The Measure of a Moment, and the Body's Own Undoing

Fifth Aggregate, the Great Elements: the Full-Vision Nyāsa, Chapter Three, Part Three. What dharma is meant by the arising, abiding, and perishing phases of mind? Answer: this is a designation referring to the moment (kṣaṇa), the lava, and the muhūrta. Question: should this not have been explained before the earlier discussion of the half-month and the rest? For why is this? Since the kṣaṇa and the rest accumulate into a day and night, a day and night accumulates into a half-month, a month, and so on, and a half-month, a month, and so on accumulate into an eon — why, then, does the passage explain the coarse first and the fine only afterward? Answer: it is simply the intention of the treatise's own author, that this order be followed — and so on, in full. Some say: Abhidharma ought to proceed by seeking out characteristics, not by strict sequence — so long as this does not contradict the proper form of the Dharma, whatever order is followed incurs no fault. Other masters say: this treatise deliberately explains the coarse first and the fine only afterward, so that students may enter the subject by gradual stages. Here, the "arising phase" refers to birth; the "abiding phase" refers to aging; the "perishing phase" refers to impermanence. Conditioned dharmas have three boundary-measures: time, form, and name. Time's smallest unit is a single kṣaṇa; form's smallest unit is a single ultimate atom; name's smallest unit is a single syllable — and it is by accumulating these that progressively larger boundary-measures are named, exactly as explained in the Aggregation Nyāsa.

Question: how, then, can the measure of a kṣaṇa itself be known? Some say: as the Prajñapti-śāstra explains — it is like a middle-aged woman spinning fine wool thread,

— and shaking out the fine wool-fibers, neither too long nor too short: this measure is called a tatkṣaṇa. This is not meant to describe the length of the wool-thread itself, but rather says that whatever amount of wool-fiber emerges from between the fingers in a single motion constitutes one tatkṣaṇa. Question: since the question concerned the kṣaṇa, why does the passage cite the Prajñapti-śāstra's own account of the tatkṣaṇa's measure instead? Answer: this cites the coarse in order to reveal the fine, since the fine is difficult to know and cannot be shown directly. That is: one hundred twenty kṣaṇas make one tatkṣaṇa; sixty tatkṣaṇas make one lava — this comprises seven thousand two hundred kṣaṇas.

Thirty lavas make one muhūrta — this comprises two hundred sixteen thousand kṣaṇas. Thirty muhūrtas make one day and night — this comprises just under six million five hundred thousand kṣaṇas. This body of the five aggregates, in the span of a single day and night, passes through birth-and-perishing, impermanence, this very many times over. Some say: this figure is still too coarse to be the true measure of a kṣaṇa — according to my own view, in the time it takes a strong man to snap his fingers once, sixty-four kṣaṇas pass. Others say: not so — according to my own view, it is like two strong men each pulling and snapping many fine threads of Kāśī cloth at once: however many threads snap, that many kṣaṇas pass in that same time. Others say: not so — according to my own view, it is like two strong men gripping and stretching taut many fine threads of Kāśī cloth, while a single strong man, wielding a well-forged, sharp blade from the land of Cīna, swiftly cuts through them: however many threads are cut, that many kṣaṇas pass in that same time. Others say: even this is still too coarse a figure, not the true measure of a kṣaṇa — the World-Honored One himself never actually stated the true measure of a kṣaṇa. How is this known? As 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, "How is it that the formations of a lifespan arise and perish with such swiftness?" The Buddha said, "I am able to explain this, yet you would not be able to understand it." The bhikṣu said, "Is there, perhaps, a simile that could show me?" The Buddha said, "There is — let me now explain it to you. Suppose four skilled archers, each holding bow and arrow, stood back to back, intending to shoot in each of the four directions at once, and a swift-footed man came and said to them, 'You should all release your arrows at the very same moment — I am able to catch every one of them before any falls to the ground.' What do you think — is this not swift?" The bhikṣu said to the Buddha, "Extremely swift, World-Honored One." The Buddha said, "That man's own swiftness does not match that of the earth-treading yakṣas; the earth-treading yakṣas' own swiftness does not match that of the sky-treading yakṣas; the sky-treading yakṣas' own swiftness does not match that of the Four Great Kings' own retinue of gods; those gods' own swiftness does not match that of the sun and moon's own discs; the swiftness of these two discs does not match that of the firm-moving deity who guides the very chariots of the sun and moon. Each of these, in turn, surpassing the one before in swiftness — and yet the arising and perishing of the formations of a lifespan is swifter still than even the swiftest of these, its own kṣaṇa-flow never pausing even for an instant." From this, it is known that the World-Honored One never actually stated the true measure of a kṣaṇa. Question: why did the World-Honored One not explain to others the true measure of a kṣaṇa? Answer: because there is no sentient being capable of comprehending it. Question: could Śāriputra himself, then, also not have known it? Answer: though he was indeed capable of knowing it, it would have served him no purpose, and it was for this reason that it was not explained — for the Buddha never teaches the Dharma in vain.

