Translated from Chinese text: https://www.awakeningtoreality.com/2022/05/blog-post.html
A Section on Investigating Chan — Teachings by Teacher Hong
Wenliang
Teacher Hong said: You must understand the true meaning of
the three words “to be free of birth and death.” If you do not, then the
Buddhism you study is merely your own Buddhism.
(Record of Chan Master Hongzhi) Investigating Chan is one
matter. In truth it is to be free of birth and death. If you cannot be free of
birth and death, what do you call Chan? Tell me: How does birth occur? How does
death occur? How does freedom occur? If in a single thought one is confused
about the basis and follows emotion, one is pulled in every place—bustling,
tangled, and disturbed. Since one is born from a place of non-freedom, one will
also die from a place of non-freedom. If one is a lucid person, originally
there is no place from which one comes; understanding thus and putting it to
use, then at all times and in all places one is completely freed, relying on
nothing, and among the myriad phenomena one brings forth a head of ground. At
such a time one does not carry along the four great elements and the five
aggregates; only then is there a path for emerging. On the thirtieth day of the
twelfth month, one goes off just the same. This is called “coming with no place
from which one comes; going with no place to which one goes.” At that time it
is utterly free of contingent conditions, vast and without location; the three
times are cut off and the six gates are empty. Therefore it is said: expansive,
radiant—far beyond the reach of conception and discursiveness. Thought cannot
reach it; discussion cannot equal it. As soon as a mental stir is born, the
stream begins to flow. If all mental stirrings come to an end, neither heaven
will come to you nor hell will come to you. The ten directions of open space are
purely clean, without stain—vastly clear. To come thus, lucid and wakeful—this
is the place where all buddhas and bodhisattvas are born. To cast one’s seed
through deluded attachment—this is the place where sentient beings are born.
Within this, good and evil are carried together, and thus the good destinies
and evil destinies come about. But if good and evil are like floating clouds,
with no place of arising or ceasing, then here neither “sentient being” nor
“buddha” can be established. As the Sixth Patriarch said: “Do not think of
good; do not think of evil. Just at such a time, show me your original face
before your father and mother were born.” Brothers, if you have not yet
stopped—stop now; if you have not yet rested—rest now. If you can rest completely
and stop securely, then a thousand sages cannot carry you off. The place where
you cannot be carried off is your very self. Do not gnaw at words with
explanations of doctrine, or swing the staff and shout wildly—these are all
just the revolving of karmic consciousness. If you still seek a verdict from
others and accept their pointing and annotations, you are again clinging to
grass and attaching to trees. You must directly have wisdom without a teacher,
natural wisdom; when seeing the nature, do not retain “buddha”; when greatly
awakened, do not keep “teacher.” Only then will you have a breath or two of a
patch-robed monk’s spirit. Now tell me: how does one conduct oneself so as to
cut off birth and death and go beyond the ordinary and the holy? Beneath the
tree without shadow, all board the same boat; upon the crystal pavilion, there
is no one knowledgeable.
Today I will speak on a passage from the recorded sayings of
Chan Master Hongzhi. Are you all familiar with Hongzhi Zhengjue? Dōgen often
praised him as a living buddha—a true living buddha. His works include the
Extensive Record of Chan Master Hongzhi, volumes one through eight, with superb
content; when time permits, we will introduce some of it. Today we shall
discuss a section, “A Section on Investigating Chan.”
Have you considered this: in learning Buddhism and reading
sutras—whether you study the Vinaya school, the Pure Land school, or any
other—what is Buddhist study for? After learning Buddhism, you still need to
eat and earn money to support everyone. People like to wear a little better
clothing, live in mansions, eat good things, live longer, and have kind
coworkers—everyone hopes for this. Must one learn the Buddha-dharma to
accomplish these? Can one accomplish them without the Buddha-dharma? Each
person’s needs differ—some higher, some lower. If it is only for ordinary
worldly life and to obtain your own satisfaction, is Buddhist practice strictly
necessary? Have you thought about this? Suppose your study of Buddhism truly
attains the great result—you become a buddha, a great Chan master of complete
enlightenment—yet you still eat, drink tea, walk, chat, go to the toilet, and
when the time comes, you also say farewell. Then why study Buddhism? Have you
yourself thought about this?
