Chinese Original: https://www.awakeningtoreality.com/2017/01/precious-mirror-samadhi.html 

English Translation (translation updated: 28/9/2025):

“Jeweled Mirror Samādhi,”

a talk by Teacher Hong in the Cameron Highlands; Gleanings on the Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi, by Zen Master Iida (Japan), rendered into Chinese by Shaozhuo; a Chan retreat in the Cameron Highlands, November 2005, with guidance and dharma instruction from Teacher Hong Wenliang.

This time I will introduce to everyone the Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. “Song” indicates a text cast as prose or verse; “Jeweled Mirror Samādhi” is anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi. The Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi was composed by Chan Master Dongshan. Shitou Xiqian wrote the Harmony of Difference and Sameness; these two texts are sister works. This one explains things more fully than the Harmony of Difference and Sameness, though the manner of writing is the same. The present explanation follows the Japanese Master Iida’s rendering. The commentary on the Harmony of Difference and Sameness given previously also adopted Master Iida’s exposition. There are many annotations on the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi; Master Iida’s essay is concise and to the point. Another is by Master Menzan, written at the venerable age of eighty-six. Because time is limited, in this retreat we can only present Master Iida’s explanation. In Sōtō temples these two texts are chanted morning and evening without fail, which shows their importance.

The Jeweled Mirror Samādhi is walls and tiles; it is walking, standing, sitting, and lying down; it is the coming and going of birth and death; it is the rise and fall of suffering and happiness.

“The Jeweled Mirror Samādhi is walls and tiles; it is walking, standing, sitting, and lying down; it is the coming and going of birth and death; it is the rise and fall of suffering and happiness”—this single line states the crux completely. Walls are it; stones are it. Your sneezing, walking, sleeping—every moment of walking, standing, sitting, and lying is the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. What then remains to be said? What troubles us most is birth and death and their comings and goings: where does the intermediate state go? Are there six destinies of rebirth? Is there a hell? Is there a Pure Land to which one may go? Is there a heaven to ascend to? These questions of the comings and goings of birth and death are crucial, and their answer can be given with a single phrase: “the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi.” Does this seem strange? “The rise and fall of suffering and happiness” includes pain, numbness, itchiness—these are all it. This means there is not some special samādhi into which those who have cultivated may enter while those who have not may not; nor is it that only those of attainment have the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. No! Whether buddha or ordinary person, sentient or insentient, steamed bun, diamond, singing, walking—all are it. What does this mean?

Seen with a true eye, the whole universe is a single Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. Because it is a single one, there is no seer and nothing seen.

“Seen with a true eye” means without muddled confusion. We often look through colored lenses and then take things to be red, green, white, and so on. To see with a true eye is to add no bias to what we see. The entire universe is a single Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. Precisely because the entire universe is one Jeweled Mirror Samādhi, of course walking, standing, sitting, lying; walls and tiles; the comings and goings of birth and death are all one Jeweled Mirror Samādhi. Because “a single one” is “one piece”—there is just one piece—because “the whole” is a single piece, there is no seer and nothing seen. Your whole body is yourself—could your left foot be me while your right foot is not me? Could the right foot look at the left foot and say it is not you, or the left foot look at the right foot and say it is not you? Could it be like that? The whole of it is oneself. If you step outside and look back, then you divide it. Since the whole of it is one, can it be divided? It cannot. Can water divide into “this water” looking at “that water”? All water is water. Can you take the taste of it?

Ordinarily we look and at once divide into you, I, and he. In truth, when I look at you and you look at him, he, I, and you are one and the same thing, a single jeweled mirror. Hearing this, we get confused: you are you, a stone is a stone, a stone is not me. How can a stone and I be one thing? Do you agree? If a tiger appears right in front of you—am I the tiger? No, right? How could a tiger be me? In the Harmony of Difference and Sameness this is the principle of “interfusion” and “non-interfusion.” “Interfusion” is that the whole universe is one Jeweled Mirror Samādhi; “non-interfusion” points to the other as tiger while I am I—this is non-interfusion. The Harmony of Difference and Sameness emphasizes that in our world our thoughts all take the tiger to be over there about to eat me and I must flee, and so on—each one independent and non-interfusing. Seen with a true eye, originally the whole of it is the manifestation of a single dharma-realm, the dharma-nature. How to accord with it? Rather than explaining doctrine endlessly, better that you simply sit cross-legged. Put simply, that is all. It is not the case that you think, “Ah! That’s it!”—that is merely your conceptual consciousness thinking it is right.

If you take “meeting and understanding” to be a mirror, you will enter hell as swiftly as an arrow. The saying is not to be heard of: mountains and rivers are not seen in a mirror; mountains, rivers, grasses, and trees are the mirror.

Master Kokan said, “Do not set my hands in motion—there is a person like jade. Do not set my feet in motion—the whole body appears as accomplished. Just look, just look.”

