Magic, Māra, and the Measure of an Eon

Fifth Aggregate, the Great Elements: the Full-Vision Nyāsa, Chapter Three, Part Two. For one born in the desire realm who creates a form-realm magical transformation, and so on, in full. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to refute a rival doctrine and establish our own — for the Dṛṣṭāntikas say that everything magically created is not truly real, since, were it truly real, how could it be called "created"?

The Great Virtuous One likewise says that magical creation is not truly real, but is merely a meditatively-produced appearance — as when a corpse is made to rise and move by a ghost's own spell. It is in order to refute this very view, and to show that every magically-created thing is in fact genuinely real, that this treatise is composed.

For one born in the desire realm who creates a form-realm transformation and utters form-realm speech — by which great elements is this bodily and verbal form produced? Answer: by form-realm-bound great elements. For one born in the form realm who creates a desire-realm transformation and utters desire-realm speech — by which great elements is this produced? Answer: by desire-realm-bound great elements, since all contaminated derived form is produced by great elements of the same realm and ground. The transformed body itself, however, admits of eight distinct varieties — that is, for one born in the desire realm creating a desire-realm transformation, there are two kinds, one resembling one's own body, one resembling another's body; creating a form-realm transformation likewise has these same two kinds; and, for one born in the form realm creating a form-realm transformation, there are again two kinds; creating a desire-realm transformation likewise has these same two kinds — making eight in all. This passage, however, discusses only two of these — namely, one born in the desire realm creating a form-realm transformation, and one born in the form realm creating a desire-realm transformation, each specifically of the kind resembling another's body. Question: why does this passage discuss only these two bodies? Answer: it is simply the intention of the treatise's own author, that this order be followed — the treatise was composed following his own preference, and, so long as this does not contradict the proper form of the Dharma, this ought not to be demanded as an objection. Others say: only these two bodies are especially subtle and difficult to perceive, and hence are singled out for discussion. Others say: only these two bodies are hardest to bring into manifestation, requiring extensive preparatory effort before they can arise at all. Others say: this is hard for the ordinary world to credit — for who, it is asked, could possibly create another realm's own body? Others say: these two are the rarest of all, since they alone are capable of magically creating a body belonging to an entirely different realm — and it is for this reason that they alone are singled out for discussion. All transformation-minds, taken together, number two kinds in general — namely, desire-realm-bound and form-realm-bound — or, more finely, five kinds, namely desire-realm-bound and each of the four dhyāna-bound; or, still more finely, twelve kinds of transformation-creating minds, namely those who have attained the fruit of the first dhyāna up through the fourth dhyāna, each of three further kinds. What are these three? First, an ordinary being; second, a trainee; third, one beyond training. Others say there are three further kinds: first, an ordinary being outside the [Buddhist] teaching; second, an ordinary being within the teaching; third, a noble one. Others, further, say there are three kinds distinguished by when the attainment was obtained: first, obtained at the time of becoming free from a lower defilement, that is, obtaining dhyāna at the very moment of becoming free from the defilement below it; second, obtained at the time of attaining a fruit, that is, at the attainment of the fruit beyond training; third, obtained at the time of refining one's own faculties, that is, at the moment of converting to the unshakable type. Or, divided still further, into fourteen kinds: desire-realm-bound transformation-minds number four, namely the four dhyāna-fruits; first-dhyāna-bound likewise number four, as with the desire realm; second-dhyāna-bound number three, namely the upper three dhyāna-fruits; third-dhyāna-bound number two, namely the upper two dhyāna-fruits; fourth-dhyāna-bound numbers one, namely the fourth dhyāna-fruit itself — since a lower ground's own mind is too weak in power to create a transformation in any higher ground. Or, divided into fifteen: the transformation-minds bound to each of the five grounds each further admit of upper, middling, and lower grades. Others say: those who attain the transformation-mind of each of the five grounds likewise each fall into three classes, namely ordinary being and the rest, as explained above. Or, divided further still, into forty-two kinds: each of the fourteen kinds mentioned above further admits of upper, middling, and lower grades. Others say: each of the fourteen kinds of transformation-mind likewise falls into three further classes,

— namely ordinary being and the rest, as explained above.

For any being who creates a desire-realm transformation, that transformed body resembles a desire-realm being; for any being who creates a form-realm transformation, that transformed body resembles a form-realm being. Question: to how many sense-fields does the transformed body itself belong? Answer: if one born in the desire realm creates a desire-realm transformation, both the version resembling one's own body and the version resembling another's belong to all four sense-fields — form, smell, taste, and touch. Creating a form-realm transformation, both versions belong to only two sense-fields — form and touch. If one born in the form realm creates a form-realm transformation, both versions belong to only two sense-fields; creating a desire-realm transformation, both versions belong to all four sense-fields —

— as already explained. Others say: if creating another's body, it belongs to all four sense-fields; if creating one's own body, it belongs to only two, lest one thereby come to "possess" the smell and taste sense-fields as well. According to this further account, though the transformation includes smell and taste, no fault of "possessing" them thereby follows — just as a person's own clothing, ornaments, and flowers or perfume, though present upon the body, are not thereby "possessed" by that person in the technical sense.

