Dharma-Giving, Refuge, and the Faults of Household Life

Distinguishing Dharma-Giving Chapter

The bodhisattva ought to cultivate and study the giving of material wealth in this way, and ought further to cultivate and study the giving of the Dharma, as the verse says: "Among every kind of giving, the giving of the Dharma is foremost — this is what the wise ought to practice."

Among every kind of giving, the very foremost, the highest, the most sublime, is precisely the giving of the Dharma. This giving is what the wise ought to practice.

Question: Why does the verse say only that the wise ought to practice the giving of the Dharma?

Answer: Should one lacking in wisdom practice the giving of the Dharma, they thereby expound deviant teachings. Through expounding deviant teachings, they lose their own benefit, and cause others to lose their own benefit as well.

Question: What, then, is meant by "deviant teachings"?

Answer: When the Buddha was about to pass into extinction, he told Ānanda: "From this day forward, rely upon the sūtras — do not rely upon any person." Ānanda asked: "What is meant by relying upon the sūtras, and not relying upon any person?"

Should a monk come and say: "I myself have directly heard this from the Buddha, and directly received it from the Buddha — this Dharma is wholesome, and is what the Buddha himself taught" — do not accept this monk's own words, yet do not reject them either; having listened carefully and attentively, one ought to examine what they have said against the sūtras and the Vinaya.

Should it fail to accord with the sūtras, fail to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradict the very mark and meaning of every dharma, one ought to reply to this monk: "This Dharma may not have been spoken by the Buddha at all, or the venerable one may have received it mistakenly. And why is this so? Because this Dharma fails to accord with the sūtras, fails to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradicts the very mark and meaning of every dharma — it is therefore not the Dharma, not wholesome, and not what the Buddha himself taught. Having known this, one ought to set it aside at once."

Should a further monk come and say: "In that dwelling place there is a great assembly, with elders learned in the sūtras, well able to expound the precepts and the Vinaya. I myself have directly heard this from them, and directly received it from them — this Dharma is wholesome, and is what the Buddha himself taught" —

Do not accept this monk's own words, yet do not reject them either; having listened carefully and attentively, one ought to examine what they have said against the sūtras and the Vinaya. Should it fail to accord with the sūtras, fail to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradict the very mark and meaning of every dharma, one ought to reply to this monk: "Venerable one! Whether these monks' own marks of the Dharma, their own marks of goodness, are genuine or not, they may still have expounded what is neither the Dharma nor wholesome, or the venerable one may have received it mistakenly. And why is this so? Because this Dharma fails to accord with the sūtras, fails to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradicts the very mark and meaning of every dharma — it is therefore not the Dharma, not wholesome, and not what the Buddha himself taught. Having known this, one ought to set it aside at once."

Should a further monk come and say: "In that dwelling place there are many monks who uphold the sūtras, uphold the Vinaya, and uphold the mātṛkā. I myself have directly heard this from them, and directly received it from them — this Dharma is wholesome, and is what the Buddha himself taught" —

Do not accept this monk's own words, yet do not reject them either; having listened carefully and attentively, one ought to examine what they have said against the sūtras and the Vinaya. Should it fail to accord with the sūtras, fail to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradict the very mark and meaning of every dharma, one ought to reply to this monk: "Venerable one! Whether these monks' own marks of the Dharma, their own marks of goodness, are genuine or not, they may still have expounded what is neither the Dharma nor wholesome, or the venerable one may have received it mistakenly. And why is this so? Because this Dharma fails to accord with the sūtras, fails to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradicts the very mark and meaning of every dharma — it is therefore not the Dharma, not wholesome, and not what the Buddha himself taught. Having known this, one ought to set it aside at once."

Should a further monk come and say: "In that dwelling place there is an elder monk, of great learning and wide knowledge, honored by others. I myself have directly heard this from him, and directly received it from him — this Dharma is wholesome, and is what the Buddha himself taught" —

Do not accept this monk's own words, yet do not reject them either; having listened carefully and attentively, one ought to examine what they have said against the sūtras and the Vinaya. Should it fail to accord with the sūtras, fail to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradict the very mark and meaning of every dharma, one ought to reply to this monk: "Venerable one! Whether these monks' own marks of the Dharma, their own marks of goodness, are genuine or not, they may still have expounded what is neither the Dharma nor wholesome, or the venerable one may have received it mistakenly. And why is this so? Because this Dharma fails to accord with the sūtras, fails to accord with the Vinaya, and further contradicts the very mark and meaning of every dharma — it is therefore not the Dharma, not wholesome, and not what the Buddha himself taught. Having known this, one ought to set it aside at once."

These four are named "deviant teachings" — it is for this reason that it is said: "The wise do not rely upon deviant teachings, but instead practice the pure, unblemished giving of the Dharma."

Question: How, then, does one know that the giving of the Dharma is foremost among every kind of giving?

Answer: The sūtra speaks of two kinds of giving: the giving of material wealth, and the giving of the Dharma. Between these two kinds of giving, the giving of the Dharma is supreme.

Furthermore: "Within the Sūtra of the Resolute King, the merit of expounding the Dharma is praised, together with its proper ceremony — one ought constantly to cultivate and practice this."

Should a bodhisattva wish to give the Dharma to sentient beings, they ought to cultivate and study it exactly as within the Sūtra of the Resolute King's Great Vehicle — praising the merit of a Dharma-teacher, and the very ceremony of expounding the Dharma, according with it in practice.

As for one who expounds the Dharma, they ought to practice four dharmas. What are these four? First, vast and extensive learning, able to hold fast to every phrase and expression. Second, resolutely and skillfully knowing the marks of the arising and ceasing of every dharma, whether worldly or transcendent. Third, attaining meditative concentration and wisdom, according with every scriptural teaching without contention. Fourth, neither adding to nor subtracting from it, practicing exactly as it has been taught.

One who expounds the Dharma, ascending the lion's throne, further possesses four dharmas. What are these four? First, wishing to ascend this high seat, one first reveres and bows to the assembly, and only then ascends. Second, should there be women within the assembly, one contemplates them as impure. Third, one's own bearing and gaze possess the very mark of a great person, expounding the sound of the Dharma with a countenance gentle and delighted, so that others accept it with trust; one does not expound the scriptures of an outside path, and one's own mind is free of timidity or fear. Fourth, toward hostile words and challenging questions, one practices patient endurance.

Ascending the lion's throne, there are, further, four dharmas. What are these four? First, giving rise to a thought of benefiting every sentient being. Second, giving rise to no thought of self toward any sentient being. Third, giving rise to no thought that the Dharma is contained within mere written words. Fourth, vowing that every sentient being who hears the Dharma from oneself might never retrogress from unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening.

