Arising, Aging, and Ceasing in One Instant

As the Blessed One has stated, there are three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned; the arising of the conditioned may likewise be known, and its exhaustion, and its abiding and alteration, may likewise be known. Within a single instant, what is arising? The answer: birth. What is exhaustion? The answer: impermanence. What is abiding and alteration? The answer: aging. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — that is, scripture states that there are three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned,

and so on, at length, yet, though it states this much, it does not reveal how arising and exhaustion, and abiding and alteration, can all occur within a single instant. Scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon; what that scripture leaves unrevealed, this treatise should now reveal. Further, it is composed in order to refute a rival position and manifest the correct meaning — that is, there are those who hold that the three conditioned characteristics cannot occur within a single instant, as the Dārṣṭāntikas maintain, who say as follows: were there three characteristics within a single instant, then a single dharma would, at one and the same time, both be born and age and cease — yet there exists no such principle, since these three stand in mutual contradiction; rather, it should be said that a dharma's very first arising is called birth, its very last exhaustion is called cessation, and its ripening in between is called aging — and it is precisely in order to block this position and reveal that a single instant genuinely possesses all three characteristics together that this treatise is composed. One asks: if this is so, then would not a single dharma, at one and the same time, both be born and age and cease? The answer: it is because their functions occur at different times that there is no contradiction — that is, when a dharma is born, birth alone possesses function; when it ceases, aging and cessation only then possess function; though the dharma's own substance is present all at once, its various functions occur in sequence, and it is because a single dharma's birth-and-cessation function is completed all within a single instant that no fault follows. Or else, the stages of birth and cessation are not strictly a single instant, yet a single instant genuinely possesses all three substances together, and it is for this reason that the three characteristics are said to belong to one and the same instant. It is on account of these causes and conditions that this treatise is composed. One asks: do formations possess any real transformation of their own nature, or not? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If they do possess transformation, how is it that dharmas never relinquish their own particular characteristic? If they possess no transformation, how can this passage speak of their abiding and alteration? The answer: it should be said that formations possess no transformation of their own inherent nature. One asks: if that is so, then why does this passage speak of abiding and alteration? The answer: abiding and alteration, here, are merely another name for aging, not a genuine transformation — just as "birth" is named "arising," and "impermanence" is named "exhaustion," so too should "aging" be understood as named "abiding and alteration." Further, there are causes and conditions on account of which one may speak of no transformation, and causes and conditions on account of which one may speak of transformation existing. The causes and conditions for speaking of no transformation are these: every dharma abides in its own substance — its own self, its own particular thing, its own inherent nature, its own particular characteristic — possessing no transformation at all. The causes and conditions for speaking of transformation existing are these: a conditioned dharma arises when it gains ascendant force, and ceases when it loses ascendant force; arises when it gains power, and ceases when it loses power; arises when it gains functional efficacy, and ceases when it loses functional efficacy; arises when it gains predominance, and ceases when it loses predominance; arises when it gains capability, and ceases when it loses capability; arises in blazing vigor, and ceases in withered decline; arises in advancing growth, and ceases in declining loss; arises in rising ascent, and ceases in falling collapse; arises with keen sharpness, and ceases in dull sluggishness; arises in flourishing luxuriance, and ceases in withered exhaustion; arises through harmonious union, and ceases through separation and dispersal — and it is on this account that transformation is said to exist. Further, transformation is of two kinds: first, transformation of one's own substance; second, transformation of one's own function. If one speaks with reference to transformation of substance, it should be said that formations possess no transformation, since their own substance undergoes no alteration; if one speaks with reference to transformation of function, it should be said that formations do indeed possess transformation, since a dharma, while still future, possesses no function, yet, upon reaching the present, does possess function, and, upon entering the past, its function has already ceased — and it is on this account that transformation is said to exist. Further, transformation is again of two kinds: first, transformation of one's own substance; second, transformation of capability. If one speaks with reference to transformation of substance, it should be said that formations possess no transformation, since their own substance undergoes no alteration; if one speaks with reference to transformation of capability, it should be said that formations do indeed possess transformation, since, in the future period, there exists the capability of arising and the like, in the present period, the capability of ceasing and the like, and, in the past period, the capability of bestowing a fruit — and it is on this account that transformation is said to exist. Further, transformation is again of two kinds: first, transformation of the thing itself; second, transformation of the time-period. If one speaks with reference to transformation of the thing, it should be said that formations possess no transformation, since a thing, across all time, undergoes no alteration; if one speaks with reference to transformation of the time-period, it should be said that formations do indeed possess transformation, since there exists alteration among the future, present, and past time-periods — and it is on this account that transformation is said to exist. Given that transformation may be spoken of in these several ways, no contradiction or fault follows from also speaking of the characteristics as distinct. One asks: are the conditioned characteristics, with respect to the conditioned dharmas they characterize, particular characteristics, or shared characteristics? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If they are particular characteristics, how can a single dharma possess four characteristics? If they are shared characteristics, how can every conditioned dharma each individually possess its own four characteristics? There are those who say: these are particular characteristics. One asks: if that is so, then how can a single dharma possess four characteristics? The answer: a single dharma possessing four characteristics involves no fault whatsoever.

