Three Foundations of Mindfulness, and Three States Requiring No Concealment

T1606 explains all three through a single recurring scene: the great teacher, moved by compassion for all beings and wishing them genuine benefit, gives rise to great compassion and teaches his disciples the essential Dharma, telling them plainly what will benefit them, what will bring them happiness, and what will do both at once. In the first foundation, some among the assembly listen with reverence, receive the teaching faithfully, uphold it with a mind devoted to the instruction, and diligently practice in accordance with it — and the Tathāgata, witnessing this, gives rise to no elation and no excitement over it, but simply abides in great equanimity, mindful and clearly comprehending, continuing to instruct the noble assembly exactly as their own practice requires. In the second foundation, some among the assembly instead fail to listen with reverence and fail to practice accordingly — and the Tathāgata gives rise to no resentment or ill will over this either, abandoning no trust, harboring no bitterness, simply abiding in that same great equanimity. And in the third foundation, part of the assembly listens with reverence and practices accordingly while another part does not — and the Tathāgata gives rise to neither elation over the first group nor bitterness over the second, abiding, in every case, in this same unwavering equanimity.

T1606 preserves the scriptural declaration behind this quality directly: "The Tathāgata's own bodily conduct is entirely pure in its manifestation — there is no impure conduct occurring that would need to be concealed, no fear that others might come to learn of it. And it is exactly the same with the Tathāgata's own verbal conduct and mental conduct." Because the great teacher's own mind is entirely free of apprehension on this account, he is able to skillfully guide and train the entire assembly of beings still to be taught, adapting his own admonition and instruction exactly as each situation genuinely requires, with total, effortless freedom. Where an ordinary teacher might hesitate to correct a student for fear of some inconsistency in their own conduct being exposed, the Tathāgata's own perfect purity of body, speech, and mind removes any such constraint entirely — nothing needs guarding because nothing needs hiding.