Six Middle Ways

As to the latter five similes illustrating buddha-nature: buddha-nature is of two kinds — the nature abiding in itself, and the nature drawn forth — and it is on account of these two natures that the three bodies of every buddha come to be accomplished. To reveal the nature abiding in itself, the simile of the buried treasure is given. This buddha-nature resembles a treasure in six respects: it is exceedingly hard to obtain, manifesting only after countless ages of diligent effort; it is pure and stainless, never sullied by impurity; its majestic power is inexhaustible, manifesting the six supernatural powers and every other virtue in full; it is able to adorn every worldly virtue, being fitting in every place; it is supreme, having no equal among all dharmas; and it undergoes no change amid the eight worldly dharmas, being the basis of the ten causes of permanence, just as true treasure's own nature is unaltered even by burning, striking, or polishing.

Second, buddha-nature drawn forth: from the first arising of bodhicitta all the way to the vajra-like mind, buddha-nature throughout this span is called "drawn forth." There are, in all, five stages of being drawn forth: out of the icchantika's position, out of the non-Buddhist's position, out of the śrāvaka's position, out of the pratyekabuddha's position, and out of the bodhisattva's own ground of ignorance — because the dharmakāya, at each stage, is able to break through the shell of affliction, and its own essence thereby becomes manifest. The sixth simile, of the mango sprout, illustrates this: just as that sprout is able to break through the seed's skin and flesh, and emerge to become a great king of trees, so too buddha-nature drawn forth is able to give rise to the great king of trees.

It is with reference to these two causes that the Buddha speaks of the fruit as three bodies. First, on account of the buddha-nature abiding in itself, the dharmakāya is spoken of. The dharmakāya has four virtues, and hence the seventh simile, of true gold wrapped in worn-out rags, is given: it exists inherently, as gold exists inherently, not something manufactured; it is pure, as gold is inherently pure, unable to be stained; it serves as the basis for every virtue, as gold is able to attract every kind of precious thing; and it is equally attained by all sentient beings alike, as gold has no fixed owner, attained by whoever cultivates it with sufficient effort. Second, on account of the buddha-nature drawn forth, the sambhogakāya is spoken of. The sambhogakāya has four virtues, and hence the eighth simile, of the poor and lowly woman carrying a wheel-turning king in her womb, is given: support, the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment being what is relied upon; proper arising, the wish to attain what is to be attained; proper abiding, proper attainment itself; and proper enjoyment, the state of having already attained it. Just as the wheel-turning king's son within the womb likewise has four aspects — prior karma as his support, not yet having the throne but wishing for it, properly attaining the throne, and, having attained it, never losing it — so the sambhogakāya is illustrated by this simile. Third, on account of the buddha-nature drawn forth, the nirmāṇakāya further emerges. The nirmāṇakāya has three aspects: it possesses form, like the moon reflected in water, its essence being a mere reflection; it arises through effort, being made by a prior vow; and it has both a beginning and an end — hence the ninth simile, of the buddha-image still within its mold, is given.

Explanation: as to these three senses — possessing form, like the moon's reflection, resembling the moon yet not being truly real, the nirmāṇakāya is exactly the same, having no real substance. Arising through skilled fashioning illustrates how the nirmāṇakāya arises from a prior vow. Having both a beginning and an end illustrates how the nirmāṇakāya transforms in accordance with conditions, and is thus able to have both. Next, it is by way of three further meanings that these three bodies are revealed: the first, the profound meaning, reveals the dharmakāya. "Profound" means that its essence is subtle. Hence this dharmakāya is complete with five marks and five virtues.

