The Burden-Bearer

Chapter 9, Refuting the Self, Part 2. If the pudgala is nothing but the five aggregates of clinging, why did the Blessed One speak thus: "I shall now expound for you the heavy burden, the taking up and laying down of the burden, and the bearer of the burden"? Why should the Buddha not have spoken in this way? The burden itself should not be called the very thing that bears it. Why is this? Because this has never been observed. Nor should the Buddha have spoken of it as an "inexpressible" matter. Why is this? Because this too has never been observed. Moreover, the taking up of the burden should then not be included within the aggregates, since the burden taking itself up has likewise never been observed. Yet the sūtra states that craving is what is called "the taking up of the burden" — and since craving is itself included within the aggregates, the bearer should likewise be so included, and it is precisely with reference to the aggregates that the term "repeated-taker-of-existences" is established. Yet, fearing that one might suppose this pudgala to be an inexpressible, permanently abiding, truly real entity, the Buddha himself, later in this very sūtra, explains: "this is stated only in accordance with worldly convention — this venerable one has such-and-such a name" — and so on, stated fully. As with the passage from the Sūtra on the Person cited earlier, this is meant to make clear that the pudgala can be said to be impermanent, and not of a genuinely real nature. It is precisely the five aggregates of clinging, oppressing and afflicting themselves by their own inherent nature, that receive the name "burden"; and it is because each earlier moment draws forth the one that follows that they receive the name "bearer" — hence there is no genuinely real pudgala.

The pudgala must definitely be genuinely real, the Vātsīputrīya objects, since a sūtra states that whoever denies the existence of spontaneously-born sentient beings falls into the category of wrong view. Who says there are no spontaneously-born sentient beings? As the Buddha himself states, we affirm that they exist — namely, the aggregates' continuum, capable of proceeding on to a future life without being born from a womb, an egg, or moisture, is what is called a "spontaneously-born sentient being." Denying this is what falls into wrong view, since the aggregates involved in spontaneous birth are, in principle, genuinely real. Moreover, if this wrong view of denying spontaneous birth specifically slanders the pudgala, then you should tell us: by which path is it abandoned? Neither of the two answers actually works: since the pudgala is not included among the Four Truths, it cannot be abandoned by the path of seeing, which operates specifically by seeing the Truths; and wrong view is never something abandoned by the path of cultivation alone, as you yourselves hold elsewhere.

If it is said that, since a sūtra states there is "one pudgala born into the world," the pudgala should therefore not simply be the aggregates — this too is unreasonable, since the word "one" is conventionally applied to a collective totality, just as ordinary speech says "one sesame," "one grain of rice," "one heap," or "one word." Or else, if you insist on taking "born" literally, the pudgala should then have to be granted as included among the conditioned dharmas, since a sūtra states it is "born into the world." This word "born" does not mean newly arising, the way the aggregates newly arise, they reply — on what basis, then, is it said to be "born into the world"? It is with reference to presently taking on a distinct set of aggregates that this is meant — just as ordinary speech says "a sacrificer is born" or "a grammarian is born," meaning that one has taken up the Vedic scriptures of sacrifice or grammar. And just as ordinary speech says "a monk is born" or "a heterodox ascetic is born," meaning that one has taken up a particular set of observances. Or just as ordinary speech says "an old person is born" or "a sick person is born," meaning that one has taken on a distinct stage or condition. This defense does not succeed, since the Buddha has already ruled it out. As the Sūtra on Ultimate Emptiness states: there is karma, there is karmic ripening, but no agent can be found — that is, no one can be found who lays down these aggregates and takes up other aggregates, except in the sense of a conventional designation applied to dharmas. Hence the Buddha has already ruled this out. The Sūtra to Phalguna likewise states: "I have never once said there is one who grasps." Hence it is certain that there is no single pudgala capable of taking up and laying down the aggregates within the world.

Moreover, as for the examples you cited — "a sacrificer is born" and the rest — what exactly is their own substance, such that they could serve as a genuine analogy for this? If you hold that it refers to a self, this itself is not an established, mutually agreed premise. If it refers to mind and mental factors, then, since these perish moment by moment and arise anew each moment, the notion of "taking up and laying down" does not hold. If you grant it refers to the body, this is likewise just like the case of mind. Moreover, just as "knowledge of the Vedic scriptures" is different from the body itself that takes on this knowledge, so too the aggregates should be different from the pudgala. The bodies of "the old" and "the sick" are each different from what came before them; and the Sāṃkhya doctrine of transformation has already been refuted earlier. Hence the examples you have cited fail to serve as genuine analogies. Moreover, if you grant that it is merely the aggregates that are born, not the repeated-taker-of-existences itself, then you must definitely grant that this pudgala is different from the aggregates and permanent. Moreover, this pudgala is said to be single, while the substance of the aggregates numbers five — why, then, is it not said that this differs from the aggregates? The great elements number four, while derived form is single, yet it is not said that derived form is thereby different from the great elements — this is a fault specific to your own school's position. What is meant by "your own school's position" here? It refers to the theory, held by some, that derived form is simply identical with the great elements themselves. Granting that view for the sake of argument, one should press this challenge: just as derived form is said to be simply identical with the four great elements, then, by the same logic, the pudgala should likewise have to be simply identical with the five aggregates.