Question: if one born in the desire realm creates a desire-realm transformation by means of the fruit of the first dhyāna, and also creates a form-realm transformation by means of that same fruit of the first dhyāna, which of these two is inferior, and which is superior? Answer: the two are equal in their own functioning, without any difference between them — yet the form-realm one is superior, since its own realm is superior. Question: if one born in the desire realm creates a desire-realm transformation by means of the fruit of the second dhyāna, and creates a form-realm transformation by means of the fruit of the first dhyāna, which of these two is inferior, and which is superior? Answer: the desire-realm one is superior in its own functioning, since it is able to range from the desire realm all the way up through the second dhyāna and back again; the form-realm one is superior in its own realm, since form-realm dharmas surpass those of the desire realm. Question: if one born in the desire realm creates a desire-realm transformation by means of the fruit of the first dhyāna, and creates a form-realm transformation by means of the fruit of the second dhyāna, which of these two is inferior, and which is superior? Answer: the form-realm one is superior in both respects — first, in its own realm, and second, in its own functioning. As has been explained for one born in the desire realm creating desire-realm and form-realm transformations by means of the first and second dhyāna-fruits, comparing their relative superiority, so too, in exactly the same way, should this be worked out for the first and third dhyāna-fruits, the first and fourth, the second and third, the second and fourth, and the third and fourth, comparing their relative superiority in each case, reasoning by analogy with the pattern already given above. And, as with one born in the desire realm, so too, in the same way, for one born in the first dhyāna, the second dhyāna, or the third dhyāna — this should be thought through and explained in full, according to what is fitting in each case. Question: for one born in the first dhyāna, there exists a mind capable of giving rise to bodily and verbal expressive consciousness, thereby enabling the transformed body to perform such actions as coming and going — but the higher dhyānas possess no mind of this kind; when the creator is born in one of these higher grounds, how, then, does his own transformed body come to possess such functions as coming and going? Answer: just as one born in the first dhyāna gives rise to the first dhyāna's own expressive mind, thereby enabling the transformed body to perform the functions of coming and going, so too, in the very same way, one born in any of the higher dhyānas likewise makes use of the first dhyāna's own expressive mind, thereby enabling the transformed body to perform these same functions — just as with the eye-consciousness and the rest [borrowing what a higher ground itself does not natively possess].

Other masters say: transformed bodies possess no genuine functions of coming and going, or any other action, whatsoever — they remain, in truth, entirely motionless, and it is solely through the creator's own power that they merely appear to have such functions as coming and going, exactly as Indra's own illusory net display is not truly present, yet appears to be present. Question: when a transformation-event arises, must it necessarily rely upon some physical support in order to come into being, or need it not? Some say: a transformation-event necessarily requires such a support — that is, it must depend upon wood, stone, clods of earth, or the like, before the creator is able to bring the transformation-event into being at all. Other masters say: for one just beginning to cultivate the supernormal penetration, whatever transformation-event he brings forth does indeed require something to be borrowed as its support; but for one who has already perfected the penetrating wisdom, no such support is required at all, and the transformation-event can be brought into being without borrowing anything whatsoever. Question: is it a single mind giving rise to a single transformation, or a single mind giving rise to many transformations at once? If it is a single mind giving rise to a single transformation, how is the verse cited by the sūtra to be reconciled? As it is said:

"When the one creator-master speaks, all of his creations speak as well; when the one creator-master falls silent, all of his creations likewise fall silent." If it is a single mind giving rise to many transformations, how is the Prajñapti-śāstra's own statement to be reconciled? As it says: what is the preparatory practice for the supernormal power of manifestation-cognition? By what method does one give rise to this supernormal power of manifestation-cognition? Answer: the beginning practitioner first cultivates mundane concentration until it becomes utterly self-mastered; once utterly self-mastered, he brings it into manifestation, and, through this manifestation, the supernormal power of manifestation-cognition is thereby drawn forth. From this point, he is able to give rise, as he wishes, to a single transformation — and merely to produce a single transformation-event already requires this much mental effort, let alone to produce many at once! Some say: it is indeed a single mind giving rise to a single transformation. Question: then how is the cited sūtra verse to be reconciled? Answer: first, with several separate minds, one entreats several transformation-utterances in advance; afterward, with a single mind, one causes them all to speak together at once — the earlier several minds are the preparatory, "turning" minds, while the later single mind is the triggering, "following-turning" mind. Other masters say: it is indeed a single mind giving rise to many transformations. Question: then how is the Prajñapti-śāstra's own statement to be reconciled? Answer: for one just beginning to cultivate the penetration, it is a single mind giving rise to a single transformation; for one who has already perfected the penetrating wisdom, it is a single mind giving rise to many transformations at once. Question: within the transformation-events arising from a single mind, must they necessarily be of the same single kind, or can they also differ in kind from one another? Some say: they must necessarily be of a single kind — that is, when creating an elephant, one does not, at the same time, also create a horse and the rest. Others say: they can also differ in kind — that is, for one just beginning to cultivate the penetration, a single mind is capable of producing only a single kind of object; but for one who has already perfected the penetrating wisdom, a single mind is capable of producing, all at once, an entire fourfold army of elephants, horses, chariots, and infantry together.