The five marks are: first, the mark of the unconditioned, being free from the four faults of arising, aging, and the rest. Second, the mark of neither one nor different, the ultimate and the conventional truths being neither one nor different from one another. This has two aspects: with respect to dharmas, and with respect to persons. With respect to dharmas: because the ultimate pervades universally, it cannot be called "different"; because the conventional is particular, it cannot be called "one." It is like the whiteness of a conch shell — the shell and its color are neither one nor two. If they were different, then, upon perceiving the shell's white color, one ought not thereby gain any understanding of the shell itself. If they were one, there ought to be no difference in scent, taste, or touch — it would have to be simply color alone. With respect to persons: if the ultimate and the conventional were one, then an ordinary person, seeing the conventional, ought thereby to penetrate the ultimate as well, and would then have to be a sage — yet since he does not see the ultimate, we know they are not one. If they were different, then a sage, seeing the conventional, ought not thereby penetrate the ultimate either, and would then have to be an ordinary person — yet, since the sage does see it, they cannot be different. Hence they are neither one nor different.

Third, the mark of freedom from the two extremes: there are six middle ways, by which one is able to escape six kinds of paired extremes. What are the six? The extremes of attachment to what can be destroyed and its destruction; the extremes of attachment to what is fearsome and the fear itself; the extremes of the graspable and the grasping; the extremes of correct and mistaken; the extremes of effort and effortlessness; and the extremes of non-arising and co-arising as one.

As to the first pair: some hold that all dharmas can, in the end, be utterly destroyed — this is one extreme. That their utter destruction is what is called emptiness is likewise an extreme. It is from this one-sided attachment that fear is born. In order to be free of it, the Buddha teaches: dharmas, not being existent, are not what can be destroyed; and, not being non-existent, are not what fails to be destroyed either. Neither destroyed nor not destroyed — this is the middle way, and it is for this reason that the Buddha established the simile of empty space. Hence the Ratnakūṭa Sūtra says: "Kāśyapa! It is like a person who, in fear of empty space, beats his chest and cries aloud, saying: 'Good friends! Remove this empty space for me!' Kāśyapa, can this empty space be removed?" Kāśyapa said: "It cannot, World-Honored One." The Buddha said: "Kāśyapa! If there are śramaṇas or brāhmaṇas who fear the emptiness of their own nature in just this way, I say that such persons have lost their minds and gone mad. Why? Kāśyapa, every dharma is, in every case, taught as a skillful means for expressing emptiness. If one fears this emptiness, why does one not equally fear every dharma? And if one cherishes every dharma, why does one not equally cherish this emptiness?" This shows that all dharmas, by their basic nature, are not existent, and hence emptiness is spoken of — it has nothing to do with a dharma first being destroyed and only then attaining emptiness. Hence one ought not to be afraid of the nature of emptiness. This is the middle way that is neither destroyer nor destroyed.

As to the second pair, the fearsome and fear: attaching to the six sense-objects, arisen from the imagined nature, as truly suffering is one extreme; giving rise to a fearful mind on this account is the other. In order to reveal the middle way, the Buddha gives the simile of the painter: "Kāśyapa! It is like a painter who paints an image of a rākṣasa, an image utterly terrifying. Seeing his own painted image, the painter himself grows afraid, covers his face, dares not look, and loses his mind in terror. Kāśyapa, ordinary beings are exactly the same: revolving in saṃsāra through the sense-objects they themselves have fashioned, they are unable to penetrate the true principle of such things." This shows that form and the other sense-objects are not truly, really existent, but are made entirely by delusive imagination — just as that painter, having himself painted a fearsome image, is then, on seeing it, struck with fear all over again.

Explanation: the first simile is spoken with reference to Hīnayāna practitioners, this second with reference to the Mahāyāna. Why? Because Hīnayāna practitioners have not repeatedly cultivated familiarity with suchness, and so give rise to fear; Mahāyāna practitioners, able to cultivate repeated familiarity with emptiness, do not — like a lion cub, who, hearing a lion's roar, does not become afraid.