The meaning of Master Kokan’s words is that you must not add anything extra; once hands or feet move, it is no longer so. In other words, if you think this out in the realm of discriminating consciousness, you have erred. “At this very moment it is perfectly accomplished”—there is no need to move hands or feet; the whole of it is so. Therefore, in what you see and hear do not imagine that these are what the great mirror-like wisdom manifests, as if a mirror of the dharma-realm and dharma-nature were showing reflections that vary with your karmic conditions and retributions. Explaining it this way is entirely wrong. What you see, hear, touch, and think are all the mirror itself, including you yourself: the whole of it is the mirror. Do not misunderstand this point.

“Lovers in fervent passion, even if sleeping alone, are as if sharing one quilt; the mist disperses and the mountain hides” (a Japanese tanka). This poem has been hard to understand since ancient times. The Way cannot be left even for an instant. Husband and wife were originally one body; sleeping alone does not differ from two sleeping together—it is this intimate. Who would dare be ashamed before the grace of the shared pillow?

Next comes a Japanese tanka. Lovers passionately in love, even sleeping alone, are as if sleeping together. “The mist disperses and the mountain hides”—when the mist disperses, the mountain cannot be seen. Since ancient times this has been hard to understand. How can the mountain hide when the mist has dispersed? One sleeping alone equals two sleeping together—what is this saying? Master Iida explains: “The Way cannot be left even for a moment.” You yourself are it; you yourself divide it. Therefore, seeking the Way, you do not know that you yourself are the Way. If you yourself are the Way, how can you leave it? How can it be divided? Naturally, it cannot be left even for an instant. “Husband and wife were originally one body. Sleeping alone does not differ from two sleeping together. So intimate is it.” This indicates that we ourselves, or the outer stones and tiles, are all the Jeweled Mirror; thus it is this intimate. “Who would dare be ashamed before the grace of the shared pillow?”—are you not the Way?

The mist is self-view. When looking at a mountain, the mountain enters the eye, and the eye becomes the mountain.

“The mist disperses and the mountain hides” requires special attention. With mist one cannot see clearly. The mist is “self-view”: our opinions and views. When we see and hear, at once we add “self-view,” as if mist arises. “The mist is self-view. When looking at a mountain, the mountain enters the eye, and the eye becomes the mountain.” When you look at a mountain, the mountain’s appearance enters the eye. Within the eye there is the mountain’s image now present upon the retina. On the retina the whole image of the mountain appears; the eye is the entire mountain. Whatever you see, the eye becomes what is seen. “Seer and seen are both extinguished.” When things are in accord, is there still a seer and a seen? I see a mountain, a tree, clouds, the sun, the moon. In seeing, the eye becomes a cloud or becomes a mountain. Is there any seer and seen there? The seer and seen arise when you stir a thought, “My eyes see a mountain.” Only when your conceptual consciousness adds this does it appear. In the moment itself, all are appearances; all are images. The eye becomes a flower; the eye becomes a microphone. Is there any seer and seen? Seer and seen are produced when you think and talk. Thus it says, “When looking at a mountain, the mountain enters the eye, and the eye becomes the mountain.”

That seer and seen are both extinguished ought originally to be explained as mutual accommodation; but fearing it might be mistaken for a doctrine of two, it is said that the mountain hides—this is the rationale for “hides.”

Heaven and earth share one root; the myriad things are of one body; nothing is more intimate than “one.” Therefore the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi can also be called great love.

Just sit and see; take up kōans until you are of one piece with them; there will surely be a time you clap your hands and laugh without knowing it.

This principle, said in words, is hard to understand. Therefore: “just sit and see; take up kōans until you are of one piece with them.” Master Iida, somewhat under the influence of the Linji lineage, approves of investigating kōans, unlike Takuan Kōdō or Dōgen, who advocated constantly just sitting; but Master Iida’s point is that when investigating kōans you become one with the kōan. “There will surely be a time you clap your hands and laugh without knowing it.” After endless talk, there is no need to use your wits—just sit and see. Like talking at length about what salty is or sweet is—once you put it in your mouth, you know. Therefore, just sit and see.

The Jeweled Mirror Samādhi is truly the work of Dongshan. On the authorship there have been many conflicting views since ancient times, which risk being overly forced. This is because in the Record of the Thirteen Chapters of Dongshan in the Compendium of Essentials there is the passage: “When the Master took leave of Caoshan, he charged him, saying, ‘At my late master Yunyan’s place I personally sealed the essentials of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi; now I transmit them to you.’” From this some have taken it to be Yunyan’s work, originating from Yaoshan.

Here, what is called “Jeweled Mirror Samādhi” is not a book title; it points straight to the directly transmitted succession, the “this” of the Treasury of the True Dharma Eye, or the meaning of “accord between teacher and student.”

Master Huiran called this text the Song of the Precious Mirror Samādhi; Master Chuandeng also added the word “Song” to indicate distinction. This song is indeed the samādhi secretly entrusted by the buddhas and patriarchs, set down in writing by Great Master Dongshan. May it be chanted and transmitted without differentiating monks from laypeople, so that all can realize and enter the buddha-way.