This very case is exactly what Chan Master Hongzhi points
out as most important: he holds that the main purpose of learning Buddhism is
this—to be free of birth and death. If it is for something else, then not
necessarily must you learn Buddhism; practicing some non-ultimate, not thorough
methods to calm the mind and gain temporary ease is also fine. But the
Venerable Zhengjue—the living buddha whom Dōgen revered—held that if you truly
wish to learn from Śākyamuni Buddha, then you must proceed in this way. This
piece speaks precisely to this point, so please pay special attention. Since we
are continually studying Buddhism, let us hear what Hongzhi says. This is also
the reason why he studied Buddhism.
Let us first look at the opening line: Investigating Chan is
one matter. Do not, upon seeing “investigating Chan,” assume it is solely
studying the Chan school. It makes no difference if one studies Tantra or Pure
Land. Do not say, “I study Vinaya; I need not listen to this.” That is not the
meaning. The “Chan” in “investigating Chan” is not the narrow Chan. What is the
true meaning of “investigating Chan”? What is it to genuinely study with the
Buddha? This is investigating Chan. It is not necessarily to examine kōans or
to sit in meditation—this is not the point. “Investigating Chan” is truly
studying the Buddha, whatever school or lineage you belong to. So do not
misunderstand that investigating Chan concerns only Chan followers; “A Section
on Investigating Chan” addresses not merely those studying Chan but all who
truly wish to study Buddhism—of any school or lineage—who should pay heed to
this matter.
Next we read how he gives the answer at once. Why study
Buddhism? To make money, to be healthy and long-lived, to have a harmonious
family? For that, one need not necessarily study Buddhism. He says, “In truth
it is to be free of birth and death.” Why listen to the Dharma? Why go home and
still sit in meditation? Many schools also recite the Buddha’s name, offer
incense, chant mantras, make many mudrās—why do all these various practices? In
truth it is to be free of birth and death—this is his answer. Then I ask you:
What is being free of birth and death? Did Śākyamuni Buddha free himself from
birth and death? A classmate of mine—not a Buddhist—said to me, “You say ‘free
from birth and death.’ Tell me, Hong Wenliang—did Śākyamuni die or not? He
still kicked the bucket, didn’t he? So-called freedom from birth and death is a
joke, a deception.” How do you answer? Is freedom from birth and death merely
dying with ease—leaving happily, without worry, with no concerns left behind?
Is dying like that “freedom from birth and death”? Is it so simple? In that
case many people have done it—leaving easily, with no worries left, bequeathing
property to children and spouse, taxes all arranged, even the finest coffin
purchased… Many people leave like this—does that count as freedom from birth
and death? Since such a great Chan master as Hongzhi speaks here of freedom
from birth and death, if we simply skim over it, we will go astray. This is why
many do not understand the essential meaning of the Chan orthodox Dharma: they
think that, having read and intellectually grasped it, they “know” freedom from
birth and death; that when a person leaves there is nothing much to it—“pa!” a
clap of the hands, or a sneeze—and off one goes. Is that understanding correct?
Is that freedom from birth and death? If so, there would be no need to waste
time here listening to teachings, nor to suffer through aching legs. Every
school has its practices, and worldly arts have many modes to satisfy our
needs; but as for freedom from birth and death, only the Buddha’s true Dharma
can accomplish it. The question is: what is freedom from birth and death? Is
living a very long time freedom from birth and death? That is cultivating
longevity—Daoist talk. Longevity—must one not die one day? Certainly one must;
however long one lives, one must die. Is that freedom from birth and death? And
if “not dying” were freedom from birth and death, then Śākyamuni would be a
deceiver—he also died—so where is freedom from birth and death? What does it
really mean? First we must clarify this: “not dying” is not called “freedom
from birth and death,” nor should we think that great longevity without death
is freedom from birth and death—it is not. Therefore you must understand the
true meaning of “freedom from birth and death” as spoken by Hongzhi; this is
truly the Buddha’s essential intent. If you do not clarify it, then what you
call “studying Buddhism” is studying your own Buddhism.
