The Heavens, the Ages of the World, and the Sky Above

The Tathāgata manifested his traces according to conditions, expounding the teaching according to each being's capacity — reaching even nāgas and spirits, not only gods and men. His transformative activity opened with Kauṇḍinya and closed with Subhadra. The resulting texts piled up by the tens of thousands, filling the great-thousandfold world, so vast that even carrying them from west to east, one could hardly study them exhaustively. As with Liu Xiang's collation of the imperial library, profound sayings had long lain hidden; as with Emperor Ming of Han's dream, spiritual proofs grew ever clearer. From that time on, translators succeeded one another in an unbroken line, and though the profound scriptures of the Three Baskets had already been roughly covered, the miscellaneous sayings of the nine divisions had not yet been sorted and gathered by category.

The present Emperor, matching the level of the Perfectly Enlightened in his equal-reaching wisdom, has broadly promoted the teaching of the sūtras for the benefit of both dharma and laity, extensively drawing in scholars of antiquity and gathering up neglected writings from every side. In this way scattered verses and dispersed chapters have again and again come to light, and what has now been recovered is already a great deal. His sacred intent held that as the semblance dharma sinks ever further into decline, faith and joy in it grow ever weaker, and that the texts, being so vast and rambling, few readers can master them comprehensively. Therefore, in the seventh year of Tianjian [508 CE], he decreed that the monk Sengmin and others should thoroughly excerpt the various scriptures, bringing to light their profound meaning and drawing together their essential purport, in language concise and sense clear — and this already brought great benefit to earnest students. But the rare and extraordinary passages remained scattered across many separate texts, and the seldom-heard secret teachings had not yet been singled out and made plain. Then, at the end of the fifteenth year [516 CE],

he decreed that Bǎochàng should excerpt the essential matters of sūtra and vinaya, arranging them all by category, so that readers might grasp them with ease. He further decreed that the monk Sengháo of Xin'an Monastery and the monk Fashēng of Xinghuang Monastery, among others, should assist in checking and reading the material. In this way, drawing broadly on the scriptural canon and selecting out its essential and secret matters, and consulting the imperial mind above to fix the final plan, the work came to fifty fascicles in all, with a further five fascicles of table of contents, divided into five bound sets. It is named the Jīng Lǜ Yì Xiàng — A Comparative Compendium of Sūtra and Vinaya — so that students to come may attain broad learning without labor.

The Four Heavenly Kings dwell on the four cornices of Sumeru, each cornice forty-two thousand yojanas high (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra says: Sumeru's four sides all bear the name Yugandhara, each forty-two thousand yojanas high, and the Four Heavenly Kings govern from atop them). The Heavenly King of the East is named Dhṛtarāṣṭra, his city called Superior Worthy. The Heavenly King of the South is named Virūḍhaka, his city called Well-Seen. The Heavenly King of the West is named Virūpākṣa, his city called Zhouluo (or perhaps Zhoubà — the correct form is uncertain). The Heavenly King of the North is named Vaiśravaṇa, who dwells in three cities in all: Awe-Inspiring, Heaven's Reverence, and Multitude's Refuge. All four kings are half a yojana tall, their robes a yojana long and half a yojana wide, weighing two-tenths of an ounce. Their heavenly lifespan is five hundred years, more often cut short than fulfilled; fifty human years equal one day and night for them, thirty such days make a month, twelve months a year (five hundred of their years thus equal ninety thousand human years). They eat pure-morsel food and bathe and dress as delicately as beings born of subtle contact. Men take wives and women are given in marriage, their conjugal relations exactly as among humans. Through the good conduct of their three former karmic acts, they are now born as gods, appearing spontaneously upon the knees of a heavenly parent, their bodies at birth the size of a two-year-old human child (another record says: boys sit on their father's knee, girls on their mother's). No sooner born than the child knows hunger of itself; vessels of the seven treasures, filled with food of a hundred flavors, appear before it. If its merit is great the rice appears white of itself; if middling, blue; if slight, red. Once the child has digested its food, should it grow thirsty, a jeweled vessel holds ambrosia the very color of the food just eaten; drinking it leaves no residue, vanishing like ghee cast into fire. As the body grows to the stature of the other gods, it bathes together with them in the pools, and goes beneath the fragrant trees, whose branches bend low; there it takes fragrant substances to anoint the body, garments, ornaments, garlands, jeweled vessels, fruits, and musical instruments, each produced from its own tree, freely taken wherever desired (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra tells much the same, with minor differences, too long to record here). Entering the many gardens and groves, innumerable heavenly maidens play music, sing, and converse with laughter on every side; deep attachment arises, the eyes fixed west forgetting east — and so, absorbed in play and pleasure, the newborn god forgets even the very thought that first brought it there, its birth in heaven owing entirely to good deeds accumulated in a former life (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra is roughly the same). The pools are clear and pure, flowers and fruit flourish; the city walls, sevenfold in all, each measure six thousand yojanas across; balustrades, latticework nets, palace walls, and rows of trees are likewise all sevenfold. King Vaiśravaṇa is constantly attended by five great spirits, ever at his side. Twice monthly, on the fasting days of the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth, the Four Heavenly Kings send their messengers to make their rounds through the world, observing the people — noting who is filial to father and mother, reverent to śramaṇas, brāhmaṇas, and elders, who keeps the fast precepts and gives alms, and who does not — and the messengers report faithfully all they find; hearing of evil the kings are displeased, hearing of good they rejoice. On the fourteenth day the four kings send their crown princes to make the same rounds; on the fifteenth the Four Heavenly Kings themselves make the rounds in person, and afterward report in full before Śakra in the Hall of the Good Law — hearing of evil he grieves, hearing of good he rejoices, and utters a verse praising those who keep the fast precepts as walking the same path as himself (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra and the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra).