“This song harmonizes in metre with the Harmony of Difference and Sameness,” sharing its rhyme. “It elaborates it closely and fully. The intention within differs slightly in scope and brevity,” but in fact the main purport of the two is the great gist that the buddhas wished to transmit. Thus the opening line of the Harmony of Difference and Sameness, “The mind of the great sage of India,” is the “Jeweled Mirror Samādhi,” the “wondrous mind of nirvāṇa” transmitted by the World-Honored One, and the “facing the wall” transmitted by Bodhidharma. The words differ and their presentation differs, but all point to “this.” If “this” were easy to state, it would simply be said openly; but this “this” cannot be put into words, is hard to depict, and cannot be grasped by feeling and sentiment as “Oh! That’s it! A sudden opening.” That is merely a feeling. Therefore it is called difficult—very difficult! And yet it is not difficult, for right now you yourself are it; only you are unwilling to undertake it. If you are willing, is the matter then finished?

If you are willing yet cannot put down the one thought that affirms yourself as right, then from the fault of self-affirmation you fall into the sickness of realization. This sickness of realization is hardest to remove. Nevertheless, the experience of “feeling it is right” must be personally verified; without personal verification it does not count. But this experience is so wondrous and so joyous that old habits rise up and seize it and will not let go. Thus self-affirmation is still a fault—we call this the “fault of permanence.”

This piece still follows the “Yu rhyme”; the rhyme used is that of the state of Yu. “Those who truly hear are few indeed”: those who understand are far too few. Understanding is necessary, lest the direction of practice be mistaken; but understanding is not sufficient—understanding does not mean you are right. “If you first read the Harmony of Difference and Sameness and then this piece, you will naturally discover how the two are subtly and spiritually contiguous”—it is hoped everyone will read this Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi alongside the previous commentary on the Harmony of Difference and Sameness; you will naturally find where the two connect.

When the self is forgotten, nothing is not self. Regard the universe as a single mirror, and then every affair, every thing, without exception, is the mirror itself: when a barbarian comes, a barbarian appears; when a Han comes, a Han appears.

He uses one line to explain: “When the self is forgotten, nothing is not self.” When the self is forgotten, nothing is not oneself. If the self is not forgotten, then you, he, sentient, and insentient are divided. The “self” is erected by deluded thought; the thought “I am I” persists—“I am listening,” “I am practicing the Way”—that “I” needs to be forgotten. If forgotten, can one no longer act? Can one no longer live? One still drinks tea; one still breathes and the heart still beats; one still thinks. Just do not take thinking as the self, and you are right. When thoughts and currents of thought arise, even if you would stop them, you cannot—because they do not belong to you. “When the self is forgotten, nothing is not self”—this comes from Venerable Zeng Zhao’s “The sage has no self and yet nothing is not self.” Shitou Xiqian, reading that line and moved, wrote the Harmony of Difference and Sameness.

When the self is forgotten, there is nothing that is not oneself—do not let this go in one ear and out the other. Turn back and reflect within and taste whether you can glean a little flavor. Even if you have a little, in an instant it is gone; in a kṣaṇa you return to that “I”—this shows how powerful habitual tendencies are. If you try to figure out this habit with reasoning, you cannot; if you try to bow it away, you cannot. What to do? Just sit. This is what the Buddha transmitted: as soon as you sit and set yourself there, the whole universe is you and you are the whole universe, present right now. With the body of an ordinary person you can immediately verify the body of a sage—only this method. Without changing the ordinary body, suddenly become the sacred body. Because you are originally the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi, set there you are the Jeweled Mirror. Do not sit there and occupy yourself with private business—wanting to become a buddha, wanting to eliminate afflictions, wanting to open the two channels of conception and governor. That would be a pity.

“Regard the universe as a single mirror; every affair and thing without exception is the mirror.” This must be thoroughly verified in sitting. It is originally like this—do not think askew. “When a barbarian comes, a barbarian appears; when a Han comes, a Han appears.” Thoughts come—what of it? Thought is the movement of the dharma-realm. Thoughts arise and pass; what the mind thinks are all “when a barbarian comes, a barbarian appears; when a Han comes, a Han appears.” Who says that when sitting, thoughts coming and going are bad? Who says so?

The one that illuminates is the mirror; what is illuminated is also the mirror. There is no “other,” no “self.” There is none that can hate or love. Originally it is one emptiness.

Suddenly it is in front; in an instant it is behind. At first like a maiden; in the end like a fleeing hare. It begins as a great merchant, exhausting luxury; in the end it declines and begs in the lanes, knowing no shame.

You must be able to be the host wherever you are; then, wherever you turn, it can truly be subtle and profound. Abiding settled in your own share is “truly subtle and profound.” Only when non-interfusion is thorough can “wherever you turn be truly subtle and profound.” “The jeweled mirror is oneself, and oneself is the jeweled mirror.” Do not divide into “I am the jeweled mirror” or “I am a reflection appearing in the jeweled mirror”—that is wrong. The jeweled mirror itself is you, and you are the jeweled mirror; all the transformations upon the mirror are yourself—nothing is not self. “‘Precious’ carries the meaning of omnipotent freedom. ‘Jeweled mirror’ is a metaphor; ‘samādhi’ is the dharma.” If we reluctantly divide this song into two parts as jeweled mirror and samādhi, the jeweled mirror is the comparison and samādhi is the dharma. Samādhi is right absorption. What is right absorption? It is not adding one’s own opinions, not adding inexplicable wrong views and biases. Samādhi is right reception. Well then, after speaking so much principle, what is actual practice?