A year has twelve months, and the waxing and waning of day and night can be broadly divided into two seasons, since the waning and the waxing each span six months; yet day and night wax and wane in opposite directions from one another, and, though each has these same two seasons, there are not, on that account, four distinct positions. The day's and night's own waxing and waning each proceed by a single lava per month, in the sense that thirty lavas make one muhūrta. There are four distinct classes of relative day-and-night length: the longest waxing position never exceeds eighteen, the shortest waning position is only twelve, and the two positions of equal day-and-night each have fifteen — that is, on the eighth day of the bright half of the month Kārttika, day and night each measure fifteen muhūrtas; from this point onward, the day wanes and the night waxes, each by one lava at a time,

— up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Mārgaśīrṣa, when the night measures sixteen muhūrtas and the day fourteen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Pauṣa, when the night measures seventeen and the day thirteen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Māgha, when the night measures eighteen and the day twelve. From this point onward, the night wanes and the day waxes, each by one lava at a time: up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Phālguna, the night measures seventeen and the day thirteen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Caitra, the night measures sixteen and the day fourteen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Vaiśākha, day and night each measure fifteen. From this point onward, the night again wanes and the day waxes, each by one lava at a time: up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Jyaiṣṭha, the night measures fourteen and the day sixteen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Āṣāḍha, the night measures thirteen and the day seventeen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Śrāvaṇa, the night measures twelve and the day eighteen. From this point onward, the day again wanes and the night waxes, each by one lava at a time: up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Bhādrapada, the night measures thirteen and the day seventeen; up through the eighth day of the bright half of the month Āśvayuja, the night measures fourteen and the day sixteen — and so, once more, up to the eighth day of the bright half of the month Kārttika, day and night stand equal again. This is a brief account of the boundary-measures of time.

Question: how, further, can the measure of the ultimate atom itself be known? Answer: it should be understood that the ultimate atom is the very finest form there is — incapable of being cut, severed, broken, shattered, pierced, or bored through; incapable of being seized or released, ridden upon or trodden upon; neither long nor short, neither square nor round, neither upright nor askew, neither high nor low; possessing no smaller portion within it capable of further division; incapable of being seen, incapable of being heard, incapable of being smelled or tasted, incapable of being touched — and it is on this account that it is called the "ultimate atom," the very finest form there is. Seven of these ultimate atoms make one "minute mote" — the finest form capable of being apprehended by the eye and eye-consciousness together.

This can be seen only by three kinds of eye — first, the divine eye; second, the eye of a wheel-turning king; third, the eye of a bodhisattva dwelling in his own final existence. Seven minute motes make one "copper mote." Others say: seven of these make one "water mote," and seven copper motes make one water mote — others say: seven of these make one copper mote. Seven water motes make one "rabbit-down mote." Others say: seven copper motes make one rabbit-down mote. Seven rabbit-down motes make one "sheep-wool mote." Seven sheep-wool motes make one "ox-hair mote." Seven ox-hair motes make one "sunbeam-drifting mote." Seven of these sunbeam-motes make one louse-egg. Seven louse-eggs make one louse. Seven lice make one grain of barley. Seven barley-grains make one finger-joint. Twenty-four finger-joints make one cubit. Four cubits make one bow-length. A place five hundred bow-lengths from a village is called a "forest-dwelling place"; beyond this is called a "remote place." Five hundred bow-lengths make one krośa in the kingdom of Magadha, but only half a krośa in the northern regions — for why is this? The land of Magadha is level and flat, so that, though close to a village, its own sound does not carry there; the northern lands rise and fall in elevation, so that sound carries even from far away — and it is for this reason that the northern krośa is the larger of the two. Eight krośas make one yojana. The people of Jambudvīpa stand three and a half cubits tall, though some exceed this; the people of Videha stand eight cubits tall; the people of Godānīya stand sixteen cubits tall; the people of Uttarakuru stand thirty-two cubits tall. The gods of the Four Great Kings' own retinue stand one-quarter krośa tall; the Thirty-Three Gods stand half a krośa tall; Śakra, Lord of the Gods, stands one full krośa tall; the Yāma gods stand three-quarters of a krośa tall; the Tuṣita gods stand a full krośa tall; the Nirmāṇarati gods stand one krośa plus one-quarter krośa tall; the Paranirmita-vaśavartin gods stand one and a half krośas tall; the Brahma-Pariṣadya gods stand half a yojana tall; the Brahma-Purohita gods stand one full yojana tall;