If the pudgala is simply identical with the aggregates, why did the Blessed One not directly declare that the life-force is simply identical with the body? This is because he took into account the underlying intention of the one asking the question. The questioner held that there exists a single, genuinely real, inwardly-functioning personal agent — not a mere empty name — calling it the "life-force," and it was with this in mind that he asked the Buddha whether it was identical to or different from the body. Since this presupposed real life-force does not exist at all, neither "identical" nor "different" can be established — how, then, could the Buddha possibly declare it identical to or different from the body? This is just like how one cannot declare whether a tortoise's fur is soft or coarse — the ancient masters have already resolved this very knot.

In ancient times, there was a great elder named Nāgasena, who possessed the three insights, the six supernormal powers, and the eight liberations in full. At that time, there was a King Piṇḍola who came to the great elder and spoke thus: "My intention in coming here is to ask about my doubts. But ascetics, by nature, are fond of much talk — if you, Venerable One, are able to answer directly, I shall pose my question." The great elder accepted this condition. The king then asked: "Is the life-force identical to or different from the body?" The great elder replied: "This should not be answered directly." The king said: "Was there not an agreement beforehand? Why do you now speak otherwise and fail to answer the question asked?" The great elder countered: "I too wish to ask about a doubt. But kings, by nature, are fond of much talk — if you, O King, are able to answer directly, I shall pose my question." The king accepted this in turn. The great elder asked: "The mango trees in the Great King's palace — is the fruit they produce sour or sweet?" The king replied: "There are no such trees in my palace at all." The great elder countered again: "Was there not an agreement beforehand? Why do you now speak otherwise and fail to answer the question asked?" The king said: "Since there is no such tree at all within my palace, how could I possibly answer whether its fruit's flavor is sweet or sour?" The great elder instructed him: "The life-force is likewise nonexistent — how, then, could one possibly say whether it is identical to or different from the body?" Why, then, did the Buddha not simply state that the life-force does not exist at all? This too is because he took into account the underlying intention of the one asking. The questioner may have been referring, by "life-force," to the aggregates' own continuum, asking his question with this in mind. If the Blessed One had answered that the life-force does not exist at all, without qualification, the questioner would have fallen into wrong view — hence the Buddha did not state this. Since such a questioner has not yet been able to understand the principle of dependent origination, and is not yet a fit vessel for receiving the true Dharma, the Buddha did not explain to him the doctrine of conventional existence. This must necessarily be the reason, since the Blessed One himself has stated as much elsewhere.

As the Blessed One told Ānanda: there was a wandering ascetic of the Vatsa clan who came to me and asked: does the self exist in the world, or does it not exist? I did not answer him directly. Why is this? If I had answered that it exists, this would contradict the true principle of the Dharma, since all dharmas are without self. If I had answered that it does not exist, this would only increase his confusion, since he would then suppose: "I formerly existed, and now I no longer do." Compared to the confusion of grasping at existence, this confusion would be even worse — for holding that a self exists causes one to fall into the extreme of eternalism, while holding that no self exists causes one to fall into the extreme of annihilationism. The relative severity of these two extremes is explained at length in the sūtra. On the basis of this meaning, there is the following verse: seeing that an unqualified answer would be wounded by one view or the other, and would destroy one's wholesome deeds, the Buddha therefore taught the true Dharma the way a tigress carries her cub. Grasping at a genuinely real self as existing is to be wounded by the fang of wrong view; denying even the conventional self as non-existent is to destroy the cub of one's own wholesome deeds. A further verse states: because there is truly no life-force, the Buddha did not say it is identical to or different from the body; fearing that this would lead to denying even the conventional self, he likewise did not say it does not exist at all. That is: within the aggregates' continuum, there is karma, karmic result, and a "life-force" spoken of conventionally — if he had said there is no life-force at all, the questioner would have denied even this conventional referent as non-existent. Nor did he state that, within the aggregates, there is a life-force that is merely a conventional name, because he saw that the one asking the question lacked the capacity to understand true emptiness. It was by observing the Vatsa wanderer's particular disposition in just this way that, when he asked whether the self exists or does not exist, the Buddha answered neither that it exists nor that it does not exist.