Ascending the lion's throne, there are, further, four dharmas. What are these four? First, being well able to abide securely within the gate of dhāraṇī, with deep faith and delight in the Dharma. Second, having well attained the pratyutpanna samādhi, diligently exerting effort, upholding the precepts purely. Third, taking no delight in any place of rebirth whatsoever, craving neither gain nor support, seeking no fruit in recompense. Fourth, holding no doubt whatsoever toward the three liberations, and further being well able to give rise to every profound samādhi, complete in one's own bearing; one's own mindfulness firm, possessing mindfulness and tranquil wisdom, never restless, never frivolous, never shameless, never confused; one's speech free of error, guarding one's own faculties, craving no fine flavor, well restraining one's own hands and feet, never forgetting what one holds in mind, delighting in ascetic practice, distinguishing worldly dharmas from those that transcend the world. One's mind free of doubt or regret, one's own phrases and expressions inexhaustible. For the sake of every listener, one seeks their own peace and benefit, never seeking out their own faults.

Possessing dharmas such as these, one ought to ascend the lion's throne.

There are, further, four dharmas: first, never demeaning oneself; second, never demeaning the listener; third, never demeaning what one expounds; fourth, never acting for the sake of gain or support.

The Buddha told Ānanda: "What dharma ought one who expounds the Dharma actually expound? Ānanda! Whatever dharma can genuinely be expounded cannot be shown, cannot be spoken of at all — it is signless, unconditioned."

"World-Honored One! If the Dharma is truly so, how, then, can it be expounded at all?"

"Ānanda! This Dharma is exceedingly profound; the Thus Come One, through four skillful marks, expounds it nonetheless: first, through sound; second, through names; third, through language; fourth, through meaning and principle.

"And I expound the Dharma through four further causes and conditions as well: first, for the sake of liberating sentient beings who ought to be liberated; second, speaking only of the names of form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness; third, benefiting sentient beings through phrases and expressions of every kind; fourth, though these very names are spoken, nothing whatsoever is actually attained through them — just as a bowl of oil, pure and unclouded, allows one who gazes into it to behold their own reflected face."

"Ānanda! Have you ever seen or heard of a wise man, a woman who upholds the precepts, or a noble disciple, able to say: 'Within this bowl of oil, have I beheld an actual, real person'?"

"World-Honored One! I have neither heard nor seen a wise man, a woman who upholds the precepts, or a noble disciple, able to say: 'Within this bowl of oil, I have beheld a true, real person.' And why is this so? Because the wise already know that this bowl of oil itself does not truly exist as such — how much less, then, could there be an actual person within it! It is merely by means of a provisional name that one speaks of 'the bowl of oil' while beholding the mark of a person reflected within it."

"Ānanda! The Thus Come One is likewise so — expounding only by means of provisional names that are themselves merely provisional. Ānanda! The Thus Come One, through these four causes and conditions, expounds the Dharma, so that sentient beings who hear it attain peace and joy of mind, and plant the very cause of nirvāṇa.

"When the Thus Come One expounds the Dharma, this very sound fills the worlds of the ten directions entirely; sentient beings who hear it attain joy of mind, departing from every evil destiny and being reborn in the Tuṣita heaven. Within the Thus Come One's own voice, there is neither male nor female — a man does not perceive within it the mark of a woman, nor does a woman perceive within it the mark of a man.

"The Thus Come One's own voice troubles no sentient being, and destroys no dharma whatsoever — it serves only to reveal and manifest the very nature of sound itself."

One who expounds the Dharma ought to cultivate and practice this very matter, and ought, according to what they themselves practice, to carry out the giving of the Dharma. The fruit and recompense obtained by both the giver and the recipient shall be explained at length hereafter.

Taking Refuge Chapter

Having already explained the giving of material wealth and the giving of the Dharma above, I shall now distinguish them further: "Those in white robes, dwelling as householders, ought chiefly to practice the giving of material wealth; the remaining wholesome practices I shall now further explain."

Between these two kinds of giving, the householder ought to practice the giving of material wealth, while the renunciant ought to practice the giving of the Dharma. And why is this so?

The householder's own giving of the Dharma falls short of the renunciant's, since those who hear and receive this teaching hold only shallow faith toward a householder to begin with.

And further, the householder possesses much material wealth; whereas the renunciant, having thoroughly studied and recited the scriptural teaching, is able to explain it to others, entering any assembly without fear — something no householder is capable of matching.

And further, in causing the listener to give rise to a mind of reverence, the householder falls short of the renunciant. And further, should one wish to expound the Dharma so as to subdue another's own mind, the householder falls short of the renunciant.

As the verse says: "First practice the Dharma oneself, and only afterward teach others; only then can one truly say, 'follow what I myself practice.'"

This is fitting for the renunciant, not something the householder is able to practice.

And it further says: "How could one whose own conduct is unwholesome cause another to become wholesome? Should one not have attained tranquil cessation oneself, how could one cause another to attain it? It is for this reason that only one's own wholesomeness is able to cause another to practice wholesomeness, and only one's own attainment of tranquil cessation is able to cause another to attain it."

The wholesome dharma of tranquil cessation is what the renunciant alone ought to practice. And further, the renunciant's own reverence, in the eyes of the listener, surpasses that of the householder.

And further, should the renunciant practice the giving of material wealth, this obstructs their every other wholesome practice; and further obstructs their practice of dwelling apart in a forest hermitage, in solitary groves and marshes.

Should the renunciant delight in the giving of material wealth, this entirely obstructs the cultivation and practice of matters such as these.

Should they practice the giving of material wealth, they must necessarily go into a settlement and engage with laypeople, and much speech ensues; and should they not engage with them, there is no way to obtain any wealth at all; and should they go in and out of a settlement, seeing and hearing sights and sounds, their own faculties become difficult to restrain, and the threefold poison is thereby given rise to; and further, their own mind toward upholding the precepts, patient endurance, diligent effort, meditative concentration, and wisdom grows thin and weak.

And further, in engaging with laypeople, the defilement of gain and support arises, giving rise to the afflictions of craving, anger, and stinginess and envy; though one may restrain oneself through the sheer force of contemplation alone, one whose own resolve is weak may fail to restrain themselves, and may thereby come to "death," or to affliction and suffering equivalent to death.

Craving and clinging to the five desires, abandoning the precepts and returning to lay life — this is what is called "death."

Or, capable of turning against the precepts, giving rise to many grave offenses — this is what is called "affliction and suffering equivalent to death."

It is through these very causes and conditions that the giving of the Dharma is praised for the renunciant, and the giving of material wealth is praised for the householder.

This closes the extended explanation of the giving of material wealth practiced by the householder bodhisattva.

I shall now explain every remaining wholesome practice. The bodhisattva who has given rise to this aspiration ought first to take refuge in the Buddha, take refuge in the Dharma, and take refuge in the Saṅgha. Whatever merit is obtained from this threefold refuge ought, in every case, to be dedicated toward unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening.

Furthermore: "Taking refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha is what the bodhisattva ought to understand."

The bodhisattva ought to genuinely and skillfully understand taking refuge in the Buddha, taking refuge in the Dharma, and taking refuge in the Saṅgha.