Question: we already know of transformation-events accomplished through cultivation — is there also such a thing as a transformation attained by birth alone? Some say: there is not, since the power innate to a birth-attained transformation is far too weak in itself —

— it is capable only of altering something to resemble what it originally was not, but is incapable of creating anything genuinely new. Others say: such a thing does exist, but it is capable of transforming only one's own body, never anything else. Question: if so, how is this to be reconciled with what the sūtra itself describes? As the sūtra says: there were three demon-maidens, each of whom magically created several hundred additional maiden-bodies of her own — young girls not yet come of age, maidens newly come of age, mature women, and elderly women, a hundred of each — and, further adorning themselves with every manner of ornamentation, went, in order to seduce and beguile, to where the Bodhisattva sat, saying to him, "Rise up, ascetic — we have come now, and wish only to attend upon your pleasure." The Bodhisattva did not accept them, and at once caused their own bodies to take on the aspect of withered old age, so that, overcome with shame, they withdrew. Answer: this transformation was accomplished precisely upon the demon-maidens' own already-ripened bodies, magically bringing forth from them the several hundred maiden-bodies just described —

— exactly as a captured hair never departs from its own nature as a captured hair. According to this further account, then, a mind attained by birth is indeed capable of transforming both one's own body and another's body alike. How is this known? It has been heard that the Venerable Upagupta, sitting upright in meditation, was once mischievously toyed with by Māra, who placed a garland of flowers upon the Venerable One's own head. Emerging from absorption, the Venerable One, startled, wondered to himself who had done this, and, upon reflection, at once knew it to be Māra's own doing. In order to tame him, the Venerable One then magically created three corpses, and bound them about Māra's own neck — namely, a dead snake, a dead dog, and a dead man. At this, the Māra King was overcome with the deepest shame, and, though he attempted every manner of stratagem, could not remove them; the three bound corpses coiled ever tighter about his neck, growing ever more foul, until Māra, utterly at a loss, grew ever more terrified. In his effort to be rid of them, he sank into the earth, then rose up again and soared into open sky; he plunged into the great ocean; he forced his way into the very belly of Mount Sumeru itself, straining with all his might, and yet, in the end, could not free himself. His own strength exhausted, and knowing himself defeated, Māra passed gradually through each of the six heavens in turn, seeking release, yet still could not obtain it; at last he went to the edge of the Brahmā-palace and begged the Great Brahmā, "I beg you, out of compassion, to undo this disgrace the sage has inflicted upon my own neck." Brahmā told him, "I myself am unable to remove it — you should instead return and take refuge once more with the very one who bound you." Hearing this, Māra descended to Jambudvīpa, and, prostrating his entire body, paid homage at the Venerable One's own feet, saying, "Great Virtuous One, I beg you, out of compassion, to forgive my former transgression" — and thereupon reported all this to the Venerable One. At that time, the Venerable Upagupta slowly said to Māra, "I know that the time has come." Māra bowed once more in deep contrition, begging for mercy, and asked when he might be shown how his disgrace could be undone. The Venerable One told him, "Can you, from this moment forward, until the Tathāgata's own sacred teaching has entirely passed from the world, refrain forever after from troubling the bhikṣus?" Māra said, "Just so — I shall obey this instruction exactly as given. I beg you to instruct me further; whatever the Venerable One commands, I shall carry out." The Venerable One then said, "For the sake of the Buddha-dharma, I have, in fact, one further private wish I would now like to ask of you." Māra said, "I await your command." The Venerable One told him, "I was born a hundred years after the Buddha's own parinirvāṇa, and, though I have already beheld the Tathāgata's own Dharma-body, what I have not yet beheld is his own birth-body — could you, now, manifest it for me?" Māra said, "This matter is quite easy — I am able to do it for you. I ask only that, when the Venerable One beholds it, you refrain from paying it homage, lest I thereby incur an offense." The Venerable One agreed. At this, Māra had the three corpses removed from him, and, overjoyed, having thanked the Venerable One, went off into the forest, and there magically transformed his own body into the very likeness of the Tathāgata — the thirty-two marks and the eighty minor characteristics, his own majestic, radiant glory outshining a thousand suns.

— he further magically created an entire assembly of bhikṣus, with Śāriputra on the right and Mahāmaudgalyāyana on the left, the Venerable Ānanda following behind bearing the alms bowl, together with Ājñāta-Kauṇḍinya and the rest, twelve hundred and fifty in number, emerging from the forest arrayed in the shape of a half-moon. At that moment, seeing this, the Venerable Upagupta was overcome with a joy such as he had never before experienced, his own mind so purely and wholly given over to reverence that he was, as it were, like a tree whose very roots have been severed, unable to restrain himself — before he even realized what he had done, he had thrown himself down and paid homage at Māra's own twin feet. The Māra King, terrified, at once caused the transformed body to vanish. From this it is known that a mind attained by birth is indeed capable of magically creating both one's own body and another's body alike.

Question: the Venerable Upagupta's own mastery over transformation, attained through cultivation, surpassed that of the Māra King by a factor of a hundred million — why, then, did the Venerable One not simply create the transformation himself, rather than go to the trouble of requesting that the Māra King do it instead? Answer: with respect to a transformation accomplished through his own cultivation, nothing the Venerable One himself produced would have struck him as genuinely wondrous or rare; but with respect to a transformation attained by birth, this was a capacity the Venerable One himself did not possess, and he wished to test the Māra King's own birth-attained power of transformation — it was for this reason that he requested Māra himself to create the Buddha's likeness. Others say: had the Venerable One created it through his own cultivation-attained power, he would not have experienced the sense of its being genuinely rare and wondrous; but a transformation attained by birth, being something the Venerable One himself lacked, was something he wished to witness through Māra instead — it was for this reason that he made the request of him. Others say: the Venerable One's own reverence for the Buddha ran so deep that, had he created the likeness himself, he feared his own reverent feeling might not have been fully sustained — it was for this reason that he had Māra create it instead. Others say: the Venerable One, being a man of few desires, feared that, had he created it himself, gods and humans alike might have supposed that he himself was truly the Buddha, and might then have paid him excessive reverence and offerings, mourning his eventual parinirvāṇa as though it were the Buddha's own final passing — it was for this reason that he requested Māra alone to create it. Question: what, then, is the difference between these two kinds of transformation, one attained through cultivation and one attained by birth? Answer: what is created does not differ in kind between the two, but the cultivation-attained kind is pure, swift, complete, and subtle in a way the birth-attained kind is not. Others say: a mind attained by birth is capable of creating transformations dependent only upon a body of its own realm, while a mind attained through cultivation is capable of creating transformations dependent upon a body of either one's own realm or another realm alike.