the Great Brahma gods stand one and a half yojanas tall; the Parīttābha gods stand two yojanas tall; the Apramāṇābha gods stand four yojanas tall; the Ābhāsvara gods stand eight yojanas tall; the Parīttaśubha gods stand sixteen yojanas tall; the Apramāṇaśubha gods stand thirty-two yojanas tall; the Śubhakṛtsna gods stand sixty-four yojanas tall; the Anabhraka gods stand one hundred twenty-five yojanas tall; the Puṇyaprasava gods stand two hundred fifty yojanas tall; the Bṛhatphala gods stand five hundred yojanas tall.

The Asaṃjñisattva gods' own bodies likewise measure this same height. The Avṛha gods stand one thousand yojanas tall; the Atapa gods stand two thousand yojanas tall; the Sudṛśa gods stand four thousand yojanas tall; the Sudarśana gods stand eight thousand yojanas tall; the Akaniṣṭha gods stand sixteen thousand yojanas tall. Such, then, are the boundary-measures of form. Is there such a thing as a dharma arising from four conditions? And so on, in full.

Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to refute those who claim that conditions possess no genuine substance of their own, and to show that the nature of every condition is, in fact, genuinely real — it is for this reason that this treatise is composed.

Dharmas arising from conditions are of three kinds: first, form; second, mind and its accompanying mental factors; third, conditioned formations dissociated from mind. Form, in turn, is of three kinds —

— wholesome, defiled, and neutral-and-indeterminate; mind and its accompanying mental factors, and formations dissociated from mind, are likewise so divided. Here, wholesome form, together with form not included among the ripening-results, along with neutral-indeterminate form, when arising, has one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition;

— the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the same-class cause. And, at the very moment such form perishes, it likewise has one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When defiled form arises, it likewise has one full condition and one partial condition —

— exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the universally-active cause. And, at the moment such form perishes, it likewise has one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When ripening-result form arises, it likewise has one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the ripening cause. And, at the moment such form perishes, it likewise has one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon it — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When wholesome mind and its mental factors, and mind and mental factors not included among the ripening-results, together with neutral-indeterminate mind and mental factors, arise, they have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the immediately-preceding condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the same-class cause. And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the object-condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the co-existent cause and the associated cause. When defiled mind and its mental factors arise, they have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the immediately-preceding condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the universally-active cause. And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the object-condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the co-existent cause and the associated cause. When ripening-result mind and its mental factors arise, they have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the immediately-preceding condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the ripening cause. And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them —

— the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the object-condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the co-existent cause and the associated cause. Among wholesome formations dissociated from mind, when the attainment of non-perception and the attainment of cessation arise, they have two full conditions and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the two full conditions being the predominant condition and the immediately-preceding condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the same-class cause. And, at the moment these perish, they have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When the remaining wholesome formations, and those neutral-indeterminate formations dissociated from mind not included among the ripening-results, arise, they have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the same-class cause. And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When defiled formations dissociated from mind arise, they have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the universally-active cause. And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely the co-existent cause. When ripening-result formations dissociated from mind arise, they have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition, namely both the same-class cause and the ripening cause.

And, at the moment these perish, they likewise have one full condition and one partial condition exercising an actual function upon them — the one full condition being the predominant condition, the one partial condition being the causal condition,

— namely the co-existent cause. This, then, is what is meant, in brief, by this treatise's own account. Is there such a thing as a dharma arising from four conditions? Answer: yes, there is — namely, every kind of mind and its accompanying mental factors. Question: when such a dharma arises, it has only two-and-a-half conditions exercising an actual function upon it — how, then, can it be said to arise from four conditions?