Samādhi is right absorption: honestly receive, become one with conditions, and forget oneself.

“Honestly receive, become one with conditions, and forget oneself”—only this line; everyone should remember it. Jeweled mirror is the metaphor; samādhi is the true teaching; “no self” and “not self”—these are the principles. In actuality? Just now you sit here listening to my teaching. What are your conditions? You hear what I say, and so the mind moves, thinking and judging—these are conditions. Are you one with the conditions? At every moment you are moving your mind: “I hear what you are saying; you say it well, you say it poorly.” At once a “someone” appears and moves there. Have you become one? No. If one has become one, does it mean you do not know what I am saying? Have you no opinions? Are you confused? Is that being one? After hearing, thoughts churn above. You must know: “thinking itself is ultimately non-thinking.” It is “I” that thinks; do not insert that “I,” and you are right. If you do not insert “I,” can you not discriminate what I am saying? Thus “deluded thought is ultimately the dharma-nature.” You say “become one with conditions”—do you then become the sound so that only sound is ringing and you cannot understand anything? Buddhas and great Chan masters do not teach you this.

Suppose you pull the teeth of a thoroughly enlightened Chan master and refuse anesthesia, thinking that feeling no pain is to be one with conditions—does this accord with the principle? Many think practice is like this: “My practice is so advanced that I have teeth pulled without anesthesia.” Really? Even if you merely endure, it is “you” who endure—it is the skill of enduring. “Becoming one with conditions” is “pain is precisely pain”: you will cry out; how could there be no pain? Even if you do not want pain, there will be pain. Could Śākyamuni Buddha have his teeth extracted without anesthesia and feel no pain? If there were no pain, that would be strange indeed.

“Honestly receive, become one with conditions, and forget oneself”—this does not mean that all feeling disappears, that thought does not move, that you do not know what is being said. You clearly know what is being said, but above it there is no discriminating deluded thought called “I.” That is all. Therefore “thought itself is ultimately not deluded thought.” Hence in Yongjia’s Song of Realizing the Way there is the line, “Ignorance is truly the buddha-nature.”

What matters most is, moment by moment, “honestly receive, become one with conditions, and forget oneself.” To be able never to deviate from this is “practice after awakening.” It is not that after great awakening one will never drift or deviate and thus may be careless—no. At all times and everywhere, to be “one with conditions and forget the self” without deviation is to be right. To see clearly that you yourself are the precious mirror is awakening. After awakening, is there still practice? “Practice does not terminate.” This is the place in Sōtō that is hardest for people to understand, causing students to turn and study under Linji or Pure Land. “Awakening has no beginning; practice has no end.” Hearing this, one cannot bear it. “Practice does not end? Then why should I awaken? I thought once awakened there would be nothing more to do—yet I must continue practicing without end? ‘Awakening has no beginning’? Then I will not awaken; originally it is awakening.” At once the mind is muddled. Using intellection to ponder the true dharma taught by the Buddha—this is deadly.

He gives another way to state “becoming one with conditions”: “At the time of death, die equably, with absolutely no thought of prolonging life; therefore there is liberation and ease.” At the end of life, die equably. At such a time have no thought to prolong life—“to live just one more day,” “two more days”—for then there is suffering. This is the principle of being one with conditions; thus there is liberation and ease. Another translation of samādhi is “not receiving,” because there is no reception and no receiver. Because it is the jeweled mirror, there is no relation of agent and object; thus it is called “not receiving.” Samādhi—right absorption—is sometimes translated “not receiving.” Why? “A sweet melon is sweet through its stem; a bitter gourd is bitter down to its root.” Is there any reasoning here? When you eat a bitter gourd, the root is bitter and the leaves are bitter. A sweet melon is entirely sweet. Is there a part here sweet and a part there not sweet, or sweeter here and less sweet there? Is there such a thing? What does this mean? It means there is originally no subject and object. Why? Because all is a single Jeweled Mirror.

Just now everyone heard the bell—it is the end of the session. Ordinarily we think, “I myself heard the bell.” Is it divided? Is there a single jeweled mirror? No. Everywhere it is divided: I am I; the bell sound is the bell sound—this is non-interfusion. Yet because non-interfusion is thorough, therefore there is interfusion. Is the sound resounding here in me, or over there? If it resounds only here, then without a bell it should resound as I please—impossible. The bell must be struck; everyone must be set in motion—only then, with conditions, does it occur.