Trāyastriṃśa Heaven sits atop Sumeru's summit, where thirty-three heavenly palaces stand; its king is named Śakra Devānām Indra (in the Liang tongue, "the one able to act as king of the gods"). He is one yojana tall, his robe two yojanas long and two wide, weighing six zhu. His heavenly lifespan is a thousand years, again more often cut short than fulfilled. When his life is about to end, five signs appear: his garments grow soiled, the flowers on his head wilt, his body gives off a foul odor, sweat flows from beneath his arms, and he no longer delights in his own throne — seeing these five signs, his heart suffers as greatly as one in hell. His food, drink, and marriage customs are just as among the Four Heavenly Kings; his body draws near another's and conceives through the meeting of breath alone (the Tridharmaka Sūtra says their acts of desire are like a human's). Through good acts of body, speech, and mind he is born in Trāyastriṃśa, appearing spontaneously on a heavenly parent's knee like a three-year-old child; the god at once acknowledges him, saying, "This is my son," or "my daughter." The child recalls of itself the giving and precept-keeping of a former life, and wishing for food, finds a golden vessel filled according to its wish — merit deep or shallow yielding food superior or inferior, just as with the Four Heavenly Kings. The city measures eighty thousand yojanas across (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says three million two hundred thousand li across), sevenfold walled, with nine hundred and ninety-nine gates, each guarded by sixty blue-robed yakṣas. The thirty-three heavens have gold walls with silver gates and silver walls with gold gates, the seven treasures alternating as wall and gate; towers, terraces, and belvederes surround them on every side, gardens and pools intermingled with jeweled flowers, jeweled trees heavy with fragrant fruit, fragrant winds delighting the heart, rare birds calling in chorus beyond number. Between the Rough Garden and the Garden of Utter Joy lies Nandana Pool, a hundred yojanas across, growing four kinds of lotus whose fragrance spreads a full yojana. Between the Mixed Garden and the Garden of Great Joy stands a tree named Pāricchattaka, its branches spreading fifty yojanas in every direction, its fragrance carried a hundred yojanas against the wind; south of the Trāyastriṃśa palace stands another tree, four thousand li tall, whose blossoms the gods gather beneath in joy for a hundred and twenty heavenly days running. Śakra has thirty-two great ministers — hence the name "the thirty-three heavens." Entering the pleasure-gardens must always take seven days: in the Rough Garden the body becomes rough to the touch; in the Painted Garden the body spontaneously takes on painted colors for mutual delight; in the Mixed Garden, on the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth days, the celestial maidens mix freely with the young gods, while Śakra alone remains together with Śacī — hence "Mixed"; in the Garden of Great Joy the heart knows great joy the moment one enters (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, and the Nirvāṇa Sūtra).

Yama Heaven (in the Liang tongue, "Time") — its palace, borne up by the wheel of wind, stands in open space; its king is named Suyāma, "Excellent Season" (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra says "Wondrously Good"). He is two yojanas tall, his robe four yojanas long and two wide, weighing three zhu, growing directly from a tree, bright and radiant, of every color; his body shines of itself, needing neither sun nor moon. Through good acts of body, speech, and mind — through giving, such as lamps or luminous pearls, and through the precepts and meditative concentration — one is born in Yama Heaven, whose heavenly lifespan is two thousand years, again more often cut short than fulfilled. Food, drink, and the ways of marriage are just as in Trāyastriṃśa (the Tridharmaka Sūtra says desire arises here from mutual embrace born of attached intent — if the attachment is not deep, no joy results). At birth the form is like that of a four-year-old human child, its light such that even Trāyastriṃśa's brightness cannot reach it (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, and the Avataṃsaka Sūtra).

Tuṣita Heaven (in the Liang tongue, "Contentment") — its palace, too, is borne up by the wheel of wind in open space; its king is named Sudṛṣṭi, "Excellent Joy." Bodhisattvas in their final rebirth before buddhahood are most often born in this heaven, since the heavens below are too unrestrained and those above too dull, whereas this heaven alone suits (the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra says: the afflictions of the lower stages are thick and turbid, those of the higher stages sharp yet still troubling the mind, and Tuṣita alone is neither thick nor sharp, its wisdom calm and settled; moreover the lower stages' lifespans are too short and the higher stages' too long for a buddha's own era to fall within them, and the Buddha always dwells in the middle way — of the six desire-realm heavens, Tuṣita is the middle one). Its beings are four yojanas tall, their robes eight yojanas long and four wide; their heavenly lifespan is four thousand years, more often cut short than fulfilled. Their food is as in the heavens below; they too take wives and husbands, desire consummated by the clasping of hands. At birth a being here is like a five-year-old human child, knowing of itself the giving and precept-keeping of a former life; food, drink, dress, and song and dance arise spontaneously, its light surpassing Yama Heaven (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, the Nirvāṇa Sūtra, the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra).

The palace of the Heaven of Delight in Transformation is likewise borne up by the wheel of wind in open space; its king is named Sunirmita, "Excellent Transformation," who transforms the five sense-objects at will for his own enjoyment. Its beings are eight yojanas tall, their robes sixteen yojanas long and eight wide; their heavenly lifespan is eight thousand years, more often cut short than fulfilled. Their food is as in the heavens below; they too take wives and husbands, desire consummated by a mutual, lingering gaze (the Tridharmaka Sūtra says: with a heart of deep attachment, speaking together with a heavenly maiden brings desire to completion — if either party lacks attachment, no completion follows, only pleasure). At birth a being here is like a six-year-old human child, its light surpassing Tuṣita (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra and the Avataṃsaka Sūtra).