Hongzhi continues: If you cannot be free of birth and death,
what do you call Chan? Suppose you have no way to free yourself from birth and
death—how can that be called study of the Buddha? Whether monastic or lay,
whatever Dharma you study—Vinaya, Tantra—it does not matter. Whether you are a
famous master or an unknown person—if you study a lifetime, labor a lifetime,
spend time and money, but cannot accomplish freedom from birth and death, then
you have no qualification to be a student of the Buddha.
Next he explains for us: Tell me: how does birth occur? How
does death occur? How does freedom occur? What is “birth”? What is “death”?
What is “freedom from birth and death”? In studying Buddhism, the crucial aim
is freedom from birth and death; but if “birth” and “death” themselves are
misunderstood, how can you discuss freedom? You are told to accomplish freedom
from birth and death, yet if your view of birth and death in your mind differs
from what Śākyamuni taught, your discussion is useless and meaningless. Thus
Hongzhi raises the question: what truly is birth, what truly is death? You may
wonder—who does not know what birth is? We are now “alive.” When we see someone
go, we say that person “died.” Is there still a question about birth and death?
It seems all quite clear—speaking, getting angry, greedy, seeking this and
that—that is the activity within life. When dead, one does not speak, cannot
see, cannot hear; when called by name, one does not respond; after some days
the body decays—that is death. Is there still a problem with birth and death?
Why ask what is birth and what is death? Is this superfluous? Have we thought
carefully about it? More than ten years ago I gave lectures on the Tibetan
teachings about life and death and cyclic existence—those were merely
tantalizing, not the true Buddha-dharma. Today let us look carefully at how the
Chan patriarch speaks about birth and death.
“If in a single thought one is confused about the basis and
follows emotion, one is pulled in every place—bustling, tangled, and disturbed.
Since one is born from a place of non-freedom, one will also die from a place
of non-freedom.” He gives a concise explanation. This is very important,
especially for practitioners; we must examine ourselves deeply line by line.
What does it mean to “be unable to be free of birth and death”? It does not
mean “not dying”; it means that the matter of birth and death binds and
obstructs you—our concept of birth and death binds us. As the Taiwanese saying
goes: while living, it has already messed up your whole life, and at the end it
still does not let you go—it messes you up again. Why are we deceived and
muddled by it? Because we are continually “confused about the basis and
following emotion.” Not knowing what the true “self” is is called “confused
about the basis.” What is the true “self”? Whether you do good or evil, whether
you study great dharmas or science and technology—if you fundamentally do not
clarify what the true “self” is, that is called “confused about the basis.”
This “basis” is not some principle, original law, or universal truth; nor does
it mean the highest moral standard, or the ultimate deployment of a Dharma at
its utmost—no. Failing to clarify the true “self,” you are inevitably carried
away by feelings and moods—thus “following emotion.” Following emotion means
being moved along with your moods: joy, vexation, sorrow, dissatisfaction—all
are “emotion”; to be carried along by them is following emotion. Note well: he
does not say you must not have these feelings; if that were forbidden, then
upon accomplishment you would become a stone or wooden person—never angry,
never joyful, liking nothing and disliking nothing—thinking that only then are
you “not following emotion.” That is not “not following emotion.” Following
emotion means being carried off by it—letting it be your boss, allowing emotion
to take command and dragging along behind it; at all times it is the function
of your momentary feeling. You wish to cultivate good, to study the great
Dharma—but you only move when emotion moves you. This “following emotion” is
critical; if you follow emotion, you will surely be unable to free yourself
from birth and death. Even if you live to ninety or a hundred, when the end
approaches, if you truly free yourself from birth and death, you will go
cleanly and openly.