Answer: the arising-phase and the perishing-phase are spoken of together as "four conditions," since, from the moment a thing has arisen until it has not yet perished, this entire span is, taken together, called its own "arising." Question: at the moment of arising and at the moment of perishing, each has two-and-a-half conditions —

— so that, if these are spoken of together, there ought to be five conditions in all — why, then, does the passage speak of only four? Answer: speaking according to kind, there are never more than four kinds altogether — that is, one condition functions only at the moment of arising, one condition functions only at the moment of perishing, and two conditions function at both moments alike — and hence, speaking of them together, four are named. Is there such a thing as a dharma arising from three conditions? Answer: yes, there is — namely, the attainment of non-perception and the attainment of cessation. Question: when such a dharma arises, it has only two-and-a-half conditions exercising an actual function upon it — how, then, can it be said to arise from three conditions? Answer: the arising-phase and the perishing-phase are spoken of together as "three conditions," since, from the moment a thing has arisen until it has not yet perished, this entire span is, taken together, called its own "arising." Question: at the moment of arising, there are two-and-a-half conditions; at the moment of perishing, there is one-and-a-half — so that, if these are spoken of together, there ought to be four conditions in all — why, then, does the passage speak of only three? Answer: speaking according to kind, there are never more than three kinds altogether — that is, one condition functions only at the moment of arising,

— and two conditions function at both moments alike — and hence, speaking of them together, three are named. Is there such a thing as a dharma arising from two conditions? Answer: yes, there is — namely, every formation dissociated from mind other than the attainment of non-perception and the attainment of cessation, together with every form. Question: when such a dharma arises, it has only one-and-a-half conditions exercising an actual function upon it — how, then, can it be said to arise from two conditions? Answer: the arising-phase and the perishing-phase are spoken of together as "two conditions," since, from the moment a thing has arisen until it has not yet perished, this entire span is, taken together, called its own "arising." Question: at the moment of arising, there is one-and-a-half condition; at the moment of perishing, there is one-and-a-half condition — so that there ought to be three conditions in all — why, then, does the passage speak of only two? Answer: speaking according to kind, there are never more than two kinds altogether — that is, two conditions function equally at both the moment of arising and the moment of perishing. Is there such a thing as a dharma arising from a single condition alone? Answer: no, there is not. Why is this so? Because every conditioned dharma's own nature is weak and inferior; it does not depend upon itself alone, but depends upon something else; it possesses no power of its own function, and is not self-sufficient. Among such conditioned dharmas, the very smallest units are a single kṣaṇa and a single ultimate atom. At any given dharma's own phase of arising or perishing, setting aside its own self-substance, every other dharma serves as its predominant condition; and, at the very phase of its own perishing, its own arising and the rest serve as its co-existent cause — and it is on this account that this is called the causal condition. It is on this basis that it is definitely established that nothing ever arises from a single condition alone.

Here, the causal condition subsumes every conditioned dharma; the immediately-preceding condition subsumes the past and present — excepting an arhat's own very last cluster of mind — together with the remaining mind and its mental factors; the object-condition and the predominant condition subsume every dharma whatsoever. Further, the causal condition subsumes the five aggregates; the immediately-preceding condition subsumes a portion of the four formless aggregates; the object-condition and the predominant condition subsume both the five aggregates and what lies beyond the aggregates. Further, the causal condition subsumes the three times; the immediately-preceding condition subsumes a portion of two of the three times; the object-condition and the predominant condition subsume the three times, as well as what lies beyond time altogether. Question: among these four conditions, which is superior, and which is inferior? Some say: the causal condition is superior, the rest inferior, since it is through the cause's own increase that arising and perishing occur at all. Others say:

— the immediately-preceding condition is superior, the rest inferior, since it alone is capable of opening wide the very gateway to the noble path. Others say: the object-condition is superior, the rest inferior, since every mind and mental factor depends upon it as its own support. Others say: the predominant condition is superior, the rest inferior, since the arising and perishing of every dharma whatsoever is never obstructed by it. According to this final account, each is superior, and each is inferior, in its own distinct function and capacity. Question: do the truths, taken as an object-condition for patient acceptance and for wisdom, bear any closer or more distant relation to the three vehicles respectively? Answer: there is no such partiality of closeness or superiority, exactly as with a heap of beans and the like — it is simply on account of patient acceptance and wisdom themselves being of upper, middle, or lower grade that the object taken is correspondingly described as differing in these three ways.