The palace of the Heaven of Sovereignty over Others' Transformations is likewise borne up by the wheel of wind in open space; its king is named Sovereign, who takes up and enjoys, for his own pleasure, whatever others there transform — also called the Heaven of Beloved Bodies, alone attaining true sovereignty within the desire realm. Its beings are sixteen yojanas tall, their robes thirty-two yojanas long and sixteen wide; their heavenly lifespan is sixteen thousand years, more often cut short than fulfilled. Their food is as the heavens below; marriage too is theirs, desire completed by a single glance (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says desire is completed merely by a thought; the Tridharmaka Sūtra says: when both parties, deeply attached, exchange a single glance, desire is completed — if either lacks attachment, no completion follows, only pleasure; and it is called "Other-Transformation" because it enjoys what others there have transformed). At birth a being here is like a seven-year-old human child, knowing its own past lives of itself; food, drink, clothing, and celestial maidens all arise spontaneously as in the heaven below, its light surpassing the Heaven of Delight in Transformation (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, and the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra).

The palace of Māra Heaven lies between the desire and form realms; "Māra" (魔) is likened to a grindstone (磨), for it grinds away merit. It measures six thousand yojanas across, sevenfold walled, adorned in every way just like the heavens below, and possesses ten qualities: flying away without limit; flying back without limit; going without hindrance; coming without hindrance; a heavenly body with no skin, bone, marrow, sinew, vein, blood, or flesh; a body free of urine or excrement; a body that knows no fatigue; heavenly maidens who do not give birth; heavenly eyes that do not blink; and a body that takes on whatever color is wished. There are, further, ten more attributes: flying without limit, going and returning without limit, no theft among the gods, none speaking of his own goodness or another's evil, no mutual encroachment, teeth all even and identical, hair a lustrous dark blue-green eight zhang long, a body the same color as one's own hair, a body that turns white at will, and a body that turns black at will (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicles 18 and 30; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra).

The palace of Brahmakāyika Heaven is wholly of yellow gold, its beings' bodies the color of white silver (so it is for the whole of the form realm), clad in robes of golden hue. Practicing dhyāna and forsaking desire, they cultivate the fire-radiance samādhi, so their bodies emit a wondrous light surpassing sun and moon; they are neither male nor female, and take the joy of dhyāna as food. Their lifespan is a kalpa, or somewhat less for some; their bodies are half a yojana tall, their lifespan half a kalpa (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Brahmapurohita Heaven (a numeral gloss renders it "Fùlóu") is of the same nature as the heaven before it; those who cultivate the middling dhyāna, the more eminent Brahmās, are born here. Their bodies are one yojana tall, their lifespan one kalpa (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Brahmapāriṣadya Heaven is of the same nature as the heaven before it; those who cultivate the lower dhyāna, the lesser Brahmās, are born here. Their bodies are one and a half yojanas tall, their lifespan one and a half kalpas (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

The Great Brahmā King is named Śikhin, "Fire-Crest"; he shares the nature of the heavens before him, but is born here through cultivating the highest dhyāna. Amid the assembly of Brahmās he raises a great voice that the whole multitude hears; every Brahmā-body deva there thinks to himself, "The Great Brahmā King speaks to me alone, and to no other; I attain of myself, without receiving it from any other; in the thousandfold world I alone have gained mastery, rich and abundant, able to create and transform the myriad things; I am the father and mother of all sentient beings" — being foremost and most revered among all Brahmās who come after. His countenance is that of a youth, and he is therefore called "the Youth"; he bears a rooster, holds a bell, grasps a red banner, and rides a peacock. The first dhyāna as a whole is called Brahmakāyika; his palace stands twice as far again as the palace of the Heaven of Sovereignty over Others' Transformations (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra; the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya says the form realm has seventeen dwellings — the lower three dhyānas each having three heavens and the fourth dhyāna nine, which would properly total eighteen, except that the lowest heaven of the first dhyāna is reckoned merely as the Brahmās' "servants" and so is not separately counted; hence the first dhyāna is said to lack a "Brahmakāya," the second to lack a "Light," and the third to lack a "Purity" as counted heavens in their own right).

Ābhā Heaven takes the flavor of dhyāna as its food; its lifespan is two kalpas, or somewhat less for some (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Parīttābha, "Lesser Light," is much as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; a further chapter says: when they speak, a lesser light issues from their mouths).

Apramāṇābha, "Measureless Light," is much as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the same chapter says: when they speak, a greater light issues from their mouths).

Ābhāsvara Heaven (a further chapter calls it the "Heaven of Shining Light," saying that when they speak, a pure and boundless light issues from their mouths); its king is named Lokāloka (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra calls him the deva Apiafu, also a bodhisattva, also called Light-Thought, also Light-Sound). Looking down upon Jambudvīpa's foul air rising up seven thousand myriad li, no bodhisattva is ever born into Ābhāsvara Heaven for this reason (the Dīrgha Āgama says: from a hundred yojanas above, the stench of this world can be smelled, fouler than a privy). The second dhyāna as a whole shares the name Ābhāsvara; its palace stands twice as far again as the palace of Brahmakāyika (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, and the Sūtra on the Bodhisattva Womb-Entry).

Śubha Heaven takes the joy of dhyāna as its food; its lifespan is three kalpas, or somewhat less for some (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Parīttaśubha, "Lesser Purity," is much as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the same chapter says: these three heavens all cultivate the awareness-free, trouble-free dhyāna of joyous accord, but with lesser effort, and so are born into Parīttaśubha, receiving lesser joy as well).

Apramāṇaśubha, "Measureless Purity," is much as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the same chapter says: born here through middling effort).

Śubhakṛtsna Heaven (the same chapter says: born here through the highest effort); its king is named Jñānaśubha, with four arms holding an implement and a wheel, riding a garuḍa. The third dhyāna as a whole shares the name Śubhakṛtsna, also called Śubhāntika; its palace stands twice as far again as the palace of Ābhāsvara (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra).

