The Surangama Sutra
Page 9
“Ānanda, what are the two fundamentals? The first is the mind that is the basis of death and rebirth and that has continued since time without beginning. This mind is dependent on perceived objects,38 and it is this mind that you and all beings make use of and that each of you consider to be your own nature.
“The second fundamental is full awakening, which also has no beginning; it is the original and pure essence of nirvana.39 It is the original understanding,40 the real nature of consciousness. All conditioned phenomena arise from it, and yet it is among those phenomena that beings lose track of it. They have lost track of this fundamental understanding though it is active in them all day long, and because they remain unaware of it, they make the mistake of entering the various destinies.
“Ānanda, because you now wish to know about the path of calming the mind and wish to be subject to death and rebirth no longer, I will question you again.” Then the Thus-Come One raised his golden-hued arm and bent his five fingers — each of them marked with lines in the shape of a wheel41 — and he asked Ānanda, “Did you see something?”
Ānanda said, “I did.”
The Buddha said, “What did you see?”
Ānanda said, “I saw the Thus-Come One raise his arm and bend his fingers into a fist that sends forth light, dazzling my mind and eyes.”
Why did the Buddha ask about such a simple matter? You may see it as simple now, but actually it is not. The more the Buddha’s question is examined as the text continues, the deeper and more wonderful it becomes. It is just in the course of ordinary everyday matters that you can become fully aware of the Buddha that is inherent in you. The familiar places you come in contact with every day are the representations of the Buddha-nature. But you need to know that through your own experience; otherwise what is wrong seems right to you, and what is right seems wrong, and what is not lost seems lost. In fact, you haven’t lost your Buddha-nature, but it seems lost to you.... Since time without beginning, the root of death and rebirth, which is the mind that is dependent on conditioned phenomena, has been too strong. If that mind were to disappear, you would become aware of your Buddha-nature in an instant. (I, 241–2)
The Buddha said, “When you saw my fist emit light, what did you see it with?”
Ānanda said, “All of us in the great assembly saw it with our eyes.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “You have answered that the Thus-Come One bent his fingers into a fist that sent forth light, dazzling your mind and eyes. Your eyes can see my fist, but what do you take to be your mind that was dazzled by it?”
Ānanda said, “The Thus-Come One has just now been asking me about my mind’s location, and my mind is what I have been using to determine where it might be. My mind is that which has the capability of making such determinations.”
The Buddha exclaimed, “Ānanda! That is not your mind!”
Startled, Ānanda stood up, placed his palms together, and said to the Buddha, “If that is not my mind, what is it?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “It is merely your mental processes that assign false and illusory attributes to the world of perceived objects.42
These processes delude you about your true nature and have caused you, since time without beginning and in your present life, to mistake a burglar for your own child — to lose touch with your own original, everlasting mind — and thus you are bound to the cycle of death and rebirth.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha, “World-Honored One, I am the Buddha’s favorite cousin. It was my mind that loved the Buddha and led me to enter the monastic life. That mind of mine has been responsible not only for my serving the Thus-Come One but also for my serving all Buddhas and all good and wise teachers throughout as many lands as there are sand-grains in the River Ganges. It has always been that mind that has marshaled great courage to practice every difficult aspect of the Dharma. If I were ever to slander the Dharma and forsake forever my good roots in it, that mind of mine would be the cause even of that. If this activity of comprehending is not the mind, then I have no mind, and I am the same as a clod of earth or a piece of wood, because nothing exists apart from my mind’s awareness and its knowledge. Why does the Thus-Come One say that this is not my mind? Now I am genuinely alarmed and frightened; neither I nor anyone else here in the great assembly is free of doubt. I only hope that the Thus-Come One, with great compassion for us, will instruct all those among us who are not yet awake.”
Ānanda says that everyone who was also listening to his dialogue with the Buddha had doubts about what they had just heard, but in fact that too was a deduction Ānanda made with his conscious mind.... He didn’t realize that the great Bodhisattvas who were present had already understood, although they hadn’t said anything. (I, 251)
Then to Ānanda and the others in the great assembly the World-Honored One gave instruction in gaining patience with the state of mind in which no mental objects arise.43
Before you understand, you think: “Oh no, nothing comes into being or ceases to be, and all the myriad mental objects vanish!” A fear arises in your heart; you can’t bear the idea of it. But if you actually experience the state of mind in which nothing comes into being or ceases to be, it will not seem at all unusual, and you will be able to bear it because you will have gained patience with the state of mind in which no mental objects arise.... A special experience occurs when you are about to become enlightened. When the special experience happens, the only thing you can do is cherish it in your heart. You yourself know, but you cannot tell people about it. It is inexpressible. That is patience with the state of mind in which no mental objects arise. When you can see that the entire world of perceived objects is within your essential nature, that the three realms of existence are made from the mind alone — when you can see that the entire world of perceived objects is the mind only, that the myriad phenomena are consciousness only — then mental objects will no longer come into being or cease to be. (I, 253)
From the Lion’s Seat he reached out and circled his hand on the crown of Ānanda’s head, saying to him, “The Thus-Come One has often explained that all phenomena that come into being are nothing more than manifestations of the mind. All things that are subject to the principle of cause and effect — from the largest world to the smallest mote of dust — come into being because of the mind. If we examine the fundamental nature of each thing in the world, Ānanda, down to even the smallest wisps of grass, we will see that all have reality. Even space has a name and attributes. Given that, how could the clear wondrous, pure mind — the mind that truly understands and is the basic nature of all mental states — itself lack reality?