Question: is there such a thing as a "left-behind" transformation-body? If there is, why did the Buddha, at his own parinirvāṇa, not leave behind such a transformation-body, to abide after his passing, upholding and teaching the Dharma for the benefit of beings? And if there is no such thing, why did the Venerable Mahākāśyapa, having already entered parinirvāṇa, leave his own body behind, abiding for so long an age? It has been heard that the Venerable Mahākāśyapa, following his final almsround in Rājagṛha, and not long after eating, ascended Kukkuṭapāda Mountain — a mountain with three peaks resembling an upturned chicken's foot — and, having entered its midst and seated himself in full lotus posture, made this solemn vow: "May this body of mine, together with the robe, bowl, and staff I carry, remain undecayed and abide here" — for as long as fifty-seven koṭis and sixty hundred-thousands of years, until the time when Maitreya, the Tathāgata, the Worthy One, the Perfectly Awakened One, appears in the world and performs there the deeds of a Buddha. Having made this vow, he then entered parinirvāṇa, and, at that very moment, the three peaks closed together, becoming as one, concealing the Venerable One within and remaining thus, solemn and undisturbed. And, when the Buddha Maitreya does appear in the world, he will lead a boundless multitude of gods and humans up to the summit of this mountain, and will announce to the assembly:

"Do you all wish to see Kāśyapa, foremost among the disciples of Śākyamuni Buddha in the ascetic practices?" And the whole assembly will answer as one, "We wish to see him." Then the World-Honored Maitreya will place his own right hand upon the summit of Kukkuṭapāda Mountain, and, at that very moment, the peaks will part once more, dividing again into three, and Kāśyapa, carrying his robe, bowl, and staff, will emerge from within and rise up into open sky, and the boundless multitude of gods and humans, beholding this display of supernormal power —

— will marvel at this thing never before witnessed, their own minds becoming gentle and receptive, and the World-Honored Maitreya will then teach them the Dharma exactly as is fitting, so that all attain the vision of the truths. If there were no such thing as a left-behind transformation-body, how could an event of this kind ever occur? Some say: there is indeed such a thing as a left-behind transformation-body. Question: if so, why did the World-Honored One not himself leave behind a transformation-body, to abide after his own parinirvāṇa, upholding and teaching the Dharma? Answer: because what needed to be accomplished had already been fully accomplished — that is, all those the Buddha himself was to deliver had already been delivered, and those not yet delivered would instead be delivered by his own noble disciples. Others say: there is no such thing as a left-behind transformation-body. Question: if so, how is the event concerning Kāśyapa to be explained? Answer: it is sustained entirely through the power of faithful and reverent gods and spirits. Others say: Kāśyapa, at that time, had in fact not yet actually entered parinirvāṇa at all, and would attain true final extinction only at the time of Maitreya Buddha — but this account is unreasonable, for it is surely better to say there is no left-behind transformation-body than to say that he simply dwelt there, silent and empty, for so vast a stretch of time, without ever actually having passed away. According to this account, then, there is indeed such a thing as a left-behind transformation-body, and it is on this very account that the Great Kāśyapa, having already entered parinirvāṇa, nonetheless still abides. Question: the sūtra describes a single occasion on which the Buddha performed the paired display of miracles — fire issuing from the lower half of his body while water issued from the upper half, and water issuing from the lower half while fire issued from the upper half. Was this accomplished with a single mind, or with two minds? If accomplished with a single mind, how could a single mind produce two mutually contradictory effects at once? But if accomplished with two minds, how could two minds ever arise together, at one and the same moment? Some say: it was accomplished with a single mind. Question: then how could a single mind produce two mutually contradictory effects? Answer: first, with two separate minds, he entreated the fire and the water in advance, each separately; afterward, abiding in a single mind, he caused them both to arise together — the earlier two minds were the preparatory, "turning" minds, and the later single mind was the triggering, "following-turning" mind. Others say: it was accomplished with two minds. Question: then how could two minds arise together, at a single moment? Answer: through the power of supreme concentration, the fire-mind and the water-mind revolve with such extraordinary speed that they merely appear to arise together — just as, when a person's own hand tosses a ball, the left hand releasing light while the right hand simultaneously responds to a spoken instruction to divide out the monastic sitting-mat, at the very moment the expressive gesture is given, there is no room left for releasing light, and at the very moment the light is released, there is no room left for the expressive gesture, and yet, through the power of supreme concentration, the light-giving mind and the gesture-giving mind revolve with such speed that they merely appear to arise together — the fire-mind and water-mind should be understood in exactly the same way. The Prajñapti-śāstra says: the Buddha, on one occasion, magically created a transformation-Buddha, his body a true golden color, adorned with all the major and minor marks. When the World-Honored One spoke, the transformation-body spoke as well; when the transformation-body spoke, the World-Honored One spoke as well. His disciples, likewise, on one occasion, each created a transformation-disciple, with shaven head and beard, clad in the monastic robe. When the disciple spoke, his own transformation fell silent; when the transformation spoke, the disciple himself fell silent. Why is this so? Because the Buddha, with respect to both mind and concentration, has attained complete mastery in every respect, entering and emerging with such extraordinary speed, never once abandoning his own object of attention, that, having spoken his own words, he then speaks the transformation's words, and, having spoken the transformation's words, again speaks his own words — and, being so extraordinarily swift, the two appear as though simultaneous. His disciples' own minds and concentration, however, are not utterly self-mastered in this same way, entering and emerging more slowly, repeatedly abandoning their own object of attention — so that, having spoken their own words, they then speak the transformation's words, and, by the time the transformation speaks, their own words have already ceased; having spoken the transformation's words, they again speak their own words, and, by the time their own words arise, the transformation's words have already ceased — and, not being extraordinarily swift, one can perceive this as sequential, before and after. Question: can the great disciples, too, do this same thing? What, then, is uniquely the Buddha's own here, incomparable to them? Answer: the Buddha, with a single mind, is able to give rise to two utterances at once, his own and his transformation's — having spoken his own words, the transformation then speaks; having spoken the transformation's words, he himself then speaks — and, being so extraordinarily swift, what is in fact sequential appears as though simultaneous. His disciples, too, with a single mind, can give rise to two utterances —