Anabhraka Heaven, "Adorned," takes the joy of dhyāna as its food; its lifespan is forty thousand kalpas, or somewhat less for some (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Puṇyaprasava, "Lesser Adornment," is roughly as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Apramāṇaśubha-Adornment, "Measureless Adornment," is roughly as the heaven before it (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Bṛhatphala Heaven, "Adorned Fruit"; its king is named Dharma-Flower-Light. The fourth dhyāna as a whole shares the name Bṛhatphala, "Fruit"; its palace stands twice as far again as the palace of Śubhakṛtsna (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Avataṃsaka Sūtra).

Asaṃjñisattva Heaven (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra calls it "without human thought") takes the joy of dhyāna as its food; its lifespan is five hundred kalpas, or somewhat less for some, its number reckoned within the form realm, its light surpassing Bṛhatphala; non-Buddhists take it for nirvāṇa itself (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the same chapter says: perception is extinguished and one is born into non-perception, possessing only the aggregates of form and formation — the moment even a slight perception arises, one dies from that state).

Avṛha Heaven (the Dīrgha Āgama calls it "Unmade"; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, "Abipi") takes the joy of dhyāna as its food; its lifespan is a thousand kalpas, or somewhat less for some, its light surpassing Asaṃjñisattva (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Atapa Heaven — its beings' bodies are four thousand yojanas tall, so soft and yielding that they cannot stand of themselves; when seen from below, the Buddha appears to them in a coarser form. They take dhyāna as their flavor; their heavenly lifespan is two thousand kalpas, or somewhat less for some, their light surpassing Avṛha (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Sudṛśa (the Avataṃsaka Sūtra says Sudṛśa; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says Sutuozhanni) — its beings' bodies are four thousand yojanas tall, likewise taking the joy of dhyāna as food; their lifespan is three thousand kalpas (the Sūtra on the Numbering of the Three Vehicles says four thousand kalpas), or somewhat less for some, their light surpassing Atapa (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Sudarśana (the Avataṃsaka Sūtra says Sudarśana, the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra Sumizhanni) — its beings' bodies are eight thousand yojanas tall, likewise taking the joy of dhyāna as food; their lifespan is four thousand kalpas (the Sūtra on the Numbering of the Three Vehicles says eight thousand kalpas), or somewhat less for some, their light surpassing Sudṛśa (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Akaniṣṭha Heaven (so named alike in the Avataṃsaka Sūtra; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says Akaniṣṭha) — its beings' bodies are sixteen thousand yojanas tall, likewise taking the joy of dhyāna as food; their lifespan is five thousand kalpas (the Sūtra on the Numbering of the Three Vehicles says sixteen thousand kalpas), or somewhat less for some. These five heavens together bear the name "Pure Abodes," the dwelling-place of all anāgāmins, their light the most excellent of all (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, and the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra).

Maheśvara Heaven (in the Liang tongue, "Great Sovereignty"), also called Pure Abode, lies beyond the five Pure Abodes proper, in eight further realms all utterly still and empty — the dwelling-place of great bodhisattvas of the ten bodhisattva abodes; a bodhisattva of the Dharma-Cloud stage most often becomes king of this heaven, taking a form with eight arms and three eyes, riding a great white bull, raising a great cloud that rains down upon the great-thousandfold world — a number no sentient being can know, save this heavenly king alone (the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: one who makes offerings to Maheśvara should be known to have thereby offered to every deva; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says that above Ābhāsvara Heaven no further king appears; from the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, fascicle 2).

Boundless Space (also called the heaven of the wisdom of space) — its lifespan is ten thousand kalpas, or somewhat less (Saṃyukta Āgama; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra calls it "the heaven of the wisdom of empty space"). Boundless Consciousness (also called the heaven of the wisdom of consciousness) — its heavenly lifespan is twenty-one thousand kalpas, or again somewhat less (Saṃyukta Āgama; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra calls it "the heaven of knowing-consciousness"). Nothing-Whatsoever (also called the heaven of the wisdom of nothing-at-all, also the sphere of non-application) — there was one named Udraka Rāmaputra who, refusing the Buddha's teaching, took his own life; the Buddha foretold that this man would be reborn into the sphere of non-application, and that, his body then cast off, he would become a border-king who injures the people and afterward fall into hell. Its heavenly lifespan is forty-two thousand kalpas, or again somewhat less (Dīrgha and Ekottarika Āgamas; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra calls it "the heaven Ajieruoran").

Neither-Perception-Nor-Non-Perception (also called the heaven of neither thought nor no-thought) — there was one named Uddaka Rāmaputra who likewise, refusing the Buddha's teaching, took his own life; the Buddha foretold that he would be reborn into the heaven of neither thought nor no-thought, and that afterward he would become a winged, vicious fox from which no flying or running creature could escape, and at his death fall into hell. Its heavenly lifespan is eighty-four thousand kalpas, or again somewhat less (Saṃyukta and Ekottarika Āgamas; the same sūtra says: above this there is a heaven named "Without Being," also called "Non-Thought yet Having Thought").

