From One Atom to Eighty Kalpas

Thus far, bodily size differences within the container world have been discussed in terms of yojanas and the like. Lifespan differences, discussed in terms of years and the like, remain to be discussed, since the two kinds of measurement are not the same. Neither of these two systems of measurement can be established without reference to units of designation — and the smallest possible units of both designation and time have not yet been made clear. It is fitting, therefore, to first discuss the three smallest quantities. Verse: the atom, the syllable, and the instant are the smallest units of form, name, and time, respectively. Prose: analyzing all form down to a single indivisible particle, this single particle is the smallest unit of form. Likewise, analyzing all names and all time down to a single syllable or a single instant, these are the smallest units of name and time. By "a one-syllable name" is meant something like the word "cow." What, then, constitutes the measure of a single instant? It is the span of time in which a dharma produced by the coming-together of its assembled conditions attains its own essential nature, or, alternatively, the time it takes a moving object to traverse a single indivisible particle's width. The Ābhidharmikas say: it is the span of time in which a vigorous, able-bodied man snaps his fingers once, swiftly, divided into sixty-five instants — this is what is called the measure of a single instant.

The three smallest units are now known — what, then, of the first two larger measurements? Let us now discuss distance measures such as the yojana. Verse: atom, particle, metal-dust, water-dust, rabbit-hair-dust, sheep-hair-dust, ox-hair-dust, gap-dust, louse-egg, louse, barley grain, finger-joint — each subsequent unit increases sevenfold; twenty-four finger-widths make a cubit, four cubits make a bow-length, five hundred bow-lengths make a krośa, and eight of these make a yojana. Prose: beginning with the atom and ending with the finger-joint, each subsequent unit should be understood to increase sevenfold over the last. That is: seven atoms make one particle; accumulating particles to seven makes one metal-dust mote; accumulating seven metal-dust motes makes one water-dust mote; accumulating water-dust to seven makes one rabbit-hair-dust mote; accumulating seven rabbit-hair-dust motes makes one sheep-hair-dust mote; accumulating seven sheep-hair-dust motes makes one ox-hair-dust mote; accumulating seven ox-hair-dust motes makes one gap-dust mote; seven gap-dust motes make one louse-egg; seven louse-eggs make one louse; seven lice make one grain of barley; seven barley grains make one finger-joint; three finger-joints make one finger. The next several units are already commonly established in the world, and so are not separately distinguished in the verse: twenty-four finger-widths, laid side by side, make one cubit; four cubits, stacked vertically, make one bow-length, that is, a fathom; five hundred bow-lengths, stacked vertically, make one krośa — a krośa being, roughly, the distance along the road from a village to a forest hermitage. Eight krośas are said to make one yojana. Distance measures such as the yojana have thus been discussed.

Now the remaining measures, such as the year, should be discussed. Verse: one hundred twenty instants make one tatkṣaṇa; sixty of these make one lava; thirty of these make one muhūrta; thirty of these make one day-and-night; thirty days-and-nights make a month; twelve months make a year; within this, night decreases by half. Prose: one hundred twenty instants make one tatkṣaṇa; sixty tatkṣaṇas make one lava; thirty lavas make one muhūrta; thirty muhūrtas make one day-and-night. This day-and-night is sometimes lengthening, sometimes shortening, and sometimes equal. Thirty days-and-nights make one month; twelve months in total make one year. Within a single year, it is divided into three seasons — cold, hot, and rainy — each of four months. Among these twelve months, night decreases across six of them, so that, within a single year, night's total decrease amounts to six portions. How is this so? Hence there is a verse that states: "Within the cold, hot, and rainy seasons, once a month and a half has passed, during the remaining half-month, the wise know that night decreases."

Time from the instant up to the year has thus been discussed. Kalpa-measures differ from these, and should now be discussed next. Verse: it should be known that there are four kinds of kalpa — namely, destruction, formation, the medium kalpa, and the great kalpa. The destruction runs from when hell-beings cease to be reborn until the container world is entirely exhausted. The formation runs from when the wind first arises until hell-beings are first reborn. A medium kalpa runs from human lifespan being immeasurable, decreasing until lifespan is only ten years; then increasing and decreasing eighteen times in succession; then increasing once more up to eighty thousand years — this, together with abiding-after-formation, is called twenty medium kalpas. Formation, destruction, and the emptiness after destruction each likewise equal the abiding-kalpa in duration. Eighty medium kalpas make one great kalpa; three great kalpas, incalculable in number, are needed for a bodhisattva's practice. Prose: as for the "destruction kalpa," this refers to the period from when hell-beings cease to be reborn until the container world is entirely exhausted. Destruction is of two kinds: destruction of the destinies, and destruction of the realm itself. There are, further, two kinds: destruction of sentient beings, and destruction of the container world. That is: once this world-system has abided for twenty medium kalpas, there then follows a further twenty medium kalpas of equal duration, at the end of which the destruction kalpa arrives. When hell-beings, upon their deaths, are no longer reborn there anew, this marks the beginning of the destruction kalpa. Once there remains not a single being left in hell, this is called "hell already destroyed." Any beings whose karma definitely requires suffering in hell are, by the power of that karma, conveyed to hells in other world-systems instead — from this, the same should be understood, by analogy, for the animal and ghost destinies. However, each destiny is destroyed first in its own original dwelling-place; those destinies that dwell intermixed with humans and gods are destroyed together with the humans and gods in whose territory they dwell.