“But if, as you insist, that which makes distinctions and is aware of them, which knows and understands them is indeed the mind, then that mind would necessarily have its own essential nature independent of its involvement with objects — with visible objects, sounds, odors, flavors, and objects of touch. Yet now, as you listen to my Dharma, it is due to sounds that you can distinguish my meaning. Even if you were to withdraw into a state of quietude in which all seeing, hearing, awareness of tastes, and tactile awareness ceased, you still would be making distinctions among the shadowy objects of cognition in your mind.
In that kind of state you would still be making distinctions among the objects of your mental awareness. A state of quietude is still just a function of the sixth consciousness, the mind-consciousness.... Dreaming, for example, is a function of the mind-consciousness, as are psychotic states and also our ordinary state of scattered thoughts and discriminations. A state of quietude, which the Buddha mentions here, is another example. The first five consciousnesses have ceased functioning, yet you still have thoughts.... You feel that what is going on is very fine; but from the point of view of the Buddhist teaching, you haven’t even taken the first step. Don’t feel satisfied; instead, you should continue to make progress. If you stop at that place, it is easy to fall into a void... which is of no benefit in developing your skill in meditation. (I, 257–8)
At that point Ānanda and the others in the great assembly were utterly dumbfounded. They had nothing to say.
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “The reason why so many practitioners in the world do not succeed in putting an end to outflows and becoming Arhats — though they may have passed through all nine of the successive stages of samādhi44 — is that they are attached to distorted mental processes that come into being and then cease to be, and they mistake these processes for what is real. That is why, even though you have become quite learned, you have not become a sage.”
When Ānanda had heard that, he again wept sorrowfully. He then bowed to the ground, knelt on both knees, placed his palms together, and said to the Buddha, “Ever since I followed the Buddha and resolved to enter the monastic life, I have relied on the Buddha’s awe-inspiring spirit. I have often thought, ‘There is no reason for me to toil at spiritual practice,’ because I just expected that the Thus-Come One would graciously transfer some of his samādhi to me. I never realized that in fact he simply could not stand in for me, in body or in mind. Thus I abandoned my original resolve, and though my body has indeed entered the monastic life, my mind has not entered the Path. I am like that poor son who ran away from his father.45 Today I realize that, though I am learned, I might as well not have learned anything if I do not practice, just as someone who only talks of food never gets full.
“World-Honored One, we all are bound by two obstructions, and as a consequence we are unaware of the mind that is everlasting and still.46 I only hope the Thus-Come One will take pity on us who are destitute and homeless, will disclose the wondrous mind that truly understands, and will open our eyes to the Path.”
Then the Thus-Come One poured forth resplendent light from the symbol of purity47 on his chest. The brilliant light, radiant with hundreds of thousands of colors, shone all throughout the ten directions simultaneously to illuminate Buddha-lands as many as motes of dust, and it shone upon the crowns of the heads of the Thus-Come Ones in every one of those radiant Buddha-lands. Then the light returned to shine upon the great assembly — upon Ānanda and all the others.
Earlier in the Sutra the Buddha emitted light from his face — a blazing light as brilliant as a hundred thousand suns. That light represents the dispelling of delusions. Now he again emits light, this time from the symbol of purity on his chest. This light represents the disclosing of the true mind. (I, 268)
Thereupon the Buddha said to Ānanda, “I now will raise for all of you a great Dharma-banner so that all beings in all ten directions can gain access to what is wondrous, subtle, and hidden48 — the pure and luminous mind that understands — and so that they can open their clear-seeing eyes.”