For example, I look in a mirror. Is there my image in the mirror? There is. Without me, is there an image? There is not. There must be a mirror, and there must be me. Some may say it is the person holding the mirror who produces the image. Then let the one holding the mirror go away and set the mirror down by itself—will that do? Is it the one holding the mirror who produces the image? Is it space in between that produces the image? Who produces the image? It is not the mirror that produces it; it is not the space; it is not the one holding the mirror. Yet without me, it will not do; without the mirror, it will not do; without space, it will not do. Without these, there is no image. Then from where does this image come? See: the mirror and I are independent, but what of the image? In non-interfusion, is there an image? There is no image. If you try to understand this with the head, it is like this. As for actual practice, it is still hoped everyone will sit cross-legged more. Sit and relax the six faculties; let the six faculties be at ease: this is to return to natural law. “Oh, so this is natural law…”—do not add your own opinion again. Set yourself there. Thoughts moving here and there are not moved by you, nor is it you who drives them away; without your driving them away, they go of themselves. When thoughts move, just do not add another “I am thinking,” and that is enough. In his whole preface Master Iida speaks at length to one point: the whole of it is one Jeweled Mirror Samādhi revealing itself; above it there is no you, no I, no she. How does this accord with the realities of life? It is to become one with the scenes and situations you see, hear, and meet—to “become one with conditions.” This is an excellent method of practice for daily life.

John Tan
What master Hong Wen Liang is saying is,
from the dependent arising on parts using the scientific explanations, in each of the parts (conditions), there is no such said "image as seen“ so how does movement of coming and going arise? From the lights to the nerves system to the brain and even to the retaina, the image is inverted and not the same as the "seen image that is moving", so what and which "movement of image" are we referring to? Therefore mind's attachment of coming and going to these images are false.
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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.

English Translation (Chinese Original at the bottom):

A teaching by Zen Master Hong Wen Liang.

Explanation of the Record of Chan Master Hongzhi: “Therefore it is said, the myriad dharmas are the radiance of mind; all conditions are clarified only by their nature.” If you can distinguish that this is a visual appearance, that is a sound, and that this is thought in the intangible domain of mind, all of this is due to that “nature,” which enables you to discern clearly—merely clarification by nature, not some real entity. Thus, in such a moment, naturally you need not speak of not being entangled by conditions—how could you be entangled by conditions? Who would ensnare you? What could be ensnared? The whole of it is the total field of the dharma-realm already complete as it is—this is the meaning. This is the “truly great person of wisdom.” This alone is genuine great wisdom—“perfect and equal awakening”; this is the Buddha’s seeing and knowing.

Your six sense faculties are originally just like this; the utmost Way manifests there. This is called “thus can self-know.” It is simple: you are originally like this. As long as you do not stain it, as long as you do not add in the delusive thought “this is mine,” you will then know your own genuine functioning. That movement is not some “you” who uses; that movement—moving—is best just called “moving.” “Thus self-illumined” does not mean some self deliberately knowing itself; it is because it is your own affair. Your teacher, your lama, even the Buddha cannot know exactly how your own ears and eyes, your six faculties, move. It is you who move—not the Buddha who moves. It is not someone else’s power that knows; even when you say “I know how I am thinking,” it is that very thinking of yours moving there. Therefore it is “self-illumined.” Only you are most clear about your own true situation. So long as you do not raise delusive thoughts, do not add “these are my ears moving, my eyes moving,” then—if your madness flares up, if you split your mind—you create subject and object; once there is subject and object, emotions are stirred and become emotional dusts. Originally the six sense-objects have no fault. How could the six dusts have any sin? Is this clear to everyone here?

Walking, standing, sitting, lying—daily life—doing business, being a doctor, a lawyer, a president, a warlord, a hooligan, a great villain—all is “borrowing the road to set the feet.” If your eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind were not functioning there, why would I speak of “pure and wondrous luminosity”? In everyday life, of course, when you fight with someone that too is “borrowing the road to set the feet,” and when you do many charitable deeds as well. Are you not using your six faculties? If you want to strike someone, without your eyes to see the target, how could you strike? “Spirit’s pivot, wondrously responsive”—the six faculties move. Because you have realized that the six faculties themselves are pure and wondrously luminous, it is not that there is a “me” needed in order to move. Move like this—self-forgotten, without the least bad intention of “that is mine,” cleanly shed. To move like this is “the spirit’s pivot, wondrously responsive.” As long as delusive thoughts are not added in, still you must move—how could you not move? “Whatever is encountered is true”—whatever you do is just right.