Why did the Buddha not answer questions such as whether the world is eternal? This too is because he took into account the underlying intention of the one asking. If the questioner takes "the world" to mean the self, then, since the self has no substance whatsoever, none of the four possible answers could be reasonable. If the questioner takes "the world" to mean saṃsāra as a whole, the Buddha's four possible answers would still all be unreasonable. That is: if it were answered that the world is eternal, then no one could ever attain nirvāṇa. If it were answered that it is non-eternal, then it would simply annihilate itself on its own, and everyone would attain nirvāṇa without any effort at all. If it were answered that it is both eternal and non-eternal, then it would necessarily follow that one portion never attains nirvāṇa while another portion of beings spontaneously realizes perfect quiescence on its own. If it were answered that it is neither eternal nor non-eternal, then it would be neither the case that one attains nirvāṇa nor that one does not attain it — a definite self-contradiction, amounting to nothing but idle speculation. Yet it is by relying on the noble path that one can attain final nirvāṇa — hence none of these four definite answers is reasonable. This is like when a Jain ascetic asked about a sparrow's death and rebirth — the Buddha, knowing that questioner's mind, likewise did not give a definite answer. The four questions about whether the world has an end and so forth were likewise not answered, since they involve the same faults as the eternal/non-eternal questions. How is it known that these four questions carry the same meaning as the eternal/non-eternal ones? Because there was a heterodox ascetic named Uttiya who first asked the four questions about whether the world has an end and so forth, and then, employing a stratagem, cunningly asked the Blessed One instead: "is it that all beings in the world are able to attain liberation by means of the noble path, or only a portion of them?" The Venerable Ānanda thereupon told him: "you have already asked the Blessed One about this very matter — why, then, do you now change the wording and ask it again?" Hence it is known that these latter four questions carry the same meaning as the earlier ones.

For what further reason did the Blessed One not answer the four questions about whether the Tathāgata exists after death and so forth? This too is because he took into account the underlying intention of the one asking, since the questioner falsely conceived of a liberated self, calling it "Tathāgata," and asked his question with this in mind. One should now press this challenge to those who hold there is a self: why did the Buddha state that there presently exists a pudgala, yet not state that it also exists after the Tathāgata's death? They reply: because he feared this would incur the fault of falling into eternalism. If this is so, then why did the Buddha declare to Maitreya, "you shall become a Buddha in a future life," and declare of his disciples, upon the dissolution of their bodies and the end of their lives, "so-and-so has now already been reborn in such-and-such a place"? Would this not equally incur the fault of falling into eternalism? If it is held that the Buddha previously saw the pudgala, but, once it entered nirvāṇa, he no longer saw it, and it was for this reason of not knowing that he did not affirm its continued existence — this would amount to denying that the great teacher possesses omniscience. One should instead grant that he gave no definite answer because the self's substance does not exist at all. If it is claimed that the Blessed One saw it but simply did not speak of it, this would incur the fault of positing something apart from the aggregates and permanently abiding. If it cannot be said whether he saw it or did not see it, then one would gradually have to say that it cannot even be said whether the Buddha is omniscient or not omniscient.

The pudgala must genuinely exist as real, the Vātsīputrīya objects, since a sūtra states, "because of truth, because of abiding" — and since it also states that whoever definitively holds there is no self falls into the domain of wrong view. This does not constitute proof, since that very same sūtra also states that whoever definitively holds there is a self likewise falls into the domain of wrong view. The Ābhidharmika masters state: grasping at either the existence or the non-existence of a self is included within the extreme views, since these two positions fall, respectively, into the extremes of eternalism and annihilationism. What these masters state accords deeply with reason: holding that a self exists causes one to fall into the extreme of eternalism, while holding that no self exists causes one to fall into the extreme of annihilationism — the Sūtra to Vatsa, cited earlier, states this plainly. If there is definitely no pudgala, then who is it that transmigrates through birth-and-death? Birth-and-death should not simply transmigrate all on its own, with no one doing the transmigrating. Yet the Blessed One, within a sūtra, states that sentient beings, covered over by ignorance and bound by craving, race and flow through birth-and-death — hence there must definitely be a pudgala. How, then, does this transmigration through birth-and-death actually occur? Through laying down the former aggregates and taking up later ones. This very position has already been examined and refuted earlier. It is like a wildfire spreading across a field: although each individual flame perishes moment by moment, one speaks of it as "spreading" with reference to its continuum. In just the same way, the aggregate-mass is conventionally called a "sentient being," and, with craving and clinging as its condition, it transmigrates through birth-and-death.

If there are only the aggregates, why did the Blessed One state: "I, in a past life, was a world-teacher named Excellent Eye"? What fault does this raise? Because the aggregates of that past life are each different from the present ones. If this is so, what exactly is the thing called "pudgala"? It does not mean the past self is simply identical with the present one, whose substance would then have to be permanently abiding, and thus called "the present self." Rather, saying "in the past, I was a teacher" is meant to show that the past and the present belong to a single continuum — just as one says "this fire once burned that thing." If it were held that there definitely is a genuinely real self, then only the Buddha should be able to clearly perceive it — and, having perceived it, this would give rise to a firm grasping at self, from which grasping at "self" and grasping at "what belongs to self" would arise, and from this, in turn, attachment to self and to what belongs to self would necessarily arise. Hence the Blessed One states thus: if one grasps at there being a self, one thereby grasps at what belongs to self; because of grasping at what belongs to self, one further gives rise, with respect to the aggregates, to attachment to self and to what belongs to self, and to the view of a substantial self; bound by this self-love, one thereby slanders the Buddha, and remains far removed from liberation. If it is claimed that one can grasp at a self without giving rise to self-love toward it, this statement is meaningless. Why is this? Because it is precisely in falsely conceiving of what is not-self as a self that self-love can arise — but not with respect to a genuinely real self, since no such thing exists for it to arise with respect to. Hence such a claim has no reasoning to serve as its proof, and so, within the Buddha's own true and noble teaching, there is no legitimate cause or condition for such people to develop the festering sore of this view. Thus, one type of view holds there is an inexpressible pudgala; another type entirely denies that any dharma's substance exists at all; and the heterodox teachers hold there is a separate, genuinely real self-nature. All of these views, in every case, are contrary to reason, and none of them can avoid the fault of being without liberation. If, across every type of view, the self's substance is entirely nonexistent, then how can a mind that perishes moment by moment come to remember and recognize an object experienced long ago, resembling what was previously experienced?