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Skt. śamatha, samāpatti, dhyāna.↩
A gesture giving comfort and blessing. The teacher places his hand on the crown of the disciple’s head and then rubs the disciple’s head in a circling motion.↩
Skt. citta, Ch. xin 心, the mind in which distinctions are made based on ignorance.↩
Ānanda and the Buddha were paternal first cousins.↩
See the prologue, note 29.↩
Buddhist monks and nuns shave their heads upon entering the monastic life. The practice continues to this day.↩
Ch. chen lao 塵勞. This is the first mention of a theme to which the Buddha returns frequently in the Sutra: the stress and weariness that inevitably results from immersion in the world of the senses. The theme is developed in full below in Parts IV and V.↩
In part 9.2 below, the Buddha describes twelve kinds of beings according to the manner of their birth.↩
Eyes, ears, nose, and tongue, responding respectively to visible objects, sounds, odors, and flavors. The other two pairs — the body and objects of touch and the cognitive faculty and objects of cognition — are understood to be included.↩
Following the conventions for stating a syllogism (see section 8 of the introduction), the Buddha now suggests an apt instance drawn from orginary life to demonstrate the truth of what he is proposing, which is that Ānanda is wrong to suggest that the mind is located outside the body. He applies the instance to his proposition in the sentence beginning “Then if your mind that sees...” and states his conclusion in the sentence beginning “In this way you can know....” This pattern is repeated to refute each of Ānanda’s propositions concening the location of the mind.↩
According to Buddhist teaching, the cognitive faculty acts together with the eye-faculty in the process of visual perception of objects. The eye-faculty senses the objects and the mind recognizes what they are.↩
Here Ānanda offers a second proposition and he brings forth his own instance, which is, however, very similar to the one the Buddha proposed above. Ānanda has merely substituted the lamp and its light for himself and his vision. The Buddha refutes this second proposition in two steps: the first, by showing that Ānanda‘s example is logically flawed because it cannot be correctly applied to his proposition; the second, by offering the counter-example of the physical separateness of the monks seated at their meal.↩
A traditional manner of eating in India.↩
Ānanda now proposes, in his fourth supposition, that what is dark is inside and what is light is outside, so that he can return to his first supposition, that the mind is located inside the body. If the inside of the body is dark, the Buddha’s objection that the mind should see the internal organs first is removed.↩
The Buddha demolishes Ānanda’s new position in two stages. He first analyzes the darkness that is seen when the eyes are closed. According to the Buddhist understanding of perception, what we see, including the darkness we see when our eyes are closed, must be before the eye-faculty in order for the eye-faculty to perceive it, and therefore it must be outside the body, not inside it. Then, taking up the case of the darkness that we see when our eyes are open, such as in a room that is completely dark, the Buddha points out that if darkness is internal, as Ānanda contends, then everything in a pitch-dark external environment must be inside of our bodies.↩
If one sees internal darkness and external light, then although the face cannot be seen as part of the illuminated external world, it ought to be seen as an illuminated internal opposite. Or to put it the other way around, when one opens one’s eyes and sees the illuminated external environment, one can’t turn one’s vision around to see one’s face; why then should we suppose that when one’s eyes are closed, one can turn one’s vision around to see the darkness inside one’s body? If one’s own face could be seen — if it had become part of the normally seen external environment — it would have to be external to one’s eyes and mind. Since the face is part of the body, the eyes and mind would then have to float in empty space, external to the body. The Buddha continues to explain to Ānanda that if his eyes and mind are not part of his body, then his body must be an external object like any other. Or vice versa: if Ānanda’s mind and eyes are part of his body after all, despite their being suspended in space, then other people’s minds and eyes, which are also external to Ānanda’s body, should also be part of his body. Therefore, the Buddha concludes that it should be the case that “the Buddha, who now sees your face, would be part of your body as well.”↩
In the second part of his refutation the Buddha
shifts his focus from what is seen to the one who sees. He points out that if the eyes and mind are separate from the body, then if awareness is located in the eyes and mind, the body is left without awareness. If both nevertheless have their own separate awareness, and accordingly two different stores of knowledge, then two different sets of consciousness are involved, and therefore two different people. Therefore, the Buddha concludes that “you, one person, would eventually become two Buddhas.”↩
That is, monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen.↩
The Buddha discusses the ramifications of Ānanda’s new proposition in terms of the essential nature and location of the mind. First, if the mind has no essential nature of its own, it either lacks a location or has a location. Second, if the mind indeed has no essential nature, then (a) to be in accord with conditions it must have a definite locus as it moves from one set of conditions to the next, and (b) it must be composed either of a single essential nature which pervades the body or of multiple essential natures. If the mind has no essential nature of its own, it makes no sense to talk about its uniting with something else. Were it to have a location without an essential nature, it would not be located within any of the eighteen constituent elements (Skt. dhātu, Ch. jie 界), which contradicts fundamental tenets of the Buddhist teaching.↩