Question: What, then, is meant by taking refuge in the Buddha?

Answer: "Never abandoning bodhicitta; never breaking the Dharma one has received; never abandoning a mind of great compassion; never craving delight in any other vehicle — this alone is what is called genuinely taking refuge in the Buddha."

"Bodhicitta" refers to giving rise to the aspiration seeking buddhahood, never resting, never ceasing, never abandoning this very mind.

"Never breaking the Dharma one has received" refers to the bodhisattva each receiving the wholesome dharma and precept-conduct they delight in — what ought to be practiced, and what ought not to be done; whether the pāramitās, or the four abodes of merit, and every other such wholesome dharma — for the sake of benefiting sentient beings, upholding and cultivating them without ever allowing them to be broken or diminished.

"A mind of great compassion" refers to wishing to liberate suffering, afflicted sentient beings for the sake of seeking the path to buddhahood, never departing from this great compassion even within one's own dreams.

"Never craving any other vehicle" refers to, through deep faith and delight in the path to buddhahood, never craving the vehicle of the śrāvaka or the pratyekabuddha.

Possessing this very Dharma, one should know that this is genuinely taking refuge in the Buddha.

Question: What, then, is meant by taking refuge in the Dharma?

Answer: "Drawing near to one who expounds the Dharma, listening to and receiving this Dharma with a single mind, holding it in mindfulness and then expounding it oneself — this is what is called taking refuge in the Dharma."

One who expounds the Dharma, explaining and unfolding the Buddha's own profound Dharma, revealing what is wholesome and what is unwholesome, severing every doubt and confusion — one constantly and repeatedly draws near to them, going directly to where they are, making offerings and showing reverence.

Listening to and receiving this Dharma with a single mind, holding it fast through the power of one's own mindfulness, never forgetting it, reflecting upon it and weighing it carefully, according with its own meaning and intent — only then does one expound it to others exactly as one has come to know it.

Dedicating the merit of this very giving of the Dharma toward the path to buddhahood — this is called taking refuge in the Dharma.

Question: What, then, is meant by taking refuge in the Saṅgha?

Answer: "Should there be śrāvakas who have not yet entered the very station of the Dharma, causing them to give rise to the unsurpassed mind, that they might attain the buddha's own ten powers.

"First gathering them through the giving of material wealth, and only afterward through the giving of the Dharma; holding deep faith in the Saṅgha of the four fruits, without discriminating among this noble assembly.

"Seeking the merit of the śrāvaka, yet without realizing this very liberation — this is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha; and one ought further to be mindful of three matters."

"Śrāvakas" refers to those who have accomplished the vehicle of the śrāvaka.

"Those who have not yet entered the very station of the Dharma" refers to those who have not yet attained certainty within the śrāvaka's own path; one is able to cause such a person to give rise to the mind of the path to buddhahood, and thereby to attain the ten powers.

Should one have already entered the very station of the Dharma, they can never be caused to give rise to this unsurpassed mind at all — and should this aspiration nonetheless be given rise to, it would still fail to reach accomplishment, just as the venerable Subhūti states within the Perfection of Wisdom Sūtra: "One who has already entered the station of the true Dharma is unable to give rise to the unsurpassed mind. And why is this so? Because such a person has already erected an obstruction against birth and death, and can no longer come and go within birth and death to give rise to this unsurpassed mind."

"First gathering them through the giving of material wealth" refers to gathering renunciants through robes, food and drink, bedding, medicine, and every necessity; and gathering householders through robes, food and drink, bedding, medicine, and various powdered and paste incenses.

Through the very causes and conditions of this gathering, a mind of affection and closeness arises, and whatever is then spoken is accepted with trust — only afterward does one give the Dharma, causing them to give rise to the unsurpassed mind of the path.

"The Saṅgha of the fruits" refers to the four stages of approach and the four fruits.

"The assembly" refers to those who, within the Buddhadharma, have received the very mark of a renunciant, fully upholding every precept though not yet possessing any fruit or stage of approach — one does not discriminate among this Saṅgha, but, because they have departed from the bondage of worldly affection, calls them a noble Saṅgha.

Holding faith and delight in emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness, without discriminating idle argument, and relying upon this very Saṅgha — this is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha.

As for "seeking the merit of the śrāvaka, yet without realizing this very liberation": knowing that this Saṅgha upholds the precepts, is complete in meditative concentration, complete in wisdom, complete in liberation, complete in the knowledge and vision of liberation, complete in the three insights and the six spiritual powers, their mind having attained mastery, possessed of great majestic virtue, having relinquished worldly pleasure and transcended māra's own domain, neither delighted by gain, renown, praise, or pleasure, nor troubled by decline, disgrace, reproach, or suffering, constantly practicing the six relinquishments, attaining the eight liberations, according with the Buddha's own teaching — some still practicing the path, some already liberated, practicing this single path, breaking through the two kinds of affliction, skillfully knowing the three realms, skillfully penetrating the four noble truths, skillfully eliminating the five hindrances, abiding securely within the six dharmas of harmonious reverence, complete in the seven dharmas of non-retrogression, the eight awakenings of a great person, having relinquished the nine fetters, attaining the ten powers of the śrāvaka — those who accomplish qualities of merit such as these are called disciples of the Buddha.

This assembly seeks merit such as this, without seeking this very liberation for themselves alone — and why is this so?

Because of a profound mind of faith and delight in the Buddha's own unobstructed understanding — this is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha.

Furthermore, should one hear the Dharma through mere phrases and written words, and thereby attain mindfulness of the very real mark itself, this is called taking refuge in the Dharma. Should one behold a śrāvaka Saṅgha, and thereby become mindful of the bodhisattvas who have given rise to bodhicitta, this is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha. Should one behold an image of the Buddha, and thereby become mindful of the true Buddha, this is likewise taking refuge in the Buddha.

Question: What, then, is meant by mindfulness of the true Buddha?

Answer: As the Sūtra of the Bodhisattva Akṣayamati explains the meaning of the samādhi of mindfulness of the Buddha.

Mindfulness of the true Buddha is not by means of form, not by means of any mark, not by means of birth, not by means of nature, not by means of lineage; not by means of the past, the future, or the present; not by means of the five aggregates, the twelve sense-bases, or the eighteen elements; not by means of seeing, hearing, sensing, or knowing; not by means of mind, mentation, or consciousness; not by means of idle conceptual proliferation; not by means of arising, ceasing, or abiding; not by means of grasping or relinquishing; not by means of recollection or discrimination; not by means of the mark of any dharma; not by means of any mark of self; not by means of a mark of unity, nor a mark of difference; not by means of any mental object; not by means of what is internal or external; not by means of grasping a mark through initial or sustained thought; not by means of entering or emerging; not by means of any form, color, or outward appearance; not by means of any observed bearing or conduct; not by means of upholding the precepts, meditative concentration, wisdom, liberation, or the knowledge and vision of liberation; not by means of the ten powers, the four fearlessnesses, or any other dharma of the buddhas.