Just as a single material dharma possesses many characteristics — spoken of as being like a disease, like a boil, like an arrow, and so on, at length, up through a hundred and forty characteristics — and yet these particular characteristics are not like the characteristics of hardness, moisture, warmth, and motion belonging to the four great elements; rather, it is simply that each individual dharma separately possesses its own arising, abiding, alteration, and cessation, and this is therefore called a particular characteristic. Further, a particular characteristic is of two kinds: first, a primary particular characteristic; second, a guest particular characteristic. These conditioned characteristics are the conditioned dharma's own guest particular characteristic, not its primary particular characteristic — and it is for this reason that a single dharma possessing four characteristics involves no fault. Further, a particular characteristic is again of two kinds: first, an inherent particular characteristic; second, an adventitiously-conjoined particular characteristic. These conditioned characteristics are the conditioned dharma's own adventitiously-conjoined particular characteristic, not its inherent particular characteristic — and it is for this reason that a single dharma possessing four characteristics involves no fault. There are yet other masters who say: these are shared characteristics. One asks: if that is so, then how can it be that every conditioned dharma each individually possesses its own four characteristics? The answer: it is on account of their mutual resemblance that they are called shared characteristics — just as a single dharma possesses these four, arising and the rest, so too does every other dharma; yet this is not like a single thread strung through many flowers, and it is for this reason that they are called shared. There are yet others who say: these are neither particular characteristics nor shared characteristics — every conditioned dharma's arising, abiding, alteration, and cessation share the same designation in meaning, yet possess distinct substances individually; these characteristics of arising and the rest are merely a dharma's own hallmark seal — whatever possesses this is known to be conditioned, exactly as the marks of a great being, with respect to that great being, are called neither a particular characteristic nor a shared characteristic, but merely a hallmark seal, whatever possesses this being known to be a great being; and arising and the rest should be understood in just the same way. The verdict: it should be said that these are shared characteristics; yet a shared characteristic is itself of two kinds: first, a shared characteristic of one's own substance, referring to the fact that each and every conditioned dharma individually possesses, within its own substance, the four meanings of arising and the rest; second, a shared characteristic of harmonious union, referring to the fact that each and every conditioned dharma is individually conjoined with the four characteristics of arising and the rest — and these four are merely a shared characteristic of harmonious union. One asks: does this characteristic of arising possess any further characteristic of arising? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If it does, then this further characteristic of arising would itself require yet another, and so on, unfolding without end. If it does not, then who gives rise to this arising, that it should give rise to other dharmas? The answer: it should be said that arising does indeed possess a further arising.

One asks: if that is so, then the characteristic of arising should unfold without end. There are those who say: granting this endlessness involves no fault whatsoever — the three time-periods are vast and expansive; how could there fail to be room enough to hold it? It is on account of just such causes and conditions as these that birth and death are so difficult to cut off, so difficult to break through, so difficult to transcend, and the chain that gives rise to and extends the manifold sufferings of sentient beings is itself without end. Yet, since this all occurs within one and the same instant, there is no fault of endlessness. There are yet other masters who say: when formations arise, three dharmas arise together — first, the dharma itself; second, arising; third, the arising of arising. Here, arising is able to give rise to two dharmas — namely, the dharma itself and the arising of arising; the arising of arising gives rise to only a single dharma — namely, arising itself. It is on this principle that there is no fault of endlessness. One asks: why is it that arising is able to give rise to two dharmas, while the arising of arising gives rise to only arising itself? The answer: this is simply the nature of the dharma, and ought not to be pressed as an objection — just as, among women, some give birth to two children, and some give birth to only one, and this ought not to be pressed as an objection. The verdict: it should be said that, when formations arise, nine dharmas arise together — first, the dharma itself; second, arising; third, the arising of arising; fourth, abiding; fifth, the abiding of abiding; sixth, alteration; seventh, the alteration of alteration; eighth, cessation; ninth, the cessation of cessation. Here, arising is able to give rise to eight dharmas — namely, the dharma itself, together with the three characteristics and the four auxiliary characteristics; the arising of arising gives rise to only a single dharma — namely, arising itself — and it is on this principle that there is no fault of endlessness. One asks: why is it that arising is able to give rise to eight dharmas, while the arising of arising gives rise only to arising itself? The answer: this is simply the nature of the dharma, and ought not to be pressed as an objection — just as, among hens and dogs, some give birth to eight offspring, and some give birth to only one, and this ought not to be pressed as an objection; and, just as with arising and the arising of arising, so too should abiding and the abiding of abiding, alteration and the alteration of alteration, and cessation and the cessation of cessation, be understood. One asks: when formations arise, every conditioned dharma apart from their own inherent nature possesses the function capable of giving rise to this dharma — why, then, does this passage speak only of arising as what gives rise to it? The answer: when formations arise, arising is the proper, direct cause of their birth, while every other dharma merely assists — and it is for this reason that this passage speaks only of arising as giving rise to the dharma, exactly as, when a woman gives birth, though many women may be present, and though they assist her, it is the mother alone who properly gives birth, and she alone is therefore called the one who gives birth. The Venerable Vasumitra states as follows: it is only because arising exists at all that this dharma is able to arise, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks only of arising as giving rise to the dharma — though this, too, depends on other conditions besides for this dharma to arise. He further states: if there were no arising, this dharma would not arise, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks only of arising as giving rise to the dharma — though this, too, depends on other conditions, since, absent other conditions, the dharma would likewise not arise. The Great Virtuous One states: it is because the characteristic of arising is preeminent that arising is said to give rise to the dharma — that is, when a dharma arises, though other conditions are indeed present, arising is the most preeminent among them, exactly as, when a skilled craftsman paints or dyes a garment, though other conditions are indeed present, it is the preeminent one alone who is spoken of — and it is for this reason that only arising is said to give rise to this dharma, and it is thereby named the characteristic of arising; abiding, alteration, and the characteristic of cessation should be understood in just the same way.