Such remembering and recognizing arises from a specific kind of mental differentiation within the continuum — a mind bearing the perception of, and resembling, the object once experienced. From what specific kind of mental differentiation does an initial act of remembering arise immediately after? It arises from a mind bearing mental attention directed toward that object, a resembling and connected perception, and so on — one not damaged in its capacity by conditions such as a differing basis, grief, distraction, and the like. Even given such conditions as mental attention, if that specific kind of mental differentiation is absent, one lacks the capacity to bring about this act of remembering. Conversely, even given that specific kind of mental differentiation as a cause, if such conditions are absent, one likewise lacks the capacity to bring it about — both are required together before remembering becomes possible. Every instance of remembering arises solely on this basis, since no capacity for it is ever observed apart from these two. How can one mind see, and then a different mind remember what that first mind saw? It is not reasonable that an object once seen by Devadatta's mind could later be remembered by Yajñadatta's mind. This objection does not hold, since the two cases are not analogous. Devadatta's mind and Yajñadatta's mind are mutually unrelated to each other, not standing in a cause-and-effect relationship the way a single continuum's moments do. We do not claim that one mind sees an object and an entirely different, unrelated mind remembers it — remembering occurs because the continuum is one. Rather, it is from the past mind that took that object as its condition that the present mind capable of remembering is drawn forth — that is, as stated earlier, memory arises through the power of this specific transformational difference in the continuum. What fault could this possibly involve? It is through the power of this act of remembering that a subsequent recognition arises.

Since the self's substance does not exist, who is it that does the remembering? What does "the one who remembers" even mean? It means that mindfulness itself is capable of apprehending its object. Is this apprehending of the object then something different from mindfulness itself? Although it is not different from mindfulness, one may nonetheless speak of an "agent" — but this "agent" is precisely what was called, earlier, the cause of mindfulness: namely, that specific kind of mental differentiation. As for the ordinary expression "Caitra remembers" — the name "Caitra" here is simply applied to an aggregate-continuum. Because a later act of remembering arises from an earlier moment of seeing, it is on this basis that one speaks of "Caitra remembering." If the self does not exist, whose act of remembering is it? On what basis is the possessive grammatical case used here? This possessive case is used with reference to the sense of belonging to an owner — but what kind of thing belongs to what kind of owner? It is like saying "cattle belong to Caitra." How, then, is Caitra the "owner" of the cattle? It means that, with respect to riding them, milking them, putting them to labor, and so on, he has mastery and free command over them. In what sense, then, is one seeking to find an "owner of mindfulness," as though laboring to find something to direct and command mindfulness toward some task? The intended sense would be: directing mindfulness toward the object being remembered. What does "directing mindfulness" actually mean? It means causing mindfulness to arise. How strange — to speak of "mastery over its own arising" is simply unreasonable: how could something direct and command its own arising, generating itself? Moreover, how would a self even "direct and command" mindfulness? Would it be to cause mindfulness to arise, or to cause mindfulness to act? Since mindfulness has no further activity beyond its own arising, it could only mean causing mindfulness to arise. In that case, the cause is what should be called the "owner," and the effect is what should be called "belonging to it." Because the cause exerts a dominant influence in bringing the effect into being, the cause is called the "owner"; because the effect, at the moment of its arising, belongs to what the cause possesses, it is called "belonging." The very cause that gives rise to mindfulness is itself sufficient to serve as mindfulness's "owner" — what need is there to posit a self as mindfulness's owner at all? It is precisely with reference to a specific continuum, a collection of formations, that the world conventionally designates "Caitra's cattle," establishing the name "Caitra" as the cattle's "owner." It is because that cattle-continuum, when it arises transformed in another location, does so through a cause involving change specifically traceable to Caitra, that he is called their "owner." In this, there is no single real "Caitra" and no real, unified "cattle" either — it is merely a conventional designation; hence, in speaking of "the owner of the cattle," one likewise does not depart from the underlying causal relationship. Just as remembering works this way, so too does recognition.