Genuine mindfulness of the Buddha is immeasurable, inconceivable, without activity, without knowing; without self, and without what belongs to self; without recollection, without any thought; making no distinction among the five aggregates, the twelve sense-bases, and the eighteen elements; without form, without obstruction, without arising, without abiding, and without any non-abiding either; not abiding in form, not abiding in feeling, perception, mental formations, or consciousness; not abiding in the eye or in visible form, not abiding in eye-consciousness; not abiding in the ear or in sound, not abiding in ear-consciousness; not abiding in the nose or in fragrance, not abiding in nose-consciousness; not abiding in the tongue or in taste, not abiding in tongue-consciousness; not abiding in the body or in touch, not abiding in body-consciousness; not abiding in the mind or in mental objects, not abiding in mind-consciousness; not abiding in any object whatsoever, not giving rise to any mark whatsoever, not giving rise to any moving thought, recollection, or discrimination whatsoever, giving rise to no seeing, hearing, sensing, or knowing, according with the very mark of right liberation in every respect; the mind without any further continuity, every discrimination extinguished, every craving and anger broken through, every causal mark destroyed, the prior boundary, the later boundary, and the middle boundary alike removed and severed, thoroughly penetrated and clearly understood, without any "this" or "that" remaining. Since it is unmoving, it knows no joy; since it grasps at no flavor, it knows no pleasure; since its own original mark is tranquil cessation, it knows no heat; since the mind has nothing whatsoever to occupy itself with, it is liberation itself. Since this mark is without form, it is without body; since it grasps at nothing, it is without feeling; since it is without any conception, it is without any fetter; since it is without any activity, it is unconditioned; since it is without any knowing, it is without consciousness; since it grasps at nothing, it is without conduct; since it relinquishes nothing, it is not without conduct either; since it occupies no place, it has no abode; since it is empty, it does not come; since it does not arise, it does not go. Toward every mind and mental factor of recollection, and every other dharma besides, there is no craving, no attachment, no grasping, no receiving, no arising, and no ceasing; from the very outset it has never arisen, possessing no mark of arising whatsoever, subsumed entirely within the very nature of the Dharma, transcending the very path of the eye, of form, and of empty space itself — a mark such as this alone is called genuine mindfulness of the Buddha.

Further, as for mindfulness of the Dharma: the Buddhadharma is well spoken, its recompense attained within this present life without any fixed time required, open to being observed and contemplated as good. It leads one toward the very wisdom of the path, known inwardly as good in its beginning, its middle, and its end, its words good, its meaning good, its own purity good, free of any admixture, complete in purity. It is able to sever craving, able to sever anger, able to sever delusion, able to remove arrogance, able to remove every view, able to remove doubt and regret, able to remove pride in one's own station, able to remove every thirst. It breaks through whatever one has taken refuge in falsely, severs the continuous path of rebirth, exhausts craving and departs from desire, and reaches tranquil cessation, nirvāṇa itself. A mark such as this is called mindfulness of the Dharma.

Through emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness, neither arising nor ceasing, ultimately tranquil cessation, beyond comparison and beyond demonstration — as explained within the meaning of mindfulness of the Buddha above.

Further, mindfulness of the Dharma is of three kinds: from "the Buddhadharma is well spoken" up through "complete in purity" is named the path; from "able to sever craving" up through "tranquil cessation, nirvāṇa itself" is named nirvāṇa; from "emptiness" up through "beyond comparison and beyond demonstration" is named the very essence of the Dharma.

Further, as for mindfulness of the Saṅgha, this is as already explained above, concerning the merit of the Saṅgha.

Being mindful of these Three Jewels, one attains a mind of resolute certainty.

With mindfulness such as this, seeking the path to buddhahood and practicing giving accordingly — this is called taking refuge in the Buddha.

Practicing giving for the sake of guarding and protecting the Dharma — this is called taking refuge in the Dharma.

Through this very giving, giving rise to a mind of dedication, so that, at the moment buddhahood is accomplished, one gathers together an assembly of bodhisattvas and śrāvakas — this is called taking refuge in the Saṅgha.

Five Precepts Chapter

The householder bodhisattva, in this way, is able to cultivate the conduct of a good person, departing far from the conduct of an evil person.

As the verse says: "Cultivating and giving rise to the conduct of a good person, gathering wealth for use in accordance with the Dharma; where one is capable, one takes up this heavy burden; where one is not capable, one does not take it up."

"The conduct of a good person," to speak briefly, is one who abides in benefit themselves, and is likewise able to benefit others. "The conduct of an evil person" is one who sinks themselves into decline and affliction, and causes others to sink into decline and affliction as well.

"Gathering wealth for use in accordance with the Dharma" means never killing, never stealing, never deceiving another; gathering wealth through one's own effort, and using it in accordance with the Dharma, making offerings to the Three Jewels, and giving relief to the old and the sick.

Where one is capable and able to practice something, one takes it up as a heavy burden; where one is not capable of practicing it, one does not take it up. Should the bodhisattva, in matters of this present life and of lives to come, whether for their own benefit or the benefit of others, be certain, as already explained, to accomplish it, they take it up; should they know they are not capable of practicing it, they do not take it up.

Furthermore: "Toward worldly dharmas, holding neither sorrow nor joy; able to relinquish one's own benefit; constantly and diligently practicing the benefit of others; deeply knowing gratitude, and repaying it doubly."

"Worldly dharmas" refers to gain and loss, disgrace and honor, praise and blame, suffering and joy. Within these very dharmas, the mind holds neither sorrow nor joy.

"Relinquishing one's own benefit, diligently practicing the benefit of others" refers to the bodhisattva, even toward those never before acquainted, with whom they share no prior connection, whatever wholesome conduct is undertaken, setting aside their own benefit and assisting in accomplishing the good of that other person instead.

Question: This matter of relinquishing one's own benefit while diligently practicing the benefit of others does not hold. As the Buddha has said: "Though one may greatly benefit others, one ought not thereby to abandon one's own benefit." As it is said: "One relinquishes a single person to preserve an entire household; relinquishes a single household to preserve an entire settlement; relinquishes a single settlement to preserve an entire land; relinquishes an entire land to preserve one's own person; relinquishes one's own person for the sake of the true Dharma." "First accomplish one's own benefit, and only afterward benefit others; relinquishing one's own benefit to benefit others brings, afterward, only sorrow and regret. To relinquish one's own benefit for the sake of benefiting others, and to call oneself wise for doing so, is, within this world, the very foremost folly."

Answer: Even within this ordinary world, seeking benefit for another is already praised as good, considered a mark of a firm and resolute mind — how much more so, then, is the bodhisattva's own conduct, which transcends this world entirely!