It is like three strong men shooting at a firm target — Mahānagna's arrow strikes the very center yet fails to pierce through; Praskandin's arrow pierces through, yet does not pass entirely beyond it; Nārāyaṇa's own arrow pierces through and passes entirely beyond, going on to bore through still further objects — not because the target itself possesses any difference in hardness or softness, but simply because the archers' own strength differs — and it is for this reason that the target, too, is spoken of as differing accordingly.

Question: through the deficiency of which condition does one enter parinirvāṇa? Some say: the causal condition — since one turns through birth-and-death by the power of the causal condition, and, once the causal condition is cut off, birth-and-death is likewise cut off. Others say: the immediately-preceding condition — since, once an arhat's own very last mind fails to continue, parinirvāṇa follows. Others say: the object-condition — since, once no further object of cognition arises, no further mind or mental factor follows this last one, and parinirvāṇa follows. Others say: the predominant condition — since, after an arhat's own very last mind, there remains nothing left unobstructed, and so this continuity is simply cut off. According to this final account, it is through the deficiency of all four conditions together that one enters parinirvāṇa —

— since, at the time of parinirvāṇa, the dharmas subsumed under all four conditions alike exercise no further function whatsoever within that being's own continuity, and it is on this account that parinirvāṇa occurs.

What is a dharma concordant with cause? And so on, in full. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to refute those foolish with respect to concordant dharmas, who hold that the substance of a concordant dharma is not genuinely real, and to show that the substance of a concordant dharma is indeed genuinely real — it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. On this point, some say: this passage relies upon only a single cause in composing its treatise — namely, the associated cause — since the passage itself speaks of "concordance." Interpreting the text according to this intention: what is a dharma concordant with cause? Answer: every kind of mind and its accompanying mental factors — this is the self-substance of the associated cause,

— concordant with the self-substance of the associated cause, and hence called "concordant with cause." What is a dharma not concordant with cause? Answer: form, the unconditioned, and formations dissociated from mind. Question: since form and the rest are not themselves the self-substance of the associated cause, how can they be said to be "not concordant with cause"? Answer: though form and the rest are not the self-substance of the associated cause, they are, nonetheless, not concordant with the self-substance of the associated cause, and hence are said to be "not concordant with cause" — what fault could possibly follow from this?

What is a dharma both concordant with cause and not concordant with cause? Answer: a portion of mind and its mental factors is concordant with cause, and a portion is not concordant with cause. The portion concordant with cause refers to itself in relation to another; the portion not concordant with cause refers to itself in relation to itself. What is a dharma neither concordant with cause nor not concordant with cause? Answer: a portion of mind and its mental factors is neither concordant with cause nor not concordant with cause. The portion neither concordant with cause refers to itself in relation to itself; the portion neither not concordant with cause refers to itself in relation to another. Others say: this passage relies upon two causes in composing its treatise — namely, the associated cause and the co-existent cause — since these two causes are forever inseparable from the dharmas they concern. Others say: this passage relies upon three causes — namely, the associated cause, the co-existent cause, and the same-class cause — since these three causes pervade all three moral natures alike. Others say: this passage relies upon four causes — excepting the same-class cause and the universally-active cause — since these four causes pervade all three times alike. Others say: this passage relies upon five causes — excepting the efficient cause — since it alone pervades the unconditioned, and is not a genuinely close or superior relation. Others say: this passage relies upon all six causes, since the term "cause" used in this passage is meant in its comprehensive sense. Yet a concordant dharma may, in fact, possess the self-substance of all six causes at once, or possess only the self-substance of five causes, or possess only the self-substance of four causes. Which dharmas possess the self-substance of all six causes at once? Namely, unwholesome, universally-active mind and its mental factors. Which possess only the self-substance of five causes? Namely, unwholesome, non-universally-active mind and mental factors; obscured-yet-neutral, universally-active mind and mental factors; and wholesome, contaminated mind and mental factors. Which possess only the self-substance of four causes? Namely, obscured-yet-neutral, non-universally-active mind and mental factors, together with unobscured-neutral mind and mental factors,

— and uncontaminated mind and mental factors. Interpreting the text according to this further intention: what is a dharma concordant with cause? Answer: every kind of mind and its accompanying mental factors — that is, a dharma possessing the self-substance of six causes is concordant with another dharma possessing the self-substance of six causes; a dharma possessing the self-substance of five causes is concordant with another dharma possessing the self-substance of five causes; a dharma possessing the self-substance of four causes is concordant with another dharma possessing the self-substance of four causes — and it is on this account that this is called "concordant with cause." The remaining three questions and answers should be understood accordingly, following the pattern already given above.