— namely, their own and their transformation's — but, only once their own words have ceased, does the transformation then speak, and, only once the transformation's words have ceased, do they themselves speak again — and, not being extraordinarily swift, this is perceived, and known, as sequential, not simultaneous. Moreover, the World-Honored Buddha has attained complete mastery over every object of wisdom whatsoever, in a way his disciples have not — and it is on this account, too, that the Buddha possesses something here that is entirely incomparable to them.

Others give the very same account in reverse: the Buddha, on one occasion, magically created a transformation-Buddha, his body a true golden color, adorned with all the major and minor marks. When the World-Honored One spoke, the transformation fell silent; when the transformation spoke, the World-Honored One fell silent. His disciples, likewise, on one occasion, each created a transformation-disciple, with shaven head and beard, clad in the monastic robe.

When the disciple spoke, his own transformation spoke as well; when the transformation spoke, the disciple himself spoke as well. Question: can the great disciples, too, do this same thing? What, then, is uniquely the Buddha's own here, incomparable to them? Answer: the Buddha, with respect to both mind and concentration, has attained complete mastery in every respect, entering and emerging with such extraordinary speed, never once abandoning his own object of attention, that he is able, with a single mind, to give rise to two utterances at once, his own and his transformation's — and, of these, whichever he wishes to speak, speaks, and whichever he wishes to fall silent, falls silent. His disciples' own minds and concentration are not utterly self-mastered in this same way, entering and emerging more slowly, repeatedly abandoning their own object of attention — and though they, too, can give rise, with a single mind, to two utterances, their own and their transformation's, when they wish one to speak, the second speaks along with it as well, and when they wish one to fall silent, the second falls silent along with it as well — they are unable to cause one to fall silent while the other alone speaks. Moreover, the World-Honored Buddha has attained complete mastery over every object of wisdom whatsoever, in a way his disciples have not — and it is on this account, too, that the Buddha possesses something here that is entirely incomparable to them.

The sūtra says: the Buddha told Ānanda, "My own supernormal power is such that I am able, by means of a mind-made body, to arrive at the Brahmā-heaven in but a single instant." Ānanda said to the Buddha, "How ordinary a thing this is! Even the disciples are capable of this — why should the World-Honored One boast of such a feat?" — meaning that what is thus created is called a "mind-made body," and that the disciples, too, are able to reach the Brahmā-heaven by means of it, so that, if this were all there was to it, what would remain uniquely the Buddha's own, incomparable to them? The World-Honored One then said, "Setting aside the power of supernormal penetration entirely, and using instead this very coarse, great-elements body born of father and mother — are they able to reach the Brahmā-heaven in but a single instant?" The World-Honored One then answered his own question: "This too I myself am capable of." Ānanda said further, "This is truly a difficult thing to credit — I beg you to give a simile, that I may come to understand and believe it." The Buddha said, "Listen carefully. It is like ordinary iron, whether shaped into a cake or a lump, placed within a blazing furnace — it grows gradually lighter, gradually softer, gradually more pliant, gradually purer, and can then be shaped however one wishes. Just so, the Tathāgata's own body turns according to the mind — fixing the mind upon the body, and giving rise to the perception of lightness and pliancy, the body, following the mind's own power, correspondingly becomes light and pliant, and so on. It is through this very capacity to fix the mind, sustained by the continuous power of concentration, that the body thus fixed upon is made to move exactly as the mind wills." On this point, some say: at the very moment the Buddha attained the wisdom of the exhaustion of outflows, he obtained a neutral, karmically-indeterminate desire-realm mind he had never before attained — a mind together with its accompanying mental factors — and it is through the sheer power of this attainment that, without so much as entering dhyāna or giving rise to any supernormal penetration at all, the very instant he simply directs his own mind, his entire body is at once lifted up all the way to Akaniṣṭha, let alone merely to the Brahmā-heaven. Others say: at that moment, the World-Honored One gave rise to a mind taking wind as its own object, thereby causing his own body to be lifted up and set into motion. Other masters say: he gave rise to a mind taking space as its own object, thereby enabling the Buddha's own body to travel without any obstruction whatsoever. Others say: what the Buddha himself calls a "mind-made" thing refers to this very same body, since, through the power of mind alone, it accomplishes lightness, pliancy, and the rest, and, entirely apart from the power of concentration or supernormal penetration, is able to carry this body all the way to the Brahmā-heaven. Others say: what the Buddha describes as a "mind-made body" means precisely that the transformation-body he himself creates has no need to rely on concentration or supernormal penetration at all in order to reach the Brahmā-heaven —