When, at a certain time, a single person in this continent, without a teacher, spontaneously attains the first dhyāna, and, rising from that absorption, proclaims: "The joy and bliss born of seclusion are truly blissful, truly tranquil!" — the other people, hearing this, all likewise enter that same absorption, and, upon death, are all reborn in the Brahmā world. This continues until the beings of this continent are entirely exhausted; this is called "the people of Jambudvīpa already destroyed." The eastern and western continents should be explained by the same pattern. In the northern continent, upon death, beings are reborn in the desire-realm heavens instead, since those people are incapable of entering absorption or becoming free of desire. This continues until there remains not a single being in the human destiny; at that time, this is called "the human destiny already destroyed." When, at a certain time, among the gods, one of the Four Great Kings' heaven spontaneously attains the first dhyāna, and so on, until they too are all reborn in the Brahmā world — at that time, the beings of that heaven are entirely exhausted; this is called "the Heaven of the Four Great Kings already destroyed." The remaining five desire heavens should be explained by the same pattern. This continues until there remains not a single being in the desire realm; this is called "the sentient beings of the desire realm already destroyed." When, at a certain time, one being in the Brahmā world, without a teacher, spontaneously attains the second dhyāna, and, rising from that absorption, proclaims: "The joy and bliss born of concentration are truly blissful, truly tranquil!" — the other gods, hearing this, all likewise enter that same absorption, and, upon death, are all reborn in the Ābhāsvara Heaven. This continues until the beings of the Brahmā world are entirely exhausted; in this way, this is called "the world of sentient beings already destroyed." Only the container world remains, empty and vast, abiding on its own.

Once the karma of all sentient beings throughout the ten directions that gave rise to this trichiliocosm has been exhausted, seven suns gradually appear in succession; all the seas dry up completely, the mountains burst into flame, and the continents together with the three wheels are all consumed by fire; the wind fans the fierce flames, burning up to the heavenly palaces above, until, reaching the Brahmā palace, nothing remains but ash. A given ground's own fire burns that same ground's own palaces — a calamity native to one ground cannot, by itself, destroy another ground; it is said to happen only because one ground's fire draws forth and gives rise to the next. The fire from below, driven by wind, spreads upward and burns the ground above — that is, the desire realm's fire, its fierce flames rising upward, serves as a condition that draws forth and gives rise to the form realm's own fire. The remaining calamities should likewise be understood accordingly. In this way, starting from the hells gradually diminishing all the way to the container world's complete exhaustion, this entire process is called, in total, the destruction kalpa.

As for the "formation kalpa": this refers to the period from when the wind first arises until beings are first born in hell. That is: once this world has been destroyed by calamity, there follows twenty medium kalpas of pure empty space; once this long span has passed, a further twenty medium kalpas of equal duration follow, and the formation kalpa then arrives. Through the dominant power of all sentient beings' collective karma, a subtle, faint wind gradually arises within that empty space — this is the preliminary sign that the container world is about to form. The wind gradually grows and intensifies, forming the wind wheel, water wheel, and gold wheel, and the rest, exactly as described before; and then, first of all, the palace of the Great Brahmā King is established, followed in turn all the way down to the Yāma palace. Afterward, the wind wheel and the rest arise below — this is what is meant by "the container world being established." The very first being to descend is one who passes away from the Ābhāsvara Heaven and is reborn in the Great Brahmā's realm, becoming the Great Brahmā King. Afterward, other beings likewise pass away and are reborn — some in the Heaven of Brahmā's Ministers, some in the Heaven of Brahmā's Retinue, some in the Heaven of Mastery over Others' Transformations. Beings descend gradually, lower and lower, until they reach the human destinies of Uttarakuru, Aparagodānīya, Pūrvavideha, and Jambudvīpa, and afterward are reborn as hungry ghosts, animals, and hell-beings. It is a natural law that whatever is destroyed last must be what forms first. Once the very first being is reborn in Avīci hell, the twenty medium kalpas of the formation kalpa should be understood as complete. After this, there follows a further twenty medium kalpas called "abiding-after-formation," arising in sequence — that is, from when the wind first arises to construct the container world, up until beings gradually come to abide within it.

This continent's people's lifespan continues for an immeasurable time; only at the beginning of the abiding kalpa does lifespan begin to gradually decrease. Decreasing from immeasurable down to a mere ten years constitutes the first of the twenty medium abiding-kalpas. After this, eighteen further kalpas each involve an increase and a decrease: that is, from ten years increasing up to eighty thousand, then from eighty thousand decreasing back down to ten years — this constitutes the second medium kalpa. Each of the following seventeen kalpas follows this same pattern. After these eighteen, lifespan again increases from ten years up to a full eighty thousand years — this is called the twentieth kalpa. In no kalpa does the increase ever exceed eighty thousand years, and in no kalpa does the decrease ever go below ten years. Within these eighteen kalpas, each single increase-and-decrease pair is of equal duration; since the first kalpa involves only a decrease and the last involves only an increase, all twenty kalpas are of equal duration. This entire sequence is called, altogether, the "abiding-after-formation" kalpa. As for the remaining kalpas — formation, destruction, and the emptiness after destruction — none of these involve any twentyfold distinction of increase and decrease; however, since their duration matches that of the abiding kalpa, each of them is likewise reckoned as twenty medium kalpas, by analogy. Within the formation kalpa, the container world arises during its first medium kalpa, while sentient beings gradually come to abide during the remaining nineteen. Within the destruction kalpa, the container world is destroyed during its last medium kalpa, while sentient beings gradually depart during the preceding nineteen. In this way, formation, abiding, destruction, and emptiness, each twenty medium kalpas, accumulate to a total of eighty; all together, these eighty constitute the measure of one great kalpa. What is the essential nature of a kalpa? It is simply the five aggregates. The sūtras state that three incalculable kalpas of diligent practice are required to attain buddhahood. Among the four kinds of kalpa discussed above, which kind accumulates to make up these three incalculable kalpas? Accumulating the aforementioned great kalpas by tens, hundreds, thousands, and so on, one accumulates to the point of the three incalculable kalpas. But if they are called "incalculable," why does the text also speak of "three"? The term "incalculable" does not mean utterly beyond number in an absolute sense — it means merely "not countable" in the ordinary way.

