’s change. This is the
“Dharma-speaking” of the insentient: the flower, too, expounds Dharma. Do not
take “Buddha-nature” to be a knowing spirit opposed to objects. If you reify
the supreme, pure “knowing” of human discrimination as Buddha’s awareness, you
are utterly mistaken. Then you will not understand “the insentient speak the
Dharma.” What is that? This thing here changes. Without this thing, no change
arises. The change is of the four great elements; the brain, composed of the
four, has no master; the outer object of four elements has no master either.
Inner and outer four are without owner and communicate—non-dual. It is the same
one thing moving. “The movement itself” is knowing; there is no “knower” that
looks at the movement. (Because there is no subject and object, this is called
the insentient speaking Dharma.) Chan Master Zhaozhou said: What is
Buddha-nature? A stone by the road; a cypress in the courtyard.
Motion and stillness do not depend on mind
“Motion and stillness do not depend on mind” is the same
point. I lift my hand—I know there is motion; I place it down—there is
stillness. Every inlet of appearance produces different light changes, so the
brain changes correspondingly; receiving differing stimuli, it changes
accordingly—this mutual responsiveness is correct. Inside and outside were
never divided. We think we see and hear “outside” because we imagine it so; in
truth our six faculties do not pass through any “outside.” They move together
as one. Someone “scolds me”—what is that? It is only that sound moving here.
The auditory cells do not say, “You are scolding me,” and thus move smaller so
that it is not heard. Loudness moves larger; softness moves smaller. This is
our original state. When you scold and I get angry, that is because we
fabricate a fanciful “I.” Hearing something unpleasant, an “I” arises to
interfere, and we are thrown into confusion.
The six faculties are originally pure; we then take their
purity as “my function,” and further take the sixth consciousness’s
discriminations as “myself,” and thus suffer myriad afflictions. Hence Chan
patriarchs often say: do not talk Chan, do not talk Dharma, do not speak
Buddha. How to practice? Truly recognize your own true look. Where does this
look manifest? In our six faculties. The six faculties are the
functioning-essence; what power is this functioning? It is the Buddha’s power;
everyone has it. So simple—yet we endlessly chant mantras, recite names, seek
empowerments and blessings. But is that not all the sixth consciousness’s
demand? This fellow—this “I-appearance”—is troublesome; all day it demands.
Today it wants this; tomorrow it wants that; this year one thing, next year
another. We may think this teacher is no good and look for another, because we
habitually listen to that fellow. The sixth consciousness is like Sun
Wukong—never satisfied, always chasing novelty, thinking only the new is correct.
Yet our six faculties are originally so pure and such; our Buddha-nature is
originally evident in the six.
“Motion and stillness do not depend on mind”: taking hearing
as example makes it clearer. When there is sound, there is movement; when there
is no sound, stillness. Our usual habit is: when there is sound, a “mind” rises
up—“I heard a dog, a cat, a bird.” But does such a thought arise inside the
ear? No. Without any thought, it veridically produces the corresponding change—non-discriminating
discrimination. This is our original mind-ground scenery, the clear,
wondrous field made manifest.
Before waking from the dream there are countless anxieties:
one must become a Buddha; where is the Western Pure Land—closer to the west or
to the east? Ratnasaṃbhava
in the south safeguards health; Akṣobhya in the north displays marvels;
Amitābha is in the west—do not go astray to the east… All this fretting is
thinking—everyone speaking at cross purposes. Now fond, now averse—how then are
the eyes and ears to function? If liking made the eyes capture more vividly and
dislike made them blur, that would be chaos; but our eyes do not heed such
whims. Red is red, white is white, blue is blue; large is large, small is
small. What is received is not judged beautiful or ugly. Only after reception
does the discriminating consciousness, conditioned by culture and upbringing,
add judgments of beauty and ugliness. That is all right; this discriminating
function is also an operation of the dharma-body. Knowing this, we can use
discrimination without being deceived by it—that deceiver is the “I.” As
Zhaozhou said: before awakening I was used by the twenty-four hours; after
awakening I use the twenty-four hours.
“Motion and stillness do not depend on mind” does not mean
there is a mind that knows the presence or absence of sound. There is no such
mind. The outer sound and the movement here are one and the same. Without the
condition of the outer sound, here there is no movement; and if there were no
“here,” outer sound would be of no use. Thus the movement here and the sound
there are one thing. Do not divide inside and outside; such language is only
for convenience. In body and mind one easily discovers the non-dual state. This
non-dual state is the Buddha’s state; it is the Pure Land. Where else will you
seek the Pure Land? Right now we are moving within the Pure Land and do not
know it. We clutch what is false and try to polish it to reach the Pure
Land—how strange! We stand within the Pure Land and search outside for the Pure
Land.