One asks: do conditioned dharmas possess an abiding characteristic, or not? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If they do possess it, then why does this passage, among the conditioned characteristics, fail to mention it — for, as the Blessed One has stated, there are three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned, not four? And how, further, is what scripture states to be reconciled — as it is said, monks, formations do not abide? If they do not possess it, then how is what was stated just above to be reconciled — as it is said, are the arising, abiding, aging, and impermanence of a material dharma to be called material, or not, and so on, at length? And how is what the Prakaraṇapāda states to be reconciled — as it is said, what is arising? It refers to formations coming into being. What is abiding? It refers to formations, once already arisen, not yet having broken apart. What is aging? It refers to formations ripening. What is impermanence? It refers to formations, once already arisen, having broken apart? The answer: it should be said that conditioned dharmas do indeed possess an abiding characteristic. One asks: if that is so, then why does this passage, among the conditioned characteristics, fail to mention it?

The answer: it ought properly to be said that there are four conditioned characteristics of the conditioned, and that this is not so stated should be understood as a matter of surplus meaning left implicit. Further, conditioned dharmas genuinely do possess an abiding characteristic, yet, since it so closely resembles the unconditioned, the Buddha did not include it among the conditioned characteristics. Further, whatever dharma causes formations to diminish, the Blessed One placed among the conditioned characteristics; the abiding characteristic, by contrast, causes formations to increase and grow, and it is for this reason that it is not placed among the conditioned characteristics. One asks: birth, too, causes formations to increase and grow — why, then, is it placed among the conditioned characteristics? The answer: birth is that which most causes formations to diminish, not aging or impermanence. Why is this so? If birth did not draw a formation into the present, how could aging cause it to decline, or impermanence bring it to cessation? It is precisely because birth draws a formation into the present that aging is then able to cause its decline, and impermanence its cessation — and it is for this reason that birth is that which most causes formations to diminish, exactly as a certain man, hiding within a dense thicket, is beset by three hateful enemies who wish to do him harm: one drags him out from the thicket, one saps his strength,

and one takes his very life — yet, were he not first dragged out from the thicket by the one, what harm could the other two possibly do him? The three characteristics, with respect to formations, should be understood in just the same way. Further, whatever dharma is able to bring formations into harmonious union, or bring about their scattering and ruin, the Blessed One placed among the conditioned characteristics — the characteristic of arising is able to bring formations into harmonious union, while alteration and cessation are able to bring about their scattering and ruin; the abiding characteristic is not so, and it is for this reason that it is not placed among the conditioned characteristics.

Further, whatever dharma is able to carry formations across the three time-periods, the Blessed One placed among the conditioned characteristics — the characteristic of arising carries a formation from the future time-period into the present time-period, while alteration and cessation carry it from the present time-period into the past time-period; the abiding characteristic is not so, and it is for this reason that it is not placed among the conditioned characteristics. Further, that which distinctively marks out the conditioned is called a conditioned characteristic; the abiding characteristic falls within the category of the unconditioned, and it is for this reason that the Buddha did not name it a conditioned characteristic. There are those who say that that very scripture does indeed speak of an abiding characteristic, for, as that scripture states, exhaustion, and abiding and alteration, may likewise be known — this "abiding" is precisely the abiding characteristic. One asks: why, then, does this passage speak only of there being three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned? The answer: abiding and alteration are established as one combined category, and it is for this reason that this passage speaks only of three — the Blessed One, wishing to lead sentient beings to grow weary of the conditioned and to seek liberation, thus, within that scripture, speaks of abiding and alteration together as one.

This is exactly as when Śrī and Kālakarṇī are shown together, so that sentient beings, in the face of abiding and alteration, relinquish both alike. One asks: how, then, is what scripture states to be reconciled — as it is said, monks, formations do not abide? The answer: it is because they do not abide for long that the passage speaks of "not abiding," not because they possess no momentary abiding whatsoever. The Venerable Vasumitra offers this explanation: scripture merely blocks any abiding beyond the single instant when it speaks of "not abiding," not any denial that formations possess a momentary abiding.

Were there no abiding whatsoever, the Blessed One would never have been able to establish and designate time-periods or instants at all. He offers a further explanation: momentary abiding is so subtle and so difficult to know that it is difficult to designate at all, and it is for this reason that the passage speaks of "not abiding" — that is, the measure of a single instant is something known to the Buddha alone, not something within the domain of any śrāvaka, pratyekabuddha, or the like — exactly as one who rides supernormal power, bending and extending an arm's length, vanishes from this place and arrives at Akaniṣṭha, and, within that interval, though it is not the case that there is no continuity at all, there exists no sense in which one could speak of "going from here to there," nor is there any single dharma that shifts and moves over to that place, nor any sense in which one leaps across from here to there — it is, rather, decisively the case that instant by instant, arising and ceasing in unbroken succession, from here to there, within that very interval, the measure of the instants involved is so exceedingly subtle that the Buddha alone is able to know it, and it is on this account that the passage speaks of "formations do not abide." The Great Virtuous One offers this explanation: once formations have arisen, though they do abide for a brief while, aging and impermanence swiftly bring about their ruin and dissolution, and it is for this reason that the passage speaks of "not abiding." There are those who say: conditioned dharmas possess no abiding characteristic at all. One asks: if that is so, then how is what was earlier stated to be reconciled — as it is said, are the arising, abiding, aging, and impermanence of a material dharma to be called material, and so on, at length? The answer: what was earlier stated ought properly to speak only of a material dharma's arising, aging, and impermanence, and so on, at length; that it speaks of "abiding" should be understood as follows: this "abiding" is merely another name for aging, exactly as "birth" is named "arising," and "impermanence" is named "exhaustion" — so, too, should "aging" be understood as named "abiding" — and it is for this reason that, among the three characteristics, aging is also called "abiding and alteration." One asks: how, then, is what the Prakaraṇapāda states to be reconciled — as it is said, what is abiding? It refers to formations, once already arisen, not yet having broken apart? The answer: what that treatise states, I am unable to reconcile. The verdict: since it cannot be reconciled, one ought rather to believe that an abiding characteristic does indeed exist.