Just as remembering and recognizing have been explained, the questions of who is capable of cognizing, and whose consciousness this is, and so on, should likewise be explained by the same pattern. As for how the causes and conditions of consciousness differ from those discussed above — namely, the sense-faculty and its object and the rest — this should be understood as appropriate. There must definitely be a self, an objection runs, since any functional activity necessarily requires an agent who performs that activity. That is: every functional activity requires an agent to perform it — just as the activity of "walking" necessarily requires Devadatta as the one walking. Walking is the activity, and Devadatta is its agent's name — in just the same way, the various activities belonging to consciousness and the rest must likewise depend on some underlying agent capable of cognizing. One should now press this challenge: what exactly is "Devadatta"? If it refers to a real self, this has already been refuted earlier. If it refers to a conventionally designated person, whose substance is not a single, unified thing but merely a name conventionally applied to a continuum of formations, then, just as "Devadatta walks" works this way, so too does "consciousness cognizes." On what basis, then, is it said that "Devadatta walks"? It is with reference to a continuum of momentarily arising-and-perishing formations, not genuinely differing from one another, that the name "Devadatta" is established; the unlearned, with respect to this continuum, grasp at it as a single, unified substance, when in fact it is simply the cause for that same continuum's arising in a different location. Arising in a different location is what is called "walking"; the cause of this is what is called "the walker." It is on this basis that "Devadatta walks" is said. This is just like how a flame's or a sound's continuum arises successively in different locations, and, on this basis, the world speaks of "the flame traveling" or "the sound traveling." In just the same way, because Devadatta's body can serve as a cause for consciousness, the world likewise says "Devadatta cognizes." The noble ones, too, in order to accord with the conventions of worldly speech, likewise speak in this way.

A sūtra states that consciousness is capable of cognizing its object — but what does consciousness actually do to its object? It does nothing to it at all; it simply arises by means of that object as its condition. This is like how a fruit is said to "repay" its cause: although it does nothing to its cause, it arises resembling its cause, and so is said to "repay" it. In just the same way, consciousness, when it arises, does nothing to its object, yet it arises resembling that object — hence it is said to "cognize the object." In what sense does it "resemble" the object? It means it bears that object's own aspect. This is why, although consciousness also arises in dependence on a sense-faculty, it is never said to "cognize the faculty," but only ever to "cognize the object." Or, alternatively: when consciousness arises in succession with respect to its object, an earlier consciousness serves as the cause drawing forth a later one — saying consciousness "cognizes" involves no fault under this reading either, since ordinary usage applies the term "agent" to a cause. Just as ordinary usage says "the bell and drum can sound," or "the lamp can travel" — consciousness "cognizing" works the very same way. On what basis is it said that "the lamp travels"? The name "lamp" is conventionally applied to a continuum of flame; when this continuum arises successively in different locations, it is said that "the lamp travels" — there is no separate "traveler" involved. In just the same way, the name "consciousness" is conventionally applied to a continuum of mind; when it arises with respect to different objects, it is said to "cognize." Or, just as form is said to "arise" and to "abide," without there being any separate agent of arising or abiding apart from the form itself — the same principle should apply to saying consciousness "cognizes."

If a later consciousness arises, it arises from a prior consciousness, not from a self. Why does it arise from consciousness? Because it does not always resemble what came before it, and does not arise in any fixed, single sequence — like a sprout, stem, and leaf, since all conditioned things possess the characteristics of abiding and change. That is, it is the very nature of all conditioned things that, within their subtle continuum, what comes later must necessarily differ from what came before. If it were otherwise, then even when the mind enters concentration, body and mind would continue arising in a manner exactly the same throughout — and since there would then be no difference between the final moment and the very first, one should never spontaneously emerge from concentration at that final moment. The mind's continuum also follows a fixed sequence in certain respects: if this mind is next to be followed by that mind, then that mind must necessarily arise after this one. There are also certain minds that, sharing only a small portion of their aspect, are nonetheless capable of generating one another, owing to differences in their underlying disposition. For example, a woman's mind may, immediately following, give rise to a mind of adorning and beautifying the body, or give rise to a mind directed toward her husband, or toward her child, and so on. Later, from these various minds' continuum, through transformation and differentiation, the woman's original mind arises once again. In this way, the woman's mind has the specific functional capacity to give rise to the subsequently arising mind of adorning the body and the rest; apart from this specific capacity, it has no such function, owing to the difference in underlying disposition. Immediately following the woman's mind, many different minds may possibly arise; yet, among these many possible minds, whichever has previously been most frequently cultivated, is clearest, and most recently active, is the one that actually arises first — not any of the others. This is because that mind's power of cultivation is strongest — except in cases where, at the very moment of arising, some external bodily condition intervenes and differs. For whichever mind's power of cultivation is strongest of all, how could it fail to consistently produce its own corresponding result? This is because the mind possesses the characteristics of abiding and change, and it is this same characteristic of abiding-and-change that most readily accommodates the arising of a distinctly cultivated result within the continuum.