How does Hongzhi describe one who is free? The state of
“being confused about the basis and following emotion” no longer occurs. One
does not confuse the basis and does not follow emotion—only then is there hope
of freedom from birth and death. Thus, simply by not confusing the basis, one
naturally does not follow emotion. The issue lies with your “basis.” Do you
understand what “basis” is? This is crucial: the Buddha-dharma asks you to
clarify what this “basis” is. Do not fabricate in your head—“This is the
universe’s grand principle: neither being nor non-being; let go of everything…”
Do not compose essays in thought. If the “basis” is right, you will not follow
emotion. If you know the road, you will not go astray. Not knowing east, west,
north, or south, you should go east but wander west—that is following emotion.
If you truly know where east lies, will you go north, south, or west? You will
not. The key is not to confuse the basis. A lifetime of listening to Dharma,
reading sutras, sitting in meditation, reciting buddhas’ names, chanting
mantras—these are all methods. For what? To clarify the “basis,” so that at the
end you are not muddled and dragged off by emotion.
Note the phrase “in a single thought.” Why is it added?
Because becoming confused and following emotion happens in an instant;
conversely, not letting that instant arise—then nothing is amiss. This is “Do
not travel by night; if you take refuge in the light, be sure to arrive.” It is
a matter of a single thought. When Mazu asked Shigong, “With one arrow, how
many deer can you kill?”, at that very moment he leapt out of
confusion-about-basis and following emotion. Is it possible to be free in a
single thought? If not, the Buddha-dharma would be useless. Precisely because
it is possible, it is called wondrous and inconceivable. But do not fantasize,
“Ah—just like that—my thought turns and I am free.” That is imagination. This
“single thought” here is not the discursive thought of consciousness that you
can spin at will. When the apple is ripe, it falls—that instant, that “single
thought.” Before ripening, a green apple will not fall. When ripe, it
drops—just that instant. When time and conditions arrive. Likewise, shedding
“single-thought confusion and following emotion” is a single instant. But
before that instant, must you apply effort? Certainly—hearing, reflection, and
cultivation are required. If you do not go through hearing, reflection, and
cultivation, but sit waiting and pleading for that single instant—there is no
such thing. You yourself must ripen.
He then depicts how, in daily life, we show
confusion-about-basis and following emotion. It is everywhere—people all around
us are like this. Chan Master Fayan pointed to a curtain; two monks went and
pulled it open. Fayan said, “One attained; one lost.” This is
confusion-about-basis and following emotion. Ordinary people, unclear about
what “basis” is—even while studying Buddhism and doing good—are still confused
about the basis. Śākyamuni only requires that you not be confused about the
basis; then, everywhere and always, you will be exactly responsive. What is
“exactly responsive”? In a mountain valley, if you cry “ah—,” the valley echoes
“ah—”; if you say “yi—,” it returns “yi—.” This is exact responsiveness. The
valley is not deliberately imitating you; naturally “ah—” returns “ah—,” “yi—”
returns “yi—.” We can do this: as I speak and your ears resound, you cannot
separate my speaking from your hearing; where do they meet? You cannot find
it—this is exact responsiveness. When I do not speak, you are quiet—responsive
to quiet. When I cough, “mm-hai,” there is “mm-hai” responsiveness. After exact
responsiveness comes “distinct, without confusion”: meeting red, it is red and
will not turn black; meeting green, it is green; tall bamboo is tall; broad
leaves are broad; fine pointed leaves are fine and pointed—without a hair’s
breadth of error. Illness, coughs, fevers—distinct, without confusion; exact
responsiveness. When the phenomenon of life ends—like wood fully burned, fire
out, all ash—when it is time to go, wood exhausted, ash remains, fire goes out.
Is it “you” who die? It is simply the appearance of death present—dharma
following dharma. Above this there is no owner, no “you.” To depart from this
is to be confused about the basis and to follow emotion.