It is by the power of the abiding characteristic that formations, once arisen, are able to take hold of their own fruit and to take hold of their own object; it is by the power of alteration and cessation that, after a single instant, no further function remains. Were there no abiding characteristic, formations would possess no continuity of cause and effect whatsoever, and mind and mental factors would possess no object at all — and it is for this reason that an abiding characteristic must indeed exist.

One asks: when this passage speaks of the "characteristic of alteration," does it name this characteristic on account of ruin and dissolution, or on account of transformation? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows?

If it is named on account of ruin and dissolution, then there ought properly to exist only three conditioned characteristics, since alteration would then be identical with cessation. If it is named on account of transformation, then this ought to align with the very tenet of the heretical transformationists. The answer: it should be said that it is named neither on account of ruin and dissolution, nor on account of transformation — rather, it is because it causes a formation's own function to become damaged, its function to decay, its function to grow feeble and weak, its function to wither and waste, its function to grow slack and slow, that it is named the characteristic of alteration. There are those who say: it is named on account of causing transformation. One asks: if that is so, then does this not align with the very tenet the heretical transformationists themselves establish? The answer: those heretics hold that, as formations continue in their own succession, the earlier stage does not cease but is itself transformed into the later — exactly as firewood becomes ash, or milk becomes curds; this treatise, by contrast, states that, as formations continue in their own succession, the earlier ceases and the later arises, and yet a genuine transformation nonetheless occurs — that is, when a conditioned dharma is born, its vigor is at its height;

when it ceases, its vigor has declined; when born, its power is strong; when it ceases, its power is weak; when born, it is called new; when it ceases, it is called old; when born, it is luxuriant; when it ceases, it is withered; when born, it is in harmonious union; when it ceases, it is scattered and dispersed; when born, it rises and ascends; when it ceases, it falls and collapses; when born, it is keen and sharp;

when it ceases, it is dull and sluggish; when born, it gains function; when it ceases, it loses function; when born, it gains predominance; when it ceases, it loses predominance; when born, it gains capability; when it ceases, it loses capability; when born, it is blazing and vigorous; when it ceases, it is withered and spent; when born, it is advancing and growing; when it ceases, it is declining and diminishing; when born, it gains functional efficacy; when it ceases, it loses functional efficacy; when born, it is not yet ripe; when it ceases, it has already ripened — and it is for these reasons that it is named "transformation," yet not in the same sense as the heretics' own. One asks: are the conditioned characteristics, with respect to the dharmas they characterize, identical, or different? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If they are identical, how can the four fail to be reducible to one,

or the one fail to expand into four — and, further, in taking hold of them at a single moment, ought one not to arrive at four distinct understandings? If they are different, then why is a given characteristic not applied to characterize some other dharma? There are those who say: the characteristic and what it characterizes are identical. One asks: if that is so, then how can the four fail to be reducible to one, or the one fail to expand into four — and, further, in taking hold of them at a single moment, ought one not to arrive at four distinct understandings? The answer: though the characteristics are four, their substance is a single one — it is simply that a single substance possesses multiple characteristics, and there is no contradiction in arriving, with respect to a single object, at four distinct understandings, exactly as, with respect to a single thing, one may give rise to the many aspects of impermanence and the rest. There are yet other masters who say: the characteristic and what it characterizes are different. One asks: if that is so, then why is a given characteristic not applied to characterize some other dharma? The answer: no such fault follows, since the characteristic and what it characterizes have, from beginningless time, belonged to one another.

Further, the characteristic and what it characterizes have, from beginningless time, forever existed in harmonious union, never separated from one another, forever mutually accompanying one another, dwelling intermixed with one another. The Venerable Vasumitra states as follows: the characteristic and what it characterizes are different, yet every characteristic depends upon what it characterizes in order to arise, exactly as smoke depends upon fire — and it is for this reason that a given characteristic is not applied to characterize some other dharma. Further, the characteristic, though it is a fault belonging to what it characterizes, is nonetheless, though never separated from it, of a different character from it — exactly as a disease, though it is a fault belonging to the person who suffers it, is nonetheless, though never separated from that person, of a different character; were the disease not different in character from the person, then, were the disease cured, the person too would have to cease to exist. The Great Virtuous One states: the Buddha taught that birth and the rest are the characteristics of the conditioned, and it is thereby known that a characteristic belongs to what it characterizes, and yet is of a different character from it — exactly as a house belongs to its owner, yet is of a different character from him. One asks: if every single instant possesses the aging characteristic, then why does every moment not produce gray hair on the head? The answer: this objection does not hold, since the aging characteristic and gray hair are not identical with one another — gray hair is a material dharma, visible and resistant; the aging characteristic is non-material, invisible, and non-resistant — the two substances being thus quite different, how could one press the objection that, wherever the aging characteristic is present, gray hair must also be present? Further, aging and youthful vigor either stand in mutual opposition, or do not: where they stand in mutual opposition, gray hair appears on the head; where they do not, it does not appear. Further, if the increase of the great elements is greater and their diminishment lesser, gray hair does not appear; if the diminishment of the great elements is greater and their increase lesser, gray hair appears on the head. Further, where one's vital energy is strong, gray hair does not appear; where one's vital energy is weak, gray hair appears on the head. Further, gray hair does not arise from the aging characteristic at all, but rather, when the class of homogeneous being is about to be exhausted, this ripened, disagreeable mark arises — exactly as wine or oil, when about to be exhausted, naturally develops sediment and impurity within it. One asks: in which realms, destinies, or places does gray hair occur? The answer: it occurs within the desire realm, not among the formless or form realms. Among the hell-destiny it does not occur; among the destinies of beasts and hungry ghosts it does occur; among humans, it occurs on the three continents excepting Uttarakuru, since that continent possesses no such disagreeable mark, its beings having been born there through purely wholesome karma, whereas gray hair arises through mixed, impure karma. One asks: among what kinds of persons does gray hair occur? The answer: it occurs among both ordinary beings and noble ones — among noble ones, gray hair occurs from the fruit of stream-entry all the way up through pratyekabuddhas, with the sole exception of the Blessed One, since the Buddha possesses none of these disagreeable marks, gray hair and the rest all being marks of impurity. The buddhas possess no baldness, no thinning hair, no whitened hair, no slackened or wrinkled skin, no ruined or broken voice, no painful dissolution of the joints, nor any confusion of mind; and, at the moment of entering final nirvāṇa, their faculties cease all at once, gradually relinquishing none. One asks: through what karma did the Buddha's own field obtain this fruit? The answer: in his former life as a bodhisattva, across three incalculable eons, he cultivated manifold difficult and arduous practices, accumulating wholesome karma, each successive instant growing ever more increased, ever more abundant, his faith and wisdom firm and vigorous, whatever he undertook never withering or flagging — and it is by this wholesome karma serving as a resembling cause that he now receives just such a resembling, supreme fruit, and it is for this reason that he is without white hair, a wrinkled face, or any such thing. One asks: if every single instant possesses the impermanence characteristic, then why does a corpse's appearance not manifest at every single moment? The answer: where a body possessing faculties ceases and another body possessing faculties arises, no corpse-appearance manifests; where a body possessing faculties ceases and no body possessing faculties arises, a corpse-appearance manifests. Further, where a body possessing mind ceases and another body possessing mind arises, no corpse-appearance manifests; where a body possessing mind ceases and no body possessing mind arises, a corpse-appearance manifests.