The Vimokṣa Sūtra states that, among sixty numbers, asaṃkhyeya is one of them. What are these sixty? As that sūtra states: there is a single, undivided number that begins as "one"; one ten makes "ten"; ten tens make "hundred"; ten hundreds make "thousand"; ten thousands make "myriad"; ten myriads make lakṣa; ten lakṣa make atilakṣa; ten atilakṣa make koṭi; ten koṭi make mata; ten mata make ayuta; ten ayuta make great ayuta; ten great ayuta make nayuta; ten nayuta make great nayuta; ten great nayuta make prayuta; ten prayuta make great prayuta; ten great prayuta make kaṅkara; ten kaṅkara make great kaṅkara; ten great kaṅkara make bimbara; ten bimbara make great bimbara; ten great bimbara make akṣobhya; ten akṣobhya make great akṣobhya; ten great akṣobhya make vivāha; ten vivāha make great vivāha; ten great vivāha make utsaṅga; ten utsaṅga make great utsaṅga; ten great utsaṅga make vāhana; ten vāhana make great vāhana; ten great vāhana make tiṭibha; ten tiṭibha make great tiṭibha; ten great tiṭibha make hetu; ten hetu make great hetu; ten great hetu make karabha; ten karabha make great karabha; ten great karabha make indra; ten indra make great indra; ten great indra make samāpta; ten samāpta make great samāpta; ten great samāpta make gati; ten gati make great gati; ten great gati make nimbararāja; ten nimbararāja make great nimbararāja; ten great nimbararāja make mudrā; ten mudrā make great mudrā; ten great mudrā make bala; ten bala make great bala; ten great bala make saṃjñā; ten saṃjñā make great saṃjñā; ten great saṃjñā make vibhūta; ten vibhūta make great vibhūta; ten great vibhūta make balākṣa; ten balākṣa make great balākṣa; ten great balākṣa make asaṃkhyeya. Among these numbers, the remaining eight have already been lost from transmission. If one counts great kalpas up to this number, asaṃkhyeya, this is what is meant by an "incalculable" number of kalpas. Accumulating this incalculable quantity up to three of them is what the sūtras mean by "three incalculable kalpas." It is not that these numbers cannot be reckoned by any calculation whatsoever, or that they cannot be known through counting — hence it is entirely appropriate to still speak of "three incalculable kalpas."

Why does a bodhisattva make the vow to practice diligently for such a long time in order to attain the fruit of buddhahood? How could one not accept the necessity of vowing to practice for so long? Supreme awakening is exceedingly difficult to attain; without extensive vows and practice, there is no way it could be accomplished. A bodhisattva must pass through three incalculable kalpas cultivating the great provisions of merit and wisdom — the six perfections — undergoing many hundreds of thousands of ascetic practices, before finally realizing supreme, perfect awakening; hence it is necessary to make such a long-term vow. If nirvana could also be attained through other means, what use is there in cultivating so many ascetic practices over such a long time merely for the sake of awakening? It is for the sake of benefiting and bringing happiness to all sentient beings that one seeks awakening and makes this long-term vow: "How may I acquire the great capacity needed to rescue all sentient beings from the torrent of suffering?" — it is for this reason that one forsakes the path to mere nirvana and seeks supreme awakening instead. What benefit is there to oneself in rescuing other sentient beings? A bodhisattva, in rescuing other beings, is fulfilling his own compassionate intention — hence rescuing others is itself his own benefit. Who would believe that a bodhisattva actually does such a thing? For someone who harbors only self-interest and lacks great compassion, this would indeed be difficult to believe of such a being. But for one who has no intention of self-benefit and possesses great compassion, this is not at all difficult to believe of such a being. Just as there are those who, through long habituation, lack compassion altogether, and, even though it brings them no benefit, take pleasure in harming others — this is something the whole world already knows and accepts. In just the same way, a bodhisattva, through long habituation in compassion, takes pleasure in benefiting others even though it brings him no benefit — why should this not be believed? Moreover, just as sentient beings, through the power of repeated habituation, fail to understand that conditioned phenomena are without self, and, grasping them as a self, give rise to attachment and craving, and, for this very reason, willingly bear great suffering — this too is something the wise already know and accept. In just the same way, a bodhisattva, through the power of repeated habituation, abandons self-love and increases his attachment and affection toward others, and, for this very reason, willingly bears great suffering — why should this not be believed? Moreover, on account of a difference in spiritual disposition, this kind of aspiration arises: taking others' suffering as one's own suffering, and others' happiness as one's own happiness, rather than taking one's own suffering and happiness as what defines one's own suffering and happiness — seeing no difference between benefiting another and having some separate benefit of one's own. On the basis of this meaning, there is a verse that states: "The lesser person diligently strives, ever seeking his own happiness; the middling person seeks the cessation of suffering, since happiness is not something to rely on where suffering remains; the greater person ever diligently seeks his own suffering and others' peace and happiness, and the permanent cessation of others' suffering — because he takes others as himself."

