The Preliminary Conditions Begin

Fascicle Two
Spoken by the Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai, of the Sui dynasty
Recorded by his disciple Fashen
Revised and edited by his disciple Guanding

If a practitioner can penetrate the five categories just distinguished above, clarifying the marks of the various dhyānas, then inner faith is opened up. But to actually settle the mind and take up the practice, one must skillfully know the expedient means. Here, the expedient means for cultivating dhyāna are opened broadly into two: first, the external expedient means, which are methods of using the mind outside of concentration itself; second, the internal expedient means, which are methods of using the mind within concentration itself. Both are called, in general, "expedient means" — another name for skillful and well-crafted cultivation, since the practitioner cultivates skillfully amid the initial conditions. Examined closely, the external expedient means also extend into use within concentration, and the internal expedient means also extend into use gained outside concentration — but here, for the most part, the distinction is drawn broadly as above.

As for clarifying the external expedient means, these are themselves of five kinds: first, being complete in the five conditions; second, rejecting the five desires; third, abandoning the five hindrances; fourth, harmonizing the five faculties; fifth, practicing the five dharmas. These five sets of five make twenty-five dharmas in all, together forming the mark of the mind's initial cultivation through expedient means, prior to attaining dhyāna.

First, being complete in the five conditions: first, pure moral discipline; second, being complete in robes and food; third, dwelling in a quiet, secluded place; fourth, setting worldly affairs and involvements to rest; fifth, obtaining a good spiritual friend. These are the five conditions for cultivating dhyāna.

First, pure moral discipline opens into three parts: first, clarifying the presence or absence of precepts; second, clarifying upholding and violation; third, clarifying repentance.

First, clarifying the presence or absence of precepts. One who has gone forth from home and received the restraining precepts is called one who has precepts; this too has three parts: first, clarifying the different occasions on which precepts are brought forth, of which there are, in all, ten kinds. What are these ten?

First, receiving precepts spontaneously — this refers to the Buddha himself, who, without a teacher, brought forth the precepts of himself. Second, receiving precepts through one's own vow — this refers to Kāśyapa, who was originally of pratyekabuddha capacity; when he encountered the Buddha's appearance in the world, he fell among the ranks of the śrāvakas. He answered the Buddha, saying: "The Buddha is my teacher; I am the Buddha's disciple." Having spoken these words, the precepts were thereupon brought forth in him. Third, receiving precepts through the seeing of the truths — this refers to the group of five including Kauṇḍinya; when the Buddha turned the wheel of the Dharma on the Four Noble Truths for them, they awakened at once to the first fruit, and through this the precepts were brought forth. Fourth, receiving precepts through the three refuges — at that time the formal procedure did not yet exist; upon hearing the Buddha state the three refuges three times, the precepts were brought forth at once, owing to their sharp faculties. Fifth, receiving precepts through the eight special rules of respect — this refers to the Buddha's own aunt. The Buddha's own intention was not to let women go forth from home, but when his aunt earnestly and persistently entreated him, the Buddha had the eight special rules of respect conferred on her from a distance, and the full precepts were thereupon brought forth in her.

Sixth, receiving precepts through debate — this refers to the novice Sudāya, who debated doctrine with the Buddha. The Buddha questioned him on the meaning of impermanence and the like, and he was able to answer every point. Afterward the Buddha asked him: "Where is your home?" He answered the Buddha, saying: "The three realms are all empty — World-Honored One, why do you still ask me where my home is?" The Buddha said to Ānanda: "Take him back among the assembly, and let him receive the full precepts." At that time he was only seven years old. Seventh, receiving precepts through the words "welcome, come forth" — when the occasion for realizing the path had ripened, the Buddha called out, "Welcome!" and the precepts were thereupon received. Eighth, receiving precepts through a sent messenger — this refers to a woman of surpassing, virtuous beauty, judged fit to be queen of her country; because someone wished to abduct and seize her, she was allowed to receive the precepts by proxy through a messenger sent among the assembly, and only later returned to a convent to formally receive them in person. Ninth, in border regions where those versed in the Dharma are few, it is permitted that five people alone may confer the precepts. Tenth, in the central lands, where people are numerous, ten people confer the full precepts. These are the ten marks of receiving the precepts. In the present age, the formal procedure with ten people is most commonly used to confer the precepts. This concludes the distinguishing of the mark of having precepts.