Further, where a body belonging to the category of sentient beings ceases and another body belonging to that category arises, no corpse-appearance manifests; where a body belonging to that category ceases and no body belonging to that category arises, a corpse-appearance manifests. Further, where an appropriated body ceases and another appropriated body arises, no corpse-appearance manifests; where an appropriated body ceases and no appropriated body arises, a corpse-appearance manifests. Further, it is through the predominant power of sentient beings' own karma that, after death, a corpse-appearance manifests, since sentient beings must make use of that being's skin, flesh, sinew, bone, hair, fur, nails, teeth, hooves, and horns; and it is likewise through the predominant power of sentient beings' own karma that, while alive, no corpse-appearance manifests — that is, within a single day and night there occur, in total, six billion, four hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred eighty thousand instants of the five aggregates' arising and ceasing; were a corpse-appearance to manifest at every single one of these instants, then a single sentient being's corpses would be more than the great earth could hold, and, being unburied and left exposed, would become deeply repugnant, so that sentient beings of every kind would flee with nowhere to escape to — and it is on account of the predominant power of sentient beings' own karma that, while alive, no corpse-appearance manifests. One asks: why is it that transformation-born sentient beings, after death, leave no corpse-appearance at all? The answer: it is because, at the moment of their own birth and at the moment of their own death, their faculties and bodily parts are relinquished all at once, exactly as a person emerging briefly from water and then briefly submerging again —

it cannot be known where he submerged to, or where he emerged from — and it is for this reason that a transformation-born being, after death, leaves no corpse-appearance. Further, a transformation-born being's own body is light and subtle, resembling a flame, a cloud or mist, or a flash of lightning — once it ceases, nothing remains at all, and it is for this reason that no corpse manifests. Further, where the great elements are more abundant, there is no corpse; a transformation-born being's derivative material dharmas are more abundant, and it is for this reason that there is no corpse. Further, where the non-faculty portion is more abundant, death leaves a corpse; a transformation-born being possesses a greater abundance of faculty-dharmas, and it is for this reason that there is no corpse. Further, where hair, fur, nails, and the like — dharmas that may be relinquished — are more abundant, death leaves a corpse; a transformation-born being possesses fewer such relinquishable dharmas, and it is for this reason that there is no corpse. Further, where a body is formed by drawing upon semen and blood, death leaves a corpse; a transformation-born being is not so formed, and it is for this reason that there is no corpse.