He continues: “One is pulled in every place.” Everywhere you
are dragged. What most easily drags us? It differs by life stage. In youth, one
is especially pulled by sex and romance; after marriage and children, by money
and status; in old age, by longevity and health. Some are dragged by empty
reputation—“I despise such things”—yet who is boasting? Still you. Not knowing
exact responsiveness and distinctness without confusion, one errs. Thus a
thoroughly awakened person who has found the true self need not rigidly cling
to rules; he can be exactly responsive—neither too much nor too little, not
rushing the beat nor lagging. When it is appropriate to be angry yet you
laugh—are you not unwell? You say, “Because I have the Way, when angry I laugh
heh-heh—I will not be angry.” Is that so? If anger is present, anger is
angry—why posture?
“Bustling, tangled, and disturbed”—this further refines
“dragged in every place.” Pulled here and there, this won’t do and that won’t
do—attending to this you miss that; attending to that you miss this—gluey and
vexed, as if strong glue were smeared on your soles—each step heavy. Name and
gain pull you along; every step is toil. This is called being confused about
the basis and following emotion—not liberated. And does a liberated person
still walk? He still walks.
“Since one is born from a place of non-freedom, one will
also die from a place of non-freedom.” The Extensive Record contains many
passages—for example, when Hongzhi’s disciples passed away and were cremated,
he offered final instruction and guidance so they could leave well. This
“Section on Investigating Chan” says the point is to be free of birth and
death; if you cannot, you waste your effort—do not study. Otherwise you will
forever wander muddled within the three realms like a sleepwalker. Whatever your
school, first clarify: the main thing is to be free of birth and death. And
what is that? You must understand “birth” and “death”; otherwise, not knowing
what they are, how can you be free of them? The essential point: do not be
confused about the basis and follow emotion. Why follow emotion? Because you do
not know the “basis”—your true self. Seize it—touch it—and you will not follow
emotion, like the valley echo exactly responsive, distinct without confusion.
Now he speaks concretely of how, being dragged everywhere
and confused about the basis and following emotion, we come and go. “Since one
is born from a place of non-freedom”—what is that? None of us remembers being
born; we are born without freedom. We hope to be reborn in a good family with a
healthy body—can you choose? You cannot. This is “born from a place of
non-freedom.” And at the end? “You will die from a place of non-freedom.”
Tibetan teachings describe peaceful and wrathful deities and various methods,
but the patriarchs simply tell you: when you die, you die from a place of
non-freedom. Frightening scenes appear and you flee; delightful scenes appear
and you rush toward them—and thus you tumble along in rebirth. This is dying
from a place of non-freedom.
“If one is a lucid person”—does this mean someone who
understands many doctrines? Or who can sit two hours without aching legs? Or
who can form many mudrās and chant mantras beautifully? None of these. “Lucid
person” means one no different at all from Śākyamuni—this must be personally
realized; do not merely speak principles. “I am born from the same root as the
universe”—anyone can say that. Not so. Knowing many doctrines or seeking
methods that satisfy temporary needs—does that make a lucid person? No. Only
one who accomplishes what the Buddha hopes us to accomplish is a lucid person.
What is such a person like? “Originally there is no place
from which one comes.” Can you accept this? We are “originally with no place
from which we come.” Do you know your origin? Even if you knew your past
life—Buddhism allows such accounts—this is still “no place from which one
comes.” All existence is “no place from which one comes.” A piece of wood
catches fire and flame blazes—does the fire come from inside the wood? Is there
fire hidden there? Plainly it is this wood that burns into this flame, yet truly
the fire has no place from which it comes. Fire has no self-nature. To say “it
comes from this wood” is precisely our conceptual habit—that is why we cannot
understand the Dharma.
“Understanding thus and putting it to use.” You recognize
dependent arising with empty nature. When it should weep, it weeps; when it
should hurt, it hurts; when it should be a cold, it is a cold. “Understanding
thus and putting it to use” means realizing the Way of no-mind and resting
therein. With this clarified, “livelihood at the point of contact is sufficient
to one’s allotment”: if a cold, then a cold; if diarrhea, then diarrhea; if
joy, then joy; wealth or poverty—just so. At ease in dependent arising. It is
not that there is a “you,” clearly choosing this or that rebirth. Even if one
must enter an ox’s womb, one abides at ease in that ox-womb—this is
“understanding thus and putting it to use.” All is without self-nature—no
central “me” moving.