— this being exactly what distinguishes it from his disciples' own case. Others say: what the Buddha describes here is that, through the power inherent in the very intention of the mind, the transformation-body he creates is made to arrive at the Brahmā-heaven with extraordinary speed — and this particular swiftness of power is something neither of the two vehicles [the śrāvakas nor the pratyekabuddhas] possess at all — and it is on this basis, referring to this very point, that the Buddha reveals his own distinguishing excellence.

Question: is there such a thing as a transformation-mind that, within a single instant, is simultaneously cut off yet not lost, or lost yet not cut off, or both cut off and lost, or neither cut off nor lost? Answer: yes, there is — namely, at the very final uninterrupted path of becoming free from the desire realm's own defilement, the transformation-mind admits of exactly these four possibilities. "Cut off, but not lost": this refers to the desire-realm-bound fruits belonging to the upper three dhyānas. "Lost, but not cut off": this refers to the first-dhyāna-bound fruit belonging to the first dhyāna itself. "Both cut off and lost": this refers to the desire-realm-bound fruit belonging to the first dhyāna. "Neither cut off nor lost": this refers to the first-dhyāna-bound fruits belonging to the upper three dhyānas, the second-dhyāna-bound fruits belonging to the upper three dhyānas, the third-dhyāna-bound fruits belonging to the upper two dhyānas, and the fourth-dhyāna-bound fruit belonging to the fourth dhyāna itself. Just as this fourfold pattern holds for the final uninterrupted path of becoming free from the desire realm's own defilement, so too, in exactly the same way, should it be worked out for the final uninterrupted path of becoming free from the first dhyāna's own defilement, up through the final uninterrupted path of becoming free from the third dhyāna's own defilement, each accordingly admitting its own corresponding fourfold pattern.

Should a magical creation be said to have great elements, or not? Answer: it should be said to have great elements, since no manifest form ever exists apart from the great elements. Should a magical creation be said to have derived form, or not? Answer: it should be said to have derived form. Magical creation, moreover, is of two kinds — one attained through cultivation,

— and one attained by birth. As for cultivation-attained magical creation: if desire-realm-bound, it falls under four sense-fields; if form-realm-bound, it falls under two sense-fields. As for birth-attained magical creation: if desire-realm-bound, it falls under nine sense-fields; if form-realm-bound, it falls under seven sense-fields — since it is by means of dharmas such as these that the transformed body is itself constituted. Should a magical creation be said to possess mind, or to lack mind? Answer: it should be said to lack mind. Yet magical creation is, in fact, of two kinds: one, attained through cultivation, which lacks mind; and one, attained by birth, which possesses mind.

What is meant here is that cultivation-attained magical creation does not depend upon its own mind, but upon its creator's. There are, further, two kinds: one, creating another's body, which lacks mind; and one, creating one's own body, which possesses mind. What is meant here is that creating another's body does not depend upon its own mind, but upon its creator's. As for magically creating another sentient being's own body, this should be understood in exactly the same way as creating one's own body. Should a magical creation be said to be turned by whose mind? Answer: it should be said to be turned by the creator's own mind, since it is through the creator's own mind that expressive activity is given rise to within it. Yet a cultivation-attained magical creation is turned by the creator's own mind, while a birth-attained magical creation is turned by its own mind — this is what is meant here. And, as for creating another's body, this is turned by the creator's own mind, while, as for creating one's own body, this is turned by one's own mind — this, too, is what is meant here, with respect to creating another's own body.

Question: do all magical creations eventually cease? Answer: cultivation-attained magical creations do cease; birth-attained magical creations may or may not cease. That is, when gods, nāgas, yakṣas, and the like magically transform their own bodies, some altered coloration and the like arises, which later ceases, while the being's own underlying body itself remains; and, as for creating another's body, this ceases, while creating one's own body may or may not cease. As for magically creating another sentient being's own body, this should be understood in exactly the same way as one's own body. Question: whatever a magical creation eats — in whose stomach is it digested? Answer: if it is something the creator himself requires and finds fitting to eat, it is digested in the creator's own stomach; if it is something the creator does not himself require or find fitting to eat, it simply remains piled up in one place, like grass or wood. And, if one magically creates food or drink for another sentient being to consume, whether it is digested or not depends entirely upon the creator's own intention.