What is a dharma that takes an object which itself has an object? And so on, in full. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to refute those foolish with respect to the nature of the object-condition, who hold that the object-condition possesses no genuinely real dharma of its own, and to show that the substance of the object-condition is indeed genuinely real — it is for this reason that this treatise is composed. What is a dharma that takes an object which itself has an object?

Answer: mental-consciousness, together with its associated dharmas, when it takes mind and mental factors as its own object — since there exists, for this consciousness, an object that itself possesses its own further object, this is called "a dharma that takes an object which itself has an object" — exactly as a sighted person sees another sighted person, and that other sighted person, in turn, has something further that he himself sees; a dharma taking an object which itself has an object should be understood in just the same way. What is a dharma that takes an object which itself lacks an object? Answer: the five sense-consciousnesses together with their associated dharmas, or mental-consciousness together with its associated dharmas, when taking form, the unconditioned, or formations dissociated from mind as their own object — since there exists, for this consciousness, no object that itself possesses any further object of its own, this is called "a dharma that takes an object which itself lacks an object" — exactly as a sighted person sees a person born blind, and that blind person has nothing further that he himself sees; a dharma taking an object which itself lacks an object should be understood in just the same way. What is a dharma that takes an object which both has and lacks an object? Answer: mental-consciousness, together with its associated dharmas, when it takes mind and mental factors, as well as form, the unconditioned, and formations dissociated from mind, together as its own object — since there exists, for this consciousness, both an object possessing its own further object and an object lacking any further object of its own, this is called "a dharma that takes an object which both has and lacks an object" —

— exactly as a sighted person sees both another sighted person and a person born blind — that other sighted person has something further that he himself sees, while that blind person has nothing further that he himself sees; a dharma taking an object which both has and lacks an object should be understood in just the same way. There is a further account, holding that this third case is simply a combination of the first two, with no distinct substance of its own — but this is unreasonable, since it contradicts the base treatise, which itself says that a dharma taking an object which itself has an object is a conditioned dharma —

— toward which the underlying tendencies increase by taking it as an object; a dharma taking an object which itself lacks an object is one toward which every kind of underlying tendency alike increases by taking it as an object; a dharma taking an object which both has and lacks an object is a conditioned dharma toward which the underlying tendencies increase by taking it as an object. A dharma that neither takes an object which itself has an object, nor takes an object which itself lacks an object, is a dharma, contaminated in its object, toward which the underlying tendencies increase by taking it as an object. Yet there does exist a mental-consciousness, together with its associated dharmas, which, within a single instant, takes as its object, altogether at once, both what has an object and what lacks an object — and it is for this reason that the account given earlier is the better one. What is a dharma that neither takes an object which itself has an object, nor takes an object which itself lacks an object? Answer: form, the unconditioned, and formations dissociated from mind — since these dharmas do not themselves take, as their own object, anything either possessing or lacking a further object, they are called "a dharma that neither takes an object which itself has an object, nor takes an object which itself lacks an object" — exactly as a person born blind has no sight whatsoever of anything at all; this, too, should be understood in just the same way.

As the World-Honored One says: "Lacking any perception of form within, one contemplates form without," and so on, in full. Question: why compose this treatise? Answer: in order to analyze the meaning of a sūtra passage — for the sūtra says, "Lacking any perception of form within, one contemplates form without," yet, though it says this much, it does not itself analyze it — what does it mean to lack any perception of form within, while contemplating form without? And so on, in full. It is in order to now provide this analysis that this treatise is composed. What does it mean to lack any perception of form within, while contemplating form without? Answer: there is a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is about to die; having died, it will be borne upon a bier; having been borne upon a bier, it will be carried to the charnel ground; having been carried to the charnel ground, it will be laid upon the earth; having been laid upon the earth, it will be devoured by every manner of worm." Having thus been devoured by every manner of worm, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own inner body at all, but sees only the worms without — this is called "lacking any perception of form within, while contemplating form without." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, but sees only the marks of the worms without, harming and consuming his own inner body.