“Originally there is no place from which one comes;
understanding thus and putting it to use.” Even if you knew eons of previous
lives and all their sources, that too is “no place from which one comes.” If
you truly know this, then “at all times and in all places, completely freed,
relying on nothing.” At the end, eyes closed, the six sense gates no longer
functioning, many bardo appearances arise—frightening or pleasing. Because you
know “originally there is no place from which one comes” and can “put it to
use,” you are at ease within the circumstance—becoming a buddha even in hell.
“Completely freed, relying on nothing” is scholastically “dependent arising
without self-nature.”
Consider fire among the four great elements. Burn wood and
fire appears; when burned out, the fire disappears. From where does fire come,
and where does it go? When extinguished, where does it return? The wood is
ash—where did the fire arise, where did it vanish? We ourselves—earth, water,
fire, wind—seem like fire issuing from wood. We think “fire comes from
wood”—but truly, whence do earth, water, fire, wind spring forth? “Completely
freed, relying on nothing” is “originally not a single thing,” hence boundlessly
many appearances. Because boundlessly many, by following conditions they appear
in myriad forms; and being boundless, they can also appear as the limited. The
unlimited is the limited; the limited is the unlimited. Sameness is difference;
difference is sameness. Presence is absence; absence is presence. Look—what Śākyamuni taught is utterly real, but once we convert it into our concepts it becomes: “presence is presence; it cannot be absence.” If you
cannot clarify this, you should not study Buddhism at all.
Is the fire-element truly existent? It functions—light and
heat. Speaking and thinking are like light and heat—our four elements in
combination can think and feel. When the burning ends—where does it go? You
cannot find whence it came or whither it went. Thus boundlessly many forms
appear; seek the headwaters—you cannot find them. The very forms are the
headwaters; source is branch and branch is source. Dualistic thinking muddles
it again: “Source is not branch; branch is not source.” Dualism is a phantom serpent
in the cup. Grasp this and you are awakened—there is nothing else to awaken to.
“Completely freed, relying on nothing” is “originally not a
single thing.” Only when mind moves do forms appear; if mind does not move, no
form appears. The eyes behold images on the retina, but if mind does not move,
do you know what is seen? Vibrations reach the eardrum, but if mind does not
coordinate, even if the drum bursts, is there sound? If mind does not join,
there is no sound. Realize the Way of no-mind; realizing the Way of no-mind,
rest. Speak and see thus; if it itches, scratch—do not put on airs.
Our birth and death lie between a single inhale and
exhale—do not say, “I am young; there is time.” Not necessarily. To die without
freedom is miserable; can one die with freedom? To die with freedom is to go
clearly—this is what Buddhist study is for. For wealth and honor there are
other methods—no need to learn Buddhism. So please attend: every line of
Hongzhi carries weight—the words of a great Chan master with real realization.
“To bring forth a head of ground among the myriad phenomena.
At such a time one does not carry along the four great elements and the five
aggregates; only then is there a path for emerging.” In daily life—being a
person, doing things, earning money; a lawyer eloquent without hindrance, a
teacher who teaches well, a surgeon of great skill—these are among the myriad
phenomena. Playing stocks is among them; studying Buddhism, chanting mantras,
traveling to visit teachers, investigating Chan—these are all appearances
within the myriad. Not being confused about the basis within the myriad is
“bringing forth a head of ground”—because you have discovered the true self.
Favorable and adverse conditions alike are among the myriad; adversity still
arrives—this is dependent arising. Thus, amid daily favorable and adverse, one
differs from others—not by posing as accomplished or rigidly moral, but
naturally one’s bearing is different.