Should one benefit another, this is itself to benefit oneself. As the verse says: "The bodhisattva, in matters concerning others, never holds an inferior or weakened mind; for one who has given rise to bodhicitta, the benefit of others is itself their own benefit."

This very meaning has already been explained at length within the opening chapter — it is for this reason that what you have said does not hold!

"Deeply knowing gratitude, and repaying it doubly": should a person do some good deed for the bodhisattva, they ought to repay it generously; and further, deeply knowing this very gratitude is itself the mark of a good person.

Furthermore: "Giving wealth to the poor, giving fearlessness to the fearful — merit such as this, extending even to what is most firm and unshakeable."

"Giving wealth to the poor": there are those who, in a former life, never planted any merit, and now, lacking any skillful means, possess scant means of livelihood. Toward persons such as this, one gives relief according to one's own capacity.

"Giving fearlessness": toward fears of every kind — whether the fear of bandits and enemies, the fear of famine, or the fear of flood, fire, cold, or heat — the bodhisattva, amid every such fear, instructs and reassures every person, bringing them peace, security, and delight, freeing them of this very fear.

Merit such as this, the very firmest and most unshakeable, coming last of all, removes sorrow for whoever is sorrowful.

Toward those without strength, one practices patient endurance, departing from arrogance and great conceit. Toward every venerable person, one shows deep reverence.

Toward those of vast learning, one constantly draws near to them. Toward those of wisdom, one inquires of what is wholesome and what is unwholesome, and, in one's own conduct, constantly practices right view.

Toward every sentient being, one is neither flattering nor crooked, and never feigns affection. One seeks what is good without ever tiring, and learns without limit. Whatever one gives or accomplishes, one's own resolute mind sees it through. One constantly associates with good persons. Toward evil persons, one gives rise to a mind of great compassion.

Toward both good and virtuous friends and those who are not, one holds them equally as a firm and steadfast good friend. Holding an equal mind toward all sentient beings, one is never stingy with the essential Dharma. Whatever one has heard, one expounds it for others. Whatever Dharma one has heard, one attains its own true flavor.

Toward the five desires and every matter of entertainment and amusement, one gives rise to a thought of impermanence. Toward one's own spouse and children, one gives rise to a thought of hell. Toward articles of livelihood, one gives rise to a thought of weariness and suffering. Toward one's own business affairs, one gives rise to a thought of sorrow and affliction. Toward whatever one seeks, one gives rise to a thought of the destruction of one's own roots of goodness.

Toward one's own household, one gives rise to a thought of a prison. Toward one's own relatives and acquaintances, one gives rise to a thought of prison wardens.

Day and night, reflecting on what genuine benefit might be found — toward one's own impermanent body, one gives rise to the thought of an enduring body instead; toward wealth that is not truly firm, one gives rise to a thought of wealth that truly is firm.

Furthermore: "The householder's own Dharma is the five precepts — one's mind ought to abide within them, firm and unshakeable."

The householder bodhisattva, having taken the threefold refuge and practicing every merit described above, ought to abide firmly within these five precepts. The five precepts are the householder's own general Dharma: departing from a mind that would kill, with loving-kindness and pity for sentient beings.

Knowing contentment and restraint for oneself, never craving another's own property, never taking so much as a single blade of grass without it being given.

Departing from sexual misconduct, detesting the inner chamber of another, guarding against and staying far from outward form, one's own eyes never gazing wrongfully. Constantly contemplating what is foul and impure, giving rise to a thought of weariness and renunciation. Fully knowing that the five desires are, in the end, entirely suffering. Should one think of desire even for one's own spouse, this too ought to be relinquished. Constantly contemplating impurity, one's own mind harboring a sense of dread. Pressed upon by the fetters, one departs from desire without attachment. Constantly knowing this world to be suffering and without self. One ought to give rise to this very vow: "When shall I come to a point where my own mind no longer gives rise to a single thought of desire, let alone any bodily act arising from it?"

Departing far from false speech, delighting in speaking only what is true, never deceiving another, one's own mind and speech in full accord. Possessing mindfulness and tranquil wisdom, one speaks to others exactly as one has seen, heard, sensed, and known. Abiding in the Dharma even at the cost of one's own life, one's own speech never deceptive or strange.

Wine is itself the very gateway to heedlessness and every evil, and one ought constantly to keep far from it, never letting it pass one's own lips. Never deranged, never intoxicated, never restless, never alarmed, never shameless, never frivolous — constantly able, with a single mind, to weigh what is fine and what is foul.

This bodhisattva, at times delighting in relinquishing everything freely, reflects thus: "Whoever requires food, I give food; whoever requires drink, I give drink." Should this giving involve wine, one ought to give rise to this very thought: "This is now the very moment of practicing the pāramitā of giving, and I give according to whatever is required. Afterward, I shall teach them, through skillful means, to depart from wine, attaining mindfulness and wisdom, so that they remain free of heedlessness. And why is this so? Because the very dharma of the pāramitā of giving fully satisfies whatever a person requires." Should the householder bodhisattva give wine in this way, there is no offense in it.

Through the merit of these five precepts, one dedicates it toward unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening. One guards and upholds these five precepts just as one guards a precious treasure, just as one guards one's own body and life.

Question: Ought this bodhisattva to guard and uphold only these five precepts, and not guard and uphold every other wholesome deed as well?

Answer: "The bodhisattva ought to abide firmly within these five precepts in their general aspect, while every other conduct of body, speech, and mind ought likewise to be practiced as well."

The five precepts of the householder have already had their own meaning explained. Having received these five precepts, one ought to abide firmly within them, and every other of the three further kinds of wholesome conduct ought likewise to be cultivated and practiced.

Furthermore, the dharma the householder bodhisattva ought to practice is: "According with whatever benefits sentient beings, expounding the Dharma and teaching and transforming them accordingly."

This bodhisattva, toward every sentient being, according to whatever they lack, is able to give it to them in every case. Whether within a land, a walled city, a settlement, a forest, or beneath a tree, wherever sentient beings may be, according to whatever benefits them, they expound the Dharma and teach and transform them. Namely: for those without faith, expounding the dharma of faith; for those without reverence, expounding proper etiquette; for those of little learning, expounding vast learning; for the stingy and greedy, expounding the dharma of giving; for the angry, expounding harmony and patience; for the indolent, expounding diligent effort; for those of scattered mind, expounding the foundations of right mindfulness; for the foolish, expounding wisdom.

Furthermore: "Whatever any sentient being lacks, one ought, in every case, to provide it in full."

Whatever sentient beings lack or are deficient in, one ought, in every case, to provide for them in full. There are those who, though wealthy, still lack something; even a king may still be deficient in something. It is for this reason that, having earlier explained "giving wealth to the poor," I now further explain "providing in full whatever anyone lacks."

Furthermore: "Toward evil sentient beings who inflict every kind of affliction — flattering and crooked, harboring arrogance and self-indulgence, reviling and belittling with deception; ungrateful, never repaying a kindness, foolish and obstinate, difficult to transform — the bodhisattva's own mind grieves for them, and applies valiant diligence all the more."