“Not even a hair’s breadth, not even a speck of dust, is something from outside.” Clap! A sound like this, or drinking water—the mind and circumstances are one. Your whole dharma-body is moving there—is this an external thing? We have always taken it to be something external; therefore you fundamentally do not know the pure, wondrous luminosity. Not knowing the wondrous luminosity, you do not know the pure field either. That field is originally pure and wondrously luminous. When you look at me, when you listen to me, it is your pure, wondrous luminosity moving there. It is not that “I go drink a cup of tea,” or “I go look at you—you are over there, I go look.” Not like this. If you experience this deeply, you will be wholly and truly “self-illumined,” “self-clarified,” “wisdom.” Thus, when you realize this, you will “not have even a hair or a speck” that is external. Now when you hear the sound of a car outside, it is not that outside there is a sound-dust; your dharma-body moves right here. Your pure, wondrous luminous field does not move; whatever horns they honk has nothing to do with you. You certainly have this—your pure, wondrous luminous field—so that sound is precisely that field moving thus. Therefore it is said that not even the least bit or the least mote is something from outside; it is the transformations revealed in your own inch-square of mind. Once this is clarified, you make no division into you, me, and others; thus it is not that you yourself are living, nor that there is some self of yours that dies. It is the whole dharma-realm. Your birth is the dharma-realm’s birth, the appearance of birth; when dying, it is the power of the dharma-realm—as when autumn arrives, it takes on the aspect of autumn. It is not that summer dies and becomes autumn—no! In accord with conditions, it appears accordingly. All of it is your own manifestation; it is not “some external thing.” There is no problem here. If you only infer by speculation, you can only think it out this far. But when you constantly are “moment by moment unconfused,” it is not that you force yourself to be unconfused; your six faculties are originally moving in an unconfused state. What clouds it is that we suddenly raise a strange thought, erecting the frame “hey, I am listening,” and the constant light is dimmed. But it is not truly dimmed; it is just that a very self-referential cloud covers it. It has not moved away; it is “pure by nature from the beginning.” The hardest thing to realize personally is precisely that not a hair or a speck is “from outside.”

“Wondrously transcending the path of words”—by language, writing, thought, you may write and think for half a day, and none of it is it. It itself has this capacity; it itself wondrously surpasses. When we hear the sound of a frog, “ah—right, right,” yet in truth the real sound of the frog we have no way to reach: “the path of language is cut off; the domain of the mind’s activity ceases.” However you think it, it is not itself; however you say it, it is not itself. “Ah, so hot!”—is that “so hot” the heat itself? Then bring forth that heat—can you present it? “Wondrously transcending the path of words”—because through language and writing, through trained thought, we can express by language and script, yes? But language, writing, and discursive mind are false, illusory signs; they are not the real heat itself. The real is hot—or, how do you say it in Hakka? “ne”? You say “ne,” I say heat is “Ah-shui.” In the end is “Ah-shui” right or is “ne” right? The genuine heat itself does not care whether you call it “ne,” “Ah-shui,” or “hot”—it does not care. Because when we say “ne,” or “hot,” or “Ah-shui,” none of that is it. They are illusory and false. The real is only that very “Ah-shui” itself—by what thought, language, or writing could you truly reproduce it? There is no way. This is what is called the real. We cannot touch it, cannot grasp it, cannot conceive it. This is “wondrously transcending the path of words.” Who wondrously transcends the path of words? Clap!—this very “wondrously transcending the path of words.”

If you are constantly in this correct, original way—“the constant light right before you, moment by moment unconfused”—then of course you know that mountains, forests, grasses, and trees are all manifesting this affair. What you see and what you hear are your own dharma-body appearing in accord with conditions; thus, before your eyes there is radiance and earth-shaking movement. “The four great elements and the six faculties, inner and outer, are illusory”—the six faculties are not any real things. What are they in themselves? Unknown. Therefore the four great elements and the six faculties are thoroughly empty and quiescent; inner and outer are illusory. Illusory yet empty and quiescent—things without any self-nature gathering together—inner and outer are like this. Then how is it that they appear so distinctly before you? How is this? What indeed is it? Here you must apply your heart to investigate—thus he, upon seeing the morning star, had such an event.

Dharma-nature is without form and without appearance—how could you recognize some dharma-nature as “yours” and “mine”? One cannot even speak of “the same,” for to say “the same” requires appearances to compare; “not the same” also requires appearances to compare. Since it is “non-abiding,” that is, it has no appearance—you cannot locate it; if there is an appearance you can locate it, “ah, there.” Location. “Non-abiding” means formless and without appearance: neither great nor small, neither sound nor smell—nothing at all—beyond the range of your cognition. Therefore non-abiding is signless; signless is non-abiding. Non-abiding is emptiness. Emptiness is limitless capacity: whatever conditions are present, it becomes those conditions. What is the fundamental essence? Search yourself to death and even the Buddha would not know—because it belongs to the unknown. In educating people, we always teach people to know; thus modern education fails in this way. Genuine education should include “something not known.” Only when you know there is something not known is it true knowing.

Yet after hearing so much, in practice—when you stand up you say, “Huh, what was just said?” It sounded right while hearing it, but upon standing you cannot bring any strength to bear. Why? What you heard and thought were all matters within imagination, things at the level of conceptual understanding; without that event of “seeing the morning star,” all of it is but water and moon.