At the beginning of a kalpa, human lifespans reach forty thousand years; thereafter they steadily decline until only a hundred years remain, and decline further still until only ten years remain (the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya agrees; the Extract on the Lesser Kalpa says twelve-odd years). Girls are already given in marriage at five months of age. At the time when human life is ten years, this is called the Three Small Kalpas: first, warfare; second, famine (the Dīrgha Āgama calls it "grain grown dear"); third, pestilence. In the calamity of warfare, people, given over to greed and coarse conduct, follow the ten evil paths; should anyone perform a single good deed, the crowd mocks and derides him, driving him out as a fool and vying to destroy him; each imitates the others' evil until not a single good person remains. The five grains fail to grow and every fine flavor vanishes; silk, damask, and cotton cloth are exhausted of themselves. People eat only wild grasses and weave clothing from straw; the seven treasures sink from sight, and sand and stone cover everything. The earth sprouts brambles, and every branch and twig becomes a sword or blade; even the trees supporting a footbridge collapse and rot. The earth is riddled with ditches and pits; waves surge and banks crumble; rivers grow wider while level ground shrinks. Once the warfare calamity begins, within seven days every blade of grass, tile, and stone in the people's hands turns into a sword or blade, and they seize and plunder one another, trembling in terror, wishing only to kill (the Dīrgha Āgama says the calamity lasts seven full days before people emerge once more) — like a hunter coming upon a herd of deer: among them the wise flee far off into mountain valleys where no one dwells, eating fruit and drinking water there to pass out the full ten years (the Dīrgha Āgama says they come out again after seven days). Those who kill one another to the last are reborn in hell; this is called the warfare kalpa.

In the calamity of famine, people, given over in great number to lawlessness, folly, and wrong views, are stingy, greedy, envious, and hoarding, giving nothing away; the rains fail to fall in season and the crops in the fields go unharvested. Rice and grain are gradually used up, and grain itself becomes alarmingly dear; people gather up husks, chaff, and fallen leaves from street and lane to keep themselves alive, and once husk and leaf too are exhausted, they dig into the earth to eat the roots of grass and tree; those unable to give to others die first of all; then they cut up the dead to eat them, and this too growing scarce, they go even to the slaughtering-grounds, and on to the burial grounds, to gather bones and boil them for their broth, sustaining themselves so. Those who starve to death are reborn among the hungry ghosts; this is called the small kalpa of famine. In the calamity of pestilence, people all hold right views and practice the ten good deeds; yet illness spreads widely with no remedy at hand and medicine scarce, so that even those who do much good cannot ward it off, and — their merit being thin — fall sick and die at once, as spirits come to torment and beat them, deranging their minds and seizing their vital spirit before carrying them away. Yet once their lives have ended, all such people are born in the heavens; this is called the pestilence kalpa. If one can, for even a single day and night, keep the precept against killing, one will never be born amid the warfare kalpa; if one gives even a single myrobalan fruit to the sangha, one will never be born amid the pestilence kalpa; if one gives even a single meal to the sangha, one will never be born amid the famine kalpa.

These evil kalpas arise in this Jambudvīpa one after another, while in other regions they are lighter: where the warfare kalpa arises here, elsewhere there is only heavy anger; where the pestilence kalpa arises here, elsewhere the body is merely somewhat weakened; where the famine kalpa arises here, elsewhere there is only slight thirst and want (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 22; also the Extract on the Three Small Kalpas; also the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya, fascicle 14).

Heaven and earth, from their beginning to their end, together make up a single kalpa. When the kalpa comes to an end and is about to be destroyed, the calamity of fire arises first. All the people then turn their backs on the right and rush toward the wrong, vying to practice the ten evils; heaven withholds rain for a long time, and what has been sown fails to grow; every spring and stream, down to the four great swift rivers, all run dry. Long afterward, wind stirs at the bottom of the ocean and lifts up the great citadel that bears the sun, setting it down beside Sumeru, within its proper track (the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya says: at the destruction of a kalpa, seven suns come to dwell above Yugandhara Mountain, issuing from that place; another account says a single day is divided into seven; another says they issue from the Avīci hell, driven forth by the power of beings' karma). When the first sun appears, every plant and tree withers and falls at once. When the second sun appears, the water of the four great oceans recedes a hundred yojanas, even to seven hundred yojanas, and dries up of itself. When the third sun appears, the water recedes a thousand yojanas, even to seven thousand, draining away by degrees. When the fourth sun appears, the water, a thousand yojanas deep, recedes further still. When the fifth sun appears, the water, though a bare seven hundred yojanas deep remained, is now utterly exhausted. When the sixth sun appears, this earth, sixty-eight thousand yojanas thick, gives off smoke on every side, from Sumeru all the way to the lands and oceans of the three-thousandfold great-thousandfold world, together with the eight hells, all consumed and burned to ashes without remainder. As the people's lives come to an end, they all take refuge upon Sumeru — the five classes of gods, the Trāyastriṃśa, Yama Heaven, all the way to Paranirmitavaśavartin, likewise reach the end of their lives, their palaces standing empty; all is impermanent, nothing endures. When the seventh sun appears, the great earth and Sumeru itself gradually crumble away, not a hundred yojanas of it left remaining; gold, silver, copper, and iron all melt and flow, and are gradually exhausted, the very mountains ablaze; every kind of jewel cracks and shatters, crumbling and roaring, its smoke and flame shaking all the way up to the Brahmā heavens; every evil destiny and every asura is entirely swept away. Once retribution has run its course and merit has arrived, all beings gather together above the fifteenth heaven; from the fourteenth heaven downward, all is turned to blackened ash. The newly born gods there, never having witnessed such a thing, are seized with universal dread, but the gods born there long before come to console them, saying it will never reach so far. As for the people who have died, they are reborn in the Ābhāsvara Heaven, taking thought itself as food, their own light shining of itself, their supernormal feet bearing them wherever they will; some are born in other lands, some in hell — and even those in hell, once their offenses are exhausted, are likewise reborn in heaven; and should their offenses not yet be exhausted, they are moved on again to a region with neither sun, moon, star, nor constellation, and no day or night at all, but only a vast darkness — this is called the fire kalpa, the calamity of fire, brought about entirely through causes and conditions, through karmic retribution, and thus does destruction come.