I have now briefly explained the general direction of the causes and conditions by which the various categories of mind arise from one another in sequence; fully and exhaustively understanding this belongs to the Buddha alone, since he has complete mastery of knowledge with respect to all dharmas. On the basis of this meaning, there is a verse that states: with respect to a single peacock's tail-feather eye, the causes and characteristics of its every variation are not within the domain of any other knowledge — only omniscience can know them. If even the causal differentiation of something material is this difficult to fully understand, how much more so the causal differentiation of mind, mental factors, and the other formless dharmas — how could these possibly be easy to understand?

A certain group of heterodox teachers holds this view: whenever a mind arises, it arises entirely from a self. The two objections given above apply to this position most pointedly. If every arising mind comes entirely from a self, why does a later consciousness not always resemble the one before it, and why does it not arise in a fixed sequence, the way a sprout, stem, and leaf do? If it is said that a differing consciousness arises depending on the specific way the self conjoins with the mental faculty, this is certainly not correct in principle, since the very notion of a self conjoining with anything else is not an established, agreed premise, and moreover, because when two things conjoin, there must be some boundary or limit involved. That is, according to their own school's explanation of what "conjoining" means: not having yet arrived, and then subsequently arriving — this is what is called "conjoining." If the self conjoins with the mental faculty in this sense, it should have some boundary or limit; since the mental faculty moves and shifts, the self should likewise have to move and shift, or else it should have to perish together with the mental faculty. If it is said that only a part of the self conjoins, this too is certainly incorrect in principle, since there is no separate part within a single, unified self-substance. Even granting that conjoining occurs, since the self's substance is permanent and the mental faculty is presumably meant to remain without distinguishing variation, how could the conjoining itself possibly differ from one instance to the next? If it is said that this depends instead on a distinct cognition, the same objection applies equally: by what cause could this cognition itself come to differ? If it is said that the self conjoins with the mental faculty depending on differences among the formations, then it should simply be the mind, depending on differences among the formations, that is capable of generating a differing consciousness — what use is the self for this at all? The self serves no function whatsoever in the arising of consciousness, and yet it is claimed that all consciousness arises entirely from the self — this is like a quack doctor, once a medicine has actually worked to cure a chronic illness, falsely claiming credit by reciting some magic incantation over it.

If it is claimed that these two exist because of the self, this is merely an assertion, with no actual reasoning to prove it. If it is claimed that the self serves as the support for these two, then what exactly does "support" mean here — of what, for what? It cannot mean that mind and the formations are like a painting or like fruit, with the self serving as what supports them the way a wall supports a painting, or a container holds fruit — since this would incur the fault of the two mutually obstructing each other, and the further fault that, at certain times, they could exist apart from one another. The self is not like a wall or container serving as their support in that sense, the opponent concedes. What, then, is it like? It is simply like the earth, which serves as the support for the four things — fragrance and the rest. In saying this, they have actually proven that there is no self — and so I find myself deeply gladdened by this very point. Just as, in the world, earth is never apart from fragrance and the rest, the self, by this same logic, should likewise never be apart from mind and the formations. Who could ever perceive "earth" apart from fragrance and the rest? It is simply with reference to a specific collection of fragrance and the other qualities that the conventional, popularly current name "earth" is established. The self should be understood in exactly the same way: it is simply with reference to a specific collection of mind and the other aggregates that the conventional name "self" is applied. If there is no separate "earth" apart from fragrance and the rest, how can one still say "earth has fragrance" and so on? This is simply in order to indicate that the substance conventionally called "earth" possesses these distinct qualities — fragrance and the rest — that one speaks of "earth having fragrance," so as to help others understand that this specific quality belongs to this particular case and not some other, just as ordinary speech refers to "a wooden statue's body" and the like.

Moreover, if there is a self that depends on differences among the formations to generate different minds, why does it not generate omniscience all at once, simultaneously? At whatever time this particular formation's functional power is strongest, it is able to block the others, preventing them from producing their result, comes the reply. Then why does the result not consistently arise from whichever is strongest? This is answered the same way as the earlier point about the power of cultivation: it is granted that the formations are not permanent, but gradually change and transform. If this is so, then positing a self becomes entirely superfluous, since it is the power of the formations alone that causes differing minds to arise. Since the formation and this cultivation are not different in substance, one must necessarily believe that the self's substance genuinely exists as real, an opponent presses, because there exists the category "quality" — such as memory and the rest — and a quality must necessarily depend upon and inhere in the category "substance"; memory and the rest cannot coherently depend on anything else. This proof does not hold, since it is not an established, agreed premise. That is, the claim that everything included under the category "quality" — memory and the rest — is not itself real substance is not an agreed premise, since anything granted to have a distinct, separate substance of its own is called "real" in our own system. A sūtra speaks of "six real things," referring to the fruits of asceticism. Their argument, which depends on positing a real self, likewise does not hold, since the very notion of "dependence" at stake here has already been refuted earlier. Hence what they have established amounts to nothing but empty words.