What is the best method of practice? So much doctrine and explanation—do not leave even a bit of it in your head. If you force yourself to remember, that is just remembering—it has no effect. The best method is: whatever you are doing, whatever you think, hear, feel—whenever any habit arises, whether an angry thought or greedy thought—immediately know whether there is an “I” moving there. Practice just this, and it is enough for your cultivation. You will certainly discover that the false “I” is moving there. Not only in bad things—also in good things; and even in what is neither good nor evil, still that “I” is moving. I cross my legs without noticing—and there is that “yo…” the “I” accomplishing so-and-so; that “I” is certainly there. This is because you have not thoroughly realized; that event of “seeing the morning star” has not occurred. Outside of this—outside what Buddhism, outside Chan—Buddhism’s generations of transmission certify nothing other than this; the rest are merely done at the level of scholarship and thought. When does this come? Just as I have said before: “A night’s rain of falling blossoms; the whole city is fragrant with flowing water.” “On Sumeru’s peak there is a rootless tree; without touching the spring wind, flowers bloom of themselves.” A tree without roots—why would its flowers open of themselves without spring? What is this? It is beyond thinking—at the moment you awaken. Upon seeing something—at such a moment—“ah!” Just that “ah”—“a night’s rain of falling blossoms”—there, it has come; whether you want fragrance or not, the “whole city is fragrant with flowing water.” Whether you want fragrance or not, you still get fragrance. If you strain to want fragrance, to want awakening—you will not get it. It is just like this. You cannot make it night; now it is night. What is “night”? Is there some “night” that comes from somewhere? It is the relation between earth and sun—I like to use a modern explanation people can grasp—when the relation changes, that is night. From where would some “night” fall down? Thus all the myriad phenomena of life and death are like this. But if you do not have your own fundamental nature, without the responsive function, then there would be no night—forever useless, nothing to do with you.

—— Extracted from “Explanation of the Record of Chan Master Hongzhi,” taught by Teacher Hong in Singapore and Malaysia.

Your field must certainly radiate light and shake the ground. How to radiate and shake the ground? In accord with conditions. Yet you do not dwell on conditions. Is this something produced by thinking? Something you arrive at by cultivating? Something gained by study? None of these. It is “of itself thus” from the outset. This “of itself thus” is not the “naturalness” of your views and understanding—that is something you think. When you personally realize this natural thing, it is not through thought. It is originally just like this—that is the thought of essence. “That is very hot”—if you have not touched heat, it is merely so said.

Mountains and rivers, the sound of frogs—none of these are separate; there is no division between me and what I see, between me and what I hear—only then is it “reflecting without a dualistic stance toward conditions, knowing without touching things.” Is this not “knowing without touching things”? This precisely is it. You say this is inanimate—why then does it have knowing? It is only that you do not understand the knowing that knows without touching things, and thus you persist in thinking that such knowing is impossible.

You stubbornly assume that cognition must be a mental operation that goes out to cognize, and you take that as knowing; therefore you do not understand its meaning, nor the Buddha’s “both together pacified and extinguished.” “Both together pacified and extinguished” does not mean there is no sound, no appearance, no pain, no itch—not like that. Pain is very painful; comfort is very comfortable. But is there an experiencer and a thing experienced? The subject and object you suppose are not there. Yet it does not belong to the exchange of the subject and object you hypothesize—this is “both together pacified and extinguished.” The illumining and the one who illumines—both together are quenched. Do you understand? Because this “illumining” and “illumined” are notions you have set up, a concept arises called “there is an illuminer and an illumined,” “there is a hearer and that which can be heard.” Such “illuminer and illumined” are conceptual.

“To settle the matter” means to settle one’s own matter of birth and death. How to settle it? You must know what you yourself are. Why is “knowing what you are” called “apprehending Mind”? We would not take hair, nose, feet, and hands to be ourselves, right? Because we all know they will grow old, die, rot, be burned or buried and become water, become earth—return to earth. We all know these things are given to us for temporary use. Yet we still invariably suppose there is a soul—we call it mind. Is this soul really there or not? If it exists, where is it hidden? It has no appearance. Without an appearance, how do you know there is a soul? You cannot see it or touch it—yet you say it exists. Ordinary people think like this. So those who study the Buddha-dharma continually call this their soul, their mind—therefore there can be rebirth. Otherwise, what is it that is reborn? Does the body come back? We invariably assume “my mind is precisely my mind,” and so it can be good or bad, go to hell or to the heavens—always “my mind” changing up and down. Is there not, then? The Buddha-dharma speaks of rebirth—everyone takes it like this—of wholesome and unwholesome karma. And where do wholesome and unwholesome karma adhere? They adhere to what you take as “mine,” not something else—absolutely “mine.”

What is it like? Unknown. The Buddha tells us it is formless, colorless, without appearance, untouchable, unseen. Yet the Buddha speaks of rebirth—so it exists, how could it not? But look—the mistake lies here. What the Buddha truly said is that even your “soul” does not exist—not even your “soul.” And as for the functioning of our mind—do we not take that as “mind”? A rainbow in the sky—does it not both exist and not exist? The moon’s reflection on water—is it present? It is present—you cannot say it isn't. But when you take your “soul” as truly existing, you are taking the moon’s reflection on water as real—you try again and again to scoop it up. Only after repeatedly trying to scoop it up do you know you cannot. Therefore practice—study, reading scriptures, sitting in meditation, bowing to the Buddha, doing good—these are not useless. You must pass through this (body-and-mind shed) or else you will never give up the fixation.

Repeatedly try to scoop—where do you try? In daily life, at the gates of the six faculties. Carefully observe it; carefully make offerings to it. To “make offerings to the person of no-mind” is like this. This practice is difficult—difficult to the extreme—because we immediately forget.