Every evil sentient being, through evil acts of every kind, encroaches upon and troubles the bodhisattva; the bodhisattva, toward this, holds a mind free of indolence or weariness, and ought never to think: "Such an evil person — who could possibly tame them, who could possibly transform them, who could possibly encourage them, to cross beyond birth and death and ultimately reach nirvāṇa? Who could possibly come and go through birth and death together with such a one? Who could possibly work together in harmony with them? Such unreasoning evil — who could possibly endure it? I shall simply cease and desist, and no longer engage with them; I shall relinquish and depart from them entirely, no longer engaging with them, and shall likewise never be able to work in harmony with them. This is the very worst among the evil, without any capacity for repayment at all — of what use is it to associate with such persons?"

The bodhisattva, knowing and beholding that such sentient beings' own evil and offense are difficult to remove, ought instead to reflect thus: "Persons such as these cannot be caused to abide within a dharma they might delight in through only a slight measure of diligence. It is for the sake of persons such as these that I shall apply my own mind, exert my own strength, and diligently practice with a hundred million times greater diligence; only afterward, having attained great strength, shall I finally be able to transform this very worst among the evil, these sentient beings so difficult to awaken."

It is just as a great physician-king is able, through even a slight cause, to cure a sentient being of a grave illness; the bodhisattva is likewise so, removing the illness of the afflictions, causing beings to abide within whatever merit they themselves delight in. Toward sentient beings of grave offense and great evil, I ought to feel pity all the more, giving rise to profound and great compassion — just as a skilled physician, filled with a compassionate mind, treats every illness; toward the gravest illness, they feel the deepest pity, diligently devising skillful means, seeking out the very finest medicine for it.

The bodhisattva, toward every sentient being afflicted with the illness of the afflictions, ought, in every case, to feel this same pity. Toward the very worst among the evil, those whose afflictions are gravest, they feel pity all the more deeply, diligently devising skillful means, applying their own mind to the very treatment of this illness.

And why is this so? "Wherever the bodhisattva may dwell, should they fail to transform sentient beings, causing them to fall into the three evil destinies, this brings down the deep reproach of every buddha."

Wherever the bodhisattva dwells — within a land, a walled city, a settlement, among mountains, or beneath trees — should they possess the power to benefit and transform sentient beings, yet, through indolence, weariness, resentment, or craving attachment to worldly pleasure, fail to transform them, causing them instead to fall into an evil destiny, this bodhisattva is thereby deeply reproached by every buddha presently existing throughout the ten directions — a matter of the deepest shame indeed. How could one abandon so great a task on account of so trifling a cause?

It is for this reason that the bodhisattva, wishing never to be reproached by the buddhas, ought never to let their own mind sink before sentient beings of every flattering, crooked, and grave evil, but ought, according to their own capacity, to benefit them, applying every skillful means with a diligent mind to transform them. It is just as when a valiant general, leading troops, suffers many losses and injuries among them, the king reproaches him deeply for it; whereas the common soldiers themselves, lacking any such knowledge or responsibility, are not reproached by the king at all.

Knowing the Faults of Household Life Chapter

The bodhisattva, having studied in this way, ought to know the very faults and evils of household life! And why is this so? Should one know these very faults and evils, one may thereby relinquish this household life and enter the path; and further transform other persons, causing them likewise to know the faults of household life, and go forth from home to enter the path.

Question: What, then, are the faults of household life?

Answer: As the sūtra states: "The Buddha told Ugra: 'Household life destroys every root of goodness. Household life is a deep forest of thorns, from which it is difficult to extricate oneself. Household life destroys the pure, unblemished Dharma. Household life is the very dwelling-place of every evil thought. Household life is the dwelling-place of the corrupt, evil, and untamed ordinary being. Household life is the dwelling-place where every unwholesome deed is carried out. Household life is the very gathering-place of evil persons. Household life is the dwelling-place of craving, anger, and delusion. Household life is the dwelling-place of every affliction. Household life is the very place where every root of goodness planted in former lives is exhausted and destroyed.'"

"'The ordinary being, dwelling within this very household, does what ought not to be done, speaks what ought not to be spoken, and practices what ought not to be practiced. Dwelling within it, they hold their own parents and elders in contempt, and show no reverence toward the venerable, toward fields of merit, toward ascetics and brahmins. Household life is the very cause and condition of craving, sorrow, and every manner of affliction. Household life is the dwelling-place of harsh speech, reviling, bitter torment, blades and clubs, bondage, torture, and mutilation. Roots of goodness not yet planted go unplanted; those already planted are destroyed.

"'It is able to cause the ordinary being, dwelling within it, to fall into an evil destiny through the causes and conditions of craving; to fall into an evil destiny through the causes and conditions of anger and of delusion; and to fall into an evil destiny through the causes and conditions of fear.

"'Household life fails to uphold the category of the precepts, abandons and departs from the category of concentration, fails to contemplate the category of wisdom, fails to attain the category of liberation, and fails to give rise to the category of the knowledge and vision of liberation.

"'Within this very household, affection for one's parents, siblings, spouse, children, kin, and carriages and horses grows and increases this very craving and seeking, without ever being satiated.

"'Household life is difficult to fill, like the ocean swallowing every river. Household life is insatiable, like fire consuming kindling. Household life is without rest, its thoughts continuing unbroken, like the wind moving through empty space. Household life is an evil that brings further existence, like a delicious food laced with poison. Household life is, by its very nature, suffering, like an enemy disguised as a friend. Household life is an obstruction, able to hinder the noble path. Household life is discord and turmoil, causes and conditions of every kind giving rise to mutual contention. Household life is full of anger, finding fault with both the fine and the foul alike. Household life is impermanent, however long it may have endured before it is lost and destroyed. Household life is manifold suffering, seeking clothing and food and the like, and the skillful means to guard and protect them. Household life is a place of much suspicion, just like an enemy or a bandit. Household life is without self, an inverted attachment given only a provisional name of existence.

"'Household life is like a skilled performer — though adorned with every manner of fine ornament, appearing for a moment as a person of nobility, this does not last long, and this very adornment soon reverts to poverty and lowliness once more.

"'Household life is subject to constant change, and whatever gathers together must inevitably scatter and disperse. Household life is like an illusion, a mere borrowed convergence, possessing no real substance at all. Household life is like a dream — every wealth and nobility within it, given time, is lost once more. Household life is like the morning dew, vanishing in but a moment. Household life is like a single drop of honey, its own flavor exceedingly slight. Household life is like a thicket of thorns — one receives the flavor of the five desires from it, yet its wicked thorns wound the very person who receives it. Household life is like a stinging insect, its thoughts unwholesome, constantly gnawing away at a person. Household life defiles a pure livelihood, giving rise to much deception. Household life is sorrow, the mind within it frequently turbid and confused. Household life is a shared possession, destroyed by kings, by bandits, by flood, by fire, and by malicious relatives. Household life is beset with much sickness, and many manner of error.