When the kalpa is about to re-form, the fire of itself dies away, and once more a great cloud arises and rains down heavily, its drops like the axle of a cart; at this time the whole three-thousandfold great-thousandfold world fills with water clear up to the Brahmā heaven (the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya says: the calamity of water destroys as far as the second dhyāna, the water descending as rain of hot ash-water from the third dhyāna; another account says it is the wheel of water that then issues forth) — this is called the water kalpa, the calamity of water. Then four winds hold the water in place and prevent its dispersing: the first named Abiding, the second Assisting, the third Unmoving, the fourth Firm. After some thousands of millions of years, foam upon the water transforms and becomes the palaces of the fourteenth heaven, all made of every jewel; as the water gradually recedes, stirred by the whirling wind, in due order it forms the heavens below and the palaces of sun and moon, then the thousand Sumerus, then the lands of the thousand four-continent worlds — the mountains, rivers, cities, and pools upon the water all pure and clean. At first the heavenly palaces shine with the most excellent light, but this gradually diminishes and grows turbid; the light of every heavenly palace and hall likewise sinks gradually lower. As the earth is about to be exposed, the water and sand flow swiftly downward on every side until at last they form rivers that flow into the sea; the sea is eighty-four thousand yojanas deep, its breadth without limit (the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra says eight hundred and forty myriad yojanas deep); Sumeru stands within that sea, rising a further eighty-four thousand yojanas above it; the water's taste is salt and bitter. When the kalpa first re-forms, cloud arises of itself, reaching up to the Ābhāsvara Heaven, and rain falls all around, washing the heavenly palaces and cleansing the impure fluid of all things; this flows down into the sea and turns it salt and bitter — and there are, further, great sages who by incantation make it undrinkable to men, and various beings who dwell within it and, through their own excretions, likewise render it so — this is called the wind kalpa, the calamity of wind (the Saṃyuktābhidharma-hṛdaya says: the calamity of wind destroys as far as the third dhyāna, all the hundred-koṭi four-continent worlds destroyed together at one and the same time). These three, together with earth, make the four calamities and the four kalpas; apart from earth, the other three are called the great kalpas. Once past the earth-kalpa proper, the destruction of a kalpa never yet reaches the fourth dhyāna, since that is the abode of the Pure-Abode gods, for whom there exists no higher stage to be reborn into — it is there that they enter final nirvāṇa, never again descending to be reborn; since it is not subject to diminishing, heaven and earth begin anew there instead. Heaven and earth begin utterly afresh: vast, empty, with nothing whatsoever remaining, not even sun or moon. The earth wells up with sweet springs, tasting like cream and honey; at that time the Ābhāsvara gods — some whose merit is spent and who come to be reborn there, some who simply delight in observing the new earth — being of a nature restless and light, taste it with a finger; tasting it again and again, they come to know its flavor, and eating it without cease, gradually grow coarse flesh, losing their heavenly subtle radiance and supernormal light, and grow dark and dim.

Afterward a great black wind blows, lifting the sea's own water and casting up sun and moon, setting them beside Sumeru, fixed upon the sun's own track, circling Sumeru to illuminate the four continents; the people of that time, on seeing them rise, rejoice, and on seeing them set, are struck with fear. From this time on, day and night, dawn and dusk, spring and autumn, the years and their counting suddenly begin once more. Those who eat much of the earth's sweetness grow ugly of face in turn; those who eat little of it still retain something of their former beauty; beauty and ugliness gradually arise by degrees, and pride, envy, and jealousy arise one after another, quarrels and disputes following on without end. The sweet spring then dries up of itself, and the earth brings forth a rich cream, its fragrance and flavor like ambrosia; those who eat much of it at once lose their radiant light, their bodies grown heavy with bone, while those who eat little remain light of body, free of encumbrance, still able to fly; those grown heavy, on seeing this, weep aloud in anguish, proclaiming their own wretched poverty, dwelling now in this world — disputes and quarrels grow even more severe than before. Feeding upon the earth's cream, they gaze now upon one another's countenance; and those whose desire grows strong turn into women, and, cleaving to one another in mutual love, at length perform the act of lust, and this practice, once begun, spreads further still; the remaining Ābhāsvara gods, seeing these heavenly sons all fallen so, come together to rebuke them, saying, "Why do you practice such impure conduct?" The earth's cream then sinks into the soil and of itself gives rise to unhusked rice, fresh, pure, and free of any husk, both fragrant and delicious; those who eat it grow fat and fair, gathered in the morning yet grown again by evening. People gradually grow indolent and begin to gather up several days' worth at once, indulging their desires without restraint or season; a woman then conceives and bears further beings, and others, on seeing this, drive her out, banishing her beyond the human community, though after three months she is permitted to return. Knowing shame now, they together devise a remedy, gathering grass and wood to build houses to conceal their bodies from view; the practice of lustful desire, thus continuing, increases all the more, and they gather up ever greater stores of grain as provision. Following one another's example in this way, the unhusked rice grows wild and rank, and once reaped does not grow back; the beings, seeing this, are struck with great distress, and a great calamity comes upon the world — the unhusked rice no longer as it once was.