Question: by what means does a transformed body come to emit smoke, flame, and the like? Answer: through the creator's own power — that is, whenever the creator wishes smoke or flame to arise in a given place,

— a smoke-and-flame-crowned peak arises there, or a smoke-and-flame-wreathed dwelling arises there, and, accordingly, smoke and flame and the rest arise in that place. Question: through what cause does one transformed body burn while another does not, and, further, why does one body burn while its own clothing does not, or its clothing burn while the body does not, or both together, or neither at all? Answer: through the creator's own power — that is, transformed beings, entirely as the creator wishes, either burn or do not burn.

As the sūtra says: the Venerable Dravya-Mallaputra, through his own supernormal power, rose up into open space, and, by means of the fire-element, burned his own body without leaving the slightest ash or residue behind. Question: when that Venerable One's own body was thus burned by fire, was this before his parinirvāṇa, or after it? Answer: those who hold that there is such a thing as a left-behind transformation-body say that the fire arose to burn his body only after his parinirvāṇa — that is, having attained complete mastery over mind and concentration, and about to enter final extinction, he rose by his own spiritual power into open space, and there magically created a bed and seat, together with various kindling, and then, by the power of his own vow, entered the fire-element absorption; and, the very instant the fire had begun to burn, he entered parinirvāṇa —

— and it was on this very account that his body was burned away without leaving the slightest ash behind. Those who hold that there is no such thing as a left-behind transformation-body say instead that the fire arose to burn his body while his own life had not yet been exhausted — that is, having attained complete mastery over mind and concentration, and about to enter final extinction, he rose by his own spiritual power into open space, and there entered the fire-element absorption, causing his own body to die by gradual stages, the fire arising wherever no vital faculty any longer remained, and consuming it there, until, at the very last, only the life-faculty itself still remained, dependent upon something as fine as the tip of a single hair — and only then did he enter parinirvāṇa, whereupon the fire, too, immediately ceased. As for that portion no larger than the tip of a hair, which the fire did not consume, being so fine as to be difficult to perceive, it is simply said that no ash remained at all.

Should the intermediate-state being be said to have great elements, or not? And so on, in full. Question: why, immediately following the discussion of magical creation, does the treatise turn next to explain the intermediate state? Answer: it is simply the intention of the treatise's own author, that this order be followed — and so on, in full. Others say: magical creation and the intermediate-state being are alike extraordinarily subtle, and alike difficult to fully comprehend.

Other masters say: these two are alike bodies made purely of mind. Others say: these two are alike frequently subject to denial by rival schools — that is, the Dṛṣṭāntikas say that magical creation is not truly real, while the Vibhajyavādins deny outright that the intermediate state exists at all. Having first shown, above, that magical creation is genuinely real, the treatise now shows, in turn, that the intermediate state, too, is not non-existent —

— and it is for this reason that the intermediate state is discussed right after magical creation.

Should the intermediate-state being be said to have great elements, or not? Answer: it should be said to have great elements, since no manifest form ever exists apart from the great elements. Should the intermediate-state being be said to have derived form, or not? Answer: it should be said to have derived form — if desire-realm-bound, falling under nine sense-fields; if form-realm-bound, falling under seven sense-fields, since it is by means of dharmas such as these that that body is itself constituted. Should the intermediate-state being be said to possess mind, or to lack mind? Answer: it should be said to possess mind.

Should the intermediate-state being be said to be turned by whose mind? Answer: it should be said to be turned by its own mind, since it is through the power of its own mind that it gives rise to expressive activity. The meaning of the intermediate state is explained in full, exactly as in the Aggregation Nyāsa.

What dharma is meant by "time"? Answer: this is a designation referring to conditioned formations themselves. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to refute a rival doctrine, and to establish our own, correct doctrine.

Namely, the Dṛṣṭāntikas and the Vibhajyavādin masters hold that time and conditioned formations are, in their own substance, entirely distinct from one another — the substance of formations being impermanent, while the substance of time itself is permanent —

— such that impermanent formations merely pass through a permanent time, exactly as fruits are moved about among various containers, or as a person passes through one dwelling after another. It is in order to refute this attachment, and to show that the substance of the three times is simply conditioned formations themselves — formations being impermanent, and time, therefore, likewise impermanent — that this treatise is composed, for reasons such as these.

The meaning of the three times is likewise explained in full, exactly as in the Aggregation Nyāsa.

What dharma is meant by "an eon"? Answer: this is a designation referring to a half-month, a month, a season, or a year. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to explain a sūtra passage — for the sūtra says: there was a certain bhikṣu who came before the Buddha, bowed at his feet, and withdrew to one side, saying to the World-Honored One, "The Buddha constantly speaks of eons — what, exactly, is their measure?" The Buddha said, "Bhikṣu, the measure of an eon is vast and remote beyond anything a count of even a hundred thousand years could convey." The bhikṣu said further, "Is there a simile for it?" The World-Honored One said, "There is — let me now explain it to you. Suppose that, near a city, there stood a single unbroken mass of solid rock, its length, breadth, and height each a full yojana, and suppose that a fine cloth from Kāśī were brushed across it but once every hundred years — by the time that entire mountain had been worn away to nothing, that single eon would still not yet have come to its own end. Bhikṣu, you should know that you yourselves have, through the long night of time, already passed through eons numbering in the countless hundreds of thousands, in hell, among the animals, and among the hungry ghosts —"