If the self genuinely does not exist, then for whose sake does one perform karmic action? It is so that "I" will experience the resulting pleasant or painful fruit. What, then, is the self's substance? It is whatever serves as the object of self-grasping. What is meant by "the object of self-grasping"? It is the aggregates' own continuum. How is this known? Because one craves and clings to it; and because this grasping arises in the very same locus as cognitions such as "white" and the rest. That is, in ordinary speech, one says: "I am fair," "I am dark"; "I am old," "I am young"; "I am thin," "I am fat." It is directly observed, in the world, that the cognition of "fair" and the rest arises in the very same locus as the grasping conception of a self — yet the hypothetical, posited self itself could never actually possess these bodily qualities — hence it is known that self-grasping takes only the aggregates as its object. Because the body renders a kind of protective service to what is conventionally called "self," the term "self" is also conventionally extended to the body itself — just as one might say "my ministers are my very body." In cases involving this kind of service, "self" is only extended as a genuine conventional metaphor — but what self-grasping actually, primarily takes as its object is not this. If it is granted that self-grasping can also arise taking the body as its object, why does self-grasping never arise taking someone else's body as its object? Because another's body is not causally related to this particular self-grasping. That is: self-grasping arises taking as its object only that body or mind which stands in the appropriate causal relationship to it, and no other — this is because it has been habituated in exactly this way since beginningless time. What does "causally related" mean here? It means standing in a cause-and-effect relationship. If there is no self-substance, then whose self-grasping is this? This has already been explained earlier — why does this question keep recurring? I have already stated earlier, on what basis the possessive grammatical case is used, all the way through explaining that the cause is what "owns," and the effect is what "belongs." If this is so, then what serves as the cause of self-grasping? It is the beginningless perfuming influence of self-grasping itself, continuing to operate as a defiled mind taking its own continuum as object.

If the self's substance does not exist, who experiences pleasure and pain? Whatever pleasure or pain arises in dependence on a given basis is simply spoken of as "this basis has pleasure and pain" — just as one says "the forest has fruit" or "the tree has flowers." What do pleasure and pain depend on? The six internal sense-spheres — wherever they arise, that is spoken of as their basis. If the self genuinely does not exist, who is capable of performing karmic action? Who is capable of experiencing its result? What do "acting" and "experiencing" actually mean? "Acting" means being an agent; "experiencing" means being an experiencer — but this merely substitutes one name for another, without actually clarifying its meaning. Those who analyze the characteristics of dharmas explain this characteristic as follows: whatever is capable of acting with self-mastery is called an "agent"; whatever is capable of receiving karmic fruit is given the name "experiencer." It is directly observed, in the world, that whoever has mastery over a given task or activity is called capable of "doing" it — as when one sees that Devadatta has mastery over bathing, eating, and walking, and is accordingly called "the bather" and so on. In this case, what exactly do you mean by "Devadatta"? If you mean a real self, this example is not an agreed, established premise; if you mean the aggregates, then it is not a self-mastering "agent." Karma is of three kinds: bodily, verbal, and mental. Now, the arising of bodily karma necessarily depends on body and mind; body and mind each operate in dependence on their own respective causes and conditions, and those causes and conditions, in turn, depend on their own further causes and conditions — nowhere within this entire chain is there anything that arises with independent self-mastery, since everything conditioned is entirely subject to its causes and conditions. The self you posit, not depending on causes and conditions, would also have nothing to do — hence it could not be said to possess "self-mastery" either. Hence their claim that "agent" means whatever is capable of acting with self-mastery turns out, upon searching, to be something that cannot actually be found anywhere. Yet, among the causes and conditions giving rise to the various dharmas, whatever has a predominant functional influence may be conventionally called an "agent" — this is not the posited self, however, since it is observed to have no function whatsoever, and so certainly should not be called an "agent." What, then, is the predominant cause capable of generating bodily karma? It is that, from memory, desire-to-act is drawn forth; desire-to-act gives rise to investigation and inquiry; investigation and inquiry give rise to energetic effort; energetic effort gives rise to bodily wind; and this wind gives rise to bodily karma. What use does the self you posit serve anywhere in this chain? Hence, with respect to bodily karma, the self is not the agent. The arising of verbal and mental karma should be considered by this same pattern. How, then, could the self possibly "receive" karmic fruit? If it is claimed that the self is capable of discerning that fruit, this is certainly not so, since the self has no function whatsoever in discernment — this was already refuted earlier, in the discussion of the causes giving rise to consciousness.