One asks: when conditioned dharmas arise, is it because their own substance is itself a dharma of the arising-class that they arise, or is it because they are conjoined with the characteristic of arising that they arise? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If it is because their own substance is itself a dharma of the arising-class, then the characteristic of arising would be rendered useless. If it is because they are conjoined with the characteristic of arising, then the unconditioned, too, being conjoined with the characteristic of arising, ought likewise to be capable of arising. The answer: it should be said that it is because their own substance is itself a dharma of the arising-class that they arise. One asks: if that is so, then would not the characteristic of arising be rendered useless? The answer: although a dharma's own substance is of the arising-class, if it is not conjoined with the characteristic of arising, it is nonetheless incapable of arising — it is precisely because, at the moment of its arising, it is conjoined with the characteristic of arising, this characteristic of arising being the preeminent cause of its arising, that it arises, exactly as a breakable dharma requires a cause of breaking capable of breaking it, and a cuttable dharma requires a cause of cutting capable of cutting it — so too, a dharma capable of arising is given rise to by the characteristic of arising. There are those who say: it is because they are conjoined with the characteristic of arising that they arise. One asks: if that is so, then the unconditioned, too, being conjoined with the characteristic of arising, ought likewise to be capable of arising. The answer: the unconditioned possesses no sense of conjunction with the characteristic of arising, and is therefore incapable of arising, exactly as space and the like, possessing no conjunction with a cause of breaking, cannot be broken, and possessing no conjunction with a cause of cutting, cannot be cut — so too should it be understood that, possessing no conjunction with the characteristic of arising, the unconditioned cannot arise, since the characteristic of arising has never once been conjoined with it. Just as with the two kinds of characteristic of abiding and alteration, so too should this question-and-answer be understood. One asks: when conditioned dharmas cease, is it because their own substance is itself a dharma of the impermanence-class that they cease, or is it because they are conjoined with the characteristic of impermanence that they cease? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If it is because their own substance is itself a dharma of the impermanence-class, then the characteristic of impermanence would be rendered useless. If it is because they are conjoined with the characteristic of impermanence, then the unconditioned, too, being conjoined with impermanence, ought likewise to be capable of ceasing. The answer: it should be said that it is because their own substance is itself a dharma of the impermanence-class that they cease. One asks: if that is so, then would not the characteristic of impermanence be rendered useless? The answer: although a dharma's own substance is of the impermanence-class, if it is not conjoined with the characteristic of impermanence, it is nonetheless incapable of ceasing — it is precisely because, at the moment of its cessation, it is conjoined with impermanence, impermanence being the preeminent cause of its cessation, that it ceases — and this, too, is exactly as with the arising-capable dharma and its cause of arising, explained just above. There are those who say: it is because they are conjoined with the characteristic of impermanence that they cease. One asks: if that is so, then the unconditioned, too, being conjoined with impermanence, ought likewise to be capable of ceasing. The answer: the unconditioned possesses no sense of conjunction with impermanence, and is therefore incapable of ceasing, exactly as space and the like, possessing no conjunction with the characteristic of arising, cannot arise — this, too, is exactly the same, impermanence having never once been conjoined with it. There are yet other masters who say: the conditioned's own substance is arising, abiding, alteration, and cessation, and, without these four characteristics, it could not be known at all, exactly as a vessel or a garment within darkness cannot be known without the illumination of a lamp — this, too, is exactly the same, these conditioned characteristics being the very means by which the conditioned is known. The verdict: it should be known that the first position stated above is sound. One asks: just as the conditioned possesses conditioned characteristics, does the unconditioned likewise possess unconditioned characteristics? Suppose either is granted — what fault follows? If it does, then how can the unconditioned be called "not an aggregated dharma"? If it does not, then how is what the Prakaraṇapāda states to be reconciled — as it is said, what is the dharma that neither arises, nor abides, nor ceases? It refers to every unconditioned dharma? The answer: it should be said that unconditioned dharmas possess no unconditioned characteristics. One asks: if that is so, then how is what the Prakaraṇapāda states to be reconciled? The answer: it speaks in this way simply in order to stand in contrast to the conditioned — that is, since conditioned dharmas possess arising, abiding, and cessation, the unconditioned, differing from these, is said to be without arising and the rest; it is not that there exists any separate characteristic of non-arising and the like, exactly as scripture states, the Buddha told the monks:

"you possess birth, you possess aging, you possess death, you possess disappearing, you possess appearing — why is this so? Your own formations are just like an illusion, a mirage, and the like." One asks: within this passage, what distinction is drawn among "birth," "appearing," "death," and "disappearing"? There are those who say there is no distinction at all — birth is precisely appearing, and death is precisely disappearing, since all alike possess the nature of a single instant. The Venerable Vasumitra states as follows: entering the mother's womb is called birth; emerging from the mother's womb is called appearing; the aggregates, once ripened, is called disappearing; relinquishing the aggregates is called death. The Venerable Pārśva says: at the moment of obtaining the aggregates of the intermediate state, this is called appearing; at the moment of relinquishing them, this is called disappearing; at the moment of obtaining the aggregates proper to the stage of birth, this is called birth; at the moment of relinquishing them, this is called death. The Venerable Ghoṣa states as follows: for beings born from a womb or an egg, or born from moisture, the arising of the aggregates is called birth, since the faculties arise gradually, and their ruin is called death, since a remaining corpse is left behind; for a transformation-born being, the arising of the aggregates is called appearing, since the faculties emerge all at once, and their ruin is called disappearing, since no remaining corpse is left behind. The Great Virtuous One states: among every destiny, the moment of first receiving birth is called birth; the moment the life faculty is exhausted is called death; the moment, in between, when the aggregates arise instant by instant is called appearing; the moment they cease instant by instant is called disappearing. The Venerable Buddhadeva states as follows: for a being possessing material form, the moment of birth is called birth, and the moment of death is called death; for a formless being, the moment of birth is called appearing, and the moment of death is called disappearing. Such, then, are the distinctions among birth, appearing, death, and disappearing.

Vibhāṣā, Miscellaneous Aggregates, Chapter One, the First Part of the Meaninglessness Nyāsa: as the Blessed One has stated —

"To cultivate every other kind of austerity — know that this is joined with meaninglessness; it gains no benefit, no peace, exactly as one rows an oar upon dry land." Having already grasped the sense of such verses and topics as these, one ought now to set them forth fully. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — for although every treatise is composed in order to explain scripture, this particular nyāsa explains a great many scriptural passages in particular. As scripture states: the Blessed One dwelt beside the pool at Uruvilvā, on the bank of the Nairañjanā river, beneath the bodhi tree, and, not long after attaining buddhahood, briefly expounded the essentials of the Dharma to his śrāvakas, telling the monks: I have already been liberated from meaningless austerities, and this liberation is truly excellent — for it is through the power of my own correct aspiration that I swiftly realized unsurpassed buddha-bodhi. At that time, the monks, hearing what the Buddha had spoken, rejoiced and leapt with joy, reverent and respectful, gathering their minds and attentively listening, receiving the essentials of the Dharma. At that time, Māra, the Evil One, thought as follows: now this ascetic of the Gautama clan, beneath the bodhi tree, is expounding the Dharma to his assembly, and his śrāvakas are reverently listening and receiving it — I should now go and create an obstruction for him. He thereupon transformed himself into the body of a young brahmin student, and, coming before the Buddha, spoke this verse:

"You have now abandoned austerities, the true, pure path of the ancient sages; cultivating instead some other, impure path, you will surely never attain purity." The meaning here is this: that Evil One, holding a mistaken notion of true purity with respect to the bodies of the gods, and holding a further mistaken notion that the austerities formerly practiced by the outsiders were capable of attaining the true path of purity, thus said to the Buddha: why have you now abandoned the wondrous path of true purity, capable of being attained through the austerities of the ancient sages,

to cultivate instead some other, base and impure path of indulgence and ease? This can surely never attain purity — you ought swiftly to abandon it. And so the Buddha, for his sake, spoke this verse: "to cultivate every other kind of austerity," and so on, at length. The meaning of this verse is this: it is not that I was incapable of cultivating those outsiders' own austerities, and so abandoned them; rather, having carefully observed that such austerities as these are, in the end, incapable of cutting off the afflictions or attaining any true benefit, I therefore abandoned them, cultivating instead the true, moderate, excellent practice — and it is by means of this that I have already realized unsurpassed enlightenment, able to rescue sentient beings from the extreme suffering of birth and death. As for the meaning of this verse: the various austerities cultivated by the outsiders lie outside the true Dharma, and it is for this reason that the verse speaks of "every other kind." There are those who say: it ought rather to be said "base austerities" — for austerities are, in brief, of two kinds: first, the superior kind, referring to the noble eightfold path and its accompanying factors; second, the base kind, referring to the austerities cultivated by the outsiders, which, being intermixed with the view of self, are given the name "base." Further, those outsiders cultivate such austerities in pursuit of the worldly fruit of birth and death — and, this fruit being inferior, the name "base" is likewise given. There are those who say: it ought rather to be said "deathless austerities" —

for "deathless" is another name for the gods, and it is precisely this deathless demon-king who is invoked when the outsiders' austerities are named — and it is for this reason that these are called "deathless austerities." Further, these outsiders hope thereby to gain the wondrous sensual pleasures enjoyed among the gods, and it is for this reason that they cultivate such austerities as these, which are for this reason called "deathless austerities." As for the verse's further words, "know that this is joined with meaninglessness": cultivating such austerities as these will, one should know, draw forth manifold calamities in this life and in lives to come, and it is for this reason called "joined with meaninglessness." As for the further words, "it gains no benefit, no peace": this reiterates the meaning just stated — "benefit" refers to true benefit, and "peace" refers to true happiness; since such austerities are incapable of permanently cutting off the afflictions, and incapable of giving rise to any excellent wholesome quality, they are incapable of attaining ultimate benefit and happiness — exactly as one who rows an oar upon dry land labors in vain, never accomplishing anything at all; the outsiders' austerities, one should know, are just the same — however diligently practiced, they gain neither benefit nor peace. At that time, Māra, the heavenly demon, further petitioned the Buddha, saying: if these austerities gain neither benefit nor peace,

then by what path did the Buddha attain true purity? The Blessed One told him:

"I cultivated discipline, concentration, and wisdom, the true, pure, moderate path, and attained the ultimate, pure fruit, together with unsurpassed enlightenment." Although scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it leaves unanalyzed, this treatise should now fully analyze — and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. Why did the Blessed One state that the cultivation of every other kind of austerity is joined with meaninglessness? The answer: that practice tends toward death, draws near to death, arrives at death, and is incapable of transcending death in the way this path can — that is, sentient beings, wishing to transcend the ocean of aging and death, cultivate such austerities, yet these austerities arise from the view of belief in extremes, and instead cause one to sink all the more deeply into the ocean of aging and death — and it is for this reason that the Buddha said that cultivating them is joined with meaninglessness. Birth, aging, and death pervade every state of existence, yet aging and death are precisely what sentient beings find most disagreeable, and, since the arising of weariness toward death is especially strong, this passage speaks of it in particular. The Venerable Ghoṣa states as follows: every instance of turning and flowing onward is called meaningless; every instance of returning and ceasing is called meaningful.

Such austerities as these arise from the view of belief in extremes, running contrary to returning and ceasing, and in accordance with turning and flowing onward — and it is for this reason that the Buddha said that cultivating them is joined with meaninglessness. The Great Virtuous One states: the suffering of the three evil destinies is entirely called meaningless; the good destinies and liberation are entirely called meaningful. Such austerities as these arise from a wrongful, expedient means, running contrary to the good destinies and the rest, and in accordance with the suffering of the evil destinies — and it is for this reason that the Buddha said that cultivating them is joined with meaninglessness. The Venerable Vasumitra states as follows: such austerities as these cause sentient beings to fall into birth and death, forever undergoing the manifold sufferings of every realm, destiny, birth, and place — and it is for this reason that the Buddha said that cultivating them is joined with meaninglessness. Further, the Blessed One has stated: sitting cross-legged, holding the body upright, abiding in correct aspiration, and abiding in face-to-face mindfulness, and so on, at length. One asks: why is this treatise composed? The answer: it is composed in order to analyze the meaning of scripture — as scripture states, there are monks who, dwelling in a forest retreat, or beneath a tree, or within a quiet chamber, sit cross-legged, holding the body upright, abiding in correct aspiration, and abiding in face-to-face mindfulness, and so on, at length. Although scripture states this much, it does not analyze its meaning; scripture is the very root this treatise depends upon, and what it does not state, this treatise now wishes to state — and it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. One asks: wholesome cultivation may be undertaken in any of the four postures — why, then, does this passage speak only of sitting cross-legged?