There is, further, a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is about to die; having died, it will be borne upon a bier; having been borne upon a bier, it will be carried to the charnel ground; having been carried to the charnel ground, it will be laid upon a pyre of firewood; having been laid upon the pyre, it will be consumed by fire." Having thus been consumed by fire, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own inner body at all, but sees only the fire without — this, too, is called "lacking any perception of form within, while contemplating form without." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, but sees only the mark of the fire without, harming and consuming his own inner body. There is, further, a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is exceedingly insubstantial and false — like snow, or a ball of snow; like brown sugar, or a lump of brown sugar; like fresh or clarified butter, or a ball of such butter." Roasted by fire, it will melt away; having melted away, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own inner body at all, but sees only the fire without — this, too, is called "lacking any perception of form within, while contemplating form without." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, but sees only the mark of the fire without, harming and consuming his own inner body. Here, the simile of snow, or a ball of snow, refers to the yogic practitioners of the northern regions; the simile of brown sugar, or a lump of brown sugar, refers to the yogic practitioners of the southern regions; the simile of fresh or clarified butter, or a ball of such butter, refers to yogic practitioners everywhere alike. Question: at the very time one gives rise to the perception lacking any inner form, does one, at that very same time, also contemplate the outer form? Or does one, at that time, merely contemplate the outer form, without giving rise to the perception lacking any inner form? And, if either is granted, what fault follows? If, at the time one gives rise to the perception lacking any inner form, one also, at that very time, contemplates the outer form, how could a single moment of awareness fail to produce two distinct kinds of understanding? — for, if so, a single moment of awareness would then come to possess multiple distinct substances. But if, at that time, one merely contemplates the outer form, without giving rise to the perception lacking any inner form, then how is this very passage's own statement, "lacking any perception of form within, contemplating form without," to be reconciled? Answer: it should be said that, at that time, one merely contemplates the outer form, without giving rise to the perception lacking any inner form. Question: if so, then how is this passage's own statement, "lacking any perception of form within, contemplating form without," to be reconciled? Answer: this is spoken according to the practitioner's own underlying intention — that is, the meditator holds this very intention:

"I shall, in this way, lack any perception of form within, and contemplate form without" — and it is according to this intention that the passage speaks, even though, at that actual time, one merely contemplates the outer form alone. Others say: this is spoken with reference to the practitioner's own earlier, discriminating mental image — that is, the yogic practitioner first gives rise to a discriminating mental image of this kind: "I shall, in just this way, lack any inner perception of form and contemplate an outer form" — and, when actually cultivating this contemplation, he merely contemplates the outer form alone. Others say: this passage is spoken with reference to the completion of the preparatory practice — that is, "lacking any perception of form within" refers to the very time of this wholesome root's own preparatory practice, while "contemplating form without" refers to the time of this wholesome root's own completion — it is not that both understandings occur at a single moment. Others say: this passage is spoken with reference to the arrival of their respective meanings — that is, when the meaning of "lacking inner form-perception" arrives, the meaning of "contemplating outer form" has already arrived as well — it is not that a single moment of awareness gives rise to two distinct kinds of understanding. Others say: "lacking inner form-perception" refers to what the contemplation depends upon, while "contemplating outer form" refers to what the contemplation actually takes as its object — it is not that two distinct understandings arise together with respect to a single object. Other masters say: at the very time one gives rise to the perception lacking any inner form, one likewise, at that same time, contemplates the outer form. Question: if so, then how could a single moment of awareness fail to produce two distinct kinds of understanding? Answer: though it does indeed give rise to two distinct understandings, these do not contradict one another, and hence no fault follows. This account, however, is unreasonable, since the two characteristics of presence and absence are mutually contradictory by their own nature — and hence the account given earlier is the better one.

As the World-Honored One says: "There is the elimination of form-perception," and so on, in full. Question: why compose this further treatise? Answer: it is simply the intention of the treatise's own author, that this order be followed — and so on, in full. Others say: it is in order to analyze the meaning of a sūtra passage — for the sūtra speaks of "the elimination of form-perception," yet does not explain it in full; it is in order to now explain it fully that this treatise is composed. What is meant by the elimination of form-perception? Answer: there is a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is about to die; having died, it will be borne upon a bier; having been borne upon a bier, it will be carried to the charnel ground; having been carried to the charnel ground, it will be laid upon the earth; having been laid upon the earth, it will be devoured by every manner of worm." Having thus been devoured by every manner of worm, these various worms will themselves in turn disperse —

— and, once dispersed, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own body at all, nor does he any longer perceive the worms either — this is called "the elimination of form-perception." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, and, further, no longer perceives the marks of the worms without that had harmed and consumed his own inner body either. There is, further, a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is about to die; having died, it will be borne upon a bier; having been borne upon a bier, it will be carried to the charnel ground; having been carried to the charnel ground, it will be laid upon a pyre of firewood; having been laid upon the pyre, it will be consumed by fire." Having thus been consumed by fire, this very cremation-fire will itself in turn be extinguished —