Kalpa-measures and their distinctions have thus been discussed. Do buddhas and pratyekabuddhas appear in the world during a period of increasing lifespan, or during a period of decreasing lifespan? Verse: buddhas appear in the world during the decline from eighty thousand years down to a hundred; pratyekabuddhas appear during both increase and decrease, though the rhinoceros-horn-like solitary type requires a hundred kalpas of prior preparation. Prose: from the time this continent's people's lifespan is eighty thousand years, gradually decreasing until lifespan reaches as little as a hundred years — it is within this interval that buddhas appear. Why is it that no buddha appears during a period of increase? Because sentient beings, delighting in the increase, are difficult to teach toward disenchantment with saṃsāra. Why is it that no buddha appears once lifespan has decreased below a hundred? Because the five defilements have become so extreme that beings are difficult to transform. What are these five defilements? First, the defilement of lifespan; second, the defilement of the kalpa itself; third, the defilement of affliction; fourth, the defilement of views; fifth, the defilement of sentient beings. As a kalpa's decline nears its end, lifespan and the rest become base and inferior, like dregs and filth — hence they are called "defilements." Through the first two defilements, respectively, lifespan and the material means of livelihood become extremely diminished. Through the next two defilements, wholesome qualities become diminished, since beings indulge in sensual pleasure or in self-mortification, thereby damaging the wholesome conduct of both householders and renunciants. Through the last defilement, beings' own persons become diminished — that is, their own bodily stature, physical strength, mindfulness, wisdom, diligence, courage, and freedom from illness all deteriorate.

Pratyekabuddhas appear during both increasing and decreasing kalpas alike. However, there are two distinct kinds of pratyekabuddha: first, the group-dwelling type; second, the rhinoceros-horn-like type. The group-dwelling pratyekabuddha was formerly a śrāvaka, and, upon attaining the superior fruit, comes to be called "solitarily supreme." There is a further view that such a one was formerly an ordinary being who had previously cultivated the śrāvaka's aids to penetration, and now, awakening to the path entirely on his own, attains the name "solitarily supreme." As is told in the Itivṛttaka: in a certain mountain place there once dwelt, in total, five hundred ascetic non-Buddhist sages. There was a monkey who had once lived in close proximity to a pratyekabuddha and had observed his dignified deportment; wandering from place to place, it eventually arrived where these non-Buddhist sages were, and displayed the dignified deportment it had previously seen the pratyekabuddha exhibit. The sages, seeing this, were all filled with reverence and admiration, and, in but a moment, all of them realized pratyekabuddha-awakening. Had they already been noble ones beforehand, they would have had no need to undertake ascetic practices. As for the rhinoceros-horn-like type, this refers to one who necessarily dwells entirely alone. Among the two kinds of pratyekabuddha, the rhinoceros-horn-like type requires a full hundred great kalpas of cultivating the provisions for awakening before finally becoming a rhinoceros-horn-like pratyekabuddha. By "pratyekabuddha" is meant one who, in his present existence, awakens to the path entirely on his own, apart from receiving any teacher's instruction — since he is capable of disciplining himself, but not of disciplining others. Why is it said that a pratyekabuddha does not discipline others? It is not that he lacks the capacity to expound the true Dharma, since he too has attained unobstructed understanding, and is moreover able to remember the sacred teachings he has heard proclaimed by buddhas in the past. Nor can it be said that he lacks compassion, since he does manifest supernormal powers in order to gather sentient beings. Nor can it be said that there are no beings receptive to the Dharma at that time, since, even then, there remain sentient beings capable of generating the mundane path counteracting desire. Although this is so, it is because of his own past habituation — having taken little delight in resolute understanding through verbal explanation, he has no wish to teach. Moreover, he recognizes how difficult it is for sentient beings to accept a profound teaching, since, having long flowed downstream with the current, it is difficult to make them turn against that current. Moreover, in order to avoid gathering a following, he does not expound the true Dharma to others, fearing the noise and confusion that a following would bring.

When does a wheel-turning king appear in the world? How many kinds are there, how many appear together, what is their majestic power, and what is their appearance? Verse: wheel-kings appear from eighty thousand years of lifespan upward; their wheels are gold, silver, copper, or iron; they rule one, two, three, or four continents respectively, in descending order; they are unique, like a buddha. Some come to them, others they go and subdue themselves; they are victorious over the ranks of battle without causing harm; their bodily marks are not as perfectly round and radiant as a buddha's — hence they are not equal to a buddha. Prose: from the time this continent's people's lifespan is immeasurable down to eighty thousand years, wheel-turning kings arise. Once lifespan declines below eighty thousand, sentient beings' wealth, happiness, and lifespan all diminish, and evils gradually intensify — this is no longer a vessel fit for a great being, hence no wheel-king arises. This king, by means of a wheel that revolves, is able to guide and subdue everyone through his majestic power; hence he is called a "wheel-turning king." The Prajñaptipāda states there are four kinds, since the gold, silver, copper, and iron wheels must be distinguished. In descending order of superiority — superior, upper, middle, lower — each rules, respectively, one, two, three, or four continents: the iron-wheel king rules one continent's territory; the copper-wheel king, two; the silver-wheel king, three; and the gold-wheel king rules the territory of all four continents. The sūtras, speaking in terms of the superior case, mention only the gold wheel; hence a sūtra states: "If a king is born into the kṣatriya caste and succeeds to the anointed crown, then, on the fifteenth day, while observing the fast and precepts, having bathed his head and body and undertaken the excellent fast and precepts, he ascends a high tower-hall attended by his ministers and retinue — suddenly, from the east, a precious golden wheel appears. This wheel has a thousand spokes, complete with hub and rim, all its features perfectly round and pure as though crafted by a skilled artisan, radiating wondrous light as it comes to present itself before the king. This king is then certainly a wheel-turning king who turns the golden wheel." The other wheel-turning kings should be understood in the same way. A wheel-turning king, like a buddha, never arises two at once; hence a sūtra states: "There is no place, no position, neither before nor after, where two tathāgatas, worthy ones, perfectly and fully awakened, appear in the world at once — where there is a place, where there is a position, there is only ever a single tathāgata." Just as is said of the tathāgata, so too is it with the wheel-turning king.