Second, rightly clarifying the essential mark of the precepts: there are two differing gates of teaching. According to the Hīnayāna teaching, the precepts are explained as a wholesome dharma of non-action: once the causes and conditions for receiving the precepts are complete, if the precept of non-action is brought forth, then afterward, even in sleep or in concentration, this wholesome quality arises spontaneously of itself, requiring no further deliberate act of body, speech, or mind — it is this non-action that is taken as the very essence of the precepts. According to the Sarvāstivādins, the precept of non-action is explained as unmanifest form — invisible and without resistance. According to the Dharmaguptakas, the precept of non-action is explained as belonging to a third category of dharma, neither form nor mind. Since the various schools differ, one should not cling one-sidedly to any single view — but according to the Hīnayāna gate of teaching in general, the essence of the precepts is, in the end, non-action, and on this point their meaning does not differ.

According to the Mahāyāna gate of teaching, the precepts are said to arise from the mind, and it is the wholesome mind itself that is taken as the essence of the precepts. This is the meaning explained in the Yingluo Sūtra. One master states that, according to the Mahāsāṃghikas, "the precept of non-action is itself a mental dharma."

Third, clarifying that the mark of having precepts is not uniform: this has two aspects. First, according to the Hīnayāna: among the seven assemblies, the resolve with which precepts are taken up, and the formal procedures for receiving them, all differ — hence the precepts received also differ in degree. Take, for instance, the upāsaka and upāsikā, the lay man and lay woman, who hold the five precepts while remaining at home: if a man or woman who has not yet entered the Buddhadharma has not killed their father or mother, has not committed any of the five heinous offenses, and, encountering a good and virtuous teacher, is taught to take refuge in the Three Jewels and receive the five precepts — once the formal procedure is accomplished, the non-action of the five precepts is brought forth, and this is called receiving the five precepts; from this point, such a person is called a pure believing man or woman.

Next, clarifying that the śrāmaṇera holds ten precepts: if the two preceptors — the ordaining master and the instructing teacher — properly receive a person who purely takes refuge in the Three Jewels and follows the Buddha in going forth from home, and if the two preceptors carry out the formal procedure to completion, then the non-action is brought forth, and this is called receiving the precepts of a śrāmaṇera. Next, clarifying the mark of a full monk's precepts: if, during the time as a śrāmaṇera, no grave offense was committed, and ten pure preceptors — the ordaining master and the instructing teachers — carry out the formal procedure lawfully to completion, this is called receiving the full precepts of a great bhikṣu. The same holds for the śrāmaṇerī, the śikṣamāṇā, and the fully ordained bhikṣuṇī.

As for these seven kinds of persons: even one who originally committed a grave offense, if they encounter a good condition — namely, undergoing the Mahāyāna's extensive repentance practice — and this is brought to completion, may, on later receiving the precepts, still have the non-action wholesomely brought forth in them. Different from what has just been described, without such repentance, this is called not receiving the precepts, also called having no precepts.

Second, as for the bodhisattva-practitioner, whether they have precepts or not cannot be known from outward form alone. Why is this? Because the bodhisattva, life after life, from the very moment the mind first arises, may already have encountered a good condition and received the precepts.

Second, clarifying upholding and violation: this has three parts in itself — first, briefly clarifying upholding and violation; second, extensively clarifying upholding and violation through each successive stage; third, clarifying concealment and manifestation. As to the first, clarifying upholding and violation as a whole, there are two: first, the mark of upholding; second, the mark of violation.

First, the mark of upholding: "upholding" means guarding and maintaining. As stated above, the seven kinds of persons who receive the Buddha's restraining precepts guard and maintain them without violation for the sake of ten benefits. These ten benefits, as the Vinaya states, are: "First, so as to gather in the saṅgha; second, so as to gather it in most excellently; third, so that the saṅgha may dwell at ease and in joy; fourth, so as to subdue those of arrogant mind; fifth, so that those with a sense of shame may dwell at ease; sixth, so as to bring faith to those without it; seventh, so as to increase the faith of those who already have it; eighth, so as to check the contaminants of the present life; ninth, so as to sever the unwholesome deeds of lives to come; tenth, so that those of pure conduct may long abide." The practitioner, single-mindedly reverent and cautious, dares not encroach upon or damage the precepts — like guarding an inflated float used to cross water, not discarding it even to the smallest degree — hence this is called guarding and maintaining, also called firmly upholding, as in the simile of carrying a bowl brimful of oil. This is the mark of upholding.