“Motion and stillness do not depend on mind; going and
coming do not depend on appearances; seeking through form and sound leaves the
path not yet correct”—all because we do not understand and keep seeking Buddha
and Pure Land outside. “The path not yet correct” means one is walking deviant
Dharma.
Everything is already present—your native scenery
Chan patriarchs do not gauge your learning or practices;
they only ask whether you have seen your nature. What is “seeing nature”?
Discovering who the true “I” is. It is not that by study, cultivation, or
recitation one reaches that realm. Be clear: from beginningless time it is the
six faculties that grant us great miraculous function and great use, and yet we
do not thank them—we seize the false as the self. That which never was born
will not die; yet we take this rank skin-bag as self and seek longevity and
mastery over rebirth—madness! Because there is a false self, there is birth and
death. When we recognize the great life of the universe itself—does it have
birth and death? An earthquake: the condition comes, so there is shaking.
Elsewhere, a great quake; on the Pacific, a typhoon—does a typhoon have birth
and death? With dependent arising and empty nature: when conditions converge,
there is arising; without conditions, it ceases. This very ground is the field
of clear, wondrous luminosity. Say it “exists”—you cannot see it. Say it “does
not”—appearances arise with conditions. Understand this and you have seen the
nature, knowing you are not this stinking skin-bag. Whether deluded or
awakened, drawn to tantra or vinaya—all the same: the great functioning moving
as functioning-essence.
Chan Master Dizang had a disciple, Master Wenyì, learned and
fond of the doctrine “the three realms are only mind; the myriad dharmas only
cognition.” One day Dizang pointed to a large stone in the pavilion: “Wenyì,
you say all dharmas are cognition; the three realms are only mind. I ask you:
is this stone inside your mind or outside?” Wenyì could not answer. If he said
“outside,” then “only mind” would fail; if he said it was not inside, “only
mind” would be a lie. He replied, “It is inside my mind.” Dizang said, “Placing
a big stone in your mind—won’t that be exhausting?” Exhausting indeed.
This question wore at Wenyì for a month and a half. Day
after day he brought answers; Dizang knocked them down: “Buddhadharma is not
like that. Inside is wrong; outside is wrong; the middle between inside and
outside is wrong.” After a month and a half, out of answers and about to leave,
Dizang took pity: “Wenyì! In fact, I tell you—everything is already present.”
At that instant, Wenyì awakened.
Where are clouds? In the sky. Where is water? In the cup.
Everything is already present—do not overthink.
We have not discovered the “birth-place” of “motion and
stillness do not depend on mind; going and coming do not depend on
appearances,” so each unawakened person’s individual mind and discourse becomes
everyone talking past one another. Not having seen nature, we do not
understand. Everything is already present!
Have you heard the sound of stone or bamboo? Have you seen a
peach blossom fall? Everything is already present—not through thought. Do not
imagine that intellectual understanding is awakening.
We do not understand our own fundamental nature; we have not
touched our native scenery; we have not struck the wondrous source. It is not
scholarship, thought, or emotion that can reach it. Yet we must pay attention:
“Seeking through form and sound leaves the path not yet correct” has already
pointed out the direction of practice. Apply effort here—this is true effort.
When Master Wenyì truly awakened and taught from the hall,
someone asked, “Master, what is the true first meaning of the Buddhadharma?
What did the Buddha intend to transmit? What is the supreme meaning?” Wenyì
said, “If I were to tell you, it would already be the second meaning.” Once it
is spoken, it is the second meaning—not the thing itself. To analyze things
with scientific theory may sound impressive, but all of that is words and
sound, unrelated to the functioning itself. Spoken, it is the second meaning—no
longer it. Durian is delicious—no matter how well we describe it or even watch
a video, that is not the durian itself. Unless you taste it personally, it is
not durian. Can the first meaning be spoken? However one speaks, it is not it.
So too with the Buddhadharma.
Patriarch Sengcan said: “The supreme Way is not difficult;
it only dislikes choosing.” We are already on the Way; of course the supreme
Way is not difficult. What more Way is there to seek? Do not aspire to become
some great accomplished master. “Choosing” is to look outward—to seek outside.
What suits me I take; what does not I reject; I make myself the lord. And who
is this lord? The false “I.” The manifestation of the supreme Way—the
Buddha-nature—already displays as our very body, yet we still seek outside.
Thus “the supreme Way is not difficult; only do not love and hate.” The six
faculties originally have no love and hate; it is the false “I” that loves and
hates. Motion and stillness do not depend on mind.