— and, once extinguished, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own body at all, nor does he any longer perceive the fire either — this is called "the elimination of form-perception." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, and, further, no longer perceives the mark of the fire without that had harmed and consumed his own inner body either. There is, further, a bhikṣu who gives rise to a resolved conviction of this kind: "Now, this body of mine is exceedingly insubstantial and false — like snow, or a ball of snow; like brown sugar, or a lump of brown sugar; like fresh or clarified butter, or a ball of such butter." Roasted by fire, it will melt away; having melted away, this very melting-fire will itself in turn be extinguished — and, once extinguished, he no longer, in the end, perceives his own body at all, nor does he any longer perceive the fire either — this, too, is called "the elimination of form-perception." That is, through the power of his own earlier, sustained conviction, he no longer perceives the mark of his own body, and, further, no longer perceives the mark of the fire without that had harmed and consumed his own inner body either. As with the three similes of the snow-ball and the rest, so too, according to region, should the corresponding distinctions be understood, as explained above.

Question: where has such a yogic practitioner ever actually witnessed marks of this kind, that he should now contemplate them in this way? Answer: it is because he has, at some earlier time, served as an attendant to the sick alongside a fellow practitioner of the holy life, and has thereby witnessed a bhikṣu whose own great elements had fallen into disorder, who had ceased all eating and drinking, groaning in pain, and who, though treated with medicine, grew only worse, until, gradually failing, his sweat pouring out violently, his breath coming in short, urgent gasps, his life was spent within moments — and his body was then bound to a bier and carried off, his corpse laid out upon it.

His fellow students, grieving bitterly, escorted him to the burial ground. If, at the place they arrived, firewood was hard to come by, they simply laid the body in a pit and, sorrowful, took their leave; returning again some days later, they would find the corpse already devoured by foxes, wolves, owls, vultures, crows, magpies, and starving dogs — and, glancing again after only a short while more, they would find the flesh entirely gone from the bones, and, in but a moment, the bones themselves scattered in every direction, the place left utterly still and silent. If, on the other hand, firewood was readily available, they would instead pile up wood and lay the body upon it, burning it with fire — and, in but a short while, everything was consumed, the fire soon extinguished, leaving nothing whatsoever, still and silent. Having thus carefully taken hold of marks of this kind, that yogic practitioner would swiftly return to his own dwelling, wash his feet, spread his seat, sit cross-legged, straighten his body and mind, freeing himself from any distress, and set aside every hindrance — and, being now capable of this, he calls to mind the marks he had earlier taken hold of, and, through the power of his own resolved conviction, envisions his own body undergoing, in due sequence, all the very marks he had previously witnessed. If he had never actually served as an attendant to the sick, he might instead, at some other time, have witnessed a ball of snow and the like gradually melted away by fire, until, in the end, nothing further remained to be seen — and, having taken hold of this mark, he then, through the power of his own resolved conviction, envisions his own body undergoing, in due sequence, all the marks he had previously witnessed. It is on account of causes such as these that yogic practitioners give rise to this resolved conviction with respect to their own bodies. Question: given that these stages of contemplation differ in this way, to which of the various gates of contemplation do they respectively belong? Answer: this is the elimination of form-perception, together with its own preparatory practice, and is subsumed under this preparatory practice — that is, the stage of neither perceiving the body nor perceiving the worms or fire is subsumed under the final stage, the elimination of form-perception itself; the stage of not perceiving the body, yet still perceiving the worms or fire, is subsumed under the preparatory practice for the elimination of form-perception; and the stage of still perceiving the body, while also perceiving the worms or fire, is subsumed under this same preparatory practice. Some say: this is instead subsumed under the elimination of form-perception together with the second of the two initial liberations — that is, the stage of neither perceiving the body nor perceiving the worms or fire —

— is the elimination of form-perception itself; the stage of not perceiving the body, yet still perceiving the worms or fire, is the second liberation; and the stage of still perceiving the body, while also perceiving the worms or fire,

— is the first liberation. Other masters say: these stages reveal the three wholesome roots — that is, the stage of neither perceiving the body nor perceiving the worms or fire reveals the upper grade;

— the stage of not perceiving the body, yet still perceiving the worms or fire, reveals the middle grade; and the stage of still perceiving the body, while also perceiving the worms or fire, reveals the lower grade.