Second, clarifying the mark of violation: "violation" means going against and transgressing. One originally receives the Buddha's precepts wishing to leave birth-and-death behind, vowing to seek liberation — but now, encountering an unwholesome condition, being unable to master one's own mind, one turns back midway, whether in a grave or a lesser matter, and this is called going against and transgressing. Furthermore, "violation" also means coming into contact with what harms. It is like someone taking medicine who has been instructed to abstain from certain foods; if they do not follow the physician's instruction and eat something harmful, they come into contact with and undermine the medicine's own power — not only failing to be cured of their illness, but on the contrary making it worse, and sometimes even bringing about death. The mark of violating the precepts is exactly the same — hence it is called violation.

Second, extensively clarifying upholding and violation: from the first arising of the mind through to buddhahood, upholding the precepts is distinguished into ten kinds. First, upholding the precepts without deficiency — meaning upholding the initial four grave precepts without violating them. Second, upholding the precepts without breach — meaning not violating the saṅgha-remainder offenses. Third, upholding the precepts without perforation — meaning not violating the lower three categories of offense. Fourth, upholding the precepts without blemish, also called upholding them without mixture — meaning not giving rise to a flattering mind or to the scattered, vexing thoughts of coarse and subtle discursive thinking; also called the precepts held together with concentration. Fifth, upholding the precepts in accordance with the path — this is the mind's practice of the sixteen aspects of contemplation, bringing forth the wisdom of forbearance regarding suffering; also called the precepts held together with the path. Sixth, upholding the precepts without attachment — this refers to the non-returner who has completely severed the nine grades of discursive affliction of the desire realm, called severing the precepts of restraint, up through the exhaustion of every fetter such as craving for form and craving for the formless — all of these are called precepts without attachment. Seventh, upholding the precepts praised by wisdom — giving rise to the bodhi-mind, upholding the precepts so that all sentient beings may attain nirvāṇa. Precepts upheld in this way are praised by wisdom; this may also be spoken of as upholding the bodhisattva's ten major and forty-eight minor precepts. These precepts are able to lead all the way to buddhahood, and are therefore praised by wisdom. Eighth, upholding the precepts with mastery — the bodhisattva, upholding the precepts, attains mastery amid every kind of condition that might break them; this may also be spoken of as: since the bodhisattva knows that offense and non-offense cannot ultimately be found, they uphold the precepts solely in accordance with benefiting sentient beings, with a mind that grasps at nothing — hence this is called the precepts of mastery. Ninth, upholding the precepts in their completeness — the bodhisattva is able to be complete in the precept-dharmas of all sentient beings, together with the precepts proper to the higher grounds. Tenth, upholding the precepts in accordance with concentration — without rising from the concentration of cessation, manifesting every kind of dignified precept-conduct in order to bring sentient beings across.

The first four of these are the purity of the precepts belonging to the worldly, though they may also give rise to world-transcending precepts — this meaning is complete as already explained above, and should be carefully distinguished. The middle two are the purity of the world-transcending precepts. The last four are the purity of the precepts transcending the world and beyond. If one is able to receive and uphold the precepts as described above, this is the mark of upholding; whatever differs from what is described above is the mark of violation. This is what is meant by discussing the shallow and the deep marks of upholding and violating the precepts, from the first arising of the mind all the way to buddhahood. Hence the sūtra says: "Only the Buddha alone is complete in pure precepts; everyone else is called one who has broken the precepts."

Furthermore, here it is clarified that upholding the precepts is cultivated only according to one's own portion and one's own power, allowing for gradual advancement toward purity; if this were not so, one would be unable to give rise to any dhyāna-concentration whatsoever. Furthermore, the bodhisattva of sudden practice, by means of wisdom and skillful means, is able, within a single thought-moment at the very first arising of the mind, to already be complete in upholding all ten kinds of precepts — hence the sūtra says: "The arising of the mind and its ultimate completion are, in the end, not two different things."

Third, clarifying concealment and manifestation. This too has two parts in itself: first, directly clarifying concealment and manifestation; second, settling points of doubt. What is called the mark of concealment and manifestation? When a practitioner upholds the precepts, dhyāna-concentration can be brought forth; when the precepts are broken, dhyāna-concentration is concealed. Because the practitioner upholds the purity of the worldly precepts, worldly dhyāna is brought forth; if the worldly precepts are held impurely, worldly dhyāna is concealed. The same distinction applies, by the same kind of reasoning, to the world-transcending precepts and the precepts transcending the world and beyond: upheld, dhyāna is brought forth; violated, dhyāna is concealed.

Second, as to settling points of doubt about concealment and manifestation: because sentient beings, cultivating dhyāna in the present, are not uniform in this regard, the matter should be sorted into a fourfold classification: first, there are those who, though violating the precepts, still give rise to concentration, while others who uphold them do not give rise to it; second, there are those who break the precepts and do not give rise to concentration, while others who uphold the precepts do give rise to it; third, there are those in whom both upholding the precepts and violating them alike give rise to concentration; fourth, there are those in whom neither upholding nor violating gives rise to it.

As to the first — a person who violates the precepts yet gives rise to concentration through cultivating dhyāna — this is because of a habituated cause from a past life: the wholesome roots are deep and strong, and though there is an offense in the present, the power of the past wholesome roots is strong; and further, because present cultivation of dhyāna together with deep shame and remorse serve as conditions — it is like a debt, where the stronger creditor is paid first — this is how the meaning of "giving rise to concentration" comes about in such a case. Second, as to one who upholds the precepts yet does not give rise to concentration: such a person did not, in the past, plant the cause of deep dhyāna-concentration, and so, though upholding the precepts and cultivating concentration in this present life, it is not immediately brought forth. Third, both giving rise to it, and fourth, neither giving rise to it, may both be explained by the same kind of reasoning — hence these four distinct kinds. Tracing this to its root, it is essentially through upholding the precepts that concentration is brought forth, while violating the precepts is, in the end, an obstruction to it. Why is this? If dhyāna-concentration was attained in a past life, then it is known that, in the past, concentration was brought forth precisely through upholding the precepts, becoming the habituated cause of the present life; and in this present life, shame, remorse, repentance, and purity again serve as the condition through which the wholesome roots of past lives are brought forth once more.

Third, clarifying repentance: this too has two parts in itself — first, clarifying how to set the mind of repentance in motion; second, rightly clarifying the method of repentance.

First, what is meant by setting the mind of repentance in motion? If a person's own nature simply never commits any evil, there is no offense to repent of. But since a practitioner is not always able to uphold the precepts with unwavering resolve, and may, at some point, encounter an unwholesome condition and thereby break them — whether gravely or lightly — once the precepts are broken, moral discipline is no longer pure, and samādhi cannot arise, just as cloth stained with grime will not properly take a dye. This is why repentance is necessary. Through repentance, the precepts become pure once more and samādhi can arise — just as cloth stained with grime, once washed clean, can properly take a dye. Reflecting in this way, the practitioner comes to know: if the precepts are not pure, repentance is absolutely necessary.

Hence the sūtra says: "Within the Buddhadharma there are two kinds of courageous person: first, one whose nature simply never commits evil; second, one who, having done wrong, is able to repent of it." To commit a transgression and yet know to repent of it is what makes one such a courageous person.

As for what repentance itself is: "confession" means confessing before, and expressing gratitude toward, the Three Jewels and all sentient beings; "repentance" means a sense of shame and remorse, correcting one's faults and beseeching compassion. One reflects: "If this offense of mine can now be extinguished, then in time to come, though I should lose my very body and life, I will never again commit such a painful karmic deed." As a monk once said to the Buddha: "I would rather embrace a raging, blazing fire than dare to violate and break the Tathāgata's pure precepts." Giving rise to a mind such as this, wishing only that the Three Jewels bear witness and receive one in compassion — this is called repentance. Furthermore: "confession" means not concealing one's fault outwardly, while "repentance" means holding oneself strictly to account inwardly; "confession" means knowing that the offense was evil, while "repentance" means fearing to receive its retribution. There is much more that could be said of this kind, which will not be given in full here — taking the essential point: if one is able to know that dharmas are illusory and unreal, forever setting unwholesome karma to rest and cultivating the wholesome path, this is what is called repentance.

Second, clarifying the method of repentance: this has three parts — first, rightly clarifying that the methods of repentance differ; second, clarifying the different grades by which offenses are extinguished; third, clarifying whether restoration is complete or not.