At the very moment, it is already past; you are within conditions but not on conditions. A wooden horse neighs in the wind; a clay ox emerges from the sea—everywhere is just so. This is the person of no-mind. Leap out of your thought and conjecture.

Without even stirring a thought, he points to this dharma-seat, representing that original position. Speaking in terms of essence and function, he uses “the portent has not yet arisen” to indicate it. Before it has begun to function, before its functioning is revealed, one must “borrow function to clarify position”—borrow the sounds, feelings, appearances, thoughts, tactile sensations, fragrances, and so on which issue forth from it—borrow the various functions that appear, the kinds of virtues, merits, and uses that are displayed. “Ah! So there is the one”—from that position, that is, from the fundamental essence, we “borrow function to clarify position.” That is one side. The other is: “as soon as an influence shows, one must also borrow position to clarify function.” When there is an influence, there is already a shadow, a sound, a thought moving, an emotion moving, qi moving. When qi moves there is influence; there is some appearance—whatever it may be, a thought or qi—so long as there is something perceptible. “As soon as an influence shows,” when there is just a hint of a message, “one must also borrow position to clarify function”—this sound, this appearance, this thought, this feeling, this qi—how did it come? You must borrow the fundamental essence to explain it—“borrow position to clarify function.” Both are needed: one is “borrowing position to clarify function,” the other is “borrowing function to clarify position.”

Whether from color, sound, fragrance, taste, touch, and dharmas—“Ah!”—you suddenly penetrate to the source; or from the source you suddenly understand the function—the six sense-objects as well—altogether are marvelous function. None of this can be done by thinking, right? Hence we call it “one-thought accord.” In that very instant, without analysis, without any emotional veneration—none of that—one-thought accord. How is that moment described? “The junctures of before and after are cut off.” The before and the after are cut. What does it mean? It means there is no time. We assume there is time past in front and time after behind, and thus we feel time is flowing. When the junctures before and after are cut, time stops. But it is not that there is some “time” that can stop—how could time stop? The junctures of before and after are cut—time is cut. Time is what we imagine. Within our ideation there is a flow we call “time”; our mind strings it together.

Inference—comparison—is the mind’s measure. It is a function of mind. What of the appearance itself? It is not something produced by mind. How would eyes present anything if there were no thing? Without something there, the eyes cannot present. The operation of eyes and things is together—this is the movement of the dharma-realm. It is not that your mind sees things coming and going, up and down—not like that. It is the functioning of the eyes’ own dharma-nature, the truly natural inherent power moving together with the outer circumstance—“mind and circumstance are one”—moving as it moves, moving as it truly moves. In moving, do not add comparison. Comparison is the mind’s analysis. To compare “this with the previous two,” you can then speak of this movement, of coming and going. But at the very moment the appearance itself manifests—at that moment—how could there be comparing with before and after? To compare with before, you must remember the prior appearance.

To remember is the mind moving. Without memory, how would you know movement? But the eyes—and the ears—when there is something, it appears; when there is not, it vanishes. Without this “comparison,” without that comparing faculty. Comparison means setting two things side by side. But the earlier has already passed—once a sound has passed, it is past. When you hear a later sound, by comparing you then say “this one sounds better, the former did not.” For the earlier you rely on imagination—on the power of mind. Delusive thought—what we call the discriminating power of mind—is added in so you can compare: pleasant or not, loud or soft. In that very instant, what “large or small” is there? None. This is my slight clarification of “borrowing function to clarify position” and “borrowing position to clarify function”—not using the head to contrive; it is originally like this. We simply had not noticed.

They say, “Bring me the daytime.” Impossible! “When the wind blows, the grass bends; when water arrives, the channel is formed.” When the earth and sun revolve to align with the equator, daytime naturally appears—I cannot hand it to you. When conditions mature, it is naturally thus. Chan Master Hongzhi’s reply—“the wind bends the grass; water arrives and the channel forms”—is not evasion; it truly is like this. If your conditions have not come together, then they have not; yet you hope to know the Chan meaning transmitted by the Buddhas generation to generation—there is nothing I myself could say.

Because of habit, the thought arises—and immediately “I see, I hear.” Whatever thought arises, it is that “I” presiding. The “I’s” opinion inevitably enters in. At the “first-thought juncture,” your “wondrous” cannot arise. “Wondrously surpassing the first-thought juncture”—that “wondrous” does not emerge. You understand in theory that the “I” is wrong—that it is an imagined “I.” You understand this. But in reality, in every lift of the hand and step of the foot, there is that “I” investigating and watching—that one taking the lead. The “wondrous” does not arise—this is the very point. Therefore “one must further turn the body along another path” right here. When “essence” can reveal “function,” do not let the dualistic “I do something, I see something”—this thought—be added. The ears, fundamentally without this thought, are hearing; the eyes, without the thought “I see,” are seeing. They themselves are originally just like this. But our fault is that we continually have the extra thought “I am seeing, I am hearing” spring up beforehand.

Therefore, at the “first-thought juncture,” if you can illumine that faint sign and its function—once illumined, it is originally like that; essence and function move thus—do not cut in line with that added thought.

Original Chinese: