The Six Teachers' Long Defeat

"At that time, the six teachers, their minds filled with envy, gathered together and went before King Prasenajit, saying: 'Great king, know that your own realm is pure, level, and tranquil — truly a fitting place for renunciants to dwell — and it is for exactly this reason that we have come here. Great king, you govern rightly by the Dharma, removing every affliction from your people. This śramaṇa Gautama, still young in years and shallow in learning, has no true skill in the path at all — and yet, though this kingdom already has its own venerable elders of long standing, he shows them no reverence at all, relying instead on his own royal lineage. Were he truly of royal lineage, the Dharma would have him govern the people; and, being instead a renunciant, he ought to show reverence to his elders. Great king, listen well: this śramaṇa Gautama, in truth, was never born of any royal lineage at all — for, had Gautama truly had a father and mother, by what right would he go about seizing others' own fathers and mothers from them? Great king, our own scriptures teach that, after a thousand years have passed, some strange and ominous illusory creature shall appear — and this śramaṇa Gautama is none other than that very creature. One should therefore know that this śramaṇa Gautama has no father and no mother at all — for, had he truly had a father and mother, how could he teach that every dharma is impermanent, suffering, empty, without self, without action, and without any experiencer at all? It is through illusory arts that he deceives and beguiles beings — the foolish believe and accept him, while the wise cast him aside. Great king, a ruler of men is father and mother to the whole world, like a scale, like the earth, like the wind, like fire, like a road, like a river, like a bridge, like a lamp, like the sun, like the moon — settling every matter according to the Dharma, showing no preference between friend and foe. This śramaṇa Gautama does not allow us to live in peace, pursuing us relentlessly wherever we go, never once releasing us. We ask only that the great king permit us to measure our own power in the path against this very Gautama — should he defeat us, we shall submit to him; and should we defeat him, he shall submit to us.' The king said: 'Venerable ones, each of you already has your own practice, and your own separate dwelling places besides. I know for certain that the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, poses no obstruction to you at all.' The six teachers answered: 'How could he pose no obstruction? This śramaṇa Gautama, through illusory arts, seduces and deceives every person and every brahmin, until all have submitted to him entirely. Should the great king permit us to measure our power in the path against him, the great king's own good name shall spread throughout the eight directions; and, should he not permit it, an evil reputation shall fill every road instead.' The king said: 'Venerable ones, it is only because you do not yet know the majestic, towering power of the Tathāgata's own path that you seek this very contest — were you to know it for certain, I fear you would not be able to withstand it at all.' 'Great king, have you, too, already fallen under Gautama's own illusion? We ask only that the great king retain his own discernment and listen with care, and not make light of us. Idle words settle nothing — better to put the matter to the actual test.' The king said: 'Excellent, excellent.' The followers of the six teachers then departed, rejoicing."

"At that time, King Prasenajit at once commanded his own carriage to be prepared and came to where I was, bowing his head to the ground in reverence, circling me three times to the right, and, withdrawing to sit to one side, said to me: 'World-Honored One, the six teachers have just now sought to measure their own power in the path against you — without properly weighing the matter, I have already dared to grant them this.' The Buddha said: 'Great king, excellent, excellent! You need only, further, build monasteries throughout every part of this kingdom — why is this? Should I measure my own supernatural power against theirs, many among their own followers shall be converted and transformed, and this present place is far too small and narrow to accommodate them all.' Good son, I, at that time, for the sake of these six teachers, from the very first day all the way to the fifteenth day, manifested great and rare supernatural transformations. At that very time, immeasurable beings gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening; immeasurable beings gave rise to unwavering faith in the three jewels; the followers of the six teachers, numbering beyond count, had their own wrong views destroyed, and became renunciants within the true Dharma; immeasurable beings attained a mind of non-retrogression with respect to bodhi; immeasurable beings attained the dhāraṇīs and every gate of samādhi; and immeasurable beings attained the fruit of stream-entry, all the way up to the fruit of arhatship."

"At that time, the six teachers, their hearts filled with shame, gathered together and went to the city of Sāketa, teaching its people to believe and accept wrong teachings, saying that this śramaṇa Gautama taught nothing but empty words. Good son, I, at that time, was dwelling in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven, beneath the pārijāta tree, teaching the Dharma there in retreat for my own mother's sake. At that time, the six teachers, their hearts filled with great joy, proclaimed: 'Excellent! Gautama's own illusory arts have now vanished entirely' — and went on to teach immeasurable, countless beings to increase their own wrong views. At that time, King Bimbisāra, King Prasenajit, and the four assemblies said to Maudgalyāyana: 'Venerable one, wrong views are increasing throughout this Jambudvīpa, and beings are truly to be pitied, walking in great darkness. We ask only that you, venerable one, go up to that very heaven, and, bowing at the World-Honored One's own feet, speak these very words on our behalf: "It is like a newborn calf, not long born — should it fail to receive its mother's milk, it is certain to die without doubt. We beings are exactly the same — we ask only that the Tathāgata, in his own pity for beings, return once more to dwell among us."' At that time, Maudgalyāyana silently consented, and, in the time it takes a strong man to bend and extend his own arm, went up to that very heaven, arrived at where the World-Honored One was, and said to the Buddha: 'Every one of the four assemblies throughout Jambudvīpa thirsts after the Tathāgata, longing to see him and hear the Dharma. King Bimbisāra, King Prasenajit, and the four assemblies bow at your very feet. Every being throughout this Jambudvīpa has wrong views increasing within them, walking in great darkness, and is truly to be pitied. It is like a newborn calf, not long born — should it fail to receive milk, it is certain to die without doubt. We, too, are exactly the same. We ask only that the Tathāgata, for the sake of beings, return once more to dwell here in this Jambudvīpa.' The Buddha said to Maudgalyāyana: 'Return now swiftly to Jambudvīpa, and tell every king and the four assemblies that, after seven days have passed, I shall descend once more. It is for the sake of these six teachers that I shall, further, go to that very city of Sāketa.' After seven days had passed, I, together with Indra, Brahmā, the deity of the Māra heaven, and immeasurable sons of the gods, along with every deity and human of the Śuddhāvāsa heavens, surrounded before and behind, arrived at the city of Sāketa, and there gave forth this very great lion's roar: 'Only within my own Dharma are there true śramaṇas and brahmins at all — every dharma is impermanent and without self, nirvāṇa is tranquil and still, and free of every fault and evil. Should it be said that, within any other teaching, there are, likewise, true śramaṇas and brahmins, holding a permanent self and possessing nirvāṇa, this could never be so.' At that time, immeasurable, boundless beings gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening. At this, the six teachers said among themselves: 'If, within our own teaching, there are truly no genuine śramaṇas or brahmins at all, how, then, could we possibly continue receiving worldly offerings?' — and the six teachers, gathering together once more, made their way to the city of Vaiśālī."

"Good son, I once dwelt within a mango grove at Vaiśālī. At that time, the courtesan Āmrapālī, knowing that I was there, wished to come to where I was. I, at that time, said to the monks: 'You ought to contemplate the foundations of mindfulness, cultivate wisdom well, and, whatever you cultivate, never let the mind grow heedless. What, then, is meant by contemplating the foundations of mindfulness? Should a monk observe his own inner body, and see within it neither a self nor anything belonging to a self; and observe an outer body, and both inner and outer bodies together, and see within them, likewise, neither a self nor anything belonging to a self; and observe feeling, mind, and mental phenomena in exactly the same way — this is named the foundations of mindfulness. What, then, is meant by cultivating wisdom? Should a monk truly and genuinely see suffering, its arising, its cessation, and the path — this is named a monk who cultivates wisdom. What, then, is meant by a mind free of heedlessness? Should a monk be mindful of the Buddha, mindful of the Dharma, mindful of the Saṅgha, mindful of the precepts, mindful of generosity, and mindful of the heavens — this is named a monk whose mind is free of heedlessness.' At that very time, the courtesan Āmrapālī arrived at where I was, bowed her head to the ground in reverence, circled me three times to the right, and, having paid her respects, withdrew to sit to one side. Good son, I, at that time, taught the Dharma for Āmrapālī exactly as was fitting, and this woman, upon hearing it, gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening. At that time, within that city, there were five hundred young Licchavis who came to where I was, bowed their heads to the ground in reverence, circled me three times to the right, and, having paid their respects, withdrew to sit to one side. I then, further, taught the Dharma for these young Licchavis, exactly as was fitting: 'Good sons, heedlessness bears five kinds of fruit. What are these five? First, one fails to gain mastery over one's own wealth and profit; second, an evil reputation spreads abroad; third, one takes no delight in generously giving to the poor and needy; fourth, one takes no delight in meeting with the four assemblies; and fifth, one fails to attain a heavenly body. Good sons, freedom from heedlessness is able to give rise to both worldly and transcendent dharmas alike. Should anyone wish to attain unsurpassed, complete awakening, he ought diligently to cultivate the dharma of freedom from heedlessness. Heedlessness, further, bears thirteen kinds of consequence. What are these thirteen? First, delighting in worldly business; second, delighting in speaking useless words; third, forever delighting in prolonged sleep and slumber; fourth, delighting in speaking of worldly affairs; fifth, forever delighting in keeping close company with evil friends; sixth, forever indolent and lazy; seventh, forever held in contempt by others; eighth, forgetting again whatever one has heard, no sooner than one has heard it; ninth, delighting in dwelling in remote places; tenth, being unable to tame one's own sense-faculties; eleventh, never knowing contentment in eating; twelfth, taking no delight in emptiness and stillness; and thirteenth, holding wrong views — these are named the thirteen. Good son, one who is heedless, though he may draw physically close to the Buddha and to the Buddha's own disciples, nevertheless remains, in truth, far from them.' The young Licchavis said: 'We ourselves already know that we are heedless people. Why is this? For, were we truly not heedless, the Tathāgata, this Dharma-king, would surely have already appeared within our own land.' At that time, within the great assembly, there was a brahmin youth named Aprameya, who said to the young Licchavis: 'Excellent, excellent! Exactly as you have said, King Bimbisāra has already gained great benefit. The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, appearing within his own kingdom, is exactly like a wondrous lotus flower born within a great pond — though it grows within the water, the water is never able to stain it. Young Licchavis, the Buddha is exactly the same: though he is born within that kingdom, he is never obstructed at all by any worldly dharma. Every buddha, every world-honored one, neither truly departs nor truly arrives — he appears in the world only for the sake of beings, and is never obstructed at all by any worldly dharma. It is you yourselves who, lost and indulging in the five desires, fail to know how to draw close and go to where the Tathāgata is — it is for this very reason that you are named heedless people. It is not the Buddha's appearing within the kingdom of Magadha that is named heedlessness. Why is this? The Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, is exactly like the sun and moon, appearing in the world not merely for the sake of one person, or two.' Upon hearing this, the young Licchavis at once gave rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening, and further said: 'Excellent, excellent, young Aprameya! You have spoken words as fine and wondrous as these!' The young Licchavis then, each removing a single garment from his own body, gave it as an offering to Aprameya. Aprameya, having received these garments, in turn offered them to me, further saying: 'World-Honored One, I have received these very garments from the Licchavis — I ask only that the Tathāgata, in his own pity for beings, accept this offering of mine.' I, at that time, out of compassion for Aprameya, accepted them. The Licchavis then, joining their palms together at the very same moment, said: 'We ask only that the Tathāgata dwell for a single retreat within this very land, and accept our own humble offerings.' I, at that time, silently accepted the Licchavis' own invitation."

"At that time, the six teachers, hearing of this, gathered their own followers together and went to the city of Vārāṇasī. I, too, then went to Vārāṇasī, and dwelt beside the Vārāṇasī river. At that time, in Vārāṇasī, there was the son of an elder, named Ratnakīrti, indulging himself entirely in the five desires, unaware of impermanence. Because of my arrival there, he came, entirely of his own accord, to attain the contemplation of the bare skeleton, seeing his own palace halls, his palace attendants, and his own courtesans, all as nothing but bare bones — his mind filled with terror, as though facing a blade, a venomous serpent, a bandit, or a fire, he at once fled his own house and came to where I was, saying to me along the way: 'Śramaṇa Gautama, I now feel as though pursued by bandits, filled with the greatest terror — I beg you to rescue and deliver me.' The Buddha said: 'Good son, in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, one finds tranquility and freedom from fear.' The son of this elder said: 'If, within the three jewels, there is truly nothing to fear at all, then I, too, shall now attain this very freedom from fear.' I then permitted him to become a renunciant, to pursue the path. This son of an elder had, further, fifty companions of his own, who, hearing from afar that Ratnakīrti had grown weary of desire and become a renunciant, together, in harmonious accord, likewise became renunciants with him. The six teachers, hearing of this, went on, in turn, to the great city of Campā. "At that time, throughout the great kingdom of Campā, every one of its people served and honored the followers of the six teachers, having never yet even heard the names of the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha, and many among them committed the most extreme evil deeds. I, at that time, for the sake of these very beings, went to the city of Campā. Within that city, there was a great elder, without any heir at all, who served the six teachers, seeking a child through their aid, and, not long afterward, his wife did indeed become pregnant. Upon learning of this, the elder went to the six teachers and joyfully said: 'My wife is with child — will it be a son, or a daughter?' The six teachers answered: 'The child born will certainly be a daughter.' Hearing this, the elder's mind grew filled with sorrow and vexation. A friend of his came and said to him: 'Why are you so filled with sorrow and vexation?' The elder answered: 'My wife is with child, and, not yet knowing whether it will be a son or a daughter, I asked the six teachers, who told me, according to their own art of physiognomy, that the child born would certainly be a daughter. Hearing this, I reflected that I am already advanced in years, possessed of immeasurable wealth, and, should the child not be a son, I shall have no one at all to whom I might entrust it — it is for this very reason that I am filled with sorrow.' This friend said, further: 'You lack wisdom indeed — have you not heard? The brothers of Uruvilvā Kāśyapa — whose disciples are they? The Buddha's, or the six teachers'? Were the six teachers truly omniscient, why, then, would Kāśyapa have abandoned them, refusing to serve them any longer, and become instead a disciple of the Buddha? And are Śāriputra, Maudgalyāyana, and the rest, and every king such as Bimbisāra, and every queen such as Queen Mallikā, and every elder of every kingdom such as Sudatta — are all these people, too, not the Buddha's own disciples? The spirit of the wilderness, King Ajātaśatru, the elephant Dhanapāla driven mad with drink, and Aṅgulimāla, his evil mind ablaze, wishing to kill his own mother — were beings such as these, too, not tamed by the Tathāgata himself? Elder, the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, has knowledge and vision, without obstruction, of every dharma — it is for this very reason that he is named "Buddha." His every word is without contradiction — it is for this very reason that he is named "Tathāgata." He has severed every affliction — it is for this very reason that he is named "arhat." The World-Honored One's every teaching is, in the end, never self-contradictory. The six teachers are not like this at all — how, then, could they possibly be trusted? The Tathāgata now dwells nearby, right here — should you truly wish to know the truth, you ought to go to where the Buddha is.' The elder then, together with this friend, came to where I was, bowed his head to the ground in reverence, circled me three times to the right, joined his palms, knelt upon both knees, and said: 'World-Honored One, toward every being, your mind remains perfectly equal, without any duality at all, regarding friend and foe with a single, identical countenance. I myself, bound by the fetter of attachment, have not yet been able to attain such non-duality between friend and foe. I now wish to ask the Tathāgata about a worldly matter, and, filled with deep shame and fear, hardly dare to speak. World-Honored One, my wife is with child, and the six teachers, reading her signs, say the child will certainly be a daughter — how, in truth, does this matter stand?' The Buddha said: 'Elder, your wife's child is, without doubt, a son — and, once this child is born, his own merit and virtue shall be beyond compare.' Upon hearing my words, the elder was filled with great joy, and returned home. The six teachers, hearing my own clear prophecy — that the child would certainly be a son, and possessed of great merit — grew filled with envy, and, mixing poison together with an amra fruit, brought it to the elder's own house, saying to him: 'How wonderful, that Gautama should so skillfully read these signs! When your wife's time draws near, she ought to take this very medicine — having taken it, the child shall be handsome and well-formed, and she shall give birth without any complication at all.' The elder, filled with joy, accepted this poison and gave it to his wife to take — and, having taken it, she died at once. The six teachers, filled with joy, proclaimed throughout the whole city, in a loud voice: 'The śramaṇa Gautama prophesied that this elder's wife would bear a son, whose merit and virtue would be unequaled throughout the world — and now, before the child was even born, its own mother has already lost her life!' The elder, at this, once more gave rise to a mind of disbelief toward me, and, following the customary rites of the world, placed her in a coffin, sealed it, and had it carried outside the city, where a great pile of dry firewood was gathered, and the body was set alight. I, with my own eye of the path, clearly perceived this very event, and, calling upon Ānanda, said: 'Bring my robe — I now wish to go there, to destroy this very wrong view.'"

"At that time, Vaiśravaṇa, the heavenly king, spoke to his great general Māṇibhadra, saying: 'The Tathāgata now wishes to go to that very charnel ground — you ought quickly to go ahead, level and sweep the ground, set up a lion-throne, gather fine flowers and incense, and adorn the place.' At that time, the six teachers, seeing me approach from a distance, said among themselves: 'Has this śramaṇa Gautama come to this very charnel ground to feast upon flesh?' At that time, many lay disciples who had not yet attained the Dharma-eye, each filled with their own doubt and shame, said to me: 'That woman has already died — we beg you, there is no need to go there at all.' At that time, Ānanda said to the assembled people: 'Wait but a little while — before long, the Tathāgata shall reveal, at great length, the very domain of every buddha.' I, at that time, having arrived, sat upon the lion-throne, and the elder objected, saying: 'You yourself have said your every word is without contradiction, and it is for this that you are rightly called "World-Honored One" — and yet the mother has already died — how, then, could the child possibly still be born?' I said: 'Elder, at that very time, you never once asked me whether the mother's own life would be long or short — you asked only whether the child she carried would be a son or a daughter. Every buddha, every tathāgata, speaks without any contradiction at all — you should therefore know for certain that the child shall indeed be born.' At that very moment, the fire burning the corpse split open her own abdomen, and the child emerged from within it, sitting upright amid the flames, exactly like a pair of mandarin ducks resting upon a lotus platform. The six teachers, seeing this, said, further: 'How uncanny — this Gautama is indeed skilled in illusory arts!' The elder, seeing this, was filled once more with joy, and rebuked the six teachers, saying: 'If you truly call this an illusion, why, then, do you not perform such a feat yourselves?' I then, at that very moment, said to Jīvaka: 'Go into the fire, and bring this child out in your arms.' As Jīvaka moved to go, the six teachers pulled him back, saying to him: 'This illusory art performed by the śramaṇa Gautama need not always succeed — it may work, or it may not — and, should it fail, you yourself may well be burned to death along with the child. How could you possibly believe and accept his words so readily?' Jīvaka answered: 'Should the Tathāgata send me even into the Avīci hell itself, its every fierce flame would still be unable to burn me — how much less, then, an ordinary worldly fire?' Jīvaka then stepped forward into the very midst of the flames, exactly as one might step into a cool, refreshing river, gathered the child into his arms, and returned to where I was, presenting the child to me. Having received the child, I said to the elder: 'Every being's own lifespan is uncertain, like a bubble floating upon water. Yet, should a being possess a sufficiently weighty karmic fruit, fire is unable to burn him, and poison is unable to harm him. This child's own karmic fruit is not something I myself have produced.' The elder then said: 'Excellent, World-Honored One! Should this child live out the whole of his own natural span, I ask only that the Tathāgata bestow upon him a name.' The Buddha said: 'Elder, since this child was born in the very midst of a fierce fire, and fire is named "jyotis," he ought to be named Jyotiṣka.' At that time, everyone in that assembly, witnessing my own supernatural transformation, gave rise, in immeasurable numbers, to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening."

"At that time, the six teachers, having gone throughout all six cities without finding any place to rest, filled with shame, their heads bowed low, came once more to this very city of Kuśinagara. Having arrived here, they proclaimed these very words: 'Everyone, know this — the śramaṇa Gautama is a great illusionist, deceiving and beguiling the whole world, throughout all six great cities. It is like an illusionist who conjures forth the four kinds of army — chariots, cavalry, elephants, and infantry — and who, further, conjures forth every kind of jeweled ornament, walled cities, palaces, rivers, pools, and trees. This śramaṇa Gautama is exactly the same, conjuring forth the body of a king. For the sake of teaching the Dharma, he manifests, by turns, the body of a śramaṇa, the body of a brahmin, a male body, a female body, a small body, a large body, and, at times, the body of an animal or a spirit; and he teaches, by turns, impermanence, and then permanence; suffering, at one time, and bliss, at another; self, at one time, and no-self, at another; purity, at one time, and impurity, at another; existence, at one time, and non-existence, at another — all of it entirely false, and it is for this very reason that he is named an illusionist. It is like a fruit that follows from its own seed — this śramaṇa Gautama is exactly the same: since the very mother who bore him, Māyā, was herself an illusion, her own son could hardly be otherwise. This śramaṇa Gautama possesses no true knowledge or vision at all — even the brahmins, who cultivate austerities and uphold the precepts across years upon years, still say of themselves that they have not yet attained true knowledge and vision. How much less, then, could Gautama, young in years and shallow in learning, who has never even cultivated austerities, possess any true knowledge or vision at all? Even one who has fully completed seven years of austerities still sees but little — how much less, then, one who has not even completed six years of practice? It is only the foolish, lacking wisdom, who believe and accept his teaching, exactly as a great illusionist deceives and beguiles the foolish — this śramaṇa Gautama is exactly the same.' Good son, these six teachers, throughout this very city, greatly increased the wrong views of its people. "Good son, I, seeing this, gave rise to a mind of pity, and, through my own supernatural power, invited and summoned every great bodhisattva throughout the ten directions, who gathered together in this very grove like clouds, filling it entirely, forty yojanas all around, and I now, within this very gathering, gave forth this great lion's roar. Good son, though much may be spoken even in an empty place, this still cannot be named a lion's roar. It is only within an assembly of the wise, gathered together in exactly this way, that one may truly be said to give forth a great lion's roar. To give forth a lion's roar is to teach that every dharma is, without exception, impermanent, suffering, without self, and impure, while teaching solely that the Tathāgata possesses permanence, bliss, self, and purity."

"At that time, the six teachers said, further: 'Should Gautama truly possess a self, then we, too, possess a self. What we mean by "self" is this: that which sees is named the self. Gautama, it is like a person who, facing toward something, sees an object — we mean exactly the same by "self": "facing toward" is a likeness for the eye, and "that which sees" is a likeness for the self.' The Buddha said to the six teachers: 'To say that "that which sees" is named the self is, I think, not correct. Why is this? In the very simile you have drawn upon — a person facing toward an object and seeing it — a person faces in but a single direction at any one time, while all six of his own sense-faculties are, nonetheless, functioning together at once. If a self truly exists, and it is through the eye that it sees, why, then, is it not also, at that very same moment, attending to every other sense-object through every other single faculty as well? If a single sense-faculty is unable to hear and see all six kinds of sense-object at one and the same time, one should therefore know that there is no self at all. And, in the very simile of "facing toward" that you have drawn upon, though a hundred years may pass, what the one who sees perceives, by means of this very faculty, remains unchanged throughout. If the eye-faculty were truly like this, then, even as one grows old and this faculty matures and ages, it, too, ought to remain unchanged — and yet, because a person turns to face in different directions, he sees, at one time, what lies within, and, at another, what lies without. If the eye-faculty were truly a fixed self, it ought to see both what lies within and what lies without at one and the same moment. If it is unable to see them both at once, how, then, could there possibly be a self at all?' The six teachers said, further: 'Gautama, if there is truly no self at all, who, then, is it that is able to see?' The Buddha said: 'There is form, there is light, there is mind, and there is the eye — it is through the coming together of these four conditions that seeing is named. Within this process, there is, in truth, no one at all who sees, and no one at all who experiences. It is only through their own inverted perception that beings speak of a seer and an experiencer at all. It is for this very reason that every being's own seeing is inverted, while every buddha's and bodhisattva's own seeing is genuinely true. Six teachers, should you say that form itself is the self, this, too, is not correct. Why is this? Form, in truth, is not the self at all. Were form truly the self, one ought never to obtain an ugly or unpleasant form at all — why, then, are there the differences among the four castes, with not even every single brahmin sharing one and the same form? Why does one's own form remain subject to others, never fully within one's own control? Why are the sense-faculties sometimes deficient, or one born without them fully complete? Why does one fail to take on the very body of a god at will, and instead receive one body after another among the hells, the animals, and the hungry ghosts? If one is unable to produce whatever form he wishes at will, one should know for certain that there is, in truth, no self at all. Because there is no self, this is named impermanence; because it is impermanent, it is suffering; because it is suffering, it is empty; and because it is empty, it is subject to inversion — and it is on account of this very inversion that every being turns endlessly through birth-and-death; and feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness are exactly the same. Six teachers, the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, has forever severed the bondage of form, all the way through to the bondage of consciousness — it is for this very reason that he is named permanence, bliss, self, and purity. Furthermore, form is itself a product of causes and conditions — and, being a product of causes and conditions, it is thereby named without self; and, being without self, it is named suffering and emptiness. The Tathāgata's own body is not a product of causes and conditions at all — and, not being a product of causes and conditions, it is thereby named possessing a self; and, possessing a self, it is thereby permanence, bliss, and purity.'"

"The six teachers said, further: 'Gautama, form, too, is not the self, and consciousness, too, is not the self. The self pervades every place, exactly like empty space.' The Buddha said: 'If it truly, pervasively exists everywhere, one ought never to say that it was, at first, unseen at all. And, if it truly was, at first, unseen, one should know that this very seeing was originally absent and is now present — and, if it is originally absent and now present, this is named impermanence. And, if it is impermanent, how, then, can it be called all-pervading at all? And, if it truly pervades everywhere, then, within every one of the five destinies, there ought to be a body fully endowed with it — and, should there be such a body, each ought to receive its own karmic fruit accordingly — and, if each receives its own karmic fruit accordingly, how, then, can it be said that one turns from one destiny to another, becoming, in turn, a human or a god? You speak of this self as "pervading everywhere" — but is it one single thing, or many? If it is a single thing, there could then be no distinction at all between father and son, or between friend and foe; and, if it is many things, then every being's own five sense-faculties ought to be entirely equal to one another, and his own karma and wisdom, too, ought to be exactly the same. And, if this is so, how, then, can it be said that some faculties are complete while others are deficient, or that karma is wholesome in one case and unwholesome in another, or that some are wise and others foolish?' 'Gautama, a being's own self is without any boundary or limit at all. It is dharma and non-dharma that possess their own distinct measure. A being who cultivates dharma thereby attains a fine body, while one who practices non-dharma thereby attains a poor one — it is for this very reason that a being's own karmic fruit cannot fail to differ from one being to the next.' The Buddha said: 'Good son, if dharma and non-dharma are truly like this, then the self cannot be all-pervading at all. And, were the self truly all-pervading, it ought to reach everywhere at once — and, were it to reach everywhere at once, then one who cultivates what is wholesome ought also to possess what is unwholesome, and one who practices what is unwholesome ought also to possess what is wholesome. If this is not so, how, then, can it be called all-pervading at all?' 'Gautama, it is like a single room in which a hundred, a thousand lamps are lit — each one shines with its own light, without any one obstructing another. A being's own self is exactly the same: the cultivation of good and the practice of evil never mix or blend together at all.' 'Good son, should you say that the self is like a lamp, this, I think, is not correct. Why is this? A lamp's own light arises only in dependence on conditions — as the lamp itself grows, its light, too, grows correspondingly. A being's own self is not like this at all. Furthermore, a lamp's own light emerges from the lamp, and dwells in a place separate from it; a being's own self cannot be like this either, emerging from the body and dwelling in some separate place. A lamp's own light, further, coexists together with darkness — why is this? It is like a single lamp lit within a dark room: its illumination is not yet complete, and it is only once many lamps are lit together that full illumination is achieved. If the very first lamp already dispelled the darkness entirely, there would be no need at all for any further lamp — and, since a further lamp is indeed needed, one should know that the first lamp's own light coexists together with darkness after all.' 'Gautama, if there is truly no self at all, who, then, is it that performs good and evil deeds?'"

"The Buddha said: 'If the self is itself the one who acts, how, then, could it be called permanent at all? And, were it truly permanent, how, then, could it come to perform good deeds at one time, and evil deeds at another? And, should you say that it performs good and evil at different times, how, then, could it also be said that the self is without any boundary at all? And, if the self is itself the one who acts, why, then, does it also come to practice evil dharmas? And, if the self is itself both the agent and the knower, why, then, does doubt arise at all as to whether beings possess a self? It is for this very reason that, within every non-Buddhist teaching, there is, in truth, certainly no self at all. Should you wish to speak truly of "self," this is none other than the Tathāgata himself. Why is this? Because his own body is without any boundary at all, and free of every net of doubt; because he neither acts nor experiences, he is named permanent; because he is neither born nor ceases, he is named blissful; because he is free of every stain of affliction, he is named pure; and because he is without any of the ten marks, he is named empty. It is for this very reason that the Tathāgata possesses permanence, bliss, self, and purity, empty of every mark at once.' Every one of these non-Buddhist teachers then said: 'Should the Tathāgata truly possess permanence, bliss, self, and purity, and, being without any mark at all, be thereby empty — one should then know that the very dharma Gautama himself teaches is, in fact, not empty at all. It is for this very reason that we shall now receive and uphold it with the utmost reverence.' At that time, these non-Buddhist teachers, immeasurable in number, gave rise to faith within the Buddha's own Dharma, and became renunciants. "Good son, it is through this very cause and condition that I have given forth this great lion's roar here, among these twin sāla trees. A lion's roar is itself named the great nirvāṇa. Good son, the pair of trees to the east is a likeness for overcoming impermanence and attaining permanence; and, all the way through to the pair of trees to the north, a likeness for overcoming impurity and attaining purity. Good son, the beings dwelling here protect this sāla grove for the very sake of these twin trees, never permitting outsiders to take their branches and leaves, or to cut and destroy them. I am exactly the same: it is for the sake of these very four dharmas that I cause my own disciples to uphold and protect the Buddha's own Dharma. What are these four? Permanence, bliss, self, and purity. These four pairs of trees are, further, each overseen by one of the four heavenly kings — and it is for the sake of these four kings, who uphold and protect my own Dharma, that I enter parinirvāṇa in this very place. Good son, the flowers and fruit of these twin sāla trees forever flourish, forever benefiting immeasurable beings. I am exactly the same, forever benefiting the śrāvaka and the pratyekabuddha alike. The flower is a likeness for self, and the fruit is a likeness for bliss — it is for this very reason that I enter the great, still concentration here, among these twin sāla trees, and this great, still concentration is itself named the great nirvāṇa."

Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, why does the Tathāgata enter parinirvāṇa in the second month?" "Good son, the second month is named spring — in this month of spring sunshine, every living thing grows and flourishes: seeds and roots are planted, flowers and fruit bloom and thrive, rivers and streams run full, and every kind of animal bears its young. At this very season, beings are most inclined to give rise to the thought of permanence — and, in order to overcome exactly this thought of permanence in beings, I teach that every dharma, without exception, is impermanent, while teaching solely that the Tathāgata abides forever, unchanging. Good son, of the six seasons, the depths of early winter bring withering and decay, which beings take no delight in at all; while the warm, gentle moisture of spring is what people crave and love. It is in order to overcome beings' own worldly delight that I proclaim permanence and bliss in exactly this season. Self and purity are exactly the same: it is in order to overcome the world's own false notion of self and purity that the Tathāgata teaches the Tathāgata's own true self and purity. To speak of 'the second month' is itself a likeness for the Tathāgata's own two kinds of Dharma-body. Not delighting in winter is a likeness for the wise taking no delight in the Tathāgata's entering an impermanent nirvāṇa; delighting in the second month is a likeness for the wise delighting in the Tathāgata's own permanence, bliss, self, and purity. The planting of seeds is a likeness for beings, upon hearing the Dharma, rejoicing and giving rise to the mind of unsurpassed, complete awakening, planting every kind of wholesome root. The rivers are a likeness for the great bodhisattvas of the ten directions coming to where I am, to inquire into and receive this very scripture of the great nirvāṇa. Every kind of animal bearing its young is a likeness for my own disciples giving rise to every kind of wholesome root. The flower is a likeness for the seven factors of awakening, and the fruit is a likeness for the four fruits of the path. It is for this very reason that I enter the great nirvāṇa in the second month."

Lion's Roar said: "The Tathāgata's own birth, renunciation, awakening, and turning of the wondrous wheel of the Dharma all occurred on the eighth day — why, then, does his parinirvāṇa alone occur on the fifteenth day?" The Buddha said: "Excellent, excellent! Good son, just as the moon on the fifteenth day is neither waning nor waxing, every buddha, every tathāgata, is exactly the same: entering the great nirvāṇa, without any waning or waxing at all. It is for this very reason that I enter parinirvāṇa on the fifteenth day. Good son, just as the full moon of the fifteenth day, at its own fullest and most complete, brings about eleven things — what are these eleven? First, it is able to dispel darkness; second, it causes beings to distinguish the path from what is not the path; third, it causes beings to distinguish the wrong path from the right; fourth, it removes stifling heat and brings cool, refreshing comfort; fifth, it is able to destroy the arrogant pride of the mere firefly's glow; sixth, it puts to rest every thought of bandits and thieves; seventh, it removes beings' own fear of fierce beasts; eighth, it is able to make the blue lotus bloom open; ninth, it causes the day-lotus to close; tenth, it draws forth, in the traveler, the resolve to press onward along his own road; and eleventh, it causes beings to delight in receiving the five desires and to gain abundant happiness thereby. Good son, the Tathāgata's own full moon is exactly the same. First, he destroys the great darkness of ignorance; second, he proclaims the right path and the wrong path; third, he reveals the perilous wrongness of birth-and-death and the level rightness of nirvāṇa; fourth, he causes people to depart far from greed, hatred, and the fever of delusion; fifth, he destroys the ignorance of every non-Buddhist path; sixth, he destroys the bandit of every affliction and fetter; seventh, he removes the fearful mind of the five hindrances; eighth, he opens and unfolds, in beings, the mind that plants every wholesome root; ninth, he covers over beings' own mind of the five desires; tenth, he rouses beings to advance in cultivation, moving toward the conduct of the great nirvāṇa; and eleventh, he causes beings to delight in cultivating liberation. It is for this very reason that I enter the great nirvāṇa on the fifteenth day — and yet, in truth, I do not truly enter nirvāṇa at all. Among my own disciples, the foolish and the wicked will certainly insist that the Tathāgata has entered nirvāṇa. It is like a mother who has many children: this mother departs on a journey to another land, and, before she has yet returned, her children all say, one and all, that their mother has already died — and yet, in truth, this mother has not died at all."

Lion's Roar Bodhisattva said: "World-Honored One, what kind of monk is able to adorn these twin sāla trees?" "Good son, should a monk uphold, recite, and read the twelve divisions of scripture, correctly grasping their every word and phrase, penetrating their profound meaning, and expounding for others their goodness at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end, proclaiming pure conduct for the benefit of immeasurable beings — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar Bodhisattva said: "World-Honored One, as I understand the meaning of what the Buddha has taught, the monk Ānanda is exactly such a person. Why is this? The monk Ānanda upholds, recites, and reads the twelve divisions of scripture, expounding right speech and right meaning for others, exactly like water poured from one vessel into another — the monk Ānanda is exactly the same, repeating, exactly as he heard it, whatever he has heard from the Buddha himself." "Good son, should a monk attain the pure heavenly eye, seeing everything throughout the three-thousand-great-thousandfold world-system in every direction, exactly as one views an āmalaka fruit held in the palm of one's own hand — a monk of exactly this kind, too, is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, the monk Aniruddha is exactly such a person. Why is this? Aniruddha, through his own heavenly eye, sees everything throughout the three-thousand-great-thousandfold world-system, all the way through to the intermediate state itself, with perfect clarity, entirely without obstruction." "Good son, should a monk be of few desires and content, his mind delighting in tranquility, diligently exerting himself in mindfulness, concentration, and liberating wisdom — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, the monk Kāśyapa is exactly such a person. Why is this? The monk Kāśyapa well cultivates few desires, contentment, and every dharma of this kind." "Good son, should a monk, for the sake of benefiting beings, and not for the sake of personal gain, cultivate and penetrate the samādhi free of contention, noble conduct, and the conduct of emptiness — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, the monk Subhūti is exactly such a person. Why is this? Subhūti well cultivates the conduct free of contention, noble conduct, and the conduct of emptiness." "Good son, should a monk well cultivate supernatural powers, able, within a single thought, to perform every kind of supernatural transformation, and, with a single mind and a single concentration, able to produce two fruits at once — namely, water and fire — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, the monk Maudgalyāyana is exactly such a person. Why is this? Maudgalyāyana well cultivates supernatural powers and immeasurable transformations." "Good son, should a monk cultivate great wisdom, sharp wisdom, swift wisdom, liberating wisdom, profound wisdom, vast wisdom, boundless wisdom, unsurpassed wisdom, and true wisdom, fully accomplishing this very root of wisdom, his mind making no distinction at all between friend and foe; and should he, upon hearing that the Tathāgata's nirvāṇa is impermanent, feel no sorrow at all, and, upon hearing that he is ever-abiding and does not enter nirvāṇa, give rise to no particular joy either — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, the monk Śāriputra is exactly such a person. Why is this? Śāriputra is well able to accomplish and fully complete great wisdom of exactly this kind." "Good son, should a monk be able to teach that every being, without exception, possesses buddha-nature, and attain the vajra body, without any boundary at all, his body and mind unobstructed with permanence, bliss, self, and purity, and attain the eight kinds of mastery — a monk of exactly this kind is able to adorn these twin sāla trees." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, if this is so, only the Tathāgata himself is exactly such a person. Why is this? The Tathāgata's own body is the vajra body, without any boundary at all, possessing permanence, bliss, self, and purity, its body and mind unobstructed, fully endowed with the eight kinds of mastery. World-Honored One, only the Tathāgata is truly able to adorn these twin sāla trees — were he absent, they could never be properly adorned at all. I ask only that, in your own great compassion, and for the sake of this very adornment, you dwell forever within this sāla grove."

The Buddha said: "Good son, every dharma, without exception, has, as its own nature, an abiding that does not truly abide — how, then, can you ask that the Tathāgata 'dwell'? Good son, whatever is generally spoken of as 'dwelling' is named a form-dharma, arising from causes and conditions, and it is on this account that it is named 'dwelling.' Yet causes and conditions have no fixed location at all — it is for this very reason that this is named 'the abiding that does not abide.' The Tathāgata has already severed every bondage of form entirely — how, then, could one possibly say that the Tathāgata 'dwells'? And feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness are exactly the same. Good son, 'dwelling' is named arrogance — it is on account of arrogance that liberation is not attained, and it is because liberation is not attained that this is named 'dwelling' — yet who, exactly, possesses this arrogance? And from where, exactly, does it come? It is for this very reason that this may be named 'the abiding that does not abide.' The Tathāgata has forever severed every trace of arrogance — how, then, could you ask that the Tathāgata 'dwell'? 'Dwelling' is named a conditioned dharma, and the Tathāgata has already severed every conditioned dharma entirely — it is for this reason that he does not 'dwell.' 'Dwelling' is named an empty dharma, and the Tathāgata has already severed this very empty dharma as well, and it is for this reason that he has attained permanence, bliss, self, and purity — how, then, could you ask that the Tathāgata 'dwell'? 'Dwelling' is named the twenty-five states of existence, and the Tathāgata has already severed these twenty-five states of existence entirely — how, then, could you ask that the Tathāgata 'dwell'? 'Dwelling' describes every ordinary being; every noble one has no going, no coming, and no dwelling at all — the Tathāgata has already severed every mark of going, coming, and dwelling — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling is itself named the boundless body — and, because this body is boundless, how, then, could you ask that the Tathāgata 'dwell' within this very sāla grove? Were he to dwell within this grove, his body would thereby be bounded — and, were it bounded, it would thereby be impermanent — and yet the Tathāgata is permanent — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling is itself named empty space — the Tathāgata's own nature is identical to empty space itself — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the vajra samādhi — the vajra samādhi destroys every dwelling entirely, and the vajra samādhi is itself none other than the Tathāgata — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named illusion — the Tathāgata is identical to illusion itself — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the absence of beginning and end — the Tathāgata's own nature is without beginning or end at all — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the boundless Dharma-realm — the boundless Dharma-realm is itself none other than the Tathāgata — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the Śūraṅgama samādhi — the Śūraṅgama samādhi knows every dharma while attaching to nothing at all, and it is on account of this very non-attachment that it is named Śūraṅgama, and the Tathāgata is fully endowed with this very Śūraṅgama concentration — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the power of knowing what is possible and what is not, and the Tathāgata has accomplished this very power — how, then, could you speak of 'dwelling'? Non-dwelling, further, is named the perfection of giving — were the perfection of giving to involve any dwelling at all, one could never proceed on to the perfection of moral discipline, all the way through to the perfection of wisdom — it is for this very reason that the perfection of giving is named non-dwelling. The Tathāgata does not dwell even within the perfection of wisdom itself — how, then, could you ask that the Tathāgata dwell forever within this sāla grove? Non-dwelling, further, is named the cultivation of the four foundations of mindfulness — were the Tathāgata to dwell within the four foundations of mindfulness, he could never attain unsurpassed, complete awakening at all — this, too, is named 'the abiding that does not abide.' Non-dwelling, further, is named the boundless realm of beings — the Tathāgata reaches entirely to the very edge of every being's own boundless realm, and yet dwells nowhere at all within it. Non-dwelling, further, is named the absence of any dwelling-house — the absence of any dwelling-house is named non-existence; non-existence is named the unborn; the unborn is named the deathless; the deathless is named the markless; the markless is named the unbound; the unbound is named the unattached; the unattached is named the undefiled; the undefiled is itself the wholesome; the wholesome is itself the unconditioned; the unconditioned is itself the great nirvāṇa; the great nirvāṇa is itself permanence; permanence is itself self; self is itself purity; and purity is itself bliss — permanence, bliss, self, and purity together are none other than the Tathāgata himself."

"Good son, it is like empty space, which does not dwell in the east, the south, the west, the north, the four intermediate directions, above, or below — the Tathāgata is exactly the same, not dwelling in the east, the south, the west, the north, the four intermediate directions, above, or below. Good son, should anyone say that evil action of body, speech, and mind yields a wholesome fruit — this could never be so. Should anyone say that wholesome action of body, speech, and mind yields an evil fruit — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that the ordinary being is able to see buddha-nature while the bodhisattva of the ten abidings is not — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that the icchantika, one who has committed the five heinous crimes, one who has slandered the Vaipulya scriptures, or one who has violated the four gravest precepts, is able to attain unsurpassed, complete awakening — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that the bodhisattva of the sixth abiding falls, through the cause and condition of affliction, into the three evil destinies — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that a bodhisattva mahāsattva attains unsurpassed, complete awakening while remaining in a genuine woman's body — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that the icchantika is permanent while the three jewels are impermanent — this, too, could never be so. Should anyone say that the Tathāgata truly dwells within the city of Kuśinagara — this, too, could never be so. Good son, the Tathāgata now, in this very city of Kuśinagara, enters the great samādhi, the deep cave of dhyāna, and, because the assembly is unable to see him there, this is named entering nirvāṇa." Lion's Roar said: "Why, then, does the Tathāgata enter the cave of dhyāna?" "Good son, it is for the sake of delivering every being: so that those who have not yet planted wholesome roots may come to plant them; so that those who have already planted wholesome roots may come to increase them; so that wholesome fruits not yet ripened may come to ripen; so that, for those already ripened, the path toward unsurpassed, complete awakening may be taught; so that those who hold wholesome dharmas in contempt may come to hold them in reverence; so that those given to heedlessness may come to depart from heedlessness; so that I may debate together with Mañjuśrī and every other great, fragrant elephant among the bodhisattvas; so that I may teach and transform those who delight in mere recitation to come to cherish meditative concentration deeply as well; so that I may teach and transform beings through noble conduct, pure conduct, and heavenly conduct; so that I may contemplate the profound treasury of the Dharma shared with no other teaching; so that I may reproach my own heedless disciples — for, if the Tathāgata, ever tranquil as he is, still delights in concentration, how much more, then, ought you, whose own affliction is not yet exhausted, refrain from heedlessness? — so that I may reproach those evil monks who accept and keep the eight kinds of impure object, who are neither of few desires nor content; and so that beings may come to hold the teaching of concentration, once heard, in due reverence. It is through causes and conditions of exactly this kind that I enter the cave of dhyāna."

Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, the concentration of signlessness is itself named the great nirvāṇa — it is for this very reason that nirvāṇa is named 'signless.' For what cause and condition is it named 'signless'?" "Good son, because it is without any of the ten marks. What are these ten? Namely, the mark of form, the mark of sound, the mark of fragrance, the mark of flavor, the mark of touch, the marks of arising, abiding, and decay, and the marks of male and female — these are named the ten marks. Being without marks of exactly this kind, it is named 'signless.' Good son, one who clings to marks thereby gives rise to delusion; because of delusion, craving arises; because of craving, bondage arises; because of bondage, rebirth is received; because rebirth is received, death follows; and because of death, this is impermanence. One who does not cling to marks does not give rise to delusion; because he does not give rise to delusion, there is no craving at all; because there is no craving, there is no bondage at all; because there is no bondage, he does not receive rebirth at all; because he does not receive rebirth, there is no death at all; and because there is no death, this is named permanence — it is for this very reason that nirvāṇa is named permanent." Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, what kind of monk is able to sever these ten marks?" The Buddha said: "Good son, should a monk repeatedly cultivate three kinds of mark, he thereby severs these ten marks. Repeatedly cultivating the mark of samādhi-concentration, repeatedly cultivating the mark of wisdom, and repeatedly cultivating the mark of equanimity — these are named the three marks."