If the self genuinely does not exist, why do merit and demerit not grow in dependence on inanimate places? Because such places are not the basis for craving and the other afflictions to depend on — only the six internal sense-spheres serve as their basis. The self is not their basis, as already explained. If the self genuinely does not exist, then, once karma has already perished, how can it still produce a future result? Even granting a real self exists, once karma has already perished, how could it still produce a future result either? If the answer is that merit and demerit arise in dependence on the self — the very notion of "dependence" at stake here has already been refuted earlier, so merit and demerit should not be said to depend on a self regardless. The noble teaching, however, does not claim that a future result arises from karma that has already perished. From what, then, does it arise? From the karma's own continuum's transformation and differentiation — just as a fruit arises from a seed. As ordinary speech says, "the fruit arises from the seed" — yet the fruit does not arise from a seed that has already perished, nor does it arise immediately, directly following the seed. From what, then? It is only through the seed's own continuum's transformation and differentiation that the fruit comes to arise: the seed gives rise, in sequence, to the sprout, stem, and leaves, and it is the flower, arising last, that finally draws forth the fruit. If this is so, why does one still say "the fruit arises from the seed"? Because the seed, through a chain of successive transformations, draws forth the fruit-producing capacity present within the flower — it is on this basis that this is said. If the fruit-producing capacity present within that flower were not something originally drawn forth by the seed, then the resulting fruit's character ought to bear no relation to the seed at all. In just the same way, although it is said that "the fruit arises from karma," it does not arise from that karma once it has already perished, nor does the fruit arise immediately, directly following the karma — it arises only from karma's own continuum's transformation and differentiation. What is meant by "the continuum's transformation and differentiation"? That karma comes first, and form and mind subsequently arise from it, with no interruption in between — this uninterrupted sequence is called the "continuum." Within this very continuum, each later moment arising different from the one before it is called "transformation." Within this very process of transformation, the point at which a superior functional capacity, immediately following, gives rise to the result — a capacity surpassing all the other moments of transformation — is called "differentiation." For instance, at the very moment the appropriating consciousness is dying, although it carries within it the perfuming influence of many different karmic actions capable of drawing forth a next existence, it is the influence of whichever karma is heaviest, most recently active, and most frequently habituated that becomes clear and prevails — not any of the others. As a verse states: karma that is extremely heavy, or recently active, or habitually and repeatedly performed, or performed earliest — these, respectively, ripen earlier or later; and thus one revolves through birth-and-death.

Within this general principle, there is a further distinction: the functional capacity drawn forth by a ripening-cause, capable of producing a ripened result, ceases and perishes immediately once it has actually produced that ripened result. The functional capacity drawn forth by a same-kind cause, capable of producing an outflow-result, if it is a tainted capacity, ceases as soon as its counteragent arises; if it is an untainted capacity, it only permanently ceases at the time of final nirvāṇa, since it is only then that the continuum of form and mind permanently ceases. Why can a ripened result not itself produce a further ripened result, the way a fruit grown from a seed can give rise to a further, different fruit? This would not actually be a fitting analogy — the two cases are not equivalent. In fact, a fruit grown from a seed does not itself give rise to any further, different fruit either. If this is so, then from what does a later fruit arise? It arises from a subsequent, distinct process of ripening and transformation. That is, at a later time, that very same seed-fruit, upon encountering water, soil, and the other conditions of ripening and transformation, is able to draw forth a further, distinct process of ripening and transformation. It is only at the stage of actually sprouting that something properly receives the name "seed"; before this ripening-transformation occurs, the name is applied only proleptically, in anticipation of what it will become, or else because it resembles a seed, the world simply calls it a "seed." This case works exactly the same way: that very same prior ripened result, upon encountering hearing correct or incorrect teachings and the other conditions that give rise to wholesome or unwholesome states, is able to draw forth various contaminated wholesome minds, or unwholesome minds capable of ripening — and from this, a further continuum's transformation is drawn forth, which, through successive stages, draws forth yet further differentiated transformation, and it is from this final differentiation that the later ripened result arises — never from anything else. Hence the analogy holds, matching the principle exactly. Or, this can also be understood through a different but analogous case: just as, when a citron flower is smeared with the juice of the lac-insect's red dye, the continuum's transformation and differentiation serves as the cause, and when the fruit later grows, its flesh accordingly turns red — and this red coloring, once produced, does not go on to generate any further, different coloring — one should understand, in just the same way, that a karmic ripened-result, once produced, cannot go on to draw forth any further, different ripened result. What has been explained so far, in accordance with the scope of my own understanding, has only briefly indicated the coarse outline of karma and its results. The countless different, specific functional capacities involved, the continuum's transformation as perfumed by the various karmic actions, and exactly which result arises at exactly which stage — this is something only the Buddha can realize and know; it lies beyond the domain of anyone else. On the basis of this meaning, there is a verse that states: this particular karma, with this particular perfuming influence, yields its result at this particular time — the definite principle governing every single variety of this is something no one apart from the Buddha is capable of knowing.

This path, the cause of purification, has already been well explained — namely, the Buddha's own supreme words, the true nature of the Dharma; one should abandon the blind, darkened graspings of the heterodox teachers, produced by wrong view, and seek instead the eye of wisdom. This broad road to the palace of nirvāṇa — the nature of non-self upon which a thousand sages have traveled — is illuminated by the light of the buddhas' sun-like words; yet, even with unusual, exceptional eyes open wide, those without this teaching are unable to see it. I have now briefly explained this one corner of the topic, in order to open the door to wisdom's antidote for the wise; may each person, according to their own capacity and ability, come to fully awaken to what is knowable and accomplish this most excellent karma. Fascicle 30 of the Abhidharmakośa of the Sarvāstivāda School