As to the third pair, the graspable and the grasping: taking both the imagined object of grasping and the subject that grasps as truly existent. The Buddha gives the simile of the illusionist: "Kāśyapa! It is like an illusionist who conjures illusory images — the conjured tiger then turns and devours the illusionist himself. Kāśyapa, a monk practicing contemplation, observing whatever object he takes up, finds it revealed as sheer emptiness — truly without any existence at all." How does one become free of these two extremes? By depending on mental consciousness to give rise to the wisdom of consciousness-only, the wisdom that knows sense-objects have no independent substance. Once this wisdom is accomplished, it extinguishes, in turn, the very mental consciousness from which it arose — since sense-objects have no substance, the consciousness that grasps them does not arise, and this consciousness's non-arising extinguishes the wisdom of consciousness-only in its turn as well. Mental consciousness is like the illusionist; the wisdom of consciousness-only is like the illusory tiger, turning to devour the very illusionist who conjured it. As the master Āryadeva says in verse: "Mental consciousness is the root of the three realms of existence; sense-objects are its cause. Once one sees that sense-objects have no substance, the seed of consciousness naturally is extinguished."

As to the fourth pair, correct and mistaken: "correct" refers to discrimination within true contemplative practice at the stage of full penetration, "mistaken" to discrimination prior to it. The simile of two sticks producing fire is given: "Kāśyapa! It is like two sticks rubbed together, able to produce fire — and once the fire arises, it turns and burns the very sticks that produced it." In just this way, the mark of correct, true contemplative practice, opposing the mark of the mistaken, gives rise to the root of sagely wisdom — and once this root is accomplished, it removes both discriminations, mistaken and correct, in turn, just as, once fire arises, it burns both sticks, and once they are consumed, the fire, too, has nothing left to depend upon. Mistaken and correct are thus not two separate things — hence the middle way.

As to the fifth pair, effort and effortlessness: some hold that, to cultivate wisdom, one must first form the intention, and only then can the deed be accomplished; others hold that wisdom has no work of its own, since, understanding and delusion being set against one another, once understanding arises, delusion is extinguished of itself, not through any active removal. The simile of the oil lamp is given: "Kāśyapa! It is like lighting a lamp — once the light arises, darkness is dispelled. Yet that lamplight does not form the intention 'I am able to dispel the darkness,' and yet it is necessarily by means of the light's arising that the darkness comes to be dispelled at all." Wisdom is exactly the same: it does not form the intention "I am able to extinguish delusion," and yet delusion is not extinguished without depending on wisdom's arising either. If one says it is by forming the intention that delusion is extinguished, this is superimposition, the extreme of effort. If one says that ignorance is extinguished of itself, not through wisdom at all, this is denial, the extreme of effortlessness. In order to be free of both, it is said that wisdom's arising is neither an act of intention nor without intention — not being an act, it adds nothing; not being without intention, it subtracts nothing. This is the middle way.

As to the sixth pair, non-arising and co-arising as one: the attachment to non-arising holds that, since afflictions constantly arise within an ordinary being's continuum while the path has never once arisen, and the future will be exactly the same, one concludes there can never be any liberation at all. The attachment to co-arising holds that, since afflictions have existed since beginningless ages, only if the antidotal path arose simultaneously with the affliction could it extinguish it — yet the path, when it first arises, is weak, unable to extinguish affliction, so again one concludes there can never be liberation. To be free of both, the Buddha gives a second lamp simile: "Kāśyapa! Consider a perilous, dark mountain cave, in which darkness has remained for countless thousands of years, no one ever having lit a lamp within it — supposing someone lit a lamp there, could this be accomplished?" Answer: "It could." "Kāśyapa! Could the darkness think to itself, 'I have dwelt here so long; I will not leave now'?" "It could not, World-Honored One. Because, once the lamplight is produced, the darkness cannot fail to depart." "Kāśyapa, affliction and karma are exactly the same: though present in sentient beings' continuum from countless eons past, should one give rise, even for a single moment, to correct thought, the afflictions of these countless ages will all, of themselves, be extinguished. This lamplight is the simile for the sages' own non-discriminating wisdom; the darkness is the simile for sentient beings' affliction and karma." By means of this simile, the attachment to "the path does not arise" is broken, since the path arises dependent on causes and conditions — once they are complete, the path is able to arise, just as the darkness is dispelled only after the lamp is lit. And the darkness's dispelling breaks the attachment to co-arising, since darkness, being weak and inferior, a non-veridical state, can be dispelled, while the pure white light, the strongest, constitutes a truly real state free from inversion. This is what is meant by leaving behind these six paired extremes, and revealing the six corresponding middle ways.