Lion's Roar said: "World-Honored One, what, exactly, is meant by the marks of concentration, wisdom, and equanimity? If concentration is samādhi, then every being, without exception, already possesses samādhi — how, then, can one speak of 'cultivating' samādhi at all? If the mind fixed upon a single object is named samādhi, then, should it turn to any further object, this could no longer be named samādhi at all. And, if it is not fixed in this way, it is not omniscient wisdom — and, if it is not omniscient wisdom, how, then, can it be named concentration at all? And, if samādhi is attained through a single activity alone, then every other activity would not be samādhi — and, if it is not samādhi, it is not omniscient wisdom — and, if it is not omniscient wisdom, how, then, can it be named samādhi at all? The two marks of wisdom and equanimity present exactly the same problem." The Buddha said: "Good son, as you have said, that samādhi is named only for a mind fixed on a single object, while every other object is not named samādhi — this, I think, is not correct. Why is this? Because these other objects, too, are, in their own turn, a single object each, and the same holds for every other activity as well. And to say that every being already possesses samādhi beforehand and therefore need not cultivate it at all is, likewise, not correct. Why is this? Because what is meant by 'samādhi' here is wholesome samādhi specifically — and no being, in truth, has ever yet genuinely possessed this — how, then, could one say that it need not be cultivated at all? Abiding within this very wholesome samādhi, and thereby observing every dharma, is named the mark of wholesome wisdom; and not perceiving concentration and wisdom as two separate marks at all is named the mark of equanimity. "Furthermore, good son, should one grasp only the mark of form, and be unable to observe form's own permanent or impermanent character, this is named samādhi. Should one be able to observe form's own permanent or impermanent character, this is named the mark of wisdom. Observing every dharma with concentration and wisdom held equally together is named the mark of equanimity. Good son, it is like a skilled charioteer driving a team of four horses, adjusting their speed so that fast and slow are each kept properly in balance — and it is precisely this proper balance of fast and slow that is named the mark of equanimity. A bodhisattva is exactly the same: should his own concentration be greater, he then cultivates wisdom; and should his own wisdom be greater, he then cultivates concentration — and concentration and wisdom held equally together is what is named equanimity. Good son, the bodhisattva of the ten abidings possesses greater strength in wisdom and lesser strength in concentration, and it is for this very reason that he does not attain a clear seeing of buddha-nature. The śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha possess greater strength in concentration and lesser strength in wisdom, and it is through this very cause and condition that they, too, fail to see buddha-nature. Every buddha, every world-honored one, possesses concentration and wisdom held equally together, and it is for this very reason that he sees buddha-nature with perfect clarity, without any obstruction at all, exactly as one views an āmalaka fruit held in the palm of one's own hand. Seeing buddha-nature is itself named the mark of equanimity. 'Śamatha' is named 'able to extinguish,' because it is able to extinguish every affliction and fetter entirely; śamatha, further, is named 'able to tame,' because it is able to tame every evil and unwholesome quality among the sense-faculties; śamatha, further, is named 'tranquility,' because it is able to bring the three kinds of karmic action to complete tranquility; śamatha, further, is named 'departure,' because it is able to cause beings to depart from the five desires; śamatha, further, is named 'able to purify,' because it is able to purify the three defiling dharmas of greed, hatred, and delusion — it is for reasons of exactly this kind that it is named the mark of concentration. 'Vipaśyanā' is named 'right seeing,' also named 'clear seeing,' 'able seeing,' 'seeing-everywhere,' 'sequential seeing,' and 'seeing-each-distinct-mark' — this is named wisdom. 'Upekṣā' is named 'equality,' also named 'freedom from contention,' 'non-observation,' and 'non-activity' — this is named equanimity."

"Good son, śamatha is of two kinds: worldly, and transcendent. It is, further, of two kinds: accomplished, and unaccomplished. The accomplished belong to the buddhas and bodhisattvas; the unaccomplished belong to the śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha. It is, further, of three kinds: lower, middle, and upper. The lower belongs to every ordinary being; the middle belongs to the śrāvaka and pratyekabuddha; and the upper belongs to the buddhas and bodhisattvas. It is, further, of four kinds: retrogressing, abiding, advancing, and able to yield great benefit. It is, further, of five kinds — namely, the five wisdom-samādhis. What are these five? The samādhi free of food, the samādhi free of fault, the samādhi of a single mind with body and intention purified, the samādhi in which cause and fruit are both blissful, and the samādhi of constant mindfulness. It is, further, of six kinds: the samādhi contemplating bones, the samādhi of loving-kindness, the samādhi contemplating the twelve links of dependent origination, the samādhi of mindful breathing, the samādhi of right mindfulness and reflection, and the samādhi contemplating arising, ceasing, abiding, and change. It is, further, of seven kinds — namely, the seven factors of awakening: the awakening-factor of mindfulness, the awakening-factor of investigation of dharmas, the awakening-factor of diligence, the awakening-factor of joy, the awakening-factor of tranquility, the awakening-factor of concentration, and the awakening-factor of equanimity. It is, further, of seven kinds: the samādhi of the stream-enterer, the samādhi of the once-returner, the samādhi of the non-returner, the samādhi of the arhat, the samādhi of the pratyekabuddha, the samādhi of the bodhisattva, and the samādhi of the Tathāgata's own awakened knowledge. It is, further, of eight kinds — namely, the eight liberation-samādhis: the liberation-samādhi of one who, possessing form internally, observes form externally; the liberation-samādhi of one who, without form internally, observes form externally; the liberation-samādhi verified in the body through the pure liberation; the liberation-samādhi of the sphere of infinite space; the liberation-samādhi of the sphere of infinite consciousness; the liberation-samādhi of the sphere of nothingness; the liberation-samādhi of the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception; and the liberation-samādhi of the sphere of the cessation of perception and feeling. It is, further, of nine kinds — namely, the nine successive concentrations: the four dhyānas, the four formless spheres, and the samādhi of cessation. It is, further, of ten kinds — namely, the ten totality-samādhis. What are these ten? The totality-samādhi of earth, the totality-samādhi of water, the totality-samādhi of wind, the totality-samādhi of blue, the totality-samādhi of yellow, the totality-samādhi of red, the totality-samādhi of white, the totality-samādhi of space, the totality-samādhi of consciousness, and the totality-samādhi of nothingness. It is, further, of innumerable further kinds — namely, those belonging to the buddhas and bodhisattvas themselves. Good son, these are named the marks of samādhi. "Good son, wisdom is of two kinds: worldly, and transcendent. It is, further, of three kinds: prajñā, vipaśyanā, and jñāna. Prajñā describes every being; vipaśyanā describes every noble one; and jñāna describes the buddhas and bodhisattvas. Further, prajñā is named the perception of distinct particulars; vipaśyanā is named the perception of the general characteristic; and jñāna is named the destruction of every mark entirely. It is, further, of four kinds — namely, the contemplation of the four noble truths. "Good son, śamatha is cultivated for the sake of three things. What are these three? Freedom from heedlessness, the adornment of great wisdom, and the attainment of mastery. Vipaśyanā, further, is cultivated for the sake of three things. What are these three? The contemplation of the evil fruit of birth-and-death, the wish to increase every wholesome root, and the destruction of every affliction entirely."