First, rightly clarifying that the methods of repentance differ: the means by which an offense is extinguished each has its own particular method — just as cloth stained with grime cannot be freed of the stain by plain water alone, but soap-pod ash-lye is able to remove it. The methods for extinguishing an offense are exactly the same. Here, in clarifying the methods of repentance, the gates of teaching are indeed numerous, but taking the essentials, they number no more than three: first, repentance through formal procedure, which supports and clarifies repentance by means of the moral precepts; second, repentance through the contemplation of signs, which supports and clarifies repentance by means of concentration; third, repentance through the contemplation of no-arising, which supports and clarifies repentance by means of wisdom. These three methods of repentance, in their meaning, extend across both the Tripiṭaka and the Mahāyāna alike — but, speaking in terms of which predominates: the first method is, for the most part, the Hīnayāna's own method of repentance; the latter two are, for the most part, the Mahāyāna's own methods.

First, clarifying repentance through formal procedure: because a wholesome act is undertaken to turn back an unwholesome one, this is called repentance. As in the Vinaya, this method alone is used to extinguish offenses. Why is this? As in repenting a second-category offense: "Once the assembly of twenty carries out to completion the formal procedures of probation, humbling of the mind, and restoration from expulsion, this is called extinguished." This makes no mention of seeing various signs, nor of wisdom's contemplation of emptiness — hence it is known that this is repentance through formal procedure alone. "Karman," rendered here as "formal procedure," applies in the same way all the way down to the lower three categories of offense — all are matters of formal procedure. This matter is easily understood, and its meaning is explained in full in the Vinaya.

As for the method of repentance for the four grave offenses, which the Vinaya itself does not set out — there is a separate work, the Sūtra of the Most Sublime Initial Teaching, which gives the method of repenting the four grave offenses. That sūtra states: "One should invite thirty pure bhikṣus; before the great assembly, the offending bhikṣu should openly disclose the offense. Once the assembly carries out the formal procedure to completion, and further, before the Three Jewels, carries out the various practices and recites the precepts a thousand times, purity is thereby attained." It also states: "Let a sign be obtained as confirmation, and let the extinguishing and purification of the offense then be declared." One should know, then, that although the Vinaya itself does not set this out, the sūtras do contain this explicit statement of a formal procedure — the manner of carrying it out is explained fully in that sūtra.

Second, clarifying repentance through the contemplation of signs: the practitioner, following the methods of repentance found across the various sūtras, applies the mind single-mindedly and, within a stilled mind, sees various signs, as described in the bodhisattva precepts. If one is repenting the ten major precepts, a favorable sign must be seen before the offense can be said to be extinguished — the Buddha coming to rub the crown of one's head, or seeing light, flowers, and other auspicious signs — once such a sign is seen, the offense is thereupon extinguished; if no sign is seen, then even repentance brings no benefit. Among the various Mahāyāna Vaipulya dhāraṇī practice-methods, this kind of sign-contemplation repentance is found extensively. The Tripiṭaka and the Saṃyukta Āgama likewise speak of the method of sign-contemplation repentance — describing, for instance, the contemplation of hell, of poisonous snakes, or of the white curl of hair between the Buddha's brows, brought to completion, at which point the offense is declared extinguished. All of this is carried out within a concentrated mind, and so sign-contemplation repentance is, for the most part, explained in terms of the cultivation of concentration.

Question: When these various signs are seen, how does one know that the offense is truly extinguished? Answer: The sūtras do not speak with one voice on this, since offenses differ in gravity, and no single fixed judgment can be given. Here, taking only the essentials, the signs do not exceed four kinds: first, seeing a sign in a dream; second, hearing a voice from empty space while walking the path, or seeing an extraordinary sign or other numinous, auspicious mark; third, beholding, while sitting, a sign of good, of evil, of having broken the precepts, or of having upheld them; fourth, taking as a sign the opening up of the mind of the path through various inwardly realized dharma-gates. These are judged according to gravity, and no fixed statement can be given — this will be given in brief again further below, where the marks that verify wholesome and unwholesome capacity are examined.

Question: Māra, too, is able to produce signs of this kind — how, then, can they be distinguished? Answer: This is indeed so; the deviant and the correct are hard to distinguish, and no fixed rule can be given. When such a sign appears, only a good teacher can properly recognize it — this is a matter that must be settled face to face, and cannot be conveyed through writing alone. This is why a practitioner, when first taking up repentance, must draw near to a good spiritual friend, someone able to distinguish the deviant from the correct. Furthermore, as for seeing a sign at all: it is beheld quite suddenly, and even then the deviant and the correct are hard to know — if one chases after the written description and