"'Elder, such is this! The householder bodhisattva ought, in just this way, to know well the very faults of household life!'"

Furthermore: "The bodhisattva ought to know these very faults and evils of household life!"

"Drawing near to giving, to upholding the precepts, to goodness, and to shared delight — should one behold a beggar, one ought to give rise to five sets of three thoughts."

The householder bodhisattva, having thus known the faults of household life, ought to practice giving, upholding the precepts, goodness, and shared delight.

"Giving" refers to relinquishing a mind of craving. "Upholding the precepts" refers to purity of conduct in body and speech. "Goodness" refers to skillfully restraining one's own faculties. "Shared delight" refers to a mind shared together in joy. "Five sets of three thoughts" refers to: upon beholding a beggar, one ought to give rise to these five sets of three thoughts.

The first three: a thought of a good and virtuous friend; a thought of great wealth in a future life; a thought of assisting bodhi.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of subduing stinginess and craving; a thought of relinquishing everything; a thought of craving and seeking omniscient wisdom.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of according with the Thus Come One's own teaching; a thought of seeking no fruit in recompense; a thought of subduing māra.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought, upon seeing one who comes to request something, of them as one's own kin; a thought of never abandoning the dharma of gathering others; a thought of relinquishing any wrongful reception of what is given.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of freedom from desire; a thought of cultivating loving-kindness; a thought of freedom from delusion.

I shall now explain this fifth set of "three thoughts."

The bodhisattva, on account of one who comes to request something, causes the threefold poison to be weakened and thinned, and, relinquishing the object given, gives rise to a thought of freedom from desire.

Through the causes and conditions of bringing joy to the one who requests something, one's own mind of anger and resentment grows thin — this is called a thought of cultivating loving-kindness.

Through dedicating this very giving toward the unsurpassed path, one's own mind of delusion grows thin — this is called a thought of freedom from delusion.

The meaning of every remaining thought should be understood in just this same way!

Furthermore: "The bodhisattva, on account of one who comes to request something, thereby completes the six pāramitās; it is through this very cause and condition that, upon seeing such a person, they ought to feel great joy."

The six pāramitās are: giving, upholding the precepts, patient endurance, diligent effort, meditative concentration, and wisdom. It is on account of one who comes to request something that these can be brought to completion. It is on account of this very benefit that the bodhisattva, beholding one who comes to request something even from afar, feels great joy of mind, reflecting: "A field of merit naturally arrives before me; through this very person, I am able to bring the six pāramitās to completion."

And why is this so?

Should one's own mind hold no craving or stinginess toward the object given, this is called the pāramitā of giving.

Giving for the sake of unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening, this is called the pāramitā of moral discipline.

Should one hold no anger toward the one who requests it, this is called the pāramitā of patient endurance.

At the very moment of giving, having no concern for one's own future scarcity, one's own mind never sinking or retreating, this is called the pāramitā of diligent effort.

Should one, whether at the moment of giving to the one who requests it or at the moment of giving of one's own accord, hold a resolute mind free of any regret, this is called the pāramitā of meditative concentration.

Practicing giving while attaining no dharma whatsoever, seeking no fruit in recompense, just as the worthy and the noble remain without any attachment — dedicating this very giving toward unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening, this is called the pāramitā of wisdom.

Furthermore: "Whatever fruit and recompense is obtained from giving, one is able to know it in every kind and detail; and whatever fault belongs to stinginess and remaining a householder, one likewise knows it in every kind and detail."

The fruit and merit obtained from what is given, and every fault possessed by stinginess and remaining a householder — the bodhisattva knows all of this thoroughly.

Question: What merit is obtained through giving? And what fault is incurred through stinginess and remaining a householder?

Answer: The bodhisattva, through their own true wisdom, knows it thus: "Once given away, this object becomes truly my own; while remaining in the household, it is not truly my own at all.

"Once an object is given away, it becomes firm and unshakeable; remaining in the household, it is not firm at all.

"Once an object is given away, it brings joy in lives to come; remaining in the household, it brings only fleeting joy.

"Once an object is given away, one need not worry over guarding it; remaining in the household, there is the very suffering of having to guard it.

"Once an object is given away, one's own attachment to it grows thin; remaining in the household, this very attachment grows and increases.

"Once an object is given away, it is no longer 'mine'; remaining in the household, it remains 'mine.'

"Once an object is given away, it belongs to nothing further; remaining in the household, it remains bound to something.

"Once an object is given away, one has nothing further to fear regarding it; remaining in the household, one has much to fear.

"Once an object is given away, it assists the path to bodhi; remaining in the household, it assists the path of māra instead.

"Once an object is given away, it is inexhaustible; remaining in the household, it is bound to be exhausted.

"Once an object is given away, joy follows from it; remaining in the household, suffering follows from it instead.

"Once given away, the afflictions are relinquished; remaining in the household, the afflictions only increase.

"Once given away, one obtains great wealth and joy; remaining in the household, one does not obtain great wealth and joy.

"Once given away, this is the deed of a great person; remaining in the household, this is the deed of a lesser person.

"Once given away, this is praised by every buddha; remaining in the household, this is praised only by the foolish."

Furthermore: "Toward one's own spouse, children, and kin, and toward good and virtuous friends, toward material giving, and even toward animals, one ought to give rise to a thought of illusion.

"Every conditioned deed and karmic act is itself the very illusionist who conjures this show."

The householder bodhisattva, toward their own spouse and children, ought to give rise to a thought of illusion, just as an illusory conjuration merely deceives the onlooker's own eyes. Karmic conduct is the very master of this illusion; matters such as one's spouse and children do not endure, and before long are extinguished. As the sūtra states: "The Buddha told the monks: every conditioned thing is like an illusory conjuration, deceiving and confounding the foolish, possessing no real substance at all." One should know that they exist only through the cause of karma, and that once this karma is exhausted, they are extinguished — it is for this reason that they are like an illusion.

One reflects thus: "I am not truly possessed by them, nor are they truly possessed by me; both they and I belong entirely to our own karma, existing only according to the causes and conditions of this very karma.

"Reflecting rightly in this way, one ought never to give rise to any evil karma toward them!"

One's own parents, spouse, children, relatives, acquaintances, servants, and attendants are unable to serve as a rescuer, a refuge, or a destination for oneself. They are neither self, nor what belongs to self; even the five aggregates, the twelve sense-bases, and the eighteen elements are neither self nor what belongs to self — how much less, then, one's own parents, spouse, and children!

Nor am I myself able to serve as a rescuer, a refuge, or a destination for them. I too belong entirely to my own karma, undergoing whatever this karma brings; they too belong entirely to their own karma, undergoing whatever this karma brings. This good and evil fruit and recompense may be weighed through three considerations: first, through what accords with reason; second, through what is seen stated in the sūtras; third, through what is seen in actual, present events.