Each says to himself, "When I was first born, I took thought itself as food, my supernormal feet bearing me in flight, my own light shining of itself — how have I come, dwelling here in idleness, to this present state?" And they say to one another further, "Let us now together divide the land and set up separate boundary-markers" — and from this moment the practice of setting boundaries first began. Some then hide away their own portion and secretly steal another's rice; the owner, on discovering this, says, "I forgive your offense this once — do so no more." As this happens again and again, the reproaches grow more severe; when reproach no longer suffices, hands are raised against the offender, and it is proclaimed to all the people, "This man is a thief." The one accused in turn says, "This man struck me." The people, seeing this, grow anxious and unhappy, and gather in assembly, saying: "Sentient beings have grown ever more corrupt; this is the very origin of birth, old age, sickness, and death, the root of every affliction and suffering that casts one down into the three evil destinies. It is because there is land to till that these disputes have arisen; let us now together set up one man of wisdom and ability as our ruler, so that what deserves protection may be protected, what deserves reproach may be reproached, and what deserves banishment may be banished, and let us all together contribute rice for his provision." They choose one wise, worthy, upright in form, and possessed of dignity, and say to him: "Be for us a ruler of impartial justice." With kind words he consoles the people, and all rejoice, together proclaiming: "Excellent, great king!" — and thenceforth he governs the people by right and proper law, and is called a kṣatriya; this is the ancient origin of that name. Thereafter, whoever encroaches upon another's property is at once punished, and for the more serious offender, an office of correction is established; when even whipping and caning do not suffice, prisons, staves, and rods are made besides, and torture and execution are used to instill dread. At this time one man, reflecting that a household with its many cares is like a poisonous thorn, forsook wife and child and dwelt alone in the mountain forest, building a grass hut and quietly gathering in his will, cultivating the holy life — he was named a brāhmaṇa. Afterward, among brāhmaṇas, there arose those unwilling to dwell in quiet and practice seated meditation, and who instead entered among the people to recite and study as their occupation, calling themselves "those who do not meditate" — and so the men of that age came to call them "non-meditating brāhmaṇas." Among the people, there were also those who took delight in managing household affairs and amassing wealth, called householders; others fond of clever crafts, called śūdras; and others still who, wearied of the ways of the world, shaved their heads and beards and donned the monastic robe to practice the path, called śramaṇas. At this time people's hearts harbored killing and theft, and the unhusked rice was also lost to them; there then arose the five kinds of seeds — root-seeds, leaf-seeds, flower-seeds, fruit-seeds, and stem-growing and other seeds — all borne here by the wind from the lands of other world-realms, to relieve the beings of this land. With such a sign came old age, sickness, and death, and the five clinging aggregates, and the bounds of suffering were not yet exhausted.

At the very end of the water kalpa, the Ābhāsvara gods, bathing in the water, drew the essence of the four great elements into their own bodies, giving rise there to the joy of contact, their seminal essence flowing into the water; stirred by the eight winds, it fell into muddy silt and there, of itself, formed an egg, which after eight thousand years hatched, and from it was born a woman, her form the blue-black of mud, having nine hundred and ninety-nine heads and a thousand eyes, nine hundred and ninety-nine mouths, each mouth with four fangs from which fire issued like lightning, and twenty-four arms, each hand grasping every kind of weapon; her body was as vast as Sumeru itself. Entering the great ocean, she clapped the water in her own delight; a whirlwind then arose and blew the ocean's water so that its essence entered her body and she conceived; after eight thousand years she gave birth to a son, his body four times greater than his mother's, with nine heads, each with a thousand eyes and fire issuing from its mouths, nine hundred and ninety-nine arms and eight legs, and, standing in the ocean's water, he proclaimed of himself: "I am Vemacitrin, king of the asuras." He ate only mud and lotus-roots; such were the changes that took place when the earth itself was first newly formed (Source: Ekottarika Āgama, fascicle 32; also the Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 6; also the Extract on the Lesser Kalpa; also the Sūtra on the Samādhi of Buddha-Contemplation, fascicle 2). When the kalpa of burning has entirely ended and all is empty, then, through the power of sentient beings' merit and karmic causes, winds arise from every direction, wind after wind supporting one another until they are able to sustain the great waters above them; there arises one with a thousand heads and two thousand hands and feet, named Viṣṇu — from this being's navel there grows a thousand-petaled lotus of golden hue, its light shining forth as bright as ten thousand suns, and within that lotus sits a man in full lotus posture; this being possesses measureless further light, and is named Brahmā the Heavenly King. He at once brings forth eight sons, and these eight sons in turn bring forth heaven, earth, and all humankind; this same Brahmā King, his lust and anger already extinguished, sits upon that very lotus-throne — and it is in accordance with this that the buddhas, following worldly convention, likewise appear seated in full lotus posture upon a jeweled lotus-throne, expounding there the six perfections; whoever hears this teaching is certain to attain unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening (Source: Miscellaneous Similes, fascicle 6).

The Buddha said: suppose a city a hundred yojanas square, filled to the brim with mustard seeds, and a long-lived man who, once every hundred years, takes away a single seed — even when every seed is gone, the kalpa is still not exhausted. Or again: suppose a stone a hundred yojanas square, and a man who takes a soft cloth of Kāśī silk and, once every hundred years, brushes it once across the stone — even when the stone is entirely worn away, the kalpa is still not exhausted; this is called a great kalpa. It is also said: take a space one yojana square, of the same height, an iron city filled to the brim with mustard seeds, and once every hundred years remove a single seed until all are gone — this makes one kalpa. Or again: a stone mountain one yojana square, and a man who, with a cloth of Kāśī silk, brushes it once every hundred years — brushing without cease until the stone mountain is entirely worn away, the kalpa is still not yet complete; a single thought out of sixty such thoughts is called the smallest kalpa of all (Source: Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra, fascicle 36; also Ekottarika Āgama, fascicles 31 and 28; also Saṃyukta Āgama, fascicle 34).