One should carefully consider and distinguish: does this statement of "only one" refer to a single trichiliocosm, or does it encompass the entirety of all world-systems everywhere? There is a view: that no buddha whatsoever arises in any other world-system. Why is this? Lest the Bhagavān's own capacity be thought limited — there is only a single World-Honored One, who is universally able to teach and transform beings throughout the ten directions. If there were some single place where a single buddha lacked the capacity to teach and transform, beings elsewhere would have to be the same. Moreover, the World-Honored One said to Śāriputra: "Suppose someone were to come to you and ask: 'Is there, at this very time, any brahmin or ascetic equal, entirely equal, to Gautama in having attained supreme awakening?' How would you answer, having been asked this?" At that time, Śāriputra addressed the World-Honored One, saying: "Were I asked this, I would answer as follows: at this time, there is no brahmin or ascetic who has attained supreme awakening equal to my own World-Honored One. Why is this so? Because I have personally heard and personally retained from the World-Honored One himself: there is no place, no position, neither before nor after, where two tathāgatas, worthy ones, perfectly and fully awakened, appear in the world at once; where there is a place, where there is a position, there is only ever a single tathāgata." If this is so, then why does the Brahmajāla Sūtra state: "I now exercise sovereign mastery throughout this entire trichiliocosm of world-systems"? This statement carries a hidden intent. What is this hidden intent? It means: if the World-Honored One does not exert any special effort, he is able to perceive only this one trichiliocosm; but when the World-Honored One does exert such effort, boundless world-systems all fall within the range of his buddha-eye. His divine ear and other such powers should be understood by the same principle.

There is a further school's view: that other world-systems, too, each separately have their own buddhas appearing in the world. Why is this? There are many bodhisattvas presently cultivating the provisions for awakening together — while it may be that a single world-system, at a single time, cannot have multiple buddhas, by what principle could this forbid many world-systems from each having their own buddha? Hence, throughout boundless world-systems, boundless buddhas appear. If there were only a single buddha, then, even were he to remain for an entire kalpa, he still could not fully accomplish a buddha's work even for a single world-system, let alone benefit boundless world-systems within an ordinary human lifespan. Yet sentient beings dwell throughout boundless world-systems, differing boundlessly in time, place, and capacity — a buddha ought to be able to perceive all these kinds of beings everywhere. Wherever and whenever the World-Honored One ought to be seen, the buddha should respond to that occasion, manifesting supernormal powers and teaching the Dharma, causing faults not yet arisen to not arise, and faults already arisen to be eliminated, causing virtues not yet arisen to arise, and virtues already arisen to become complete. How could a single buddha accomplish all of this at once? Therefore, there must definitely be multiple buddhas existing at the same time. As for the passage cited — "there is no place, no position, neither before nor after, where two tathāgatas appear in the world," and so on — this should be jointly considered: does this statement refer to a single world-system, or to multiple world-systems? If it refers to multiple world-systems, then wheel-turning kings, too, ought not to exist in other world-systems simultaneously, since the statement is said to forbid simultaneous arising in the same way for both buddhas and wheel-kings. But if it is accepted that wheel-kings do exist separately in other world-systems, why should it not likewise be accepted that buddhas exist separately in other world-systems? A buddha's appearance in the world is endowed with auspicious merit — what fault would there be in multiple world-systems each having their own buddha, such that this should be forbidden? That is: when buddhas appear together across multiple world-systems, they are able to benefit immeasurable sentient beings, causing them to attain higher rebirth and the path of definite excellence. If this is so, then why is it that, within a single world-system, two tathāgatas never appear simultaneously? Because it would serve no purpose. That is: within a single world-system, a single buddha alone is fully sufficient to benefit everyone. Moreover, it is due to the power of a prior vow: for all tathāgatas, while still bodhisattvas, first made this vow: "May I attain perfect, complete awakening precisely within a world-system that has no rescuer, no refuge, blind and dark, benefiting and bringing peace and happiness to all sentient beings, becoming their rescuer, their refuge, their eye, their guide." Moreover, it is so that beings will hold him in deep reverence — that is, when there is only a single tathāgata within a single world-system, this alone brings about deep reverence. Moreover, it is so as to spur beings toward swift practice — that is, causing them to understand that encountering a lord of omniscience such as this is exceedingly rare, so that they should swiftly practice the teaching he has established, lest he enter final nirvana or depart to another place, leaving them without rescue or refuge. For these reasons, within a single world-system, two buddhas never appear.

Among these four kinds of wheel-turning kings just described, there are also distinctions in how their majestic power subdues the various regions. In the case of the gold-wheel king: the various minor kings each come of their own accord to welcome him, making this request: "Our territories are vast and fertile, peaceful and prosperous, with many people. We ask only that Your Divine Majesty grant us instruction and command in person — we are all your loyal followers." In the case of the silver-wheel king: he goes to that land himself, and, by the mere proximity of his majestic authority, that region submits as his vassal. In the case of the copper-wheel king: upon arriving in that country, he proclaims his authority and competes in virtue, and that region concedes his superiority. In the case of the iron-wheel king: he likewise arrives in that country, displays his might by arraying his troops, and, having achieved victory, stops there. In every case, no wheel-turning king ever causes harm; once he has subdued a region and achieved victory, he settles each people in their own dwelling, and encourages them to cultivate the ten wholesome courses of action — hence a wheel-turning king, upon death, is certain to be reborn in heaven. The sūtras state that when a wheel-turning king appears in the world, seven treasures likewise appear in the world along with him. What are these seven? First, the wheel-treasure; second, the elephant-treasure; third, the horse-treasure; fourth, the jewel-treasure; fifth, the woman-treasure; sixth, the treasurer-minister-treasure; seventh, the general-treasure. The elephant and the other four living treasures are included among sentient beings — how, then, could another being's karma give rise to a different sentient being, rather than that other sentient being arising from their own karma? It is rather that, through karma created previously that mutually binds them together, when one of them arises through the ripening of his own karma, the others likewise arise at the same time through the ripening of their own respective karma. As for these wheel-turning kings just described, they are distinguished from other kings not only by possessing the seven treasures, but also by possessing the thirty-two marks of a great being. If this is so, then what is the difference between a wheel-turning king and a buddha? A buddha's marks of a great being are perfectly clear and complete, while a king's marks are not so — hence there is a distinction between them.