One ought never, for the sake of one's own parents, spouse, or children, give rise to even the slightest evil karma of body, speech, or mind.

Furthermore: "The bodhisattva, toward their own spouse, ought to give rise to three sets of three thoughts.

"And there are, further, three more sets of three, and further still three more sets of three."

The householder bodhisattva ought to give rise to these three thoughts. Namely, these three are: a thought of impermanence toward one's spouse; a thought of loss; a thought of destruction.

There are, further, three thoughts: a companion in laughter and amusement, not a companion in the life to come; a companion in sharing a meal, not a companion in undergoing the fruit of one's own karma; a companion in times of joy, not a companion in times of suffering.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of impurity; a thought of foulness and filth; a thought of what is to be despised.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of a hostile enemy; a thought of affliction and harm; a thought of mutual opposition.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of a rākṣasa; a thought of a piśāca demon; a thought of ugliness.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of entering hell; a thought of entering the animal realm; a thought of entering the realm of hungry ghosts.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of a heavy burden; a thought of diminishment; a thought of being bound to fear.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought that this is not truly self; a thought that nothing is fixed or truly belongs to one; a thought of a mere temporary borrowing.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of the cause that gives rise to evil karma of body; a thought of that which gives rise to evil karma of speech; a thought of that which gives rise to evil karma of mind.

There are, further, three thoughts: a thought of the very locus of desirous thought; a thought of the very locus of angry thought; a thought of the very locus of afflictive thought.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a cangue; the mark of chains and fetters; the mark of binding and restraint.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of an obstruction to the precepts; the mark of an obstruction to meditative concentration; the mark of an obstruction to wisdom.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a pit; the mark of an ensnaring net; the mark of being entirely surrounded.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of calamity; the mark of pestilence; the mark of decline and affliction.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of offense; the mark of an ill omen; the mark of a devastating hailstorm.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of sickness; the mark of old age; the mark of death.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of māra; the mark of māra's own domain; the mark of terror.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of sorrow; the mark of anguish; the mark of weeping and lamentation.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a great jackal or wolf; the mark of a great sea-monster; the mark of a great wildcat.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a black venomous serpent; the mark of a great fish; the mark of one who seizes away another's own strength.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of having no rescue; the mark of having no refuge; the mark of having no shelter.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of loss; the mark of retreat; the mark of utter exhaustion.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a bandit; the mark of a prison warden; the mark of a warden of hell.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of detainment; the mark of binding; the mark of a fetter.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of mire; the mark of a current; the mark of being swept away.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of shackles; the mark of chains; the mark of a binding, sticky glue.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of a raging mass of fire; the mark of a wheel of blades; the mark of a torch of dry grass.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of what is without benefit; the mark of thorns and brambles; the mark of poison.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of encroachment; the mark of being overshadowed; the mark of craving attachment.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of resentment; the mark of the whip and the rod; the mark of the blade and the spear.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of anger and indignation; the mark of contention and dispute; the mark of striking and beating.

There are, further, three marks: the mark of encountering what one resents; the mark of separation from what one loves; the mark of clamor and disturbance.

To speak of the essential meaning: this is, in every respect, a mark of foulness, evil, and impurity, a mark of every kind of decline and turbidity, a mark of every unwholesome root. It is for this reason that the householder bodhisattva, beholding marks such as these within their own spouse and children, ought to give rise to a mind of weariness and renunciation, going forth from home to cultivate goodness — this alone is what is good. Should they be unable to go forth from home, they ought never, even so, to give rise to any evil karma toward their own spouse!

Furthermore: "Should one hold a partial love toward one's own child, one ought, through the power of wisdom, to relinquish it at once.

"On account of this very child, one practices equanimity, extending loving-kindness universally to every sentient being."

Should the householder bodhisattva know for themselves that their own love toward their own child is unduly partial, they ought, through the power of wisdom, to reflect upon it and relinquish this very partiality. As for "the power of wisdom," one ought to reflect thus: "It is only through a mind of equanimity that the bodhisattva possesses unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening at all; a mind that ranks higher and lower possesses no bodhi whatsoever. This very unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening is attained through a single mark, the mark of signlessness, and is never attained through any mark of distinction and difference. I now seek unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening — should my own love toward my child be unduly partial, this itself constitutes a ranking of higher and lower, and cannot be called equanimity at all; this is itself a mark of distinction, not the single mark. Should this be so, I would then remain exceedingly far from unsurpassed, perfect, complete awakening. It is for this reason that I ought never to give rise to a partial love toward my own child."

At that very moment, toward this child, one ought to give rise to three marks: first, that, toward myself, this is itself a kind of thief — the Buddha teaches equanimous loving-kindness, and this partiality breaks it, rendering it unequal; since this love is unduly partial, both this love and this inequality together become a kind of theft and harm.

Second, on account of this very child, one's own roots of goodness are destroyed, and the very life of right wisdom is obstructed.

Third, on account of this very child, I proceed along a path contrary to the true path, and fail to walk the path that accords with it.

At that very moment, on account of this child, one practices a mind of loving-kindness equally toward every sentient being.

One ought to reflect thus: "This child has come from some other place, and I too have come from some other place; this child shall go to some other place, and I too shall go to some other place; I do not know where they shall go, nor do they know where I shall go; they do not know from where I have come, nor do I know from where they have come. This child is not truly my own possession at all — why, then, for no real reason, should I give rise to this misplaced bond of attachment!" As the verse says: "Neither of us truly knows whence the other has come, nor whither the other shall go; how, then, could we be truly close to one another, that I should give rise to this very thought of 'mine'!"

Furthermore, throughout beginningless birth and death, every sentient being has, at some time, been my own child, and I too have, at some time, been their own child. Within conditioned dharmas, there is nothing fixed or certain that this one is my own child and that one is another's child. And why is this so? Because sentient beings, revolving through the six destinies, become parent and child to one another in turn. As the verse says: "Ignorance obscures the very eye of wisdom, and, through birth and death again and again, coming and going, accomplishing much, we become parent and child to one another in turn.

"Craving and clinging to worldly pleasure, not knowing that anything more excellent exists — an enemy may often become a friend, and a friend may often become an enemy!"

It is for this reason that I employ this very skillful means, never giving rise to a mind of hatred or of love! And why is this so? Because should there be a good and virtuous friend who constantly seeks one's own benefit in every way, and should there be a hostile enemy who constantly gives rise to marks of harm in every way — holding this very mind of hatred and love, one is unable to penetrate the equal mark of every dharma. One whose mind ranks higher and lower is reborn, after death, into a wrongful place; one who practices rightly is reborn into a place of right conduct — it is for this reason that I ought never to practice wrongful conduct.

Practicing equanimity toward every sentient being, one thereby attains equanimous omniscience.

Fascicle 7 of the Daśabhūmika-vibhāṣā Śāstra