The answer: this is the constant posture of the noble and the sagely — that is, every buddha and every disciple of the buddhas, throughout the past and future, in numbers surpassing the sands of the Ganges, has entered meditative absorption while dwelling in just this posture. Further, this posture accords with the wholesome category — that is, in walking or standing, the body swiftly grows fatigued, and, in lying down, drowsiness readily increases; only in sitting cross-legged does neither of these faults arise, and it is for this reason that one is thereby able to cultivate the most excellent wholesome qualities. Further, this posture stands in opposition to unwholesome dharmas — that is, every other posture accords with sensual desire and other unwholesome dharmas, while sitting cross-legged alone opposes them. Further, this posture is able to draw humans, gods, and the rest into the true Dharma — that is, every other posture is unable to draw humans, gods, dragons, spirits, or asuras into the Buddhadharma, as the posture of sitting cross-legged is able to do. Further, this posture gives rise to reverent faith in humans, gods, and the rest — that is, every other posture is unable to arouse reverent faith in humans, gods, dragons, spirits, or asuras, as the posture of sitting cross-legged is able to do; and even were this posture merely to give rise to distracted thought in others, one ought still to adopt it for the sake of arousing wholesome faith in them, how much more so when it accords with one's own excellent wholesome cultivation. Further, it is by relying on this posture alone that unsurpassed buddha-bodhi is realized — that is, by relying on every other posture, one is indeed able to realize the enlightenment of the two lesser vehicles, yet unable to realize buddha-bodhi. Further, abiding in this posture strikes fear into the armies of Māra — that is, the Buddha, in ancient times, beneath the bodhi tree, sat cross-legged and shattered the two armies of Māra, namely the Sovereign God and the afflictions, and it is on account of seeing him in this posture that Māra's own host, for the most part, grew terrified and retreated in confusion. Further, this is a dharma not shared with the outsiders — that is, every other posture is likewise found among the outsiders, while the posture of sitting cross-legged alone is not found among them. Further, sitting cross-legged accords with the cultivation of concentration — that is, every kind of scattered wholesome practice may be cultivated in any posture, yet, in cultivating the wholesomeness of concentration, sitting cross-legged alone is most fitting. It is on account of manifold causes and conditions such as these that this passage speaks only of sitting cross-legged. One asks: what is the meaning of "sitting cross-legged"? The answer: it means a posture that is well-rounded and settled in its sitting. Grammarians state: it is called sitting cross-legged because the two feet are crossed and placed upon the two thighs, coiled like a dragon, sitting upright in contemplation.

The Venerable Pārśva states: it is called sitting cross-legged when the two feet are folded one atop the other, left and right crossed, correctly observing one's own object, this posture alone being most fitting for the cultivation of concentration. The Great Virtuous One states: this is the auspicious posture of the noble and the sagely, and it is for this reason called the cross-legged posture. One asks: what is the meaning of "holding the body upright"? The answer: it means a posture in which the body is held straight and settled in its sitting. One asks: what is the meaning of "correct aspiration"? The answer: it means according with the wholesome category and fixing the mind upon it. One asks: what is the meaning of "abiding in face-to-face mindfulness"? The answer: "face" refers to the object of concentration; "face-to-face" refers to its being presently regarded. This mindfulness causes the mind to be presently regarded upon the object of concentration, undistorted and clearly manifest, and it is for this reason called face-to-face mindfulness. Further, "face" refers to affliction; "face-to-face" refers to counteracting it. This mindfulness counteracts the affliction that stands foremost in birth and death, and it is for this reason called face-to-face mindfulness. Further, "face" refers to one's own face; "face-to-face" refers to regarding it directly. This mindfulness causes the mind to regard one's own face directly, while observing every other object, and it is for this reason called face-to-face mindfulness. One asks: why is mindfulness fixed specifically upon one's own face? The answer: from beginningless time, men have taken women's forms as their object, and women have taken men's forms as their object, and, for the most part, this depends upon the face — and it is for this reason that one contemplates one's own face in order to subdue the afflictions. Further, sentient beings' own thoughts of desire, for the most part, arise dependent upon the eyebrows, eyes, lips, teeth, ears, and nose upon the face, and not upon any other part of the body — and it is for this reason that one contemplates one's own face in order to subdue and remove desire. Further, the face possesses seven openings, from which impurity constantly flows — giving rise to a mind of weariness and disgust surpassing that aroused by any other part of the body, and it is for this reason that one contemplates one's own face and thereby cultivates weariness and renunciation. Further, one's own face is rarely seen, and thus rarely gives rise to attachment — and it is for this reason that mindfulness is fixed upon the face rather than elsewhere, since, when not illuminated by a mirror, one cannot see one's own face at all. Further, one who cultivates the practice of meditative observation delights, for the most part, in observing the characteristics of the twelve sense-fields, and the face constantly presents nine distinct openings — and it is for this reason that one contemplates it. There are also those who say that this is called abiding in mindfulness turned away from the face, "facing" and "turning away" both being principles without contradiction. Why is this so? By the power of this mindfulness, one turns away from defilement and faces toward purity; turns away from birth and death and faces toward nirvāṇa; turns away from the turning and flowing onward and faces toward returning and ceasing; turns away from the five desires and faces toward the object of concentration; turns away from the view of the perishable aggregation of self and faces toward the gate of emptiness-liberation; turns away from the grasping of self and faces toward the absence of self; turns away from wrongful dharmas and faces toward the true Dharma — and it is on this account that both "facing" and "turning away" are principles without contradiction. One who abides in this mindfulness is called one who abides in face-to-face mindfulness.