“The three realms are only mind; the myriad dharmas only
cognition.” All beings—sentient and insentient—are included. Hearing “mind,” we
sometimes use “mind” in language to point to the whole native scenery; but this
“mind” is not the grasping mind. Many misunderstand and think that apart from
sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and thoughts there is some other
thing, and that this “mind” “transforms” them. How does it “transform”? It is
simply by changing here, thus and so. It is not that “it transforms them”; it
itself is them—and yet not them. Not that it is “exactly identical,” yet
nothing can appear apart from this great mind—the Buddha-mind, not the grasping
mind. Apart from the Buddha-mind, nothing can exist. In Buddhist learning we
abbreviate this as “neither identical nor separate”: not identical with it, and
yet not separable from it. “Is the stone exactly it?” Not exactly. “Apart from
it, could there be a stone?” Impossible. This is doctrine—mere theory; in truth
it is not “it.” “Neither identical nor separate,” “neither existence nor
non-existence”—such formulas are the simplest theoretical pointers to the
Buddha’s realized realm. Is the stone exactly it? Not exactly. But apart from
it, could there be a stone? Impossible. Therefore this is difficult to show
forth. One cannot reach it by theorizing, nor by begging the Buddha to reveal
it so we may enter the same realm. Not possible—not even for the Buddha! Hence
it is called “wondrous.” Thorough penetration—the penetration to the root—is
required: the stone’s root, earth’s root, space’s root, the root of the vast.
This original root is what we call the native field of clear, wondrous
luminosity.
Clinging to affairs is delusion; tallying with principle is
not yet awakening. If we treat all this as doctrine and ask, “How does a stone
manifest? Did it ‘originally’ exist?”—the more we paint, the further we stray.
Therefore Dizang instructed Wenyì: “Everything is already present.” Do not pile
on thoughts and debate. If you make it an object for research—this and that—you
are already playing with it in the realm of theory. Hence: “Clinging to affairs
is originally delusion.” Clinging to names and status—“I love white flowers; I
hate red; remove them”—is clinging to affairs, which is delusion. After hearing
Dharma one may say, “All is empty of self-nature; dependent arising; all is the
display of Buddha-nature.” Then how exactly does the stone “turn”? Even if you
explain so thoroughly that others concede, “tallying with principle is not yet
awakening.” The logic is impeccable and you agree, but agreement with logic is
not awakening. Beware of this path. Learning is for use—so that one day we see
our own nature. If we become used by learning, we might as well become scholars
of Buddhism.
The baffling “I.” Sitting meditation, recitation of the
Buddha’s name, visualization—various methods—are not in themselves wrong. But
if one is unclear at the root, one takes the means for the end. These methods
are aids to reaching the summit; climbing gear is not the summit. Nor, having
heard of the summit, should we dismiss the gear—that too is mishearing. But in
using it, we must know the goal is the summit. Our fundamental
nature—Buddha-nature—manifests as us; the stone as well. Yet is the stone Buddha-nature?
No. But apart from Buddha-nature could it be? No. You say, “The pavilion’s
stone is over there; I am here looking at it.” That is not the realm. Because
we do not know our true self, we think the stone is “before me,” “in the
courtyard.” In truth the stone and “I” are not two. Why? Because the false “I”
is not posited. If we posit an “I,” then we will discuss the stone and “me”
separately and try to fit the grand theory of “Buddha-nature’s display” onto
it—how does Buddha-nature “turn into” a stone? We keep taking the stone as an
external object of observation and spin theories. The Buddha tells us the stone
and we are one. Why one? If the false “I” is not posited, then how could “you”
still be set up? Saying “you” requires “not me.” Without positing “me,” how can
“you” be posited?
When I look at you, it is not that a “Hong Wen-liang here”
looks at a “Miss Liu there.” From beginningless time, in not seeing the nature,
we have discussed and practiced the Dharma within this framework. You polish
the false “I”—how long will that take? However you polish it, it will fall
apart. I look at you—not that there is some separate “Hong Wen-liang” here who
“looks at you” there. Rather, the very functioning of seeing is called “I look
at you.” You are you; I am I; you are there; I am in Taiwan—such talk is
possible only once “I” is posited. The Buddha asks you to look well: does the
“I” you admit actually exist? Do not talk of practice or doctrine—first look
for the one who is practicing, or who objects. If you are opposing Chan—who is
that who opposes? What is that which asserts? Have you thought about it? We
only oppose—ranting. Who asserts it? “I.” What is this “I”? A haphazard
response. This is crucial. Whether approving or disapproving, it is the assumed
false “I” making claims. Search it out: when a flower is seen, is it “outside”?
Without you, could the flower be known? Without the flower, how could you say
“I see a flower”? The seeing—the functioning—can “I” and “flower” be split
apart? Seeing is only functioning. “I see a flower” is my own random speech.