"— and among humans and gods as well, undergoing every manner of intense suffering, turning through birth and death without any end yet in sight — how, then, can you remain so much at ease, and not seek liberation?" This sūtra passage is itself the very scripture on which this treatise depends; though it speaks of an eon, it does not analyze what the substance of an eon actually is — it is in order to now provide this very analysis that this treatise is composed. Question: why does this passage speak only of a half-month, a month, a season, and a year as constituting an eon, and not also of an instant, a lava, a muhūrta, or a day-and-night? Answer: it ought properly to have spoken of these as well, and its failure to do so should be understood as a matter left with some further, supplementary account. Others say: this passage cites the coarse in order to include the fine — that is, an instant and the rest are fine, while a half-month and the rest are coarse; in speaking of the coarse, the fine is already understood to have been spoken of as well, since it is by the accumulation of fine periods that a coarse period is itself constituted. Others say:

— this passage cites the near in order to include the far — that is, an eon is near to being constituted by a half-month and the rest, while a half-month and the rest are themselves, in turn, constituted by an instant and the rest — and so, in speaking of the near period, the far period, too, is already understood to have been spoken of.

What is the substance of an eon? Some say: it is the form sense-field. How is this known? As the Prajñapti-śāstra says: at the very beginning of the eon, people's own bodies emitted a constant light of their own, and, on account of their own craving for flavor, this light was extinguished, and darkness arose. At this, a sun appeared in the eastern direction, its own brightness shining forth just as their former light had once done; seeing this, they rejoiced, saying, "The heavenly light has come, has come!" — and it is because the heavenly light had come that this time was called "day." Shortly afterward, the sun set in the west, and darkness arose once more, as before; seeing this, they lamented, saying, "The heavenly light is gone, is gone!" — and it is because the heavenly light had gone that this time was called "night." From this, it is proven that the substance of an eon is form, since an eon's own substance is entirely constituted by the accumulation of days and nights. According to this further account, every state of day and every state of night alike is nothing other than the arising and perishing of the five aggregates, and it is by this that an eon is itself constituted, its own substance likewise being so. Yet, since an eon spans time throughout all three realms alike, it takes the five aggregates, or, where form is absent, the four aggregates, as its own nature.

Having already explained its own nature, we should now explain why it is called an "eon" — what, exactly, is the meaning of the word "eon"? Answer: it is called an eon because it distinguishes periods of time — that is, it distinguishes an instant, a lava, and a muhūrta as periods constituting a day and night; it distinguishes a day-and-night as a period constituting a half-month; and it distinguishes a half-month, a month, and a year as periods constituting an eon — and, since an eon represents the very furthest extreme among all periods of time thus distinguished, it receives this name as its own, comprehensive designation. The grammarians say: it is called an eon because it distinguishes a stage — for why is this? An eon is the very culminating stage among all the distinctions made within conditioned formations.

There are three kinds of eon: the intermediate eon, the formation-and-destruction eon, and the great eon. The intermediate eon, in turn, has three kinds: the decreasing eon, the increasing eon, and the increasing-and-decreasing eon. "Decreasing" refers to human lifespan declining from an immeasurable span down to a mere ten years; "increasing" refers to human lifespan increasing from ten years up to eighty thousand years; "increasing-and-decreasing" refers to human lifespan increasing from ten years up to eighty thousand years, and then decreasing again from eighty thousand years back down to ten years. Among these, there is one decreasing eon, one increasing eon, and eighteen increasing-and-decreasing eons, together making twenty intermediate eons, during which the world takes twenty intermediate eons to form, and, once formed, twenty intermediate eons more to endure — this combined span is called the formation eon. The world then takes twenty intermediate eons to be destroyed, and, once destroyed, twenty intermediate eons more to remain empty — this combined span is called the destruction eon. All eighty intermediate eons together are called a great eon. Within the twenty intermediate eons of formation-and-duration, the first is purely decreasing, the last is purely increasing, and the eighteen in between are each both increasing and decreasing at once. Question: of these three, which lasts the longest? Some say: the decreasing eon lasts longest, the increasing eon is of middling length, and the increasing-and-decreasing eon is briefest of all — for, considering how long the span was during which people's bodies still emitted their own light, compared to how brief the span has been since that light was lost even up to now; how long the span was during which people fed upon the flavor of the earth, compared to how brief the span has been since that flavor was lost even up to now; how long the span was during which people fed upon earth-cakes, compared to how brief the span has been since then; how long the span was during which people fed upon forest vines, compared to how brief the span has been since then; how long the span was during which people fed upon naturally-growing rice, compared to how brief the span has been since then, even up to the present day — it is on this basis that the decreasing eon is held to last the longest of all. According to this further account, the first, purely decreasing eon, the last, purely increasing eon, and the eighteen increasing-and-decreasing eons in between — all twenty of these intermediate eons are, in fact, equal to one another in their own measure; it is only during a decreasing eon that a Buddha ever appears in the world.

During a purely increasing eon, a wheel-turning king appears in the world; during an increasing-and-decreasing eon, a solitary-realized buddha appears in the world.

Question: the Prajñapti-śāstra says that, among humans, the day and night of the four continents are distinguished by the sun and moon's own motion — how, then, are day and night known among the desire-realm gods? Answer: they are known by corresponding signs — that is, in that heaven, whenever the lotus called padma closes and the lotus called utpala opens, the birds grow sparse in their song, a cool wind rises swiftly, delight in play grows scant, and fondness for sleep increases — this is known as the time called "night." And whenever the utpala closes and the padma opens, the birds sing in harmony, a gentle breeze rises slowly, delight in play grows abundant, and fondness for sleep grows scant — this is known as the time called "day."