Beyond the Aggregates: Four Further Objects

The Great Calming and Contemplation, Fascicle Eight, Upper Part
Spoken by the Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai, of the Sui dynasty
Recorded by his disciple Guanding

Second, contemplating the object of affliction: when contemplation of the aggregates, entries, and elements above has not yet brought awakening, this alone is no longer the right remedy, and continued unceasing observation instead stirs and agitates affliction, so that greed and anger break forth. At just this moment one ought to set aside contemplation of the aggregates and entries and contemplate affliction directly. Earlier, rebuking the five desires made known their fault and their guilt; casting aside the hindrances was the casting-aside of what is ordinary and constant; contemplating the aggregates and entries in terms of retributive result sought understanding within that very retribution. Now, by contrast, one contemplates affliction breaking forth in full flood, giving rise to greed and anger grown heavy and severe. It is like iron: left apart from fire, it is merely black; brought into contact with fire, it blazes red-hot. And whereas the ordinary dharmas of retribution are constant, present at every moment without exception, so that rebuking and casting them aside is easy — should affliction instead suddenly surge forth, controlling it becomes difficult indeed. Why is this so? Anger one is born with, though present, subsides once admonished and made to understand; but what now breaks forth roars and rages, terrible to behold. Inverted thought one is born with arises and vanishes by turns; but what now breaks forth remains clotted and will not depart. Desire for form one is born with can be checked and halted by restraint; but what now breaks forth makes no distinction even before a dead horse, let alone its living kind. This affliction, breaking forth from within, is violent and blazing in its intensity; and should it then encounter an outer object as well, the mind runs wild and the eyes go dark. It is like a flowing stream, whose swiftness one does not perceive — but obstruct it with a piece of wood, and eddies and ripples surge up violently at once. It is also like a powerful man unaware of his own strength — touch him, and his fury and force erupt. Affliction, lying dormant, seems now present, now absent; but repentance in the place of practice, and contemplation of the aggregates, entries, and elements, is like touching a sleeping lion, which roars forth and shakes the very earth. Should one fail to recognize this for what it is, it is capable of dragging a person into grave and weighty transgression — not only will calming-and-contemplation fail to be accomplished, affliction will further increase evil karma, casting one down into a pit of utter darkness from which there is no escaping by any effort at all. For this reason, one must contemplate the object of affliction.

This contemplation is treated in four parts: first, briefly clarifying its marks; second, clarifying its causes and conditions; third, clarifying the different modes of treatment; fourth, cultivating calming-and-contemplation. First, clarifying the marks: begin by explaining the name. Affliction (煩惱) is a dharma of murky vexation, disturbing and troubling the mind and spirit; it also makes trouble together with the mind, causing the mind to become vexed — this is precisely the sharp and dull of view and habituated thought. Taken in one general division, why must the five dull afflictions be identified only with greed and anger? Just as every crawling creature, though genuinely incapable of reasoning, still rears its head and bristles its mane, glaring with eyes and puffing itself up — even the lowest and most benighted of ordinary beings, walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, constantly gives rise to the thought of self; hence it is known that the five dull afflictions are not without a sharp component of their own. And the five sharp afflictions, likewise, are hardly confined to the delusion of view alone — how could they ever be without anger and desire as well? One should understand that the names "sharp" and "dull" run in common through both view and habituated thought; here, they are divided according to spiritual stage, so that the two do not become confused with one another. Prior to the arising of meditative absorption, though one may possess worldly wisdom, reasoning ability, and eloquence, the delusion of view remains weak, and all ten fundamental afflictions belong, together, to the dull category. Once view arises from within concentration attained through causes and conditions, the mind of view grows fierce and dominant, and all ten fundamental afflictions, now named for their strength, belong, together, to the sharp category. It is like two students: one who has grasped the very meaning of the teaching is strong in debate; one who has grasped only its wording is weak in debate. Grasping the wording is like being without meditative absorption; grasping the meaning is like having attained concentration. Should view-delusion arise only after concentration has already been attained, this is as will be contemplated further below; should affliction arise before concentration has been attained, this is precisely what is contemplated here and now. Should there be a dull component within the sharp, the truth of seeing severs only the sharp, while the dull still remains. Masters of the *Abhidharma* call the dull riding atop the sharp the "affliction riding the back" — when the truth of seeing is severed, once the sharp itself has departed, the affliction riding its back departs along with it; the same holds for habituated thought as well. Should one expand this sharp and dull fully, it comes to eighty-four thousand kinds; here, however, they are simply bound together into four divisions. The three poisons arising unevenly make three divisions; should they engage the three objects evenly, this is named "even division"; the three poisons arising unevenly are called "coarse and subtle discursive thought" rather than "many," while the three poisons arising evenly are called "many coarse and subtle discursive thought." Whether few or many, all of this is named "scattered agitation," and both alike are capable of obstructing concentration; the indeterminate is "retributive scattered agitation," which does not obstruct concentration. The sūtra says: "Emerging from cessation-concentration, one enters the scattered mind; from within the scattered mind, one re-enters the various concentrations" — scattering that does not obstruct concentration is precisely this very sense. Masters of the *Satyasiddhi* say: "Scattering combined with unknowing — delusion is able to obstruct concentration." If this is so, then scattering combined with anger and desire, why would these not obstruct concentration as well? The explanation here has its own separate sense, as already explained above within the discussion of casting aside the hindrances. But the marks of affliction are so broad they cannot be exhausted; were one to distinguish them fully in detail, this would only hinder the very gateway of contemplation. The Lotus Sūtra says: "For twenty years he was constantly made to remove the dung." The dung is precisely affliction, a defiling dharma; casting it aside completely earns the wage of a single day, whereas dwelling on distinguishing how much or how little never earns the wage at all. Here, one contemplates the dung of affliction only in order to seek the coin of wisdom, not in order to distinguish the marks of view and habituated thought in fine detail. If this is so, then why did the five hundred arhats make such fine distinctions? Because, upholding the Buddha's Dharma and serving as guides for the assembly, penetrating every manner of difficulty, they required broad and detailed distinction. Here, by contrast, one has only just entered the path, one's strength not yet equal to such a task, and it is likewise not urgent for the purposes of this contemplation — one need only know, in general terms, the four divisions of defiling filth, and diligently cast them aside. Once one enters the provisional from emptiness, one ought then to distinguish them exhaustively in full detail. Furthermore, the sharp and the dull, each bound together into their own four divisions, both alike belong within the three realms, severed in common by the two lesser vehicles — these are named "shared afflictions." Should there be four divisions beyond the three realms, not severed by the two lesser vehicles, these are named "distinct afflictions." Were one to draw a correlation between them, how could there fail to be a distinct apart from the shared? The shared delusions are the branches, the distinct delusions are the root; attaining the wisdom of the real severs the branches, attaining the wisdom of the middle severs the root. Were one to treat this in terms of the inconceivable, then affliction within the three realms itself is precisely bodhi — how could it fail to be, at the same time, a distinct delusion as well? This has already been explained above.

Second, clarifying the causes and conditions of affliction's arising. There are three causes and conditions, as will be explained below. The marks of its arising are four: deep but not sharp; sharp but not deep; both deep and sharp; neither deep nor sharp. This fourth proposition belongs to the ordinary marks of delusion tied to retributive result, bound together in their constant, everyday fashion, and is hence said to be "neither deep nor sharp." The other three propositions, arising and stirring in an unusual manner, belong instead to the marks of affliction's own outbreak. When it breaks forth, it is deep and heavy, impossible to restrain; the more it encounters its object, the more it increases, with nothing able to check or control it — this is the deep mark. Arising again and again, and whenever it arises, arising with grave severity — this is named "sharp." Sharp but not deep, and deep but not sharp, may be understood accordingly. As for the causes and conditions: first, the seed of the habituated cause; second, the striking blow of karmic force; third, the fanning instigation of demons. As for habituation: through immeasurable kalpas, affliction has accumulated heavily, its seeds fully formed, its habituation continuing without pause. It is like a swift-flowing stream — following along with it, one does not perceive its speed, but obstruct it, and one at once recognizes its violent rush. The practitioner, drifting along the current of affliction down the sea of birth-and-death, remains entirely unaware of it; but should one cultivate the branches of the path, swimming upstream against every current of existence, affliction rears up violently in response. One ought only to strive with diligence to break decisively free of it, applying oneself doubly, by day and by night alike. As for karma: through immeasurable kalpas, evil conduct has become fully accumulated, like an unpaid debt demanding repayment — how could it possibly allow you to cultivate the path and win release? And so evil karma rises up abruptly, destroying the very mind of contemplation, so that wholesome dharmas cannot establish themselves. It is like a river, calm and still, whose undulation one does not perceive — until a sudden violent storm arrives, and the waves rise like a chain of mountains; should one then let go of both sail and rudder, ruin follows in an instant, but should one keep the mind fixed and correct, both fore and aft, the vessel may yet be saved. As for demons: should one engage in demonic conduct, one belongs already to their own subjects, and so they cause no disturbance. But should one practice the path so as to escape their domain, leaving this realm to take refuge in another, the ten armies close in to seize and capture — and so deep and sharp delusion arrives with sudden, violent force. It is like the waters of the great ocean: though there be no wind or current, the makara-fish, drawing in the water, draws every creature rushing helplessly along with it, unable to resist by any force of its own — only by single-mindedly invoking the Buddha's name can one win release from it. Were one to draw a comparison in terms of fire: the shaking-loose is like habituation, the fanning wind is like karma, the pouring-on of oil is like demons. Demons and karma will be discussed further below; contemplating habituation as it stirs affliction is what is contemplated here and now.

Third, the different modes of treatment: the Hīnayāna's own treatment is fivefold — direct antidote, transformative treatment, non-transformative treatment, combined treatment, and complete treatment. These five together treat the four divisions of affliction. When they arise to obstruct the path, this is as will be discussed below within the object of karmic marks. As for the direct antidote: each single division of affliction has three kinds, which together make twelve; and set against these there are likewise twelve antidotes — like setting up a battle-line against an invading enemy — this is named "the direct antidote." As for transformative treatment: unattractiveness is the direct antidote to desire, and yet, should this not be the fitting remedy, one ought instead to gain release through the contemplation of purity, transforming one's practice into loving-kindness, contemplating the ease and happiness found within the pure dharma — how could this then add further defilement and disgrace? This is named "transformative treatment." Should one teach unattractiveness to a person given to anger, or teach the contemplation of finite and infinite to a person given to delusion, or teach the discernment of wisdom to a person given to restlessness and distraction, this is a case where the illness itself does not transform but the treatment transforms instead — all of this, too, is named "transformative treatment." Should both remedy and illness transform together, this too is named "transformative treatment," and is likewise "the direct antidote." As for non-transformative treatment: though the illness itself transforms, the treatment, in the end, does not transform — one ought to cultivate this same dharma regardless, using this one treatment alone to treat both the transformed and the untransformed illness alike; hence it is named "non-transformative treatment." As for combined treatment: the illness is combined, and the remedy is likewise combined. As when desire is combined with anger, unattractiveness must be paired together with loving-kindness; the illness combines one or two elements, and the remedy likewise combines one or two — this is named "combined treatment." As for complete treatment: all of the above methods are used together to treat a single illness. This describes how the Hīnayāna first employs these five treatments, and only afterward employs the wisdom of the truths, in order finally to enter the real. The Mahāyāna's own clarification of treatment is neither the direct antidote nor the combined treatment nor any of the rest, but is named "treatment according to the ultimate truth" — like the universal remedy agada, capable of curing every illness without exception. The Hīnayāna, for the most part, employs the three siddhāntas as its treatment; the Mahāyāna, for the most part, employs the siddhānta of the ultimate truth as its treatment. Within emptiness and the unborn, what could possibly be affliction? What could possibly be the very treatment that treats it? Since there is not even affliction to begin with, what is there left to transform? And since there is nothing to transform, there is likewise no combining or completing — one simply uses the unborn as the single, universal remedy that treats everything without exception. This account is extremely brief, and one must grasp its underlying sense with care.

Fourth, cultivating calming-and-contemplation, again treated in ten parts. First, simplifying to the discursible object: a single thought of desire, awakened, is at its first arising exceedingly subtle; should one fail to check and halt it immediately, it gradually grows and increases — and, for the sake of desire's own object, greed draws one onward without restraint, all the way to the four grave offenses and the five heinous crimes; this is named "affliction generating the realm of hell." For the sake of desire's own causes and conditions, knowing no shame, coarse and violent, defying every restraint, abandoning all propriety and righteousness, losing even the very seed of humanity — this is named "desire generating the realm of animals." Further, for the sake of desire's own causes and conditions, being stingy, hoarding, and guarding one's own, while coveting the households of others as well — this is named "desire generating the realm of hungry ghosts." For the sake of desire's own causes and conditions, giving rise to jealousy and envy, harboring suspicion and scheming, constantly wishing to surpass others, plotting by every means to poison and entrap them, forcing them into retreat and defeat — this is named "desire generating the realm of asuras." Further, for the sake of desire's own causes and conditions, deeply cherishing present pleasure, observing the proprieties of betrothal and marriage, always preserving moderation and restraint, according with benevolence and righteousness, upholding the five precepts for the sake of future pleasure and desire yet to come — this is named "desire generating the realm of humans." Further, when desire arises, recognizing that the desire of the vulgar and the lowly is coarse, one seeks instead the desire of the heavens, diligently cultivating the ten wholesome acts, guarding against and restraining desire until it grows fully mature and no longer arises even spontaneously — this is contemplating desire generating the realm of the six heavens. Further, contemplating the mind of desire, casting it off and rebuking it as impure, one is thereby able to give rise to meditative absorption — this is the realm of the heavens of form and the formless. Further, contemplating desire as the very origin of suffering, since this origin necessarily invites suffering as its result, and, wearied by this suffering and its origin, cultivating the path of renunciation — this is the realm of the śrāvaka. Should one contemplate desire as ignorance, creating every formation for the sake of desire born of ignorance, circling round without end — and should one then halt this very desire, ignorance and formation and all the rest are halted along with it — this is the realm of the pratyekabuddha. Should one contemplate desire as a covering affliction, and thereupon give rise to compassion, practicing generosity, dreading impermanence, and so on, contemplating desire as delusion and the like — this is the realm of the six pāramitās. Should one contemplate desire as, at root, never itself arising, not now abiding, nor ever ultimately ceasing — desire itself being emptiness, and emptiness itself being nirvāṇa — this is the realm of the shared teaching. Further, contemplating the mind of desire as possessing immeasurable characteristics, since its origin is by no means single, its resulting suffering is likewise immeasurable, and knowing that faculty, desire, and nature all arise from the very mind of desire, distinguished and complete in every particular — this is the realm of the distinct teaching. The remaining three divisions of affliction likewise give rise, each in turn, to every dharma in just the same way. Generating every dharma in this successive sequence is what is named "the discursible object."

As for the inconceivable object: as the *Sūtra on the Practice of Non-Action* (無行經) says, "Desire is itself the path; anger and delusion are likewise so — within these three dharmas is contained the whole of the Buddha's Dharma." Although these four divisions are thus themselves the path, one still may not simply follow along with them — to follow along with them would only lead a person toward the evil paths of rebirth — nor may one simply sever them either — to sever them would only produce overweening pride. "Not severing delusion and craving, yet giving rise to every manner of clarity and liberation" — only this is truly named the path. One neither abides in the tamed nor abides in the untamed. To abide in the untamed is the mark of the foolish ordinary being; to abide in the tamed is the dharma of the śrāvaka. Why is this so? The ordinary being, greedily defiled, follows along in compliance with the four divisions of affliction, accumulating birth-and-death heavily, fierce and intractable, difficult to tame — hence this is named "untamed." The two lesser vehicles, dreading birth-and-death as though pursued by an enemy, swiftly flee the three realms altogether. The arhat is named "untamed" in this sense: with the delusions of the three realms exhausted, there is no longer any delusion left to tame, and this very absence of anything left to tame is itself named "tamed" — like a seed scorched so it can never sprout again, or a faculty ruined beyond all use. The bodhisattva is not like this at all: courageous within birth-and-death, yet unattached to the taste of nirvāṇa. Courageous within birth-and-death, being born though there is, in truth, no birth, he is not defiled by the dharma of birth — like a flower rooted in mud, like a physician treating illness. Unattached to the taste of nirvāṇa, knowing emptiness as not merely empty, he is not confined within the very dharma of emptiness he has realized — like a bird flying through open sky, never abiding fixedly within that sky. Not severing affliction, yet entering nirvāṇa; not severing the five desires, yet purifying every faculty — this is precisely the sense of neither abiding in the tamed nor abiding in the untamed. Now, foolish people of this degenerate age, hearing that the āmra fruit is sweet and delicious, at once crack open its pit and taste it, finding it exceedingly bitter — and thereby lose entirely the sweet flavor of the fruit itself. Lacking wisdom, they crack the pit far too eagerly, and this is exactly the same error. Hearing "neither tamed nor untamed, yet obstructing neither the tamed nor the untamed," and taking this freedom from obstruction to be named "the unobstructed path," they thereby, precisely because of this "freedom from obstruction," indulge openly in lust and licentiousness, brazenly practicing what is against the Dharma, without the slightest trace of shame, no different at all from beasts. This is eating salt to gross excess, until the resulting thirst itself becomes an illness. The sūtra says: "One who clings with attachment to the unobstructed dharma is a person far from the Buddha, as far as heaven is from earth." The Great Sūtra says: "To say, 'I cultivate signlessness,' is precisely not to cultivate signlessness at all." Such a person, practicing what is not the path, hoping thereby to attain penetration of the buddha-path, only obstructs himself all the more, becoming no different from the vulgar and the base. This is abiding in the untamed — it is not "non-abiding" at all. There are, further, practitioners who, hearing "neither abiding in the tamed nor abiding in the untamed," dread both extremes, and so hold themselves rigidly in check, wishing to cultivate the wisdom of the middle by severing and breaking through both extremes at once. Such a person is unable simply to take desire itself as the path — only after severing desire does he then call this "the path." This, in fact, is abiding in the very mind of the tamed — it is not "non-abiding" either. The northern school is guilty of both these faults at once. There are, further, those who, in their initial study of the contemplation of the middle, find that severing desire brings them no benefit, and so let the mind loose to practice untamed conduct instead. At first this brings a slight, partial benefit; but continuing thereafter without cease, no further benefit ever comes, and yet the practice is never abandoned. Taking their own initial benefit as proof, they transform others into practicing the same, even citing scripture as their evidence. Those they thereby convert find only the pleasure of desire, without the faintest trace of benefit to the path. This decadence and indulgence eventually becomes an entire social custom, defiling the moral precepts and disgracing the Triple Gem — the collapse of the Buddha's Dharma under the Zhou dynasty arose entirely from just this cause. This is abiding in the untamed, and also abiding in the tamed — how could this have anything at all to do with neither abiding in the tamed nor the untamed? This is a great obstruction — how could it have anything to do with the unobstructed? This only increases what is not the path — how could it have anything to do with the buddha-path? Both this "tamed" and this "untamed" alike must be named "untamed." Why is this so? All of it belongs entirely to ordinary feeling, and is not the conduct of sages and worthies at all.

Here, then, one says: not abiding in the tamed, not abiding in the untamed, not abiding in neither-tamed-nor-untamed, not abiding in both-tamed-and-untamed; and equally, abiding in the tamed, abiding in the untamed, abiding in neither-tamed-nor-untamed, abiding in both-tamed-and-untamed. Why is this so? Because affliction is itself emptiness, one does not abide in the untamed; because affliction is itself the provisional, one does not abide in the tamed; because affliction is itself the middle, one does not abide in both-tamed-and-untamed; because one illuminates affliction from both sides at once, one does not abide in neither-tamed-nor-untamed. Though one does not abide in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest, one in truth abides in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest; though one in truth abides in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest, one in truth does not abide in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest. Why is this so? Because one does not fixedly contemplate any single proposition alone — a single proposition is itself already every proposition; because every dharma tends toward desire, desire itself being the very capital city to which every dharma belongs. Applying this same sense throughout every proposition: to calculate desire as existent is named abiding in the untamed; to calculate it as non-existent is abiding in the tamed — and so on, freely, in whatever manner suits the case. Embodying and penetrating in this way is named "the unobstructed path" — "every person free of obstruction escapes birth-and-death by a single path." How does one escape it? At times, embodying and penetrating desire as ultimately pure, free of all entanglement and defilement, like empty space itself, one breaks decisively free of birth-and-death — this is named "gaining benefit by abiding in the tamed." At other times, letting the mind range freely to contemplate desire's own root and branch, its causes and conditions — how many aspects are illness, how many are remedy? — as when Vasumitrā, having entered the very state of freedom from desire, delivers sentient beings by this very means, one, making this contemplation, breaks decisively free of birth-and-death — this is named "gaining benefit by abiding in the untamed." At still other times, one gains benefit precisely because neither of the two applies; at other times, one gains benefit through contemplating both together. Skillfully judging in this way when one should abide and when one should not, benefiting both oneself and others alike, without the slightest diminishment to the bodhisattva's own Dharma, one weighs and applies the four siddhāntas according to one's own discernment. Thus the bhikṣu Priyaṅkara, expounding the skillful method of liberation to the assembled householders, brought them all to the forbearance of the unborn; while the bhikṣu Sthiramati, practicing the clumsy method, gained nothing at all by it. Later, wandering into a village and hearing it taught that "desire is itself the path," he grew furious at Priyaṅkara — how could he teach others a dharma that obstructs the path? Before the formal expulsion could be completed, Priyaṅkara spoke a verse for him, and Sthiramati's body was at once swallowed into the earth. The bodhisattva, knowing full well that Sthiramati would not believe him and would certainly fall into hell regardless, spoke forcefully anyway, so as to plant a cause for his benefit in a future life. Skillfully contemplating the siddhāntas, whether for oneself or for another, whether for what is near or what is far, abiding in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest is entirely without fault, and not abiding in the tamed, the untamed, and the rest is likewise entirely without fault. But should one fail to grasp the very sense of the four siddhāntas, then whether one abides or does not abide, one only weaves one's own net of attachment, provokes mockery and contempt from others, and obstructs both oneself and others alike — this is not the unobstructed path at all.

Should a single thought-moment of afflicted mind arise, it is already complete with the ten dharma-realms and the hundred dharmas, none obstructing any other. Though many, they are not truly existent; though one, they are not truly non-existent; the many do not accumulate, and the one does not disperse; the many are not different from one another, and the one is not identical with itself; the many are precisely the one, and the one is precisely the many. The sūtra says: "The shadow of a tree within darkness — because of the darkness, it cannot be seen, yet the divine eye is able to see it." This is light present within darkness. Where the obstruction of wisdom is at its most blind and dark — this is darkness present within light. It is likewise like a newly lit lamp coexisting together with darkness. Light and darkness, in just this way, neither obstruct one another nor destroy one another. Why is this so? It is plainly seen, in ordinary experience, that when a lamp is lit within a room, one does not know where the darkness has gone in departing; and should the lamp be extinguished, the darkness returns once more. In coming, it has no point of origin; in going, it leaves no trace behind. Just as darkness is so, light too is exactly the same. Seeking darkness, there is no darkness to be found, yet light is not thereby destroyed; seeking light, there is no light to be found, yet darkness is not thereby covered over. Though there is, in truth, neither light nor darkness, the breaking-through and the covering-over remain nonetheless vividly present. One neither receives nor clings, neither dwells upon nor discriminates: what newly arises is named "not receiving"; what has already arisen is named "not clinging"; not grasping inwardly is named "not dwelling upon"; not grasping outwardly is named "not discriminating." Subtle wisdom shines forth luminously — for this very reason it is named "the inconceivable," "that which does not obstruct," "that which does not eliminate." Should the lamp of worldly wisdom be extinguished, the darkness of delusion returns once more; but should the light of the wisdom of the middle way abide constantly, unmoving, like a divine pearl shining forever, darkness will never return at all. Contemplating the very darkness of affliction as itself the great light of wisdom, manifesting the Buddha's own bodhi, delusion will never return — this may be understood by the same standard as the object of the aggregates and entries above. Contemplating in this way, one grieves over one's own past faults, and extends compassion broadly to all sentient beings. Why is this so? Because the underlying principle is neither light nor darkness — it is precisely because of delusion that the darkness of suffering and its origin arises, and precisely because of understanding the method of treatment that the light of the path and cessation is present. In terms of darkness, one gives rise to compassion; in terms of light, one gives rise to loving-kindness — and the mind of the great vow arises together with its very object. To fulfill this vow, one must establish the essential practice; and of every essential practice, none precedes calming-and-contemplation. Embodying the four divisions of affliction as themselves empty is named "the calming that embodies the real, entering the contemplation of emptiness." Contemplating every affliction as itself the dharma of remedy and illness alike is named "the calming that follows conditions, entering the contemplation of the provisional." Contemplating every affliction as identical with the very boundary of the real is named "the calming that stills both extremes, entering the contemplation of the middle way." Skillfully pacifying the mind by cultivating these three calmings and three contemplations accomplishes the single mind's three eyes and three forms of wisdom. Should the eye and the wisdom not yet be opened, one must break through every obstruction comprehensively. Contemplating the four divisions of affliction as, moment by moment, the threefold provisional — neither self, other, both, nor apart, whether single, compound, complete, or wordless — the delusion of view and habituated thought does not arise; knowing illness and recognizing remedy, unknowing does not arise; being neither the real nor the conditioned, ignorance does not arise. This is comprehensive breaking-through, both horizontal and vertical. Within emptiness itself, to construct suffering and its origin once more is named "knowing blockage"; within suffering and its origin, to penetrate through to emptiness itself is named "knowing passage." Within every dharma of remedy, to construct illness once more is named "knowing blockage"; within every dharma of illness, to be able to recognize the remedy is named "knowing passage." To overturn the Dharma-nature into ignorance is named "blockage"; ignorance, once transformed, itself becomes light — this is named "passage."

Further, contemplating affliction while cultivating the branches of the path: the four divisions of afflicted mind arising defile the five aggregates directly — one single aggregate is already immeasurable in its aggregates, and feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness are likewise each immeasurable. The aggregates being themselves emptiness, the ordinary being's inversion is broken through, and the lesser withered tree is accomplished; the aggregates being themselves the provisional, the two lesser vehicles' inversion is broken through, and the great flourishing tree is accomplished; the aggregates being themselves the middle, both the withered and the flourishing teachings are set aside, both extremes are stilled into quiescence, and one enters the great nirvāṇa — extending even to opening the three gates of liberation, entering the pool of coolness itself. Should obstruction weigh heavily, one ought to cultivate auxiliary remedies. Having already understood how delusion's marks hold one fast, one ought then to seek reinforcement. When desire arising from without appears, aid it with the contemplation of unattractiveness; when desire arising from within appears, aid it with the liberations of renunciation; when desire arising both within and without appears, aid it with the stations of mastery; when anger arising in opposition to the Dharma appears, aid it with loving-kindness toward sentient beings; when anger arising in accord with the Dharma appears, aid it with loving-kindness grounded in the dharmas; when anger arising through idle debate appears, aid it with loving-kindness grounded in nothing at all; when the view of severance or eternalism arises, aid it with the causes and conditions of the three time-periods; when the view of self and person arises, aid it with the causes and conditions of two time-periods; when the view of fixed, real nature arises, aid it with the causes and conditions of a single thought-moment; when clear and sharp discursive thought arises, aid it with the counting of breaths; when heavy and murky discursive thought arises, aid it with the contemplation of the breath; when discursive thought half-murky and half-clear arises, aid it with following the breath. Because auxiliary remedies are strong, they are able to throw open the very gate of nirvāṇa. In the interval before it is opened, one may attain a certain measure of understanding, or a certain degree of meditative absorption — and one must reflect on this with great care and maturity. One must not mistake grass, wood, tile, or rubble for a genuine crystal pearl. Were one to claim it is already the genuine pearl, then what affliction has actually been extinguished? Is it view? Habituated thought? Dust-and-sand? Ignorance? With not a single stage genuinely attained, to mistakenly claim attainment is no different from the chirping of a mouse. To speak of emptiness merely as empty is like a bird claiming empty space as its own. Not yet recognizing one's own actual stage, the stage of contemplative practice and the stage of resemblance are not yet truly attained at all, and to falsely claim a higher stage than one's own is precisely how such strange delusion comes about. Should obstruction, inner or outer, arise, one must bear with it well through forbearance. Should one fail to bear it through, the bodhisattva is ruined; but should one bear with it unmoved, the great being may thereby be accomplished, gaining the recompense granted by the wisdom and meditative absorption of the resembling stage of the path. Upon receiving this recompense, one must not give rise to Dharma-attachment, for such attachment obstructs the genuine path. Free of the "falling at the summit," at ease and unobstructed, like the wind moving freely through open sky, one enters the stage of the bronze wheel, breaks through the delusion of ignorance, and accomplishes the forbearance of the unborn. One thereby attains the single great cart, lofty and broad, with attendants to serve and guard it, and, riding this very jeweled vehicle, arrives directly at the place of enlightenment. This is named the four divisions of affliction being complete with the whole of the Buddha's Dharma; also named "practicing what is not the path, yet penetrating through to the buddha-path"; also named "affliction is itself bodhi"; also named "not severing affliction, yet entering nirvāṇa." Explained in full, this comprises thirty-six propositions.

One must first establish four root propositions: not severing affliction, not entering nirvāṇa; severing affliction, entering nirvāṇa; both severing and not severing, both entering and not entering; neither severing nor not severing, neither entering nor not entering. The first proposition refers to the ordinary being; the second, to one beyond further training; the third, to one still in training; the fourth, to the underlying principle itself — these are the four root propositions. Each proposition, in turn, opens into a further four. The first proposition's four are: not severing, not entering; severing, not entering; both severing and not severing, not entering; neither severing nor not severing, not entering. The first refers to the ordinary being giving rise to evil; the second, to the non-Buddhist path that has attained meditative absorption; the third, to the non-Buddhist path that has attained absorption yet gives rise to wrong view; the fourth, to the person of indeterminate karma. The second proposition's four are: severing, entering; not severing, entering; both severing and not severing, entering; neither severing nor not severing, entering. The first refers to one beyond training who analyzes dharmas; the second, to one beyond training who embodies dharmas directly; the third, to both kinds of trainee together, analytic and embodying; the last, to the real principle itself silently merged with — this itself is "entering." The third set of four is: both severing and not severing, both entering and not entering; severing, both entering and not entering; not severing, both entering and not entering; neither severing nor not severing, both entering and not entering. The first refers to both kinds of trainee together, analytic and embodying; the second, to the trainee who analyzes dharmas alone; the third, to the trainee who embodies dharmas alone; the fourth, to the real principle as known by both the trainee and the one beyond training of the shared teaching. The fourth set of four is: neither severing nor not severing, neither entering nor not entering; severing, neither entering nor not entering; not severing, neither entering nor not entering; both severing and not severing, neither entering nor not entering. The first refers to the principle shared equally by ordinary being and sage; the second, to the sagely principle of one who analyzes dharmas; the third, to the sagely principle of one who embodies dharmas; the fourth, to the principle of the trainee who both analyzes and embodies. This gives sixteen propositions, which, joined to the four root propositions, together make twenty propositions concerning entering nirvāṇa. There are, further, sixteen propositions concerning emerging from nirvāṇa. The first, root four propositions are: not severing affliction, not emerging from nirvāṇa; severing affliction, emerging from nirvāṇa; both severing and not severing affliction, both emerging and not emerging; neither severing nor not severing, neither emerging nor not emerging. Each of these, in turn, opens into a further four. The first set of four: not severing affliction, not emerging from nirvāṇa; not severing affliction, emerging from nirvāṇa; not severing affliction, both emerging and not emerging; not severing affliction, neither emerging nor not emerging. The first refers to the two lesser vehicles who embody dharmas directly; the second, to the bodhisattva who embodies dharmas and emerges into the provisional; the third, to the bodhisattva who embodies dharmas in both emptiness and the provisional at once; the fourth, to the real principle itself as embodied directly. The second set of four: severing, emerging; severing, not emerging; severing, both emerging and not emerging; severing, neither emerging nor not emerging. The first refers to the one beyond training who analyzes dharmas, assisting the Buddha and benefiting sentient beings; the second, to the one beyond training who analyzes dharmas and enters extinction directly; the third, to the trainee who analyzes dharmas, benefiting both self and other; the fourth, to the real principle itself. The third set of four: both severing and not severing, both emerging and not emerging; both severing and not severing, emerging; both severing and not severing, not emerging; both severing and not severing, neither emerging nor not emerging. The first proposition refers to the bodhisattva who jointly employs both analysis and embodiment, entering emptiness; the second, to the bodhisattva who jointly employs both, emerging into the provisional; the third, to the two lesser vehicles who jointly employ both; the fourth, to the principle of embodying dharmas, silently merged with the real. The fourth set of four: neither severing nor not severing, neither emerging nor not emerging; neither severing nor not severing, emerging; neither severing nor not severing, not emerging; neither severing nor not severing, both emerging and not emerging. The first proposition refers to the principle as embodied directly; the second, to the bodhisattva who embodies dharmas and emerges into the provisional; the third, to the two lesser vehicles who embody dharmas; the fourth, to the bodhisattva who embodies dharmas and enters emptiness. Should one establish, separately, the two root sets of eight propositions concerning entering and emerging, this makes forty propositions in all. Should one instead combine the root propositions into a single set of four, this makes thirty-six propositions in all.

Question: the thirty-six propositions are confined to the Tripiṭaka teaching and the shared teaching — can this analysis be applied to the distinct and perfect teachings as well? Answer: the sense of embodying dharmas directly excludes nothing at all. Should one wish to explain it yet more separately, one may further distinguish it in terms of the four teaching-gates of the distinct and perfect teachings. As for the root four propositions: not severing, not entering, is the gate of emptiness; severing, entering, is the gate of existence; both severing and not severing, both entering and not entering, is the gate of both emptiness and existence; neither severing nor not severing, neither entering nor not entering, is the gate of neither emptiness nor existence. Within each single gate, a further four apply: not severing, not entering, is the siddhānta of worldly convention; not severing, entering, is the siddhānta suited to the person; not severing, both entering and not entering, is the siddhānta of therapeutic remedy; not severing, neither entering nor not entering, is the siddhānta of the ultimate truth. And, further still, within a single gate one may again form four gates: not severing, not entering, is itself the gate of emptiness; not severing, entering, is the gate of existence; not severing, both entering and not entering, is the gate of both emptiness and existence; not severing, neither entering nor not entering, is the gate of neither emptiness nor existence. Since this single gate may already be understood in this way, the remaining three gates may each be distinguished accordingly, understood by the same pattern. Given that entering nirvāṇa through the four gates is thus, what, then, of the sixteen gates concerning emerging from nirvāṇa? Namely: not severing, not emerging; not severing, emerging; not severing, both emerging and not emerging; not severing, neither emerging nor not emerging. The first is the gate of emptiness; the second, the gate of existence; the third, the gate of both emptiness and existence; the fourth, the gate of neither emptiness nor existence. The four propositions of this one gate being thus, the remaining three gates may be understood accordingly; the thirty-six and forty propositions may likewise be understood following the same pattern as before. This, then, comprehensively gathers in the sense of the Hīnayāna and the Mahāyāna, of analysis and of direct embodiment alike. Once one has grasped this sense, one should apply it, by the same pattern, to every dharma without exception.

Question: were one to contemplate according to the Dharma, the Buddha, nirvāṇa, and prajñā are, all three, a single mark. Since nirvāṇa has already been clarified through thirty-six propositions, what, then, of prajñā? Answer: were nirvāṇa already simply identical with prajñā, what need would there be to ask further at all? Let it now be explained once more: dharmas arise, prajñā arises; dharmas do not arise, prajñā does not arise; dharmas both arise and do not arise, prajñā both arises and does not arise; dharmas neither arise nor do not arise, prajñā neither arises nor does not arise. These are the root four propositions. The first proposition opens further into four: dharmas arise, prajñā arises; dharmas arise, prajñā does not arise; dharmas arise, prajñā both arises and does not arise; dharmas arise, prajñā neither arises nor does not arise. The first refers to the conventional object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of the paths; the second, to the conventional object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of all things; the third, to the conventional object giving rise to both forms of prajñā together; the fourth, to the conventional object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of all modes. The second set of four: dharmas do not arise, prajñā does not arise; dharmas do not arise, prajñā arises; dharmas do not arise, prajñā both arises and does not arise; dharmas do not arise, prajñā neither arises nor does not arise. The first refers to the real object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of all things; the second, to the real object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of the paths; the third, to the real object giving rise to both forms of prajñā together; the fourth, to the real object giving rise to the prajñā of the wisdom of the middle way. The third set of four: dharmas both arise and do not arise, prajñā both arises and does not arise; dharmas both arise and do not arise, prajñā arises; dharmas both arise and do not arise, prajñā does not arise; dharmas both arise and do not arise, prajñā neither arises nor does not arise. The first refers to both objects together giving rise to both forms of wisdom; the second, to both objects together giving rise to conventional wisdom; the third, to both objects together giving rise to real wisdom; the fourth, to both objects together giving rise to the wisdom of the middle. The fourth set of four: dharmas neither arise nor do not arise, prajñā neither arises nor does not arise; dharmas neither arise nor do not arise, prajñā arises; dharmas neither arise nor do not arise, prajñā does not arise; dharmas neither arise nor do not arise, prajñā both arises and does not arise. The first refers to the object of the middle giving rise to the wisdom of the middle; the second, to the object of the middle giving rise to conventional wisdom; the third, to the object of the middle giving rise to real wisdom; the fourth, to the object of the middle giving rise to both forms of wisdom together. This completes the account of sixteen propositions. Next is explained: prajñā arises, dharmas arise; prajñā arises, dharmas do not arise; prajñā arises, dharmas both arise and do not arise; prajñā arises, dharmas neither arise nor do not arise. The first refers to the wisdom of the paths illuminating the conventional object; the second, to the wisdom of the paths illuminating the real object; the third, to the wisdom of the paths illuminating both objects; the fourth, to the wisdom of the paths illuminating the object of the middle. Next is clarified: prajñā does not arise, dharmas do not arise; prajñā does not arise, dharmas arise; prajñā does not arise, dharmas both arise and do not arise; prajñā does not arise, dharmas neither arise nor do not arise. This clarifies the sense of real wisdom illuminating every object, understood by the same pattern as before. Next is clarified: prajñā both arises and does not arise, opening into a further four propositions — this clarifies the wisdom of the paths and real wisdom together illuminating the four objects, and so on. Next is clarified: prajñā neither arises nor does not arise, the wisdom of the middle way illuminating the four objects, understood accordingly. This makes sixteen propositions, which, joined to the root four, together make thirty-six propositions. Question: what, then, of the Dharma-body? Answer: prajñā, already being identical with the Dharma-body, what need is there to ask further at all? Should one wish to distinguish it further still, this may be grasped through one's own reflection, without troubling the text with further exposition. Further, the Dharma-body, the reward-body, the response-body, and the transformation-body serve as the root of these four bodies. Within each single body, four bodies arise in turn — that is, from the Dharma-body arise the reward-body, the response-body, the transformation-body, and the complete arising of all three together; the remaining bodies are each the same. This makes sixteen bodies. And, further, from the four bodies entering into a single body, body by body likewise, there are again sixteen. Joined to the prior root, this makes thirty-six bodies in all. Every body, body by body, is itself the Dharma-realm — hence each is equally able to arise, and each is equally able to enter, and so on.

The Great Calming and Contemplation, Fascicle Eight, Upper Part, ends here.

The Great Calming and Contemplation, Fascicle Eight, Lower Part
Spoken by the Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai, of the Sui dynasty
Recorded by his disciple Guanding

Third, contemplating the object of illness: to possess a body at all is already to possess illness. The four snakes differ in their very nature; water and fire oppose one another. The owl and the goshawk roost together; the python and the rat share a single den. A vessel of poison, a heavy burden — this is the very thicket of every suffering. The four kingdoms are neighbors, forever encroaching upon and ruining one another; when their strength is evenly matched they hold a brief peace, but the moment weakness shows, one swallows the other whole. The four great elements' own flourishing and decline may be understood by exactly this same simile. When the buddhas greet one another, the Dharma says: "Are your illnesses few, your afflictions few?" The Buddha, sharing the human condition, since human beings do indeed have illness, cannot, even as a matter of skillful means, be entirely without it — he simply says "few." Illness carries two distinct senses: first, genuine illness arising from actual cause; second, provisional illness assumed as skillful means resulting in benefit. As when he lay down at Vaiśālī, feigning illness to establish the teaching, using his own bodily illness as the very occasion to instruct ordinary and worldly people, rebuking the lesser vehicle and exhorting the greater — conversing there together with Mañjuśrī, broadly clarifying the three kinds of regulation appropriate to illness arising from cause, and broadly clarifying the four kinds of consolation appropriate to illness resulting as fruit. And as the Tathāgata, resting in cessation, discourses on the constant, or, by means of illness, expounds the very power of the Dharma — all of this belongs to the skillful gateway of entering illness, deliberately drawing forth illness and affliction as a means. Provisional illness of this kind is not what is contemplated here. What is contemplated here is the body born of karmic retribution. The stirring and agitation of the four snakes lays waste to the cultivation of the sagely path; should one be able to contemplate it properly, this only increases the benefit of one's own effort of mind. Those of superior wisdom and sharp faculty, having already understood the bearing-with-adversity discussed above, are thoroughly versed in the object of illness, and need no further extended discussion. For those who do not yet understand, this shall now be distinguished further. It is like felling a great tree — ten thousand strokes of the axe, and it finally falls; like boring through a massive boulder — a hundred million strikes, and it is finally pierced through — hence this further, repeated explanation. Prolonged illness and distant travel are the two great obstacles to meditative concentration. Should the body become afflicted with illness, the merit one has cultivated is lost, and immeasurable transgression arises instead. The sūtra says: "Puncturing the floating raft, dismantling the very bridge, losing correct mindfulness altogether." Illness thus destroying the precepts is like puncturing the floating raft; destroying meditative concentration is like dismantling the bridge; giving rise to a perverse, inverted mind, cherishing this fetid body of pus and blood, thereby destroying the pure Dharma-body — this is named "losing correct mindfulness." For this reason, one ought to contemplate the object of illness. Furthermore, there are those who, in ordinary health, drift along idly, indolent and unfocused; yet when illness strikes urgently, they redouble the exertion of their mind, and are thereby able to accomplish a great many things. Moreover, since the capacities and dispositions of beings differ, awakening may fittingly occur precisely through illness. This is exactly the causes and conditions of the four siddhāntas, and hence the necessity of the object of illness.

This contemplation of illness is treated in five parts: first, clarifying the marks of illness; second, clarifying the causes and conditions of illness's arising; third, clarifying methods of treatment; fourth, benefit and harm; fifth, clarifying calming-and-contemplation. First, the marks of illness: one skilled in the medical arts knows the four great elements with precision. The superior physician diagnoses by listening; the middling physician diagnoses by the complexion; the lesser physician diagnoses by the pulse. Here there is no need to master the medical art in full precision — a general acquaintance will suffice. The method of the pulse belongs properly to medicine, and cannot be laid out here in complete detail, but the marks of illness in the five organs may be briefly indicated: a pulse that is vast and straight indicates illness of the liver; light and floating, illness of the heart; sharp and thrusting, illness of the lung; like a string of beads, illness of the kidney; sunken, heavy, and sluggish, illness of the spleen — the full particulars are found in the physicians' own manuals of treatment. Should the body feel heavy and burdensome, with hardened knots, aching pain, and a withered, numb, and wasted feeling, this is the mark of illness of the earth element; swollen, bloated, and puffed up, the mark of illness of the water element; the whole body burning with heat, the joints aching, gasping breath and sudden exhaustion, the mark of illness of the fire element; the mind unsettled and distracted, oppressed and forgetful, the mark of illness of the wind element. Further, a lusterless complexion and hands and feet without sweat is the mark of illness of the liver; a pale, ashen complexion, the mark of illness of the heart; a sallow, blackened complexion, the mark of illness of the lung; a body without strength, the mark of illness of the kidney; a body rough as wheat-bran, the mark of illness of the spleen. Should there be a white growth upon the liver, causing the eyes to ache, red vessels gradually forming a white film, or the eyeball itself becoming damaged, or sores forming above and below the eye, or tearing brought on by wind and cold, or itching, or stabbing pain, or the eye becoming sunken, and irritability arising at every touch — this is the lung harming the liver and thereby producing this illness, to be treated with the *he* breath. Should there be a faint fever in the heart, cold reversal in the hands and feet, oppression and weakness in the heart, cracked and parched lips and mouth, a hardened mass forming below the navel, inability to take hot food, cold food disagreeing with the heart, dizziness and oppressive drowsiness, forgetfulness with swelling about the heart, dizziness and inarticulate speech, tightness across the back and shoulders, aching in all four limbs, exhaustion of the heart and steaming heat of the body, a feverish condition resembling malaria, or the formation of a hardened mass, or a watery deviation, or the eyes seeing as though through a fine cloth, able to see near but not far — this is the kidney harming the heart, to be treated with the *chui* and *hu* breaths. Should there be a swollen, blocked feeling in the lungs and chest, pain beneath both flanks, an aching in both shoulders as though bearing a heavy weight, tightness in the head and neck, coarse and labored breathing that can only exhale and not inhale, sores breaking out over the entire body, an itching in the throat as though from insects, an inability to swallow or vomit, sores forming in the throat, a locked jaw, or the onset of wind-illness, pus and blood discharging from the nose, dimness of the eyes, aching of the bridge of the nose, growths forming within the nose, and a blocked breath unable to distinguish fragrance from stench — this is the heart harming the lung and thereby producing illness, whether through drinking cold water or eating hot food in mutual conflict, to be treated with the *xu* breath. Should there be a failure of the hundred vessels to flow freely, aching in every joint, swelling of the body, deafness, a blocked nose, aching in the lower back, stiffness in the back, distension and fullness in the chest and abdomen, rising breath and blockage in the chest, heaviness in all four limbs, a blackened and emaciated complexion, tightness and pain about the bladder, or urinary difficulty, or an obstructed urinary tract, or cold reversal in the legs and knees — this is the spleen harming the kidney; and the demon of this particular illness resembles a kitchen-spirit, headless and faceless, descending suddenly upon a person, to be treated with the *chi* breath. Should there be an itching over the body and face resembling scattered welts, an itching and oppression over the entire body, this is the liver harming the spleen; its color spreads in a bound, contained fashion, sometimes as though a child were striking a drum, sometimes swirling round like a whirlwind, to be treated with the 𡀗 breath (distinct from the 呵 breath used above). Further, should there be much dullness and confusion, this is the liver lacking its hun-spirit; much forgetfulness of what has just occurred, the heart lacking its shen-spirit; much dread and epileptic affliction, the lung lacking its po-spirit; much sorrowful laughter, the kidney lacking its zhi, its resolve; much confused vacillation, the spleen lacking its yi, its intent; much despondent gloom, the yin-essence lacking its jing, its vital essence. These are named "the marks of the six spirit-illnesses."

Second, clarifying the causes and conditions of illness's arising, which are six: first, illness from imbalance of the four great elements; second, illness from immoderate diet; third, illness from improper regulation in seated meditation; fourth, illness gained through the opportunity taken by ghosts and spirits; fifth, illness caused by demons; sixth, illness arising from karma. As for imbalance of the four elements: laboring without regard for proper time, forcibly bearing heavy burdens, exposing oneself indiscriminately to cold and heat — external heat aiding the fire element, fire grown strong thereby overwhelming water, is an illness of excess fire; external cold aiding the water element, water grown excessive thereby harming fire, is an illness of water; external wind aiding the qi, qi fanning the fire, fire stirring the water, is an illness of wind; or the three elements together increase and harm the earth element, named "an illness of even division"; or a portion of the body increases and harms the three elements, likewise an even division, belonging to the earth element. Once these four elements are thus stirred, every manner of affliction arises in competition with one another. Second, immoderate diet is likewise able to produce illness. Ginger, cinnamon, and other pungent foods increase fire; sugarcane, honey, and other sweet, cooling foods increase water; pears increase wind; rich, greasy foods increase earth; the cucumber serves as a cause and condition for feverish illness — that is, it is an unsettling food to consume. One who eats must distinguish the very nature of what is eaten. Once food is eaten, it enters the belly and is broken down through digestion: the coarse portion becomes stool and urine, the fine portion is dissolved and, flowing from the three orifices at the waist, seeps into the four limbs, transforming into pure blood that moistens and nourishes the entire body, as dust is moistened by water. Should the body's blood not be sufficiently full, one becomes withered, wasted, and diminished. The turbid portion transforms into fat, so that as the aging faculties diminish they turn to grime, while the newly formed faculties congeal into flesh. Further, the body's fire, residing below, digests the stomach's raw contents, causing food and drink to be broken down and circulated, transformed throughout the entire body. A worldly proverb says: "To attain longevity, keep the feet warm and the head exposed." Should the body's fire instead reside above, and one further consumes unsettling foods, illness and affliction result. Next, as for how the five flavors increase and diminish the five organs: sour flavor increases the liver but diminishes the spleen; bitter flavor increases the heart but diminishes the lung; pungent flavor increases the lung but diminishes the liver; salty flavor increases the kidney but diminishes the heart; sweet flavor increases the spleen but diminishes the kidney. Knowing that the five organs may thus be harmed, one ought to restrain what diminishes them and partake of what increases them, weighing this with careful discernment.

Third, improper regulation in seated meditation: whether leaning against a wall, a pillar, or one's own robes, or lying down before the assembly has yet dispersed, the mind grows slack and indolent, and demons find their opportunity through this — causing a person's body, back, and spine to ache with pain in every joint, named "the affliction of infusion," most difficult of all to cure. Next, improper regulation of the counted breath commonly gives rise to shivering fits and cramping contraction of the sinews and vessels. Should the eight sensations arise, and the breath be applied contrary to the sensation, illness results. As for the eight sensations: mind conjoined with the four great elements produces four primary sensations, together with four dependent sensations, making eight sensations in all — heaviness, as though sinking downward; lightness, as though rising upward; cold, as in an icy chamber; heat, as in a burning house; roughness, as though pulling against resistance; smoothness, as though rubbing against oil; softness, as though boneless; coarseness, as though the skin were made of bran. These eight sensations divide four to the ascending, four to the descending. The inhaled breath, following the earth element, brings heaviness; the exhaled breath, following the wind element, brings lightness. Again, the inhaled breath, following the water element, brings cold; the exhaled breath, following the fire element, brings heat. Again, the inhaled breath, following the earth element, brings roughness; the exhaled breath, following the wind element, brings smoothness. Again, the inhaled breath, following the water element, brings softness; the exhaled breath, following the fire element, brings coarseness. Should the sensation of heaviness arise, and one repeatedly exhales, this runs contrary to the sensation itself, and illness results at once; the remaining cases may be understood by the same pattern. There is, further, illness produced by applying calming alone, without skillful method: constantly fixing the mind below tends to stir up illness of the earth element; constantly fixing the mind above tends to stir up illness of the wind element; constantly fixing the mind with tense urgency tends to stir up illness of the fire element; constantly fixing the mind with loose slackness tends to stir up illness of the water element. Next, there is illness produced by applying contemplation improperly, in a skewed and one-sided manner: at the moment of first entering the womb, a thought-mind arises and calls forth the mother's own response — the mother then thinks of the five: form, sound, fragrance, flavor, and touch. A single thread of stirring vital energy becomes water, water becomes blood, blood becomes flesh, and flesh forms the five faculties and five organs. Now, should the meditator engaged in seated contemplation think and observe to excess, this damages the five organs and produces illness. Excessive engagement with form stirs the liver; with sound, the kidney; with fragrance, the lung; with flavor, the heart; with touch, the spleen. Furthermore, the eye's excessive engagement with blue stirs the liver; with red, the heart; with white, the lung; with black, the kidney; with yellow, the spleen. The ear's excessive engagement with calling and shouting stirs the liver; with speech, the heart; with weeping, the lung; with moaning, the kidney; with singing, the spleen. The nose's excessive engagement with a rank odor stirs the liver; with a scorched odor, the heart; with a fishy odor, the lung; with a foul odor, the kidney; with a fragrant odor, the spleen. The tongue's excessive engagement with sourness stirs the liver; with bitterness, the heart; with pungency, the lung; with saltiness, the kidney; with sweetness, the spleen. The body's excessive engagement with hardness stirs the liver; with warmth, the heart; with lightness, the lung; with cold, the kidney; with heaviness, the spleen. This is the mutual generation among the five organs — excessive engagement with it results in illness. As for mutual overcoming: excessive engagement with white overcomes the liver; with black, the heart; with red, the lung; with yellow, the kidney; with blue, the spleen — the remaining cases, of sound and the rest, may be understood by the same pattern. Should illness of the five organs lie hidden and difficult to discern, one may divine it through seated meditation and through dreams. Should one, in meditation or in dreams, frequently see the color blue-green — blue-green people, beasts, lions, tigers, and wolves — and give rise to dread, this is illness of the liver. Should one, in meditation or in dreams, frequently see the color red — fire arising, red people or beasts, red blades or weapons, a red young man or woman embracing one closely, or parents, brothers, and the like, giving rise either to joy or to dread — this is illness of the heart. The remaining organs may be verified by their respective colors, following the same pattern below. There is, further, illness produced by contemplation improperly stirring the four elements: should the object of contemplation remain unfixed, now engaging this, now engaging that, the mind itself falls into contention; and from this contention, disordered wind arises, becoming illness of the wind element. It is like guiding an infant's own walking — one must simply let it proceed at its own pace; forcing it along, hoping for swift arrival, only brings about harm instead. Further, fixedly holding to a single object, giving rise to a mind of anxious expectation for its result, the force of wind and heat never exhausted, becomes illness of the fire element. Further, contemplating the object such that, at the moment it arises one takes it as ceasing, and at the moment it ceases one takes it as arising, the mind thereby thrown into contradiction, bringing about itching and pain, becomes illness of the earth element. Further, failing to savor the object contemplated, yet forcing oneself to continue regardless, the water element increases, becoming illness of the water element.

Fourth, ghost-sickness: the four elements and five organs are not, in themselves, ghosts, and ghosts are not, in themselves, the four elements and five organs; but should a ghost enter into the four elements and five organs, this is named "ghost-sickness." Were one to claim there is no such thing as ghost-sickness, a heterodox shaman treating it purely as a matter of ghosts sometimes still succeeds in curing it; were one to claim there is no such thing as illness of the four elements, a physician treating it purely with decoctions and medicine sometimes still succeeds in curing it. There was once a king whose ghost-sickness resided in an empty place within the body, repeatedly killed by needle-treatment there in vain; but once the ghost-king himself came and took up residence over the heart, the needle-practitioner could only fold his hands, powerless. Hence it is known that ghost-sickness genuinely exists. Nor do ghosts trouble a person entirely at random — it is, in truth, on account of a person's own perverse thoughts about various matters, or a wish to know fortune and misfortune in advance, that the wandering hungry-ghost spirit performs its various transformations, its blue-green, yellow, and other colors entering through the five faculties, so that the very ground of one's own mind forms perverse understanding, becoming able to know fortune and misfortune. It may come to know the fortune and misfortune of a single person, a single household, a single village, or an entire country — but this is not the knowledge of a sage. Should it go untreated, in time it will kill the person entirely. Fifth, demon-sickness: this is not, in fact, different from ghost-sickness. But whereas a ghost merely afflicts the body, or kills the body, a demon instead destroys the very mind of contemplation, destroys the life-force of wisdom within the Dharma-body, gives rise to perverse thought, and robs a person of their merit — this is how it differs from a ghost. This, too, arises on account of the practitioner, within seated meditation, harboring perverse thoughts of gain — the demon then manifests all manner of clothing, food and drink, the seven treasures, and various other objects, which, once received with delight, enter the mind and become illness. This illness is difficult to cure, as will be explained further below within the discussion of treatment. Sixth, karma-sickness: this may be entirely the result of karma from a former life, or the present life's own violation of the precepts stirring up karma from a former life. Karmic force, becoming illness, may again be correlated with the five faculties, so that one may know precisely what transgression has been committed. Karma of the transgression of killing produces illness of the liver and the eye; karma of the transgression of drinking alcohol, illness of the heart and the mouth; karma of the transgression of sexual misconduct, illness of the kidney and the ear; karma of the transgression of false speech, illness of the spleen and the tongue; karma of the transgression of stealing, illness of the lung and the nose. Violating the five precepts as karma gives rise to illness in the five organs and five faculties correspondingly, and only once that karma has been dissipated does the illness abate. Should one, in the present life, uphold the precepts strictly, this too may stir up karma and produce illness, hence it is said: "Should there be grave transgression, a headache may remove it — what ought to be suffered heavily in hell is instead repaid lightly among human beings." This is illness arising precisely because karma is on the verge of dissipating. Karma-sickness is of many kinds — swelling and fullness, sallowness and depletion. In every case of illness, one must search out its cause with meticulous care, know the very root of the illness, and only then apply treatment.

Third, clarifying methods of treatment, each suited to its own particular case. Should illness result from overwork or from diet, this requires only proper regulation through medicinal prescriptions to be cured. Should illness result from improper regulation in seated meditation, this instead requires seated meditation with the skillful regulation of the breath and contemplation to be cured — decoctions and medicine are not the fitting remedy here at all. Should the illness be of the ghost or demon variety, this requires the power of profound contemplative practice, together with great sacred mantras, to be cured. Should the illness be karma-sickness, one must apply the power of inner contemplation together with outer repentance to be cured. These various treatments differ from one another, and one ought to grasp the sense proper to each with care — one must not seize the blade by its edge and wound oneself in the process. Here, in terms of seated meditation, six treatments are briefly indicated: first, the calming-focus method; second, the breath-sound method; third, the respiration method; fourth, the visualization method; fifth, the mind-contemplation method; sixth, the medical-arts method. As for the calming-focus method, Master Wen says: "Fix the mind at the navel, the size of a bean; loosen the robe, examine it carefully, and grasp its image clearly; then close the eyes, close the lips and teeth, raise the tongue to the palate, and let the breath settle into calm regularity. Should the mind race outward, gather it back in. Should the image become unclear, again loosen the robe and look at it, familiarizing oneself thoroughly with its appearance, then proceed as before." This method is able to cure every illness, and is likewise able to give rise to every meditative absorption. In making this contemplation, countless sensations may also arise: pain as though pierced by a needle, tension as though pulled by a rope, itching as though gnawed by insects, cold as though drenched with water, heat as though scorched by fire. As sensations of this kind arise, one should apply oneself with single-minded diligence, never allowing oneself to retreat or fall back. Should one pass safely through these sensations, one becomes able to give rise to every meditative absorption; and should the spirit and mind become tranquil and still, this is itself the mark of the concentration of lightning-flash. If this method is able even to attain absorption, how much more, then, is it able to cure illness? The reason the mind is fixed at the navel is that the breath emerges from the navel and returns again to the navel — taking the navel as the boundary of its coming and going readily allows one to awaken to impermanence. Furthermore, at the moment a person enters the womb, consciousness and spirit first unite with the blood at a point fixed to the navel; the navel is able to sustain and connect the body, and is, moreover, the very source of the intestines and stomach — tracing this source, one is able to perceive impurity, and thereby able to halt desire. Should one, within the four foundations of mindfulness, contemplate the navel, one is able to accomplish the gate of mindfulness of the body; should one practice the six wondrous gates, the navel is the gate of calming, and is likewise able to lead one into the path — hence it is so frequently employed. As for its direct application in treating illness: the elixir field is the sea of vital energy, able to lock in and swallow up ten thousand illnesses. Should one fix the mind at the elixir field, the breath and vital energy become harmonized, and illness is thereby cured — this is precisely the sense involved. There is, further, a master who says: "Rising energy filling the chest, pain in both flanks, tightness across the back and spine, pain in the shoulder-well points, feverish oppressive pain in the heart, distress preventing eating, swelling about the heart, cold below the navel, heat above and cold below, disharmony of yin and yang, and coughing with phlegm — these twelve illnesses on the right side are all treated by fixing the mind at the elixir field." The elixir field lies two and a half inches below the navel; should the pain be especially acute, shift the focus of mind toward the Zusanli point; should the pain still not be relieved, shift it further to the crease above the great toenail of both feet, taking relief as the measure of success. Headache, redness and pain in the eyes, heat in the lips and mouth, swelling encircling the base of the nose, sudden abdominal pain, deafness in both ears, and stiffness of the neck — these six illnesses on the right side require that a boundary-point be established between the two feet, upon which the mind is then focused. Should sudden, urgent, watery abdominal distension and pain arise, simply fix the mind single-mindedly upon this point. Should the mind grow oppressed, allow it a brief rest; once slightly recovered, resume, applying the prior method with renewed emphasis. Should relief begin to be felt, one ought to apply the treatment method all the more vigorously. Should acute pain in the lower back and legs result from this practice, visualize a pit ten feet deep beneath both feet, shift the prior boundary-point to the bottom of this pit, and fix the mind upon it as its focus — relief will naturally follow. This is best practiced in a quiet room. Further, constantly fixing the mind at the feet is able to cure every illness. Why is this so? The five forms of consciousness reside in the head, and the mind tends to focus upward; the mind drives the wind, the wind stirs the fire, the fire melts the water, the water moistens the body — hence the upper portion becomes regulated while the lower portion falls into disorder, giving rise to every manner of illness, or to cramping and paralysis of the legs and feet. Further, the five organs are like a lotus flower, drooping downward — when consciousness tends too often upward, the vital energy grows overly strong, striking against the internal organs and thereby overturning them into illness. Should the mind instead focus downward, it drives the fire downward to flow freely, so that food and drink are properly broken down, and the five organs remain in harmony. Fixing the mind at the feet is the very best of treatments — it is constantly employed, and has repeatedly brought profound benefit; treating others by this method has time and again proven effective — Jiang, Wu, Mao, and others are examples of exactly this. Further, fixing the mind attentively upon whatever point the illness occupies, within no more than three days, provided there is no other unusual condition, relief is invariably obtained. Why is this so? It is like a door: opened, it lets in the wind; closed, all is still. The mind engaging an external object is like opening the door; fixing the mind upon the point of pain is like closing it — this follows a natural principle. Further, the mind is like a sovereign, and illness is like a bandit — should the mind settle securely in its proper place, the bandit is scattered and destroyed. Yet it is not always the case that the mind must be fixed directly upon the site of the illness itself. As the *Yellow Emperor's Secret Methods* says: "Heaven and earth's two vital forces intermingle, each possessing the five phases — metal, wood, water, fire, and earth — circulating as in a cycle, so that metal transforms and water is generated, water flows and wood flourishes, wood stirs and fire brightens, fire blazes and earth is made firm — this is mutual generation. Fire, meeting water, has its light extinguished; water, meeting earth, is unable to flow; earth, meeting wood, develops swelling sores; wood, meeting metal, is broken and injured — this is mutual overcoming." As when metal overcomes wood, the lung grows strong while the liver grows weak — one should then fix the mind at the lung, drawing in its white vital energy, and the liver's illness will then be cured. The remaining four organs may be understood by the same pattern. Further, as for using the calming-focus method to treat the four elements: urgent, tight focus treats water; loose, relaxed focus treats fire; focus at the crown treats earth; focus at the feet treats wind.

Second, as for the breath-sound method: this refers to the six sounds — *chui*, *hu*, *xi*, *he*, *xu*, and 𡀗 — each formed by exhaling and inhaling through the lips, shifting the position of teeth and tongue, moving the mind slowly and attentively, and producing the sound together with visualization. For cold, use *chui*, as in the method of blowing on a fire; for heat, use *hu*; for aching pain in every joint, use *xi*, which also treats wind; for oppressive distension and rising energy, use *he*; for phlegm and mucus, use *xu*; for fatigue and exhaustion, use 𡀗. As for the six sounds treating the five organs: *he* treats the liver; *hu* and *chui* treat the heart; *xu* treats the lung; *xi* treats the kidney; 𡀗 treats the spleen. And, further, the six sounds may equally treat a single organ: should that organ suffer cold, use *chui*; heat, use *hu*; pain, use *xi*; oppressive fullness, use *he*; phlegm, use *xu*; fatigue and exhaustion, use 𡀗 — the remaining four organs are treated in exactly the same way. Further, exhale through the mouth to expel cold, then slowly draw warmth in through the nose, inhaling calmly and gently, never forcing it in abruptly. In a single sitting, repeat this seven times, then settle the mind; after the mind has settled briefly, apply the breath-sound once more — this is the very sense of its application in treatment. For ordinary expulsion of impurity, one or two repetitions suffice. Exhaling through the mouth expels heat, drawing coolness in through the nose. Exhaling *xi* through the mouth expels pain and removes wind, drawing calm harmony in through the nose. Exhaling *he* through the mouth expels oppression, lowers rising energy, and disperses phlegm — visualize the phlegm in the chest, its upper portion following the mouth's exhalation out, its lower portion following the breath downward, so there is no need to draw anything back in through the nose. Exhaling *xu* expels fullness and distension, drawing calm containment in through the nose. Exhaling 𡀗 expels fatigue, drawing harmonious replenishment in through the nose. Apply this exhaling and inhaling with careful attention, never carrying it to excess. Should one be skilled in weighing and applying it, increasing and diminishing as fitting, one is able not only to cure one's own illness, but to aid others as well.

Third, as for the respiration method: form and mind depend upon one another through the breath, just as firewood and flame depend upon one another to produce smoke. Observing whether the smoke is clear or turbid, one knows whether the wood is rank or damp; examining whether the breath is forceful or gentle, one verifies whether the body is healthy or ill. Should wind stir wrongly within the body's own conduct, pain and itching become illness — how could one afford to delay applying the mind to it? One must treat it urgently. First, one must recognize that breath has four accompanying states: audible, this is called "wind" — dwelling on it causes dispersal; congested and obstructed, this is called "qi" — dwelling on it causes further congestion; entering and leaving without ever being fully exhausted, this is called "panting" — dwelling on it causes exhaustion; inaudible and unobstructed, entering and leaving each fully exhausted, this is called "breath proper" — dwelling on it brings settled calm. One should seek out a quiet place, sit cross-legged, keep the body level and upright, let the body relax freely, allow the four limbs to loosen, and arrange the joints properly. See that the joints correspond correctly with one another, neither leaning nor bent. Loosen the belt, shift and adjust the posture for comfort, place the left hand atop the right, the thumbs barely touching one another. Relax the jaw, open the mouth slightly, and exhale slowly at length four or five times. Then gradually level the head, slowly close the eyes, taking care not to shut the eyelids too tightly, keeping them always loosely closed — only then apply the breath. As for using the breath to treat illness arising from sensations applied contrary to the eight sensations: should heaviness of sensation produce illness of the earth element, treat it by emphasizing the exhaled breath; should lightness of sensation produce illness of the wind element, treat it by emphasizing the inhaled breath; should coldness of sensation produce illness of the water element, treat it by emphasizing the exhaled breath; should heat of sensation produce illness of the fire element, treat it by emphasizing the inhaled breath — the remaining cases follow the same pattern. Once harmony and proper balance are attained, apply the breath freely as needed. This employs the ordinary counted breath, not any special or separate breath. Next, as for separately applying the twelve special breaths: these are the ascending, the descending, the parching, the filling, the growth-increasing, the dissolving, the cooling, the warming, the piercing, the sustaining, the harmonizing, and the replenishing breaths. These twelve breaths are each accompanied by visualization. Why is this so? At the very first moment of entering the womb, there is already the retributive breath. Following the mother's own breath, the child gradually grows; once the channel of wind becomes smooth and formed, the child's own breath, entering and leaving, no longer follows the mother's — born into a separate place, each possesses its own breath, named "the retributive breath." The dependent breath arises dependent upon the mind — as when, at a moment of anger or desire, the breath grows vigorous and forceful — this is named "the dependent breath." The prior six breath-sounds are accompanied by visualization in terms of the retributive breath; these twelve breaths are accompanied by visualization in terms of the dependent breath, and hence differ from what came before. What was explained earlier, of the five colors as causes of illness in the five organs, was illness in terms of the organ itself; these twelve breaths, by contrast, treat illness in terms of the dependent breath. The ascending breath treats illness of heavy sinking earth; the descending breath treats illness of hollow, suspended wind; the parching breath treats distension and fullness; the filling breath treats wasting and emaciation; the growth-increasing breath is able to nourish and increase the four elements — non-Buddhist practitioners who ingest vital energy ought properly to ingest only this very growth-increasing breath. The dissolving breath disperses every manner of phlegm-membrane; the cooling breath treats heat; the warming breath treats cold; the piercing breath treats hardened masses and swollen poison; the sustaining breath treats restless agitation; the replenishing breath replenishes depletion and exhaustion; the harmonizing breath brings the four elements into mutual accord. In producing each of these breaths, one accompanies it, in every case, with its corresponding visualization, so that it may be brought fully to completion. One must know each illness in fine detail and apply the corresponding breath accordingly, never applying it mistakenly.

Fourth, the visualization method: whereas the prior breath methods incorporated visualization as an accompaniment, here visualization alone serves as the treatment. As in the method used by masters skilled in treating goiter; as in the needling method used for those afflicted with hardened masses; as in the method, found in the Āgamas, of using warmed ghee to treat exhaustion and depletion; as in the method of "swallowing the snake," and so on. Fifth, the mind-contemplation method: without any accompanying visualization or breath, one contemplates the mind directly, searching for it within and without, finding the mind itself unobtainable — upon whom, then, does the illness press? Who is it that suffers the illness at all? Sixth, the medical-arts method: matters of technique, unknown, seem remote; known, they become near at hand. As in methods for treating the throat, methods for treating the teeth, or pressing the thumb to treat the liver, and so on. These technical matters are shallow and superficial in themselves, and their substance often verges on mere trickery — they are not what a renunciant genuinely requires, and ideally ought never to be studied at all; once studied, they ought to be cast aside without delay. Should one, in cultivating the four kinds of samādhi, find this fragile, bubble-like body's own decline and increase unpredictable, borrowing such methods to treat illness so that the body remains at ease and the path is preserved is likewise unobjectionable. But should one use them to court fame, seek profit, or stir up worldly commotion, this is demonic illusion and demonic falsehood — cast it aside at once! Cast it aside at once! For the thirty-six beast-spirits that disturb a person, one should recite three times the mantra: "Batidha, Piyeduo, Namona, Jilibo, Aweipo, Tuimotuo, Nantuoluo, Youtuomo, Jilimo, Piliji, Zhetuomo." When one first attains a refined, subtle mind, an outer object may strike the mind with a sudden, startling jolt, whereupon vital energy rises, the belly grows distended, the chest oppressed, and the head aches and throbs. This occurs because the six spirits, roaming freely throughout the body, lose their proper posts through this very startled jolt, and an evil spirit from outside enters the body, seizing their vacated dwelling — hence this condition results. As for the method of treatment: close the mouth, pinch the nose, and prevent the breath from escaping; wait until the vital energy has pervaded the entire body, then release the breath, letting it extend outward at length, visualizing it exiting from head to foot over the whole body, drawing it out until fully exhausted. Repeat this three times, then recite the mantra: "Zhibozhou, Wusubozhou, Fuliubozhou, Qianqibozhou." Once this is repeated three times, then regulate the breath, counting from one to ten, directing the in-breath and out-breath while saying: "Ānāpāna, āzhoubozhou." The illness will then be cured. Should there be red or white dysentery, sudden collapse from noxious influence, a bluish complexion, rolled-back eyes, or blackened lips, such that the person can no longer recognize others, press firmly and painfully upon the elixir field with the hand, and relief comes shortly after. Further, wherever pain occurs upon the body, strike the painful site forty or fifty times with a stick. What is the sense of this? All illness, without exception, is produced by the mind — where the mind holds worry, sorrow, and anxious thought, perverse vital energy is able to enter. By pressing this pain upon the person now, one leaves no leisure for wayward thought, the perverse energy departs, and the illness is thereby removed.

Fourth, clarifying benefit and harm: both benefit and harm occur either gradually or suddenly. Should one apply the breath methods to excess, the five organs may overturn suddenly — though not yet overturned, they gradually worsen, step by step, until at last they overturn all at once. Should a person practice skillfully, sudden benefit may open up all at once — though the illness still contends for a time, it will thereafter gradually be cured. It is like taking a decoction of medicine, whose benefit accrues only gradually, month by month and year by year; internal treatment is exactly the same. Whether the mind is keen with a light illness, keen with a severe illness, dull with a light illness, or dull with a severe illness, the resulting benefit or harm arrives gradually or suddenly according to each case. Ordinary worldly medicine costs money and labor, and is, besides, bitter and difficult to swallow, hedged about with many prohibitions — those who nurture their health and cherish their lives regard even their meals as a kind of calculated remedy. Here, by contrast, there is not a single coin of expense, not half a day's labor lost, no bitterness to endure in the mouth — one may eat and drink freely as one pleases — and yet people, without exception, refuse to practice it. The vulgar cannot distinguish true value from false, and what is elevated in tone finds few who can appreciate it — I grieve deeply over this. Should one be able to fulfill ten conditions in full, good results are certain to follow. First, faith; second, application; and so on through the tenth, recognizing obstruction. Faith is the very root of the path, the first gateway of the Buddha's Dharma. It is like one afflicted with leprosy believing that blood is milk, or venerating camel-bone as a genuine relic of the Buddha — one must firmly believe that this very method is able to cure this very illness, without giving rise to the slightest doubt or hesitation. Should one believe, yet fail to apply it, this brings no benefit to oneself whatsoever — like grasping a sharp sword yet failing to use it against a bandit, so that it becomes, instead, a source of harm to oneself. Failure to apply the method is exactly the same. Why must one apply diligence? In the first, middle, and last watches of the night, and morning and evening alike, one must apply oneself with single-minded intensity, taking the appearance of sweat as the measure of success — it is like drilling for fire and stopping midway, so that the fire can never be obtained; failure to apply diligence is exactly the same. What is meant by constancy? Constantly applying the method of treatment, keeping the mind fixed upon its object at every single thought-moment, without wavering or disorder. What is meant by distinguishing the illness? Distinguishing the causes from which the illness arises, as explained above — should one fail to recognize the illness, and apply the treatment method at random, without properly matching remedy to illness, this brings no benefit to the matter at all. What is meant by skillful means? Skillfully and adeptly applying the treatment, exhaling and inhaling exactly as suited, carrying the visualization through to completion, never losing what is fitting to the case — it is like the strings of a lute, tightened or loosened, the pegs and bridge adjusted this way and that, the fingers pressing lightly or heavily, until the tone and pitch are finally brought into harmony. What is meant by persistence? Should application not yet show benefit, one must not count the days and months that have passed, but continue the practice without ever ceasing. What is meant by knowing what to take up and what to set aside? Where benefit results, apply the method diligently; where harm results, change the treatment. What is meant by knowing how to safeguard the treatment? Skillfully recognizing what is prohibited, and, in one's daily coming and going, eating and drinking, taking care never to violate it. What is meant by recognizing obstruction? Where benefit has resulted, one must not speak of it carelessly and boastfully; where benefit has not yet resulted, one must not give rise to doubt or slander. Speaking of it to others prematurely, whether the illness has not yet been cured, or has been cured only to break out again, or, treated further, still resists cure, or, even once cured, requires double the effort thereafter. Should one be able to fulfill these ten conditions completely, and apply the treatments described above, benefit is certain to follow without the slightest doubt. I myself hereby vouch to you that this matter shall never prove empty or false.

Should one skillfully cultivate the four kinds of samādhi, harmonized and properly applied, then, by the very power of the path, illness of every kind ought never to arise at all; and should some slight deviation still occur, an unseen, sword-like power sustains and supports one, so that it naturally dissolves and heals of itself. Should every manner of obstruction rise up like a mountain peak, one ought to resolve to stake one's very life upon it, offering what remains of one's own breath and being, vowing to complete the practice in the place of enlightenment — with the mind thus resolved and unwavering, what transgression could fail to be dissolved? What karma could fail to be transformed? Chen Zhen and Kaishan, and so on, are examples of this. How, then, could the four elements and five organs possibly remain unregulated and uncured? It is like the hall of Śakra, where lesser spirits dare not trespass out of reverence — the great spirit of the place of enlightenment likewise permits no wanton intrusion. Further, when the lord of a city is resolute, its guards are strong; when the lord of a city is timid, its guards grow flustered. The mind is the very sovereign of the body — the spirits that share one's name and share one's birth in the heavens are able to guard and protect a person accordingly, and, the mind being firm, they grow strong in turn. If even the body's own attendant spirits are thus, how much more so the spirit of the place of enlightenment itself? As the Great Treatise explains in its discussion of diligence, a demon clinging to the five points of the body, and so on. Simply cultivate samādhi with a single, undivided mind, and every illness will be dissolved.

Fifth, cultivating calming-and-contemplation, following the same pattern as before, in ten parts. First, simplifying to the discursible: illness, through its own causes and conditions, generates the ten dharma-realms. As when, on account of illness, one loses one's original resolve, abandons meditative concentration, and reviles the Triple Gem — not only does one's prior transgression bring calamity upon oneself, but one further declares that cultivating good brings no reward at all, giving rise to a grave and perverse view. Further, cherishing the body and nurturing life, indulging in meat, fish, pungent food, and wine without regard for proper time or measure; or, once the illness abates and the body regains its strength, indulging the five desires without restraint — every wholesome thought is thereby entirely exhausted, evil karma blazes up in its place, giving rise to superior, middling, and inferior transgression. This is, on account of illness, creating the three evil dharma-realms. Should a person instead reflect: this suffering of illness arises entirely from unwholesome conduct in days past, and thereupon give rise to deep shame and remorse, no longer daring to act wrongly — though afflicted with severe illness, one's wholesome resolve remains unaltered, giving rise to superior, middling, and inferior good. This is, on account of illness, creating the three wholesome dharma-realms. Should one, encountering illness, thereby come to dread birth-and-death, recognizing that this very ailing body is the repayment of prior karma — and should one further ask: were one to continue constructing birth-and-death, how could this cycle of future transmigration ever possibly come to an end? Suffering and its origin, precarious and fragile, follow one from life to life, bringing affliction upon affliction — and should one thereupon seek the quiescent, signless nirvāṇa — this is, on account of illness, giving rise to the dharma-realm of the śrāvaka. Further, contemplating this illness — the illness afflicting one's own form and mind — as arising, through this very illness, in old age and death: death arises from birth, birth arises from prior existence, existence arises from grasping, grasping arises from craving, craving arises from feeling, feeling arises from contact, contact arises from the six sense-fields, the six sense-fields arise from name-and-form. Form is precisely the four great elements and five faculties; name is precisely the four mental aggregates. Contemplating these faculties and elements further — from what, in turn, do they arise? Blue-green arises from wood, yellow from earth, red from fire, white from wind, black from water. Further, contemplating wood as arising from water, water from wind, wind from earth's own yang vital energy, earth from fire, fire from wood, wood in turn arising again from water — pursuing this chain in just this way, it circles round and begins again, with nothing found to arise of its own independent accord. Since the outer five phases are thus, the inner five organs' own coloration is likewise exactly the same. The liver arises from blue-green vital energy, the heart from red vital energy, the lung from white vital energy, the kidney from black vital energy, the spleen from yellow vital energy. Does this very liver-organ arise from its own substance, or does it arise from another? One thereby recognizes that the liver arises from the kidney, the kidney from the lung, the lung from the spleen, the spleen from the heart, the heart from the liver — the liver does not arise of itself, but arises, in turn, from the kidney once more. Searching within, in this way, for the four elements and five organs, finding them entirely without any substance of their own — why, then, do they not simply collapse? The four mental aggregates sustain them: the aggregate of consciousness sustains earth, the aggregate of perception sustains wind, the aggregate of feeling sustains fire, the aggregate of formation sustains water — hence they do not collapse. Do these four mental aggregates arise of themselves, or do they not arise of themselves? One thereby recognizes that formation arises from feeling, feeling arises from perception, perception arises from consciousness, consciousness arises from past formation, past formation arises from ignorance, ignorance arises from delusive thought, and delusive thought arises, in turn, from delusive thought itself. The sūtra says: "Delusive thought generates delusive thought, revolving through the twelve links." It is like a person, crazed with thirst, mistaking a mirage for water, chasing it southward, unable to catch it, crying out loudly for water, an echo resounding back from empty space, so that he thinks: "I have gone too far south — the water must lie to the north," and turns to run northward instead. In just this way, he chases it in every direction, catching it nowhere. Overcome at last with despair, he supposes the water has sunk into the earth, and pounds upon the ground, howling in anguish, his body utterly exhausted — turning at last toward darkness, he still fails to obtain it. Running south is a simile for the tongue chasing after flavor; running north, for the ear chasing after sound; running west, for the nose chasing after fragrance; running east, for the eye chasing after form; pounding the ground, for the body chasing after touch; arriving at darkness, for the mind chasing after ignorance. In just this way, the six faculties, running everywhere after their objects, obtain nothing whatsoever, nor do they obtain any mark of causes and conditions genuinely conjoined — they merely exhaust and torment themselves in vain. Once one has become fully aware of this, one no longer runs after them at all; and because one no longer runs after them, body and mind become settled and still. Because the mind becomes settled and still, one suddenly awakens to understanding, giving rise to correct wisdom regarding causes and conditions, knowing that this very form and mind, from their very origin, are quiescent in their own nature, neither arising nor ceasing — it is delusive thought and inverted perception alone that supposes there to be arising and ceasing at all. Should one no longer follow delusive thought, then ignorance is extinguished, extending all the way to the extinguishing of old age and death — the old exhausted without generating the new, like a fire no longer kindled, which then produces no further smoke. Since neither ignorance nor old-age-and-death can any longer be found at all, for whom, then, is illness even illness at all? This is named contemplating illness giving rise to the dharma-realm of the pratyekabuddha.

Further, contemplating this very illness as arising entirely from cherishing one's own body, life, and possessions, thereby incurring every manner of affliction; or as arising from incomplete observance of the precepts, bringing much illness and a shortened life; or as arising from a weak and inferior disposition of mind, unable to bear adversity, so that the body's own guardian spirits withdraw their protection; or as arising from feeble strength of diligence, lacking any wholesome means of remedy; or as arising from the absence of the power of meditative concentration, so that one is easily disturbed by illness; or as arising from a mind poor in wisdom, unable to penetrate impermanence, suffering, emptiness, and non-self, and thereby incurring this very affliction. Now, taking one's own illness as the occasion, one extends compassion toward the illness of others, thereby giving rise to loving-kindness and compassion, and setting forth vows and practice accordingly. Giving without the slightest reservation, according with the underlying principle and bearing with adversity, applying oneself diligently to correct intention, awakening to impermanence — this is, on account of illness, giving rise to the bodhisattva realm of the six pāramitās. Further, contemplating this illness as arising, one comes to know, from delusive thought and inverted views, from affliction accumulated in former lives — such delusive thought possessing no genuine reality whatsoever; both self and nirvāṇa alike being empty. This is named, on account of illness, giving rise to the bodhisattva realm of the shared teaching. Further, contemplating this illness as, though ultimately empty, an emptiness that, having nothing to receive, nonetheless receives every manner of sensation — since the Buddha's Dharma is not yet fully complete within oneself, one ought not to extinguish sensation and thereby seize premature realization. This is, on account of illness, giving rise to the bodhisattva realm of the distinct teaching. Dharmas of this kind, arising in due sequence on account of illness, are named "the discursible object" — this is not what is contemplated here and now.

As for the inconceivable object: a single thought-moment of afflicted, ailing mind is neither real nor existent — it is itself precisely the Dharma-nature, the Dharma-realm. Every dharma tends toward illness, this tendency reaching no further; there is only the single capital of the Dharma-realm, with no distinction remaining among the nine realms. Like a wish-fulfilling jewel, neither empty nor existent, neither before nor after — illness, too, is exactly the same: cut off from words, apart from every mark, quiescent and pure — hence it is named "inconceivable." Penetrating illness to its very ultimate reality, what joy or sorrow could remain? Making this contemplation, it dissolves and is cured all at once. The Sūtra of Golden Light says: "Upon merely hearing this teaching spoken, illness is at once removed and cured" — this is precisely the sense of the very first of these contemplations. "There are, further, those whose illness is so grave and severe it cannot easily be removed — they must go to the elder, have the many medicines compounded, and only then is the illness cured" — this is precisely the sense of the remaining nine contemplations. Every sentient being, without exception, possesses this very principle, yet is unable to recognize it, and so drifts along the current of view and habituated thought, sinking into the sea of segmented birth-and-death. Giving rise to profound compassion, the bodhisattva wishes to grant them the joy of the path and cessation belonging to non-existence-as-emptiness. This is the bodhisattva with illness, able to pacify his own mind through the contemplation of emptiness. Because the mind is thus pacified, his genuine illness is removed and cured. Because of compassion, provisional illness then arises, born into the land of segmented birth-and-death, regarding those bound to segmented birth-and-death exactly as his own only child. The child being ill, the parent is ill as well, and, through his own bodily illness, comforts and instructs the child; should the child's illness be cured, the parent's illness is cured along with it. This is named "the bodhisattva with illness comforted through embodying and analyzing dharmas." Further, contemplating this illness as, though itself empty and quiescent, not something from which every sentient being can gain liberation through emptiness alone, one must further recognize the various dharma-gates of emptiness and of illness. The śrāvakas of the two lesser vehicles, failing to recognize this, drift along the current of ignorance and unknowing, sinking into the sea of transformation-birth-and-death, unable to distinguish the various different grades of illness — and for this very reason the Buddha's Dharma fails to manifest before them, and the pure lands of sentient beings all fail to be accomplished. For this reason, the bodhisattva gives rise to compassion, extracting the suffering of unknowing and granting the joy of the discriminating wisdom of the paths. This is the bodhisattva with illness, able to pacify his own mind through the contemplation of the provisional. Because the mind is thus pacified, his genuine illness is removed and cured. Because of compassion, provisional illness then arises, born into the land of skillful means, regarding those of skillful means exactly as his own only child. The child being ill, the parent is ill as well, and, through his own bodily illness, comforts and instructs the child; the child's unknowing being cured, the parent's illness is cured along with it. This is named "the bodhisattva with illness comforted according to the distinct teaching." Further, contemplating this illness as, though itself the very Dharma-realm, not yet identical with the middle way for every sentient being — this principle not yet manifest, they drift along the current of ignorance, sinking into the sea of transformation-birth-and-death. The sūtra says: "The three worthies and ten sages still abide within retributive result" — this is precisely the illness of cause and fruit within the land of real reward. For this reason, the bodhisattva gives rise to compassion, extracting the suffering of ignorance and granting ultimate joy. This is the bodhisattva with illness, able to pacify his own mind through the contemplation of the middle way. Because the mind is thus pacified, his genuine illness is removed and cured. Because of compassion, provisional illness then arises, born into the land of real reward, regarding those of transformation-birth exactly as his own only child. The child being ill, the parent is ill as well, and, through his own bodily illness, comforts and instructs the child; the child's ignorance being cured, the parent's illness is cured along with it. This is named "the bodhisattva with illness comforted according to the perfect teaching." These three illnesses thus arise together within a single mind; this pacification is thus a single contemplation's pacification; this compassion is thus perfect and universal compassion; this manifestation is thus universal manifestation through every gate; this comfort is thus a single voice proclaiming the teaching. For the sake of easier understanding, it has been distinguished as above; but, discussed in its true reality, it is precisely inconceivable compassion. Only Vimalakīrti himself is fully complete with this very Dharma — the three genuine illnesses entirely removed, the three provisional illnesses universally manifest. That noble being is difficult indeed to answer or match. The king and the elders, their genuine illness entirely present within them, are unfit to attend to him; the two lesser vehicles, though free of the illness, still cling to its outward mark, and are unfit in speech to converse with him; the bodhisattvas, though they have cast off adventitious defilement, are again and again put to shame in the attempt. Only Mañjuśrī, whose power of the path stands close beside his own, is able to strike the very pivot and receive his intent — hence he alone is able to answer him.

He asked: "Householder, from what cause does this illness of yours arise? How long has it persisted? How ought it be extinguished?" The householder answered: "This illness of mine arises from great compassion — because sentient beings are ill, I too am ill; when sentient beings are cured, I too shall be cured." The genuine illness of sentient beings arises from delusion and craving; the very moment delusion and craving arise, great compassion arises with them; the very moment delusion and craving cease, great compassion ceases with them. Sentient beings may be cured, or may not be cured; the bodhisattva may have illness, or may not have illness. Where there is no illness, one knows the child is cured; where illness remains, the work of transforming beings is not yet finished. Hence the questioning of his illness within the small chamber, and the aching of his back at the thatched city, both carry precisely this same sense. Since his vow is equal to the whole of empty space, his illness likewise pervades the entire Dharma-realm — this is named "inconceivable compassion." So great is the power of compassion that the very moment the bodhisattva gives rise to this mind, illness is at once removed and cured, without needing to wait for any further, lesser practice — the joy of the Dharma, Tiantai's own teaching, and so on. Should the mind one gives rise to not be genuine — deceiving sentient beings, extorting the Triple Gem, seeking some ulterior gain — illness will likewise fail to be cured; but should one be genuinely sincere, this carries with it a great and mighty power. As for pacifying the mind: should a person fall ill within the place of practice, as explained above, embodying understanding and giving rise to true resolve, holding the body upright with correct mindfulness, applying only calming and only contemplation, skillfully applying the siddhāntas, harmonized and properly suited to the case, the very moment one sits down one feels a sense of coolness and relief — whether the improvement is sudden or gradual, this is named "the great medicine," requiring no further, scattered application of any other treatment method. As for comprehensively breaking through every dharma: when the practitioner falls ill, he contemplates — is this illness caused by form, or caused by mind? Were form itself the illness, then outer mountains and forests ought equally to be ill, and a corpse ought equally to be ill — yet corpses and mountains and forests have never suffered affliction, and hence one knows that form itself is not the illness. It is simply that mental conception alone calculates this illness into being. Now, contemplating the mind of illness as neither self-caused nor other-caused, the four propositions all unobtainable, neither internal nor external, ultimately pure — the mind being like empty space itself, what, then, could possibly be the illness? The *Vimalakīrti Sūtra* says: "It is not the earth element, yet not apart from the earth element; it is not conjoined with the body, since the body's own mark cannot be obtained; it is not conjoined with the mind, since the mind is itself illusory." The mind of illness being unobtainable as arising, unobtainable as unarising, unobtainable as both arising and unarising, unobtainable as neither arising nor unarising — whether taken singly, in compound, in complete combination, or as beyond words — all of this is exactly as explained above in breaking through the aggregates and entries. As for distinguishing blockage from passage: contemplating the dharma of illness, one recognizes, within every single proposition, the truth, the causal condition, and the perfection involved. Contemplating illness, contemplating wisdom, one recognizes, within every single proposition, the truth, the causal condition, and the perfection involved, clearly and distinctly, without the slightest doubt or confusion. Understanding whether a character is truly a character, knowing gain from loss, follows the same pattern as explained above. As for cultivating the branches of the path: should one contemplate illness as the four elements, illness is impurity; should illness be apart from the four elements, illness is itself purity; illness being neither the four elements nor apart from the four elements, illness is thus neither pure nor impure. Existent, real, non-existent, unreal; empty, provisional, neither empty nor provisional; withered, flourishing, neither withered nor flourishing — meanings of this kind are in no way different from the foundation of mindfulness of the body. In just this way, the sensation of illness is neither suffering nor pleasure; the perception and formation of illness are neither self nor non-self; the mind of illness is neither permanent nor impermanent — following the same pattern of meaning as above. The thirty-seven factors of enlightenment may all be accomplished even upon one's own sickbed, understanding suffering as no true suffering and thereby entering the pool of coolness. As for auxiliary remedies: should direct contemplation alone fail yet to bring a cure, one ought to borrow the six methods of treatment explained earlier. Direct contemplation and auxiliary treatment applied together are still able to lead one into the path — how much more so, then, is bodily illness unable to resist being dissolved thereby? Making this contemplation, though confined to bed and pillow, one recognizes one's own stage with genuine depth: my own contemplation of illness, though its underlying principle stands vividly clear, is like that crystal jewel still resting at the bottom of a deep pool — this very contemplative wisdom of mine remains, as yet, merely nominal; the illness of cause not yet removed, the illness of fruit remains its natural share. Should one reach the stage of resemblance, the illness of cause grows somewhat lighter and the resolve for the path grows correspondingly more mature, yet the illness of fruit remains heavy, and one cannot avoid every manner of calamity still. Should one enter the forbearance of the unborn, though the illness of cause is exhausted, the illness of fruit still remains. I myself, then, ought never to give rise to arrogance beyond my own actual stage, claiming that my own practice amid illness equals that of that noble being himself. As for bearing with adversity: simply apply oneself diligently to direct contemplation and auxiliary treatment together, never allowing inner or outer obstructing conditions to hinder or halt the practice. Should direct contemplation and auxiliary treatment be delayed and detained, the illness only worsens and the path is abandoned; but should one be able to settle the mind firmly amid illness, unmoved and unretreating, the task is thereby accomplished. Should the illness then be relieved, one's contemplative practice grows clear and pure — one must not give rise to greedy attachment, must not give rise to craving and defilement. With the ten conditions fulfilled, one swiftly enters the very stream of the Dharma. This is the object of illness, cultivated through the Mahāyāna contemplation, gaining the forbearance of the unborn, attaining the single great cart — understood by the same pattern as before.

Fourth, contemplating the object of the marks of karma: the practitioner has, throughout immeasurable kalpas, produced every kind of wholesome and unwholesome karma, some already having borne its retributive result, some not yet having done so. Should one apply the mind in an ordinary, even manner, its marks fail to manifest at all; but now, cultivating calming-and-contemplation, one is able to stir these very karmic deeds into motion, and so the marks of good and evil manifest. Some may doubt this, saying: "The Mahāyāna teaches universal equality — what marks could there possibly be to discuss?" Here it is said that this is not so at all — it is precisely because the mirror of equality itself is perfectly clear that the images of every karmic deed manifest within it. The Sūtra of Golden Light says: "As one is about to realize the ten grounds, every mark manifests beforehand." The Āgama says: "As one is about to realize the first fruit, eighty-eight-headed serpents perish before one's very eyes." Passages of this kind, in both the greater and lesser vehicles, are exceedingly numerous. Further, the Lotus Sūtra says: "Deeply penetrating the marks of transgression and merit, illuminating the ten directions everywhere at once." Transgression and merit are simply unwholesome and wholesome karma. The *Vimalakīrti Sūtra* says: "Unmoved within the ultimate truth, yet skillfully able to distinguish the marks of every dharma." Hence your objection does not hold. Clarifying the marks of karma is treated in four parts: first, the causes and conditions of these marks' manifestation; second, the marks' actual manifestation; third, discriminating analysis; fourth, calming-and-contemplation. As for causes and conditions: there are both inner and outer. As for the inner: calming-and-contemplation refines the mind, the mind growing gradually clear and pure, illuminating every wholesome and unwholesome deed. It may be that calming stills what is evil, evil then on the verge of extinguishing; and contemplation illuminates what is good, good then on the verge of arising. Or it may be that calming stills what is evil, evil arising precisely through this very stillness; and contemplation illuminates what is good, good extinguished precisely through this very illumination. Immeasurable marks of karma emerge from within calming-and-contemplation, just as, once a mirror is polished, ten thousand images manifest of their own accord. As for the outer: the compassion of every buddha constantly responds to all beings without exception, yet sentient beings, lacking the proper occasion, are unable to perceive it. Through the very power of calming-and-contemplation, one is able to move the buddhas to manifest wholesome and unwholesome forms of meditative vision, and karmic deeds thereupon manifest — like holding forth a garland of flowers before the assembled multitude. This is named "the inner and outer causes and conditions." Should one grasp this very sense, one may discriminate transgression from merit in fine detail, black from white without the slightest confusion, and thereby become fit to serve as a master of the Vaipulya teachings, regulating others accordingly. Here, however, one need only refine the mind through calming-and-contemplation, so that karma dissolves and practice is accomplished, seizing the path with a single, undivided mind — what need is there, then, for such elaborate discrimination of these marks?

Second, clarifying the manifestation of karmic marks: their manifestation follows no fixed order, and shall simply be explained here as convenient. First, clarifying the manifestation of wholesome marks, which have six patterns: first, the mark of retributive fruit manifesting; second, the mark of the habituated cause manifesting; third, the retributive mark manifesting first, the habituated mark manifesting later; fourth, the habituated mark manifesting first, the retributive mark manifesting later; fifth, the habituated and retributive marks manifesting simultaneously; sixth, no fixed order between the two. When these karmic marks manifest, they do so in a bewildering variety of forms — recognizing these six patterns, one may distinguish them without error. What is meant by "habituated cause" and "habituated fruit"? Masters of the *Abhidharma* say: "The habituated cause is a cause belonging to its own category; the habituated fruit is its corresponding, dependent result." Habituation is also named "habituated continuity" — a seed of one's own category generating its like, so that a later thought-moment, arising, continues the habituation of the moment before; the earlier thought-moment serves as cause, the later as fruit. This sense applies across all three moral natures. Treatise-masters, however, confine it to the wholesome and unwholesome alone — the morally indeterminate has no habituated continuity. As for "retributive cause" and "retributive fruit": these pertain to a different lifetime. The habituated cause and habituated fruit of a former life are both together named the retributive cause, since this cause draws forth a later fruit, and is hence designated by the term "retribution," named "the retributive cause"; the body received thereafter, in one of the five destinies, is precisely "the retributive fruit." Within this present retributive body, wholesome and unwholesome deeds again arise, continuing in habituation as habituated cause and habituated fruit. Considered wholly in relation to the former life, this habituated continuity is itself a fruit; considered in relation to the life to come, this same habituated continuity is itself a cause. Masters of numerical categories explain that obtaining the body of a pigeon or sparrow is a retributive fruit, while excessive lust is a habituated fruit; treatise-masters, by contrast, hold that both the pigeon's body and the excessive lust are alike retributive fruits, since lust itself arises from greed, and greed is the habituated fruit. Further, affliction arising in the present life is named "habituated cause"; the karma thereby formed is "retributive cause." Affliction arising in a later life is named "habituated fruit"; the suffering and pain thereof is named "retributive fruit." Should one, in seated meditation, merely see various marks appear, this is named "the mark of retributive fruit manifesting" — since it arises from a cause in a former life, it may equally be called "retributive cause." And since the very cause capable of arising also draws forth a later retributive result, the two terms are, in effect, interchangeable — here, however, it is simply classified as the mark of retributive fruit. Should one, within meditation, see no such marks at all, but instead find the mind suddenly stirred to action, this is the manifestation of "habituated cause" — since it, too, is able to draw forth a future fruit, it may equally be called "habituated fruit"; since it repays a cause from the past, the two terms are again interchangeable — here, however, it is simply classified as habituated cause. Wholesome marks are exceedingly numerous; here they shall be treated briefly in terms of the six pāramitās. As for the manifestation of the mark of dāna: one may, in meditation, suddenly see a supreme field of merit, images of the Triple Gem, the sagely assembly and great worthies, one's own parents and teachers, or virtuous persons, receiving one's own offering; or one may see the field of compassion receiving one's offering; or one may see both fields together, though not actually receiving the offering, nonetheless rejoicing in it; or one may not see any field at all, whether receiving or not, but see only the offered goods arrayed and spread out in abundance; or one may not see the offered goods at all, but see only a field of pure ground; or this may represent the mark of giving's own retribution in the present life, or represent the mark of giving's retribution in a former life; or one may see a person accomplished in the practice of dāna approach and praise the very act of giving. Occurrences of this kind are all marks of retributive fruit manifesting. Next, should one see no such marks at all, but the mind simply grows stirred, wishing to practice generosity, reverently making offerings to the Triple Gem, to parents, and to teachers; or grieving over the poor and suffering and wishing to relieve them; or becoming, of one's own accord, especially clear and penetrating in the very dharma-gate of dāna — states of mind of this kind are all marks of habituated cause manifesting. Whether this mind of giving arises first and the retributive mark appears afterward, or the retributive mark appears first and this mind of giving arises afterward, or both arise together, or arise in no fixed order, may be understood according to the particular case. When the mark of śīla manifests, there are likewise six patterns. One may see the ten preceptors, the robe and bowl, the ordination platform, the formal proceedings, and feel joyful reverence toward them; or, though not seeing this mark directly, one may see one's own robes clean and pure, one's own deportment surpassing the assembly; or one may see a person of constant precept-observance, his countenance radiant, his bearing calm and dignified, coming to praise the precepts. Marks of this kind are all the manifestation of the retributive fruit of upholding the precepts. At other times, none of these marks appear at all, but the mind spontaneously grows stirred to uphold the precepts, one's own conviction is that the categories of pure precepts are insufficient in themselves and ought to be upheld more fully still; or one wishes to correct and rectify those who violate the precepts, bringing them all into accord with the Dharma; or one comes, of one's own accord, to understand the texts of the vinaya, thoroughly versed in its every category — this is the manifestation of habituated cause. Whether this arises first, later, together, or in mixed order, may be understood according to the particular case. As for the manifestation of the mark of kṣānti: one may see a person capable of forbearance; or see oneself actually practicing an act of forbearance; or see one's own body upright and pure, hands and feet perfectly proportioned, rare indeed in this world; or see an upright person of forbearance come and praise the practice of forbearance — these are marks of the retributive fruit of forbearance. Or one may directly give rise to the mind of forbearance, and further understand the dharma-gate of forbearance — this is named the manifestation of the habituated cause of forbearance. Whether prior, subsequent, simultaneous, or mixed, may be understood accordingly. As for the mark of vīrya: one may see a person of diligence; or see one's own deeds of diligence; or see one's own body possessed of great vigor and heroic strength; or see a person of constant diligence, unceasing by day and by night, coming to praise diligence itself — these are marks of the retributive fruit of diligence. Or one may see no such mark at all, but simply give rise to the mind of diligence, sparing not one's own body through the first, middle, and last watches of the night; or come to penetrate thoroughly the dharma-gate of diligence — this is named the mark of the habituated cause of diligence. Whether prior, subsequent, simultaneous, or mixed, may be understood accordingly. The marks of dhyāna will be explained at length within the object of meditative states below; the marks of prajñā will be explained at length within the object of the bodhisattva. Since the habituated and retributive marks of the six pāramitās already number six kinds each, every other wholesome dharma follows exactly the same pattern. Should one search out this method in fine detail, the longer one pursues it the clearer it becomes — there is no need to elaborate further here, nor would it even be proper to do so at excessive length; it is a matter to be received directly, face to face, and transmitted orally, to be discussed at whatever length suits the occasion.

Masters of the Vaipulya teachings have handed down the saying: "When the mark of a debt owed to the Triple Gem manifests, one must certainly repay it." The master of Nanyue says: "Should one possess the means oneself, repayment is the better course; should one lack the means, and yet abandon one's own practice to rush about in every direction seeking it, this carries two distinct senses." The transgressions sentient beings have accumulated in past lives are beyond any measure — debts owed to the Triple Gem are hardly confined to a single item. As when an arhat, seizing the path directly without delay, has no leisure to repay such karma beforehand, this is named "the outstanding obligation." Should a practitioner, however, abandon the place of practice in order to go begging for funds, disturbing himself for years on end in the process, is this not itself already the very work of Māra? Here, then, though the debt is not yet repaid, one ought simply resolve firmly to cultivate the genuine Dharma of every buddha, thereby carrying forward one's own "accomplishment" and "establishment." As for accomplishment: once affliction is broken through and the forbearance of the unborn is entered, one makes vast offerings to the entire Triple Gem from the very ground of the Dharma-body itself, and returns again into birth-and-death in order to repay sentient beings — the bodhisattva, at that time, is no longer named one under "outstanding obligation." As for establishment: once one's own effort reaches its full completion, one's reputation and conduct firmly established, and the fruit of one's practice arrives of its own accord, one then repays the Triple Gem in full — this is not at all the same as an outstanding debtor who forms no intention whatsoever of repayment; it is, rather, a small request for an extension, made in expectation of this very future establishment. How could this not be regarded as a genuinely good course? Should one, however, abandon one's own practice and leave the place of cultivation entirely for this purpose, the debt must then certainly be repaid at once — one may not continue reading, reciting, listening, and studying, or attending to private, worldly affairs, but must resolutely seek out the means by whatever expedient necessary and repay it. This explanation accords with the *Upāsaka-śīla Sūtra*, which says: "Should a person owing a debt to the Triple Gem be genuinely engaged in cultivating the path, seeking the fruit of stream-entry or even up to arhatship, he need not repay it; should he not be studying the path at all, he ought to repay it urgently." Should an arhat make use of the Buddha's own property, this, moreover, carries no transgression at all.

Next, clarifying evil marks: evils are exceedingly numerous; here they shall be treated in terms of the six coverings, each of the six likewise possessing its own six patterns. As for the mark of the covering of stinginess: one may see the Triple Gem, one's teachers, or one's parents appearing gaunt and haggard, or exposed and unclothed, or dressed in ragged, tattered garments; or afflicted with hunger and starvation, the monastery halls standing empty and desolate; or one may see every object carefully guarded, sealed and locked away — differing from what came before. Where before one rejoiced at the very sight of an object, now, seeing a beggar, one reacts to the very same object with anger and abuse. Where objects before represented instruments of generosity, they now represent instruments of stinginess. Or one may see a stingy person approach directly before oneself. These are named the marks of the retributive fruit of the covering of stinginess, likewise possessing six patterns understood by the same prior scheme. As for the mark of precept-violation: one may see images of the Triple Gem, one's teachers, elders, and parents with their heads severed, or sunk helplessly into the ground; or their bodies torn and mutilated, beaten and afflicted with suffering; or their heads separated from their bodies, monastery buildings fallen into ruin; or see one's parents cursing and reviling, the Triple Gem rebuking and condemning; or see a person delighting in slaughter, a butcher, approaching directly before oneself; or evil birds and venomous creatures crawling upon one's own head and body — these are all marks of the retributive fruit of the covering of anger, likewise possessing six patterns understood by the same prior scheme. Should one see impure filth — excrement, urine, corpses, foul objects blocking the road, or deep water crossing the path, preventing further passage; or see oneself coupling with a former sexual partner, exhibiting impure marks, filthy and shameful; or see one's own body giving off a foul odor; or see a person of excessive lust come and speak of licentious matters; or see beasts and humans copulating — all of this is the mark of the retributive fruit of the transgression of sexual misconduct, likewise possessing six patterns. Should one see the very place where an object was stolen in a past life, its rightful owner approaching to curse and angrily bind that very object; or see a person skilled in theft come and urge one toward the act of stealing — these are all marks of the retributive fruit of stealing, likewise understood by the same prior scheme of six patterns. Should one see one's parents, teachers, and others contending in dispute, harboring venomous anger, scheming in various ways to sow discord and slander oneself; or see a person of much verbal transgression approaching — this is precisely the mark of the retributive fruit of the four verbal transgressions, likewise sixfold. Or one may see a drunken person vomiting and lying in disarray; or see one's own body sunk in stupor and confusion — these are all marks of the retributive fruit of drinking alcohol, likewise sixfold. All of these together are the marks of the retributive fruit of the covering of precept-violation. The remaining four coverings may be understood by the same pattern, and hence are not recorded here in full detail. Furthermore, inward pain in the mind is the habituation of killing; inward heaviness in the mind is the habituation of stealing; inward agitation in the mind is the habituation of sexual misconduct; and a mind possessing all three together is the habituation of even division among them.

Third, discriminating analysis of how good and evil marks manifest differently in terms of obstruction: there is what is not obstruction and yet becomes obstruction; what is obstruction and yet becomes not obstruction; what is both obstruction and not obstruction together as obstruction; and what is both obstruction and not obstruction together as not obstruction. As for what is not obstruction and yet becomes obstruction: a person may first manifest a wholesome mark, rejoicing at the time — but afterward gives rise to attachment and arrogance, treating others with contempt; relying on this very proof as grounds for self-conceit, gradually becoming stained by fame and profit, so that faults and calamities arise in turn — the mind retreats, the Dharma is ruined, the precepts are abandoned, one returns to lay life, and there is no evil left uncommitted. Is this not, then, a case where what was at first a wholesome, unobstructing cause later brings about a gravely obstructing evil? As for what is obstruction and yet becomes not obstruction: as when one first manifests an evil mark, and, filled with shame and dread, diligently repents this evil, severing the very continuity of the mind so that transgression never arises again — diligently practicing every wholesome deed, until the great matter is finally accomplished. Is this not, then, a case where what was at first an obstruction later brings about what is no obstruction at all? Both-obstruction and both-not-obstruction may be understood by the same pattern. As for what is not obstruction and yet becomes obstruction: this is a case of a wholesome state on the verge of extinguishing, its mark manifesting precisely as it does so — this extinguishing of the wholesome signals the arising of evil in its place. As for what is obstruction and yet becomes not obstruction: this is a case of an evil state on the verge of extinguishing, its mark manifesting precisely as it does so — this evil signals the arising of good in its place. As for what is both obstruction and not obstruction together as not obstruction: this mark signals that the wholesome does not extinguish and the evil does not arise. As for what is both obstruction and not obstruction together as obstruction: this signals that the evil does not extinguish and the wholesome does not arise. This account is framed in terms of the initial wholesome state, taking the wholesome as not-obstruction and the evil as obstruction, as distinguished above. Were one, however, to speak in terms of the real truth, every one of these wholesome and evil states without exception is itself obstruction — hence the *Sūtra on Purifying Karmic Obstruction* says: "Every evil is obstruction; every good is likewise obstruction." Were one to speak in terms of the provisional, the good and evil of the real truth are, both alike, obstruction. Were one to speak in terms of the middle, the good and evil found even within the provisional are, both alike, obstruction — hence obstruction can never truly be exhausted. Furthermore, the arising of the mind of good and evil's own habituated cause is comparatively easy to recognize; the arising of the mark of good and evil's own retributive fruit is, by contrast, difficult to recognize. Should the mark of wholesome retributive fruit be accompanied by the mind of wholesome habituated cause, whether appearing before or after it, this is, for the most part, a mark of innate goodness; should it arise in isolation, unaccompanied, this is, for the most part, a mark of goodness not innately determined. Should the mark of unwholesome retributive fruit be accompanied by the mind of unwholesome habituated cause, whether before or after, this is, for the most part, innate evil; should it arise unaccompanied by habituation, this is, for the most part, evil contrary to what is innately determined. Furthermore, should the mark of good or evil retributive fruit arise entirely in isolation, though one may judge it provisionally as "not innately determined," its underlying principle remains, in truth, difficult to discern, and is frequently intermixed with demonic influence. Should one wish to distinguish it properly, one must examine it with meticulous care, applying the ten dharmas of emptiness, clarity, good, evil, and the rest, to test it thoroughly. Should it show either excess or deficiency, this is a demonic mark; anything other than this is not innately determined in the ordinary sense. There are, further, three marks by which to test it: namely, whether it persists for a very long time, whether it recurs again and again, and whether it further damages the very mind of meditative concentration — these three marks together indicate a demonic influence; the absence of all three indicates that it is not innately determined. Furthermore, when evil marks manifest, they first appear as anger and fury, then, on a second occasion, appear neutral and even, then, on a third occasion, appear as joy; or a person may admonish and instruct one, or a person may drive one away — one ought to recognize all of this as the very mark of the evil's own imminent extinguishing. Whoever gives rise to true and correct resolve, whose wisdom and understanding are clear and distinct, recognizes every one of these marks without the slightest error, is not confused by any of these obstructions, and, striking directly into the underlying principle with the mind, only increases in clarity all the more. Should one have strength to spare, one may then further distinguish the various gateways of karma; though thoroughly versed and free in this discernment, one applies it, additionally, to the transformation of others. Should one be unable to distinguish the marks of karma down to their finest detail, one need only recognize, in general, that this is obstruction, cling to nothing whatsoever, and strike directly into the underlying principle with contemplation, and karma will then be unable to obstruct one at all. Should one, however, lack any understanding to begin with, and further give rise to perverse intention, seeing such marks and thereby giving rise to attachment and craving, a demon seizes precisely this opportunity to enter and display omens of fortune and misfortune, the two thereafter reinforcing one another, trading goods and food between them, until one dies and falls into the realm of ghosts — is this not precisely what is meant by "demonic meditation," if not this? Should one wish to correct oneself, or correct others, one must genuinely grasp the proper sense of the matter — only through one's own personal practice and verification, together with the oral instruction received directly from a genuine teacher, may one then speak of it openly. One must never carelessly flaunt or peddle such things, falsely claiming heat or cold where none exists — the resulting calamity would be grave indeed! I urge this most earnestly! I urge this most earnestly! Let those who come after take the greatest care! Question: the spirits guarding the place of practice — how, then, could a resentful creditor still manage to cause disturbance there? Answer: this is indeed so. It is like a patrolling officer of the worldly army, whose duty is merely to observe and report, not to actively prevent every wrong — a creditor pressing his claim against an object cannot, by such patrol alone, be entirely barred. Karma arriving to press its claim for repayment may be understood by exactly this same principle. Furthermore, the names, teachings, substance, and marks of the various forms of karma are set forth in full within the *Abhidharma* and the *Satyasiddhi-śāstra*; as for the contemplation that breaks through karma, this is set forth in full within the *Madhyamaka-śāstra*. These two schools each have their own strengths and shortcomings. The sense given here differs from both — it aims merely to clarify good and evil without confusion, and this alone suffices for the present purpose. Were one to distinguish it too broadly, this would only hinder the correct path; were one merely to break through it directly without further distinction, one would fail entirely to recognize the branches of the path, or how direct and auxiliary practice ought to be coordinated together, the method thereby remaining incomplete. The calming-and-contemplation given here, then, treats the clarification of karmic marks only briefly, while its treatment of the actual method of contemplation is given in fuller measure.

Fourth, cultivating calming-and-contemplation, treated in ten parts. What, then, is the discursible object of karma? Karma capable of inviting retribution in the three evil paths comes in superior, middling, and inferior grades; karma capable of inviting retribution in the three wholesome paths likewise comes in superior, middling, and inferior grades; unshakable karma invites retribution in the realms of form and formlessness. Karma of this kind invites retribution in both form and mind, and this very form and mind, in turn deluded, give rise to the four inversions — the unbroken continuity of birth-and-death arises precisely from this very cause. Now, contemplating karma as having no karma, inverted delusion does not arise, extending all the way to the exhaustion of every contaminant — this is named "the śrāvaka's contemplation of karma." Should one contemplate karma as arising from ignorance — ignorance thus producing karma, karma thus producing name-and-form, extending all the way to old age and death — and should one recognize this ignorance, grasping and existence no longer arise; ignorance extinguished, every formation is thereby extinguished — this is "the pratyekabuddha's contemplation of karma." Should one contemplate karmic activity as illusory transformation, illusory transformation being itself emptiness, emptiness being itself nirvāṇa — this is named "the shared teaching's contemplation of karma." Should one contemplate karma as like the great earth, able to give rise to every manner of sprout, the dharmas of all ten dharma-realms arising from karma — this is named "the distinct teaching's contemplation of karma." All of this belongs to the discursible object, and is not what is employed here and now.

As for the inconceivable object: as the sūtra says, "deeply penetrating the marks of transgression and merit" — transgression is precisely the three evil paths, and merit is precisely the three wholesome paths. To understand only the marks of the three evil paths' karma, without penetrating the marks of the three wholesome paths' karma belonging to humans and devas, is not yet deep penetration; only penetrating both evil and good together is truly deep penetration. Yet should one penetrate the marks of good and evil karma merely as good and evil in themselves, this, too, is not named deep penetration. Further, both good and evil alike are, in this deeper sense, evil, while being apart from both good and evil is itself the true good — this is deep penetration. Further, penetrating the good and evil of humans and devas is merely the extreme of birth-and-death; penetrating the two lesser vehicles' being apart from good and evil is merely the extreme of nirvāṇa's own emptiness — but this remains only two extremes, and is not named deep penetration. And since both extremes are, in fact, alike evil, this too is not named deep penetration. The bodhisattva of the distinct teaching is able to penetrate the shallow aspect of both extremes, penetrating gradually ever deeper, and hence is named "deep penetration" in this qualified sense. Yet the distinct teaching's own gradual depth, too, is not yet true deep penetration; only the perfect teaching, penetrating from shallow karma directly to deep karma in a single stroke, may rightly be named "deeply penetrating the marks of transgression and merit, illuminating the ten directions everywhere at once." Deep penetration of this kind, in truth, neither elaborately distinguishes the three realms one by one, nor proceeds directly into emptiness alone — this is precisely its own sense. Contemplating a single thought-moment's arising as already complete with the ten realms is named "the ten directions." The ten directions are the dependent retribution; the ten realms are the direct retribution. Without dependent retribution, there could be no direct retribution either; and, direct retribution being present, there is likewise present the hundred dharmas of nature, mark, root, and branch, and so on — also named "the hundred directions." Dharmas of this kind are precisely a single thought-moment's own karma — hence it is named "one karma is every karma." The Avataṃsaka Sūtra says: "'Son of the Buddha, mind-nature is one — how, then, is it able to generate every manner of differing karma?' The answer: 'It is like the great earth, which, though one, is able to generate every manner of differing sprout.'" Should the earth receive rain, poisonous and medicinal sprouts alike burst forth all at once; here, likewise, should the ground of the Dharma-nature receive the rain of practicing the path, the sprouts of wholesome and unwholesome karma compete to arise within a single thought-moment. Karma is named "the Dharma-realm," the very capital of every dharma — hence it is called "the inconceivable object."

Having thereby deeply penetrated the object of karma, good and evil alike gathered into a single capital, one thereupon gives rise to compassion. The underlying principle of transgression and merit is itself neither violation nor compliance — violating it produces transgression, complying with it produces merit. It is like the conventional truth's own names, forms, and every obstructing substance, likewise neither violation nor compliance in themselves — should one steal and thereby produce transgression, the unwholesome karma of the three lower paths results; should one give and thereby produce merit, the karma of the three wholesome paths results. The bodhisattva, deeply penetrating this very neither-violation-nor-compliance, gives rise to compassion in the face of violation, and to loving-kindness in the face of compliance. The real truth of emptiness itself, beyond every path of words, is likewise neither violation nor compliance — to violate it produces the contaminated karma of the six paths; to comply with it produces the uncontaminated karma of the three vehicles. The bodhisattva, deeply penetrating this emptiness-identity's own neither-violation-nor-compliance, gives rise to compassion in the face of violation, and to loving-kindness in the face of compliance. The truth of the middle way is likewise neither violation nor compliance — to violate it produces the karma of the two extremes, contaminated and uncontaminated; to comply with it produces the karma of the middle way, neither contaminated nor uncontaminated. The Lotus Sūtra's "attained through long cultivation of karma" is precisely this very karma. The bodhisattva, deeply penetrating the true reality of the middle way's own neither-violation-nor-compliance, gives rise to compassion in the face of violation, and to loving-kindness in the face of compliance. For one who has truly penetrated deeply, it is, in every case, simply a single thought-moment's mind that is neither violation nor compliance, with no threefold distinction remaining at all — and this, too, is a single thought-moment's compassion, neither before nor after — hence it is named "the true and correct mind of bodhi." Pacifying the mind through karma's emptiness, the good then complies while the evil is stilled — the evil being stilled is named "calming"; the good complying is named "contemplation." Pacifying the mind through karma's provisional nature, evil is stilled and good complies. Pacifying the mind through karma's middle nature, evil is stilled and good complies — the complying is named "contemplation," the stilling is named "calming." This is named "contemplating karma through skillful pacification of the mind." As for comprehensively breaking through every dharma: the *Abhidharma* says, "Karma, once dissipated, enters the past, bound as though by a rope, and the practitioner receives its retribution in the future"; the *Satyasiddhi* says, "Karma passes from the present into the future, where its retribution is received." Now, contemplating this very karma: should karma belong to the past, the past having already dissipated, how could karma still exist there at all? Should karma belong to the future, the future not yet having come into being, how could karma exist there? Should karma belong to the present, the present itself never abides even a single thought-moment — should a thought-moment have already passed, it belongs to the past; should it not yet have arrived, it belongs to the future; arising and ceasing in the very same instant, which portion of it could possibly be "present" at all? Were one to say that karma exists precisely at the moment of passing, calling this "the present," is it the passing itself that constitutes the karma, or the thing that passes? Is it the passing of the moment of passing, or the passing of the thing that passes? Since the present itself cannot ultimately be found, karma too remains unobtainable. Examined across the three time-periods, searched both horizontally and vertically, every wholesome and unwholesome karma alike proves unobtainable, ultimately pure. To speak, then, of "wholesome" and "unwholesome" karma at all is merely a distinction made through worldly words and provisional names — one must not, upon hearing the name, mistake it for something genuinely real. Why is this so? One seeks, at root, the very truth of the principle itself, not an empty name. An empty name has no nature of its own — however forcefully one might try to distinguish it, this is like pointing at empty space. Karma possesses neither an agent nor a recipient, and the three truths are, all alike, quiescent — hence this is named "comprehensively breaking through every dharma." As for distinguishing blockage from passage: with respect to karma, non-karma, both karma and non-karma, and neither karma nor non-karma, one clarifies and recognizes, within every single proposition, suffering and its origin; within every single thought, one fully comprehends the path and cessation. Verified and genuinely accomplished, this never mistakes a mere insect's trail for a true character — hence it is named "distinguishing blockage from passage." As for cultivating the branches of the path: masters of the *Satyasiddhi* say: "Mental karma arising alone does not yet constitute complete karma — the mind grasping the real dharma, perception grasping the provisional name, and volition then acting accordingly upon this same object, only then does mental karma become fully constituted; this, then, gives the three foundations of mindfulness — and, as for the two karmas of body and speech, being themselves form, these constitute the foundation of mindfulness of the body." Masters of the *Abhidharma* say: "The mental factors and the mind-king arise together, simultaneously" — the mind-king is precisely the foundation of mindfulness of mind; the mental factor of feeling is precisely the foundation of mindfulness of feeling; perception and the remaining mental factors are all the aggregate of formation, precisely the foundation of mindfulness of dharmas; the mind-king and its factors, arising dependent upon form, constitute the foundation of mindfulness of the body. Whether simultaneous or successive, all four foundations of mindfulness are present in either case. Now, contemplating this karma as complete with the five aggregates of all ten dharma-realms is itself being complete with every one of the four foundations of mindfulness. The form belonging to the same category as every karmic deed is the foundation of mindfulness of the body — this body being neither pure nor impure. The four aggregates of the same category constitute the remaining three foundations of mindfulness — these being neither suffering nor pleasure, neither self nor non-self, neither permanent nor impermanent — this is precisely the nirvāṇa of the twin trees, neither flourishing nor withered, extending to the three gates of liberation. This is named "the branches of the path." As for auxiliary remedies: one ought to be mindful of the response-body Buddha's thirty-two marks and the rest, mindful of the reward-body Buddha's immeasurable merit, together breaking through the unwholesome karma of habituated cause. Mindfulness of the dharma-gate Buddha breaks through habituated cause; mindfulness of the thirty-two marks breaks through retributive fruit, and so on. Mindfulness of the dharma-gate Buddha aids in breaking through the unwholesome karma of retributive fruit; through the very power of mindfulness of the Buddha, the obstruction of unwholesome karma is thereby transformed, and one enters the very gate of nirvāṇa. Making this contemplation, one must not falsely claim the stage of the higher sages. One must, further, bear with adversity, allowing every inner and outer obstruction to become unobstructed. Should one attain the resemblance of the path, this is not yet genuine understanding, and one must not give rise to Dharma-attachment. Should Dharma-attachment fail to arise, one proceeds freely and without hindrance, flowing naturally into the very ground of coolness. This, the Mahāyāna's ten contemplations, attains immeasurable, uncontaminated, pure retributive fruit, attaining the supreme reward, attaining unimpeded karma, deeply penetrating transgression and merit, ultimately free of defilement — hence named "purity, which is itself the Dharma-body"; returning to the very root and source, wisdom's illumination perfectly complete — hence named "the supreme, which is itself the reward-body"; manifesting form throughout the nine paths, appearing universally through every gate — hence named "freedom, which is itself the response-body." These three bodies together are precisely the Mahāyāna's own loftiness and breadth, arriving directly at the very place of enlightenment. The rest is as explained above, and so on.

Fifth, contemplating the object of demonic affairs: as the practitioner cultivates the four kinds of samādhi, evil on the verge of dissolving and good on the verge of arising, demons, fearing that he might thereby escape from their own domain, and further fearing that he might go on to convert and deliver others, thereby losing their own subjects and leaving their own palaces empty, and further apprehensive that, once he attains great spiritual power and great wisdom-power, he would then rise up in fierce contention against them, regulating and controlling them, causing them affliction in turn — they therefore act, while his practice remains yet unaccomplished, to destroy his wholesome roots, and this is precisely why demonic affairs arise. The practitioner's own strength in the path being still weak, this does not yet stir Māra Pāpīyas himself directly — every lesser ghost and spirit belongs under the administration of the six heavens, each guarding its own proper domain, and it is precisely these that are stirred into action here. The sūtra says: "One who fails to explain demonic affairs and demonic transgression is the bodhisattva's own evil companion." Should one thoroughly penetrate the distinction between the wrong and the correct, holding one's own mind in calm equanimity, knowing that the suchness of the demon-realm and the suchness of the buddha-realm are one and the same suchness, without a second, equal and identical in a single mark, neither taking the demon as an object of grief nor the Buddha as an object of joy, one settles securely into their very ultimate reality. Should one be able to do this, the wrong is unable to interfere with the correct, and, should disturbance and affliction arise, the arrival of demons proves, in fact, thoroughly beneficial. Here, demons are clarified in five parts: first, distinguishing sameness and difference; second, clarifying their manifestation; third, clarifying the harm they inflict; fourth, clarifying methods of treatment; fifth, cultivating calming-and-contemplation. As for sameness and difference: the aggregate-māra already belongs to the object of the aggregates, entries, and elements; the affliction-māra already belongs to the object of affliction; the death-māra, illness being the very cause of death, already belongs to the object of illness — what is properly clarified here is precisely the deva-māra. As for how the four inversions differ from the four māras: the four inversions are simply the affliction-māra; because of the affliction-māra, there is the aggregate-māra; because of the aggregate-māra, there is the death-māra; and since one has not yet escaped the three realms, this belongs, further, to the deva-māra. As for sameness and difference beyond the three realms: once the four inversions within the three realms are broken through, every māra of segmented birth-and-death is entirely surpassed, leaving only the four inversions concerning impermanence and the rest — this is the affliction-māra beyond the three realms. Because of this affliction-māra, there is the subtle form-existent-as-non-existent, which is the aggregate-māra beyond the three realms. Where there is the aggregate-māra, there is death as well. The three worthies and ten sages abide within retributive result; extending even to the stage of equal enlightenment, three of the māras have already been surpassed, leaving only a portion of the death-māra remaining — these together are the three māras beyond the three realms. There is no sixth-heaven māra beyond the three realms — it is simply that the crimson samādhi remains not yet fully complete, and this alone is named "the deva-māra." Should one reach subtle enlightenment, the underlying principle fully perfected and ignorance entirely exhausted, there is then no affliction remaining at all; not abiding in retributive result, there is likewise no death; and the crimson samādhi being fully complete, this alone constitutes the ultimate demonic affair. As for the Avataṃsaka Sūtra's own clarification of the ten māras, how could this, too, fail to fall within this very same sense?

Second, clarifying the manifestation of demons: broadly speaking, every spirit under their administration is alike called "demon." Examining their branching differences in detail, however, they do not exceed three kinds: first, the startling ghost; second, the seasonal seductive spirit; third, the Māra-ghost proper. These three kinds each manifest in their own distinct fashion. As for the manifestation of the startling ghost: when a person sits in meditation, it may cling to the head or face, or cling to the body, dropping down and then climbing up again, turning over without cease. Though causing no actual pain, it is petty and persistent, difficult to endure. It may bore into a person's ears, eyes, or nose, or embrace and poke at them, seeming as though something were truly there, yet impossible to grasp — driven away, it returns again, chirping and chattering to disturb a person's ears. This ghost's face resembles a lute, with four eyes and two mouths, and so on. Second, as for the manifestation of the seasonal seductive spirit: the *Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra* explains that the twelve beasts, dwelling within a jeweled mountain, cultivate the dharma of conditioned loving-kindness — these are the very lords of the seductive spirits. Those manifesting as skillful means need not necessarily cause affliction; but genuine ones are indeed able to disturb the practitioner. Should one meditate with perverse thought, one becomes especially susceptible to these seasonal spirits. They may take the form of a young man, a young woman, an old man, an old woman, or various birds and beasts, in every manner of unusual shape and strange appearance, sometimes entertaining a person, sometimes instructing them. Now, to distinguish which seasonal beast is present, one should observe at which of the twelve double-hours it repeatedly comes — whichever double-hour it comes at, that beast corresponds to it: the tiger corresponds to the *yin* hour, and so on down to the ox corresponding to the *chou* hour. Further, each double-hour divides into three, so that the twelve double-hours together yield thirty-six beasts. The *yin* hour has three: first the wildcat, next the leopard, next the tiger; the *mao* hour has three: the fox, the hare, and the raccoon-dog; the *chen* hour has three: the dragon, the flood-dragon, and the fish — these nine belong to the east, the element of wood, the nine creatures following the early, middle, and late portions of the hour in succession. The *si* hour has three: the cicada, the carp, and the snake; the *wu* hour has three: the deer, the horse, and the river-deer; the *wei* hour has three: the sheep, the wild goose, and the hawk — these nine belong to the south, the element of fire. The *shen* hour has three: the gibbon, the ape, and the monkey; the *you* hour has three: the crow, the chicken, and the pheasant; the *xu* hour has three: the dog, the wolf, and the jackal — these nine belong to the west, the element of metal. The *hai* hour has three: the boar, the tapir, and the pig; the *zi* hour has three: the cat, the rat, and the bat; the *chou* hour has three: the ox, the crab, and the soft-shelled turtle — these nine belong to the north, the element of water. The center belongs to earth, ruling over the final portion of each of the four seasons; should the earth element be applied across all four directions, this yields, respectively, the fish, the hawk, the jackal, and the turtle. This threefold division already yields thirty-six beasts; further dividing each of these into three yields one hundred and eight seasonal beasts in all. Should one thoroughly grasp this sense, calling out the beast's proper name according to the very hour of its appearance, the seductive spirit will invariably dissolve and depart. Should one, however, remain possessed by it for too long, it causes a person to grow deranged and disoriented, uttering false pronouncements of fortune and misfortune, heedless of fire and water alike, and so on.

Next, clarifying Māra proper: in order to break through two kinds of good and increase two kinds of evil, he delights in striking through the five faculties with both strong and gentle assaults alike. The Great Treatise says: "Māra is named 'the flower-arrow,' also named 'the five arrows' — each striking one of the five faculties, together destroying the very faculty of mind." Each of the five faculties acts within a single instant; should that instant turn awry, it belongs already to the faculty of mind — and should the faculty of mind itself be destroyed, how could the five faculties possibly still remain intact? The eye seeing a desirable form is named "the flower-arrow," the gentle bandit; seeing a fearful form is named "the poison-arrow," the fierce bandit; seeing a neutral form is the bandit neither fierce nor gentle. The remaining four faculties are exactly the same. Together these make eighteen arrows, also named "the eighteen feelings." For this very reason, one ought never to receive or cling to them — clinging to them produces illness, and illness thus produced is difficult to cure, permanently hindering meditative concentration and, at death, casting one down into the path of Māra. Furthermore, should Māra's assault from within fail to penetrate, he then fans discord from without — among donors, teachers, fellow students, and disciples — releasing his eighteen arrows there instead. In former times, various monks, already afflicted by Māra from within, were further afflicted by praise and blame from donors — Māra, finding neither his fierce nor his gentle assault swift enough to succeed, would then withdraw in defeat, weeping. A practitioner skilled in perceiving this will recognize when teacher and disciples, or donors, or the Dharma-master himself, begin to speak with a strangely altered tone — the assembly of disciples then grows angry; or when the assembly of disciples begins to voice resentment — the Dharma-master then grows suspicious. Causes and conditions of this kind are explained at length in the *Large Sūtra*. Māra, further, is skillful and cunning: at first he causes one to depart from the good and give rise to evil; should one fail to follow him in this, he then causes one to fall, purely, into the good instead — raising stūpas and building monasteries, so as to scatter one's energies and hinder concentration; and should one fail to follow even this, he causes one to fall into the two lesser vehicles instead. Māra himself, in truth, understands nothing of the two lesser vehicles — he merely feigns their practice, so as to prevent entry into the Mahāyāna. It is like an ignorant, unlearned person, first led to feign such practice, abandoning the Mahāyāna to study the lesser vehicle instead — once great effort has already been invested, regret thereafter brings no benefit at all. One who is able to feign this practice, in truth, understands neither the greater nor the lesser vehicle at all. He may, further, transform a person into entering an emptiness devoid of skillful means, holding that there is no Buddha and no sentient being, falling into one-sided emptiness, or into one-sided provisionality, along every manner of divergent byway, so as to prevent entry into the perfect teaching. Even Ānanda, and the bhikṣu Gupta who studied the stage of avaivartika, were both troubled by Māra — how much more so, then, the beginning practitioner, who can hardly escape these thirty-six arrows, whether from himself or from another? Should one know that both Māra and the Buddha alike enter into ultimate reality, there is then no dread to be had at all. The Great Sūtra says: "For śrāvakas it teaches that Māra must be regulated and subdued; for practitioners of the Mahāyāna it teaches no such regulation of Māra at all." With a single mind entering directly into the underlying principle, who, then, would even trouble to debate whether the assault was fierce or gentle?

Third, clarifying the harm inflicted: the fierce and gentle arrows, striking first through the five faculties, bring three distinct kinds of harm: first, causing illness; second, causing the loss of contemplative mind; third, producing wrong views. Illness manifests in various forms: entering through the eye, it produces illness of the liver; the remaining faculties may be understood accordingly. Once the body suffers the pain of illness, the mind grows deluded and disordered, meditative concentration is lost, and death may follow. As for loss of contemplative mind: the wholesome dharma originally cultivated through contemplation was calm and secure — but once seeing and hearing occur through the five faculties in this afflicted state, the very ground of the mind grows murky and confused, losing all proper sequence. As for wrong views: one ought to distinguish the wrong marks in terms of ten kinds of correct dharma set against them. Existence: form entering through the eye, one sees mountains, rivers, stars, sun and moon in their proper courts, and also sees, within the obscure recesses, various images pointing in every direction — this is excess of "existence." Non-existence: form entering through the eye, one comes to hold that every dharma is like utterly severed emptiness, speaking of ash and no dharma at all, exceedingly dreadful — this is excess of "non-existence." Brightness: form having entered, one is vast and constantly luminous, as though illuminated by sun and moon. Darkness: murky, pitch-black, entirely uncomprehending. Fixity: form having entered, the mind becomes like wood or stone, rigidly fixed and unmoving. Distraction: form having entered, one darts about restlessly, grasping at every passing object. Foolishness: form having entered, one becomes dull, shallow, base, and clumsy, shameless and unrestrained. Cleverness: form having entered, one becomes quick-witted and sharp. Sorrow: form having entered, one becomes oppressed with grief, weeping. Joy: form having entered, one becomes given to singing and constant merriment. Suffering: aching pain through every joint, as though scorched by fire. Pleasure: the body suffused with intoxicating ease, as though enjoying the five desires. Misfortune: constantly bringing misfortune upon oneself, and upon others as well, and also able to foresee others' misfortune. Fortune: constantly bringing fortune upon oneself, and able to bring fortune upon others as well. Evil: committing every evil without exception, and further causing others to commit evil. Good: practicing generosity and the rest oneself, and further causing others to practice generosity. Aversion: unable to bear the sight of others, withdrawing to dwell alone. Attachment: clinging with heavy, entangling devotion. Rigidity: the mind hardened and unyielding, unable to move freely in or out, like tile or stone, difficult to alter or transform, out of accord with the wholesome path. Softness: the will weak and yielding, easily corrupted, like soft mud, unfit to be shaped into any vessel. Should any of these show either excess or deficiency, all alike are named "wrong marks." Each single faculty admits of three kinds of feeling; each single feeling admits of twenty wrong dharmas; the three feelings together yield sixty wrong dharmas; across the five faculties, this yields three hundred wrong dharmas in all. Though ninety-five kinds of heterodox teaching exist, each different in its own wrongness, their point of entry, in every case, is necessarily through these same five faculties — examining these three hundred carefully, one finds they invariably correspond to those very heterodoxies. The startling ghost, for the most part, causes the loss of meditative contemplation; the seasonal spirit, for the most part, causes a person to acquire wrong views; Māra proper is capable of both these forms of harm at once.

Fourth, clarifying methods of treatment. As for treating the startling ghost: one must know that, in the final age of Kanakamuni Buddha's Dharma, a certain monk delighted in disturbing the assembly of monks, and, once expelled by the saṅgha, uttered a malicious vow: "I shall forever torment those who sit in meditation." This is the very ancestral ghost, its own retribution perhaps already dissipated — yet those born of the same karmic lineage are likewise able to cause disturbance. Rebuking this very ancestral lineage now, it will, upon hearing itself named, depart in shame. Rebuke it thus: "I know your very name — you are the evil yakṣa of the startling ghost, who, in the time of Kanakamuni Buddha, broke the precepts and stole incense-fragrant offerings out of greed. I now uphold the precepts, and do not fear you." Having rebuked it in this way, it ought to depart at once; should it fail to depart, one should then silently recite the preamble to the precepts and the precepts themselves — the precept-guardian spirits then return to their post, and the precept-breaking ghost departs. As for treating the seasonal seductive spirit: one must be thoroughly versed in the twelve double-hours and the thirty-six seasonal beasts, and, knowing the proper hour, call out the beast's own name — the seductive spirit will then depart at once. Hermits and ascetics commonly keep a square mirror, hanging it behind their seat — the seductive spirit is unable to alter its own reflected image within the mirror, and, examining the mirror, one may thereby recognize and dispel it oneself. This constitutes both an inner and an outer treatment together. As for treating Māra proper, there are three methods: first, rebuking it the very instant one becomes aware of it, like a gatekeeper barring evil from entering at all — as the Buddha told the monks, "Receive nothing whatsoever belonging to another" — this very technique of non-receiving is able to treat every demonic affair, whether from oneself or from another. Second, should it have already been received and entered in, one should then contemplate carefully from head to foot, point by point, seeking the demon and finding it unobtainable, seeking the mind itself and finding it likewise unobtainable — from where, then, could the demon possibly have come? What, then, could it possibly trouble? It is like an evil person entering a house — one searches and examines every corner, allowing it no place to remain. Third, should it still fail to depart even after this contemplation, one should strengthen the mind and resist it directly, resolved even unto death rather than continue dwelling together with it. Skillfully applying these three methods in turn requires no further elaboration here.

Fifth, calming-and-contemplation, treated in ten parts, following the same pattern as before. As for the discursible object: should demonic affairs arise, and one follow along in compliance with demonic conduct, producing every manner of evil karma, this accomplishes the dharma of the three lower paths. Should one instead follow the demon in producing something wholesome — as when, belonging to another's domain, one nonetheless practices generosity — though this gives rise to birth in a wholesome path, one remains tainted by this association life after life, at times still possessed, still relying on demonic speech. Should one give up body and life itself in this state, one receives precisely that demon's own retribution; and should one then wish to cultivate the path, obstruction of every kind arises to hinder it. The sūtra says: "There is the bodhisattva possessed of Māra, and the bodhisattva free of Māra" — this is precisely this same sense. These together constitute the three wholesome dharma-realms. Māra may, further, transform himself so as to induce a person to enter nirvāṇa for himself alone, saying: "What concern of yours are these sentient beings? Why suffer such hardship in vain — better simply to attain realization for yourself!" This is named the dharma-realm of the two lesser vehicles. Māra may, further, cause a person to take a roundabout, clumsy path, failing to enter swiftly upon the path of bodhi. Distinctions of shallow and deep of this kind are all, alike, the discursible object. Should one instead take this very demonic affair as itself complete with the hundred dharmas of the ten realms within a single thought-moment — every dharma tending toward Māra, just as a single dream-dharma is complete with every event within it — then one demon is every demon, every demon is one demon, neither one nor every. And likewise, one demon is every demon, and one buddha is every buddha — not stepping outside the buddha-realm, this is itself already the demon-realm, neither two nor separate. Contemplating in this way, subduing Māra is itself the very place of enlightenment. Those of superior faculty and sharp wisdom, treating Māra so as to reveal the underlying principle, take Māra himself as an attendant, feeling no dread before him at all — like firewood only feeding the flame the higher. Cultivation through mere conditions, unable to achieve quiescent illumination, fails to perceive Māra's own scheme, and so declares, "Welcome, good friend"; but genuine cultivation through quiescent illumination, needing no further contemplation before discerning it, recognizes at once that this is Māra, not truly Śakra at all. The distinct teaching, unable to bear what is not the Dharma, therefore says, "This is not what is fitting for me"; the perfect teaching, settling securely into ultimate reality itself, therefore says, "This, too, is exactly what I ought to receive." Fearing nothing not fully human, and courageous within birth-and-death itself, this is named "the inconceivable object." The demon-realm is itself the buddha-realm, yet sentient beings, not knowing this, remain deluded with respect to the buddha-realm, wrongly giving rise to the demon-realm instead, generating affliction from within bodhi itself — hence compassion arises. Wishing to lead sentient beings to recognize the demon-realm as itself the buddha-realm, and affliction as itself bodhi — hence loving-kindness arises. Loving-kindness toward immeasurable buddhas, compassion toward immeasurable demons — this immeasurable compassion and loving-kindness is itself the single, great, unconditioned compassion. Wishing to fulfill this very vow and manifest this very principle, one ought to subdue Māra and thereby make of it the very place of enlightenment. The eighty koṭis of Māra's host, unable to move the mind, is named "calming"; penetrating the demon-realm as itself the buddha-realm is named "contemplation" — one simply pacifies the mind through calming-and-contemplation by means of the four siddhāntas. Whenever demonic affairs arise, one breaks through them at once by means of the four propositions, whether horizontal, vertical, single, or compound — every form of breaking-through proceeds without the slightest hindrance.

The Tripiṭaka teaching first subdues the four māras by sitting at the very place of enlightenment, breaking through the affliction-māra and attaining the path of bodhi; further attaining the Dharma-nature body, it breaks through the aggregate-māra; these two together break through the death-māra. Beneath the bodhi-tree, attaining the unshakable samādhi, transforming the three jade maidens sent against him, breaking the eighty koṭis of Māra's soldiers, their crowns, canopies, and swords all falling away — this breaks through the deva-māra. The shared teaching first attains the forbearance of the unborn; upon reaching the sixth ground it attains the path of bodhi as before; at the eighth ground, the contemplation of the path flowing in twin streams is itself the unshakable samādhi, breaking through the deva-māra. In both these accounts of the śrāvaka, only three of the māras are broken through — Gupta, for instance, remained constantly troubled by Māra, later attaining spiritual powers sufficient only to subdue him, not to break through him entirely, and so on. The distinct teaching, by the ten abidings, has already broken through the four māras within the three realms; upon ascending to the grounds, it partially attains the path of bodhi, breaking through the affliction-māra; partially attains the Dharma-body, breaking through the aggregate-māra; partially attains the crimson samādhi, breaking through the deva-māra. The *Yingluo Sūtra* says: "At the stage of equal enlightenment, three of the māras are already exhausted, with only a portion of the death-māra still remaining" — yet it would be inconsistent for three to be already exhausted while only one remains uniquely behind; this, then, is merely the distinct teaching's own explanation through skillful means. The perfect teaching, at the very first of the ten abidings, breaks through all eight māras together, attaining the path of bodhi and breaking through the affliction-māra, and so on, extending all the way to subtle enlightenment, where all eight māras are ultimately and permanently exhausted. Though broken through already at the first abiding, this is not merely broken through at the first abiding alone; though broken through only at the final enlightenment, this is not merely broken through at the final enlightenment alone — yet it remains, at the same time, never apart from either the first abiding or the final enlightenment. This is comprehensively breaking through every dharma. Within each and every one of these methods of breaking through Māra above, one recognizes, throughout, suffering and its origin, ignorance, and the coverings to be overcome through the pāramitās, knowing whether a character is truly a character. As for the branches of the path: the demon-realm is complete with every form. Form is itself emptiness, form is itself impurity; form is itself the provisional, and this is named purity; form is itself the middle, neither pure nor impure — the remaining four aggregates are exactly the same. This is named "a single foundation of mindfulness is every foundation of mindfulness," extending to the three gates of liberation. Should this gate remain unopened, it is necessarily on account of some concrete obstruction. Through long, distant kalpas, employed in Māra's own service, one gives rise to Māra's own generosity, for the sake of some hoped-for reward; upholds Māra's own precepts, for the sake of gain; practices Māra's own forbearance, out of fear of others; cultivates Māra's own diligence, seeking fame and renown; attains Māra's own meditative absorption, obscured within demonic dharmas; delights in Māra's own wisdom, caught within the net of discriminating views. Dharmas of this sixfold kind, though named "wholesome," are, in reality, entirely demonic. Through these very perverse coverings, the three gates of liberation are themselves covered over. Here, one applies the genuine pāramitās as antidote to these six coverings — once the coverings are removed, the pāramitās are accomplished, like oil abundant and the flame correspondingly bright. Should affliction be intermixed with this, one ought to apply the four-division contemplation explained earlier as auxiliary treatment; should karma be intermixed, one borrows mindfulness of the two Buddhas as auxiliary treatment. In the Hīnayāna's own stage of subduing, this is entirely named "the wisdom of hearing"; extending even to the perfect teaching's five grades of disciple, this too remains the stage of the wisdom of hearing. Since even this stage is not yet accomplished, how could one possibly presume upon the genuine and give rise to overweening pride? Should one wish to enter the genuine, one ought to bear with adversity with a single, undivided mind, never again allowing oneself to be stirred and disturbed by Māra. Exhausting subtlety through contemplative illumination, one strengthens the mind and rebukes him directly. Should one enter the stage of resemblance, attaining the reward of the Dharma there granted, one must not give rise to an arrogant or attached mind. It is like a great achievement demoted to a petty district — one may thereby lose one's stipend, or even one's very life. Should Dharma-attachment arise, this is itself already a transgression. Merely giving rise to the resemblance of understanding is like the petty district; losing that resemblance of understanding is like losing one's stipend; falling into the stage of the two lesser vehicles is like losing one's very life, since the entire household enterprise and ancestral line of the Mahāyāna is thereby extinguished. Should one be free of Dharma-attachment, one proceeds from the resemblance stage into the genuine reality itself, subduing Māra so that he becomes one's own attendant, arriving directly at the very place of enlightenment. Furthermore, retreating in wisdom is like losing one's achievement; retreating in concentration is like losing one's stipend; retreating in both together is like losing one's very life. Furthermore, as for applying a single, shared sense throughout the contemplation: since the practitioner's own faculties are dull, one first understands the shared sense, and only then, by a winding path, enters the distinct teaching. The *Madhyamaka-śāstra*, chapter by chapter, treats each its own distinct sense, yet all alike converge upon the unborn — the shared and the distinct mutually raised together, each completing the other's own sense.

Question: once Māra's disturbance has run its course, does the wholesome dharma arise afterward as a matter of natural necessity, the way spring inevitably follows the passing of winter's cold? Answer: this is not necessarily always so together in every case. There are, in fact, cases where the very difficulty encountered proves so severe that the wholesome dharma fails to arise even afterward. Māra is called forth by evil conditions; the wholesome is brought about by the power of the mind itself. The Great Treatise says: "In a former life, in an evil age when no Buddha was present in the world, Śākyamuni sought the Dharma with diligence, yet was entirely unable to obtain it. Māra, transforming himself into a brahmin, spoke deceitfully: 'I possess a single verse of the Buddha's own teaching — should you be able to make paper of your own skin, a pen of your own bone, and ink of your own blood, I shall give it to you.' The bodhisattva, delighting in the Dharma, at once flayed his own skin, exposing it to dry in the sun, and prepared to write down the verse — whereupon Māra vanished from sight at once. The Buddha, knowing the sincerity of his heart, emerged forth from beneath the earth, expounded a profound sūtra for him, and he thereby attained the forbearance of the unborn." This may serve as confirmation of the point, and so on.
The Great Calming and Contemplation, Fascicle Eight, Lower Part, ends here.