The sun's citadel is two thousand and forty li square, and of the same height; it casts its light into the eye so that it appears round. Its palace walls are pure gold, adorned with the seven treasures, radiant and without blemish, and are borne up by five winds: Sustaining, Nourishing, Receiving, Turning, and Regulating. The Sun King's throne is twenty li square; his body gives off a light that illuminates the palace, and the palace's own light in turn illuminates the citadel, and the citadel's light shines down upon the earth below; countless heavenly spirits attend him before and behind, music and entertainment never ceasing. His groves, belvederes, and bathing pools are as in Trāyastriṃśa; his heavenly lifespan is five hundred years, his descendants succeeding one another to complete out a single kalpa. The sun's citadel circles Sumeru: it rises in the east, is at midday in the south, at midnight in the west, and sets in the north — thus turning ever to the right, making day and night, with further variation in length: the sun's course draws gradually southward, the south growing gradually longer over a hundred and eighty days, the north growing gradually shorter; then it turns gradually north again, the north growing longer over another hundred and eighty days as the south grows shorter (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 22; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra).

The moon's citadel is one thousand nine hundred and sixty li broad and long, and of the same height; solemn and perfectly square, yet seen from afar it appears round — two parts heavenly silver, one part beryl, clear and translucent within and without, its light shining afar; it too is borne up by five winds. The Moon King's throne is twenty li square within a palace of the seven treasures; countless heavenly spirits, with light and music, attend him before and behind, his gardens and pools just as in Trāyastriṃśa; his heavenly lifespan is five hundred years, his descendants succeeding one another to complete out a single kalpa. The moon waxes and wanes: when it wanes, one edge of it turns to travel by night and is gradually concealed to one side, and so appears to diminish; it is also said that beside the moon's citadel dwells a deva whose color and robes are pure blue, and that whichever face he turns toward the citadel is darkened by his blue light, and so it seems to diminish. When it waxes, the moon's course gradually turns to face forward again; and it is also said that this same blue-colored deva, on the fifteenth day, turns and enters the moon's citadel to meet with its king. There is, moreover, south of Sumeru, a great tree named Jambu, four thousand li tall, its shade spreading two thousand li, whose reflection appears within the moon (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 22; also the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra).

There is an asura-king named Rāhu, whose body stands twenty-eight thousand li tall; on the fifteenth day of the month he stands in the middle of the ocean, its waters reaching only to his navel, and, bowing his head, gazes upon Sumeru's jeweled peaks and its four surrounding mountains; with his finger he covers the sun or moon, and the world below is plunged into darkness — sometimes covering the sun so that day turns to night. This is what is called an eclipse of the sun or moon, a moment when their light is imperiled (Source: Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, fascicle 5).

The citadels of the constellations are the dwellings of the heavenly spirits, their walls of crystal essence, their palaces of the seven treasures, suspended in space and borne up by a great wind like drifting cloud, following the sun's own course as it is seen by the eye. The largest measure seven hundred li, the middling five hundred, the smallest a hundred and twenty; their halls, gardens, and pools are as in the Heaven of the Four Kings, and their lifespan likewise the same (Source: Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, fascicle 6; also the Dīrgha Āgama).

Within the clouds of open space, at times the element of earth comes into contact with the element of water, and at times the elements of fire and wind come likewise into great contact with one another; water, fire, wind, and earth thus striking against each other, all give rise, within the clouds of open space, to the sound of thunder (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Lightning is of four kinds: in the east it is named Body-Light; in the south, Hard-to-Destroy; in the west, Flowing Flame; in the north, Settled Brightness. Why does lightning appear within the clouds of open space? Because the lightning of the four directions strikes against each of the others in turn, and it is from this that its light arises (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).

Clouds are of four kinds: white, black, red, and russet. In the white, the element of earth predominates; in the black, water; in the red, fire; in the russet, wind. They stand off from the earth by ten li, or twenty, or thirty, up to forty li — save at the very beginning of a kalpa, when they reach up as high as the Ābhāsvara Heaven (Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20). Clouds are also said to be of four colors: blue-green, red, yellow-white, and black. In the blue-green, water predominates; in the red, fire; in the yellow-white, earth; in the black, wind (Lokaprajñapti Sūtra, fascicle 4). The breath of dragons, too, becomes cloud (Dīrgha Āgama).

When a world is about to be destroyed, a great wind arises named Dispersal and Ruin, capable of blowing apart and utterly effacing the great-thousandfold world — Mount Sumeru, the mountains of gold and iron, and every other thing whatsoever. At that time, beyond the great-thousandfold world, there arises a further wind named Barrier Against Ruin, able to hold that destructive wind at bay and prevent it reaching other regions; were there no such barrier-wind, then throughout the measureless, innumerable world-realms of the ten directions, nothing at all would fail to be scattered and destroyed (Source: Avataṃsaka Sūtra, fascicle 30).

Diviners who forecast rain face five circumstances that cannot be known for certain, which leave the diviner himself confounded: the clouds carry thunder and lightning, and rain is divined — yet the element of fire, being too abundant, burns away the clouds and no rain falls; or a great wind arises and scatters the clouds among the mountains; or the asuras gather up the drifting clouds and place them within the great ocean; or the rain-deity, given over to indolence and lust, sends down no rain at all; or the sentient beings of the world, unrestrained in lawlessness, defiling all pure conduct, given to stinginess, greed, envy, and distorted views, cause heaven on this account to withhold its rain. For these five reasons the signs cannot be relied upon with certainty (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20; the Lokaprajñapti Sūtra agrees).

The nāga-king Anavatapta raises up a great and heavy cloud, and rain falls throughout the whole of Jambudvīpa, so that the hundred grains and every plant and tree grow full and abundant, and every river, stream, and pool becomes replete; this great rainwater issues from the very body and mind of the nāga-king, and is thus able to benefit measureless sentient beings. The nāga-king Manasvin, about to send down rain, first raises up a heavy cloud that spreads across and covers the whole of space; but out of compassion he holds it there, unmoving, for seven full days, so that sentient beings may first bring their various undertakings to completion, and only then does he let fall a fine and gentle rain, gradually moistening the whole earth (Source: Dīrgha Āgama, fascicle 20).