“At such a time one does not carry along the four great
elements and the five aggregates.” “At such a time” means whenever and
wherever—one does not allow earth, water, fire, wind and form, feeling,
perception, formations, and consciousness to drag one away. Why “not carry them
along”? It does not mean the body does not move or hunger or fall ill. It means
not being deluded by the operations of the four great elements and five
aggregates, taking them as “me.” Since they are dependently arisen—like fire from
wood—forms differ, but there is no fixed “fire.” “Before one’s father and
mother were born”—this is its true meaning. The fire still burns and gives
light and heat; your belly still hungers and you still catch colds and have
diarrhea—but you are not led by the operations of the aggregates.
“When everyone at a hundred years must go, only then is
there a path for emerging.” He does not say only if you read the whole Tripiṭaka, sit a hundred thousand
hours, or have a master assist with chanting is there a path for emerging.
Śākyamuni does not peddle such talk. He asks you to clarify what you are—do not
take the petty four great and five aggregates as yourself. If you keep clinging
and dragging them around muddled, then when visions arise in the
bardo—terrifying lions and tigers, or enticing beauties—you will be toyed with.
If you have clarified what you are, you will not be confused about the basis
nor follow emotion. Truly clarifying that you are the great cosmos—only then is
there a path for emerging.
“On the thirtieth day of the twelfth month, one goes off
just the same.” The “thirtieth” is the time of death. Whether or not you
believe or practice this or that, everyone must go—“just the same one goes.” To
which realm is not the central issue. As Weishan said, “After a hundred years I
will become a water buffalo at the foot of the mountain.” Even hell is not
feared, nor the animal realm—thus one goes just the same.
“This is called ‘coming with no place from which one comes;
going with no place to which one goes.’” To come thus is to go thus. How come
thus? “No place from which one comes”—that is how one comes. And going? There
is no place to go. Returning to the burning-wood example: strike the fire—flame
comes—whence did it come? No place from which. When burned out and
extinguished—where did it go? No place to which. When conditions arrive, it
flares again. Therefore “realize the Way of no-mind; realizing the Way of
no-mind, rest.” The Sixth Patriarch said, “Originally not a single thing.” The
four great and five aggregates are illusions. Not knowing they are illusions,
you take them as real and toil at cultivation; but do not say, “Since they are
illusions, I will ignore them”—who is making that declaration? Still the five
aggregates. Hearing the Dharma without thoroughness, one immediately uses one’s
own ideas to infer the Buddha’s words.
“To come lucidly thus—this is the place where all buddhas
and bodhisattvas are born.” When we must pass, if in this life we learn the
orthodox Dharma and clarify our true face, then we go lightly and clearly,
distinct without confusion. “Lucidly”—clear and awake—not muddled like a
sleepwalker. Even if to hell or the animal realm—judged by human values, these
are undesirable—but the lion is happy as a lion; the fish content as a fish.
Humans slaughter one another yet pity small creatures—contradictions abound.
“To cast one’s seed through deluded attachment—this is the
place where sentient beings are born.” Those who have not properly learned the
Dharma, who have not truly understood the Buddha’s teaching, seek a Buddhism of
their own preference—they inevitably “cast their seed through deluded
attachment.” This includes even seeking the Dharma with craving—hoping to gain
knowledge or powers without clarifying the direction. The intention may be
good, but the method and direction are wrong. Rebirth is then guided by
confusion-about-basis and following emotion—the main motive is craving. Do not
treat the Buddha-dharma as a tool for worldly fame and profit—that betrays the
Buddha’s compassion.
“Within this, good and evil are carried together, and thus
the good destinies and evil destinies come about.” Casting seeds through
deluded attachment may carry good karma or evil karma; even the human world
includes good and evil destinies—the clever and the dull.
“But if good and evil are like floating clouds, with no
place of arising or ceasing, then here neither ‘sentient being’ nor ‘buddha’
can be established.” In worldly law we call this good and that evil. Hongzhi
says: they are like clouds—arising and ceasing without a center or self-nature.
Here, “sentient being” and “buddha” cannot be set up. To grasp this, read the
next section where he explains more precisely why. Otherwise people will
misunderstand and think, “If there is no distinction, I may as well be a
villain.” The reasoning for “sentient being” and “buddha” not being established
is explained thereafter.
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