The Buddhadharma asks you to go directly and experience this. (This is the
meaning of “do not seek Dharma outside the mind.”)
“Subject” and “object” move together and cannot be split. To
split them is meaningless. Originally there is no subject and object. What is
called “root ignorance” in Buddhism is in fact our natural confusion—everyone
is muddled here. But subject and object are originally absent; “both vanish”
does not mean you annihilate them—it means you discover they were never there.
Do not think practice produces a result across a gap. What the Buddha truly
entrusted to Mahākāśyapa is precisely this: from the very outset of practice,
one is already on the fruit ground; practice and enlightenment are one—not a
sequence of first, second, third stages. The Avataṃsaka speaks of ten bhūmis as a skillful
beginning, but what the Buddha truly gave to Kāśyapa is “practice and
enlightenment are one.” Not that after years or kalpas one attains the Buddha’s
fruit. From the start of practice, we are already Buddha. It is said: our
original self-nature is Buddha. Therefore the nature cannot be defiled. In
beings of hell, in animals, in hungry ghosts—the essence is undefilable. Do not
suppose Buddha-nature cannot “enter hell” as beings; all hell-beings are
constituted by Buddha-nature. Hence self-nature cannot be stained. Because
Buddha-nature has no fixed appearance, old evil karma manifests as the six
realms; yet all are displays of Buddha-nature, so the essence is unstainable.
If we are already on the fruit ground, should we not
practice? In Japan, Dōgen traveled to China precisely to resolve this: “Since
our nature is Buddha-nature and dharma-nature’s display, why should I still
practice—why sit, why recite?” Master Rujing said, “Self-nature cannot be
defiled; all is dharma-nature. Yet practice is not absent.” There is practice!
We may not say there is no practice. “Originally thus,” we sleep, eat,
dress—responding to conditions. Here, responding to conditions means following
dharma-nature, not the false “I”: loud is loud, soft is soft, dog is dog, cat
is cat—responding exactly to conditions. It is not to overlay this with “as I
please”—to answer as I wish, to steal as I wish—that is the false “I” following
conditions.
Knowing we are the display of dharma-nature, why not
dispense with practice? The mistaken approach is to polish the shadow. “I have
much karmic guilt, afflictions of view and desire; I must do good, chant
mantras, gradually remove guilt, and step by step become a Buddha.” We
habitually take the false as self; every day we polish a shadow and clothe it.
Bodhidharma said, “Wrong!” The Buddha told us that the shadow is not you; you
must discover the originally pure. But discovery is not easy; one must employ many
methods until one day awakening happens—that is the result of practice. The
true “I” is not slowly produced by sitting and mantra. The true “I” we dare not
affirm; failing to affirm ourselves is the greatest sorrow.
When you sense something is amiss, you must practice—this is
harder than polishing the shadow. Do not think, “Since it is originally so,
there is nothing to practice”—this is a grave mistake. The false “I,” while
quiet sitting and mantra calm the mood, may enjoy peace; favorable conditions
gather and the shadow seems to change. But as conditions arise and cease, the
shadow changes likewise. Add virtuous deeds, reduce anger and greed, and bodily
and mental conditions improve step by step.
Yet the Chan patriarchs do not fuss with petty, timid
views—whether slow or hasty. Petty view means cramped vision: when led by the
shadow, the view is small. The true “I” is the vast life of the cosmos. How
could the true “I” “know itself as ‘I’”? The essence cannot behold itself; the
essence cannot cognize the essence. This is what is meant by “penetrate the
wondrous root.” We cannot use dualistic knowing to grasp the great cosmos as an
object; that would place ourselves outside it. The essence cannot see the
essence; it must be realized thus—then one sits. As conditions are added,
samādhi states change.
After awakening, Wenyì said: “You speak of the first
meaning—‘the ten thousand dharmas return to the One.’ What is the One? Where
does the One return? If you can cognize it, is that the One or not? To know the
One, you would have to stand outside the One—but then it is already two.”
Therefore do not use language, thought, or theory to interpret this. For the
One to know itself as One requires wondrous penetration. Turning the body
around here is endlessly difficult. Realizing emptiness—you are emptiness itself,
dharma-nature itself. How can dharma-nature “know itself as dharma-nature”? Not
by cognition—hence the turning-around is hard—hard even across an eon of
emptiness. Master Touzi charged his student: “You must accomplish this for me.
Do not travel at night; at daybreak you must arrive!” Do not walk by
night—arrive at dawn. This speaks of practice and enlightenment as one: from
the start of practice we are already on the fruit ground. The six faculties are
originally liberated and at ease. In daily life we should constantly learn to
appreciate our human life.