At the very beginning of the kalpa, did people have a king or not? Verse: at the kalpa's beginning, people were like the gods of the form realm; afterward, craving for flavor gradually increased; from this, falling, storage, and theft arose; a ruler was hired to guard against this and protect the fields. Prose: at the very beginning of the kalpa, people were all like beings of the form realm; hence a sūtra states: at the kalpa's beginning, people possessed form and were mind-made, their limbs perfectly complete, their faculties without any deficiency, their appearance dignified and upright, their bodies emitting light, soaring through the air at will, joyful in eating and drinking, long-lived and abiding for a long duration. At this time, an earthly essence gradually arose, sweet in flavor and richly fragrant. There was then a certain person whose nature was inclined toward flavor, who, smelling its fragrance, gave rise to craving, took it up, and tasted it, then ate it; the other people, following this example, competed to gather and eat it as well. It was only at this time that people first began to receive edible food. Because they now depended on edible food, their bodies gradually became coarse and heavy, their inner light faded, and darkness arose — it was from this point that the sun, moon, and stars first appeared. As people gradually became addicted to this earthly essence, it in turn disappeared, and, from this, an earth-crust cake arose in its place. Competing to feed on this, the earth-cake likewise disappeared, and, at that time, forest vines appeared. Competing to feed on these as well, the forest vines then disappeared, and non-cultivated fragrant rice grew spontaneously, which everyone gathered together to eat. Because this food was coarse, residual waste remained in the body, and, in order to expel it, the two lower orifices arose — and from this, the male and female sexual organs came to be. Because these two organs differed in form and appearance, through the power of past habituation, people began to gaze at one another, and, from this, improper mental attention arose; desire and craving, like demonic possession, threw body and mind into confusion, and, losing their composure, people engaged in wild, non-celibate conduct. It was at this time that desire-demons first arose among human beings.

At that time, people simply gathered fragrant rice as needed, morning or evening, without storing any of it. Later, there was a person of lazy disposition who gathered a large quantity of fragrant rice and stored it in anticipation of future meals; the other people, following this example, gradually began storing more and more as well. Because of this, a sense of "mine" arose with regard to the rice; each person indulged their own greed without limit, gathering more than they needed, and, as a result, the places they had harvested no longer produced new growth. They therefore divided the fields among themselves and took precautions against future scarcity. With regard to their own allotted field, a sense of stinginess and protectiveness arose; with regard to others' allotted fields, a desire to encroach and seize arose — the faults of robbery and theft first began at this time. In order to prevent this, people gathered together to deliberate in detail, and, having assessed and selected a single virtuous person from among the group, each contributed one-sixth of their own harvest and hired this person to provide protection, appointing him as lord of the fields — and it was from this that the name "kṣatriya" was established. The multitude, in gratitude, submitted to his benevolent rule over the land, and so he was further given the name "Mahāsammata," the "Great Elect"; all later kings take this king as their first ancestor. At that time, there were also certain people who grew weary of household life and took pleasure in solitude, diligently cultivating precepts and conduct — and it was from this that the name "brahmin" was obtained. Later still, there was a king who, out of greed and stinginess for wealth, was unable to distribute it evenly among the people of his land, so that impoverished people increasingly resorted to banditry. The king, in order to prohibit this, carried out punishments both light and severe — and it was at this time that the act of killing first began. At that time, there were guilty persons who, fearing punishment, concealed their offenses and spoke deceptively with false intent — and it was at this time that false speech first began, as the foremost of such offenses.

At the point of a kalpa's decline, there are three small calamities. What are their characteristics? Verse: as unwholesome courses of action increase and lifespan decreases, reaching ten years, the three calamities appear — sword, sickness, and famine, in that order, lasting seven days, seven months, and seven years respectively. Prose: from the point when sentient beings first gave rise to false speech, unwholesome courses of action progressively increased thereafter, causing this continent's people's lifespan to gradually decrease, until it reaches as little as ten years, at which point the three small calamities appear. Hence the root of all these calamities lies in two things: first, addiction to fine food; second, a lazy disposition. These three small calamities arise at the very end of a medium kalpa. The three calamities are: first, the sword; second, plague; third, famine. That is: at the time when, at the end of a medium kalpa, lifespan is ten years, people, continuously defiled by unlawful craving, their minds obscured by inequitable desire, entangled in wrong views, their hatred and malice intensified, the moment they see one another give rise to fierce, murderous intent — just as, nowadays, when a hunter sees wild birds and beasts, whatever he holds in his hand turns into a sharp blade; in just this way, people, each giving free rein to their savage madness, slaughter one another. Moreover, at this same time, because people are possessed of all the aforementioned faults, non-human beings spread poisonous, epidemic disease, and whoever is struck by it dies almost at once, difficult to cure or save. Moreover, at this same time, also because people are possessed of all the aforementioned faults, the gods and nāgas, in their anger and reproach, withhold sweet rain, so that the world suffers prolonged famine, and, having no means of sustenance, most people die. It is for this reason that it is said: because of famine, there comes to be "the gathering of bones" and "the counting with tallies."

"Gathering" is so called for two reasons: first, "gathering of people" — that is, at that time, people, extremely famished and weak, gathered together and died in heaps. Second, "gathering of seeds" — that is, at that time, people, wishing to benefit future generations, set aside a portion of their own food and stored it in small boxes as seed for the future. Hence a time of famine is called a time of "gathering." The term "white bones" likewise has two reasons: first, at that time, people's bodies became so desiccated that, not long after death, white bones would already be exposed. Second, at that time, people, driven by the pressure of famine, would gather up white bones, boil them, and drink the resulting broth. The term "counting with tallies" likewise has two reasons: first, because provisions were so scarce, food was rationed by tally-count — that is, within a single household, from the eldest to the youngest, each would receive, according to their tally, only a small, coarse portion of food per day. Second, tallies were used to scrape together grain-husks from the threshing floor, obtaining only a small quantity of grain, which was then mostly boiled with water, and the resulting gruel shared among all to sustain what life remained. There is, however, a definitive teaching describing a remedy for these calamities: if one is able to observe the precept against killing for a single day and night, one is certain, in a future life, never to encounter the calamity of the sword. If one is able, with a sincere and pure mind, to offer even a single myrobalan fruit to the monastic community, one is certain, in a future life, never to encounter the calamity of plague. If one is able, with a sincere and pure mind, to offer even a single handful of food to the monastic community, one is certain, in a future life, never to encounter the calamity of famine. How long does each of these three calamities last? The calamity of the sword lasts, at most, only seven days; the calamity of plague, seven months and seven days; the calamity of famine, seven years, seven months, and seven days — after which it ceases. As human lifespan gradually increases again, the eastern and western continents experience calamities resembling these — that is, an increase in hatred, physical weakness, and repeated hunger and thirst — but the northern continent experiences none of these at all.

It was earlier stated that fire destroys the world by burning it; the remaining calamities should likewise be understood accordingly. What are these remaining calamities? This should now be discussed in full. Verse: the three calamities are fire, water, and wind; the peak of each corresponds to the upper three dhyānas as their limit; in the same order, these correspond to the equivalent internal calamities; the fourth dhyāna alone has none of these, being unmoving. Yet even that container world is not permanent, since it arises and perishes together with sentient beings. The cycle proceeds thus: seven fire calamities, then one water, repeated seven times over, and afterward, a wind calamity follows. Prose: these three great calamities press upon sentient beings, forcing them to abandon the lower grounds and gather in the higher heavens. First, the fire calamity arises, manifesting through seven suns; next, the water calamity arises, through torrential, prolonged rain; last, the wind calamity arises, through winds violently colliding with one another. The power of these three calamities destroys the container world, down to the point where not even a single atom remains.

A certain group of non-Buddhists holds that atoms are permanent, maintaining that, even at the time of total cosmic destruction, some atoms still remain. Why do they insist that some atoms must remain? Lest later, coarser phenomena arise without any seed to produce them. But has it not already been stated that a wind, produced by the karma of sentient beings, is able to serve as that seed? Or, alternatively, it is precisely the wind at the peak of the preceding calamity that serves as a condition drawing forth and giving rise to the next wind, which then serves as the seed. Moreover, the Mahīśāsaka school's sūtra states: wind carries seeds here from other regions. Even granting this, it is not accepted that, when a sprout and the like arise, this wind or seed is the direct cause that gives rise to them. If this is so, then from what do sprouts and the like actually arise? They arise from their own constituent parts. These constituent parts, in turn, arise from their own further parts, and so on, until, at the very finest level, the smallest possible parts arise from atoms. In the arising of a sprout and the like, then, what power does the "seed" actually have? Apart from being able to draw together and gather the atoms that produce the sprout, the seed has no further power to actually produce the sprout itself.

Why do they insist on holding this position so definitely? Because they hold that an effect arising from a cause of a different kind is definitely unreasonable. Unreasonable in what respect? Because there would then be no fixed determination of causal relationships. Since causal function is itself fixed, no fault of indeterminacy follows. Sound, ripening-transformation, and the like are indeed accepted as arising from a different kind of cause — but this holds only for qualities, which are of a distinct category; it does not hold for substances. It is directly observed that substances arise only from a cause of the same kind — as when a vine gives rise to a branch, or thread gives rise to cloth. This is not a reasonable claim. Why is it unreasonable? Because it cites something not yet established as though it were already established, in order to prove its point. What, in what has just been cited, is not yet established? It is not accepted that a vine and its branch, or thread and cloth, are actually distinct entities. It is precisely the union of vine-material or thread, differently arranged, that comes to be called "branch" or "cloth" — just as with a marching column of ants. How is this known to be so? Because within a single thread's union, cloth is never obtained — only thread is obtained. What, then, obstructs it from becoming cloth? If a complete cloth cannot arise within a single thread, then it should be accepted that, upon a single thread, there is merely a part of cloth, not complete cloth. It should be accepted that the complete cloth is simply the collection of all its parts — there is no further, separate "possessor-of-parts" entity, over and above the parts, that is called "cloth." Moreover, how is it known that a part of cloth is different from a thread itself? If it is held that cloth requires the union of many supporting threads, then a union of merely many warp-threads alone ought to also produce cloth. Or else, it would follow that cloth could never be obtained at all, since the middle and the remaining edges of a piece of cloth are not, each on their own, directly confronting a sense-faculty. If it is held that each part can, in succession, come to confront the sense-faculty, then it should follow that the eye and body only ever apprehend the individual parts, and it should not be said that they apprehend a "possessor-of-parts" — rather, it is precisely through successively discerning each part in turn that an overall cognition of a "possessor-of-parts" arises, just as with a whirling firebrand. That is: apart from the thread's own distinct color, category, and action, cloth's color and the other two categories cannot be found as anything separate. If the color and so forth found on a piece of brocade belong to the cloth itself, then it should be accepted that a substance arises from a cause of a different category — since no single individual thread's color, by itself, displays this variegated pattern. Or else, at a single part where there is no distinctive color and so on, one ought not to see the cloth at all there, on the grounds that only certain colored parts reveal the cloth. Or else, that very same part ought nevertheless to display distinctive color, since cloth, being genuinely one substance, must necessarily possess a uniform color and so forth throughout. They accept that the possessor-of-parts' essential nature is a single, unified thing, and yet has all kinds of varying colors, categories, and actions — upon careful examination, a position as strange as this is truly remarkable indeed. Moreover, within the domain of a single fire's light, its burning and illuminating effects differ depending on distance — if the object were genuinely a single undivided substance, this difference in tactile and visual effect ought not to be possible at all. Although each individual atom, by itself, is beyond the range of sense-faculties, when they gather together in aggregation, they become directly evident to sense-perception — just as, on your own school's own principle, a combination of causes is able to produce an effect, or just as the eye and other faculties, in combination, are able to give rise to consciousness. It is just like how someone with a cataract-clouded eye, looking at scattered strands of hair, is able to see them when many are clustered closely together, but has no capacity to see them when each is far apart — the principle of atoms confronting a sense-faculty should be understood in just the same way. Moreover, it is precisely with reference to visible form and the like that the name "atom" is established — hence, when visible form and the like are destroyed, the atom too is destroyed. On the opponent's own scheme, the atom would be classed under substance, while visible form and the like would be classed under quality — and two things of genuinely distinct essential nature ought not to necessarily perish together at the very same moment. This shows that these two supposedly distinct categories cannot, in principle, actually be distinct substances at all. Upon careful examination, there is no separate "earth" and so forth apart from visible form and the rest — hence they are not distinct in essential nature. Moreover, within that very school's own system, it is itself accepted that "earth" and the like are apprehended by the eye and the body faculties — how, then, could it be different from visible form and tangible object? Moreover, when wool, felt, red flowers, and the like are burned, the cognition of them as such simply ceases to occur — hence the cognition of "wool" and the like arises only in dependence on distinctions among visible form and the rest, since, when a substance undergoes ripening-transformation, its shape and dimensions also change accordingly. It is just like recognizing a marching formation, or a jar, or a basin — one fails to recognize them at all if one does not observe their shape. Who, indeed, would bother to record and take seriously such foolish, deluded talk? Hence the extensive polemic against that school's doctrine should stop here.

Where do the peaks of these three calamities lie? The second dhyāna is the peak of the fire calamity, since everything below it is consumed by fire. The third dhyāna is the peak of the water calamity, since everything below it is soaked and dissolved by water. The fourth dhyāna is the peak of the wind calamity, since everything below it is scattered by wind. Wherever a given calamity's reach stops, that level is called that calamity's "peak." Why is it that the lower three dhyānas are subject to the calamities of fire, water, and wind, respectively? Because, within the first, second, and third dhyānas, there are internal calamities corresponding to each. That is: in the first dhyāna, investigation and analysis serve as its internal calamity, since they are able to burn and disturb the mind, corresponding to the external calamity of fire. In the second dhyāna, joy serves as its internal calamity, since it is accompanied by pliancy and saturates the body the way water does, dissolving the coarse heaviness pervading the body — hence the sūtras state that the pain faculty ceases in the second dhyāna. In the third dhyāna, movement and its cessation serve as its internal calamity, since breath is itself a kind of wind, corresponding to the external calamity of wind. If one enters into a given dhyāna possessing such an internal calamity, then, when one is born into that dhyāna, one will be subject to destruction by the corresponding external calamity. Why is earth not likewise established as a calamity? Because the container world is itself earth — fire and the others may stand opposed to earth, but earth cannot be said to stand opposed to itself. What serves as the external calamity for the fourth dhyāna? It has no external calamity at all, since it is free of any internal calamity. It is for this reason that the Buddha called it "the Unmoving," since it is beyond the reach of all three internal and external calamities. There is a further view: that, because the Pure Abodes are located on that ground, that ground is never destroyed by any calamity — since beings born there can never be reborn in the formless realm, nor should they need to proceed to any further place. If this is so, then that ground's container world ought to be permanent. It is not so, since it arises and perishes together with sentient beings. That is: in that heavenly realm, there is no single overall ground-shape at all, but rather, like the stars, each dwelling exists separately in its own place. As beings are born there and die there, the heavenly palace where they dwell arises and perishes right along with them — hence that container world's essential nature, too, is not permanent.

What is the sequence of these three calamities? First, seven fire calamities must arise in uninterrupted succession; next, there must definitely follow a single water calamity. After this, without interruption, seven fire calamities arise again; after these seven fire calamities pass, there is again a single water calamity — and so on, until a full seven water calamities have occurred. After the last set of seven fire calamities, a wind calamity then arises. In this way, altogether, there are eight sets of seven fire calamities, one set of seven water calamities, and a single wind calamity. Why is this so? Because, as sentient beings' cultivated causes of meditative concentration become progressively more excellent at higher levels, the resulting measure of their bodily lifespan correspondingly grows progressively longer, and, accordingly, the duration of their dwelling also grows progressively longer. On this basis, the Prajñaptipāda's statement that the Ābhāsvara Heaven's lifespan is sixty-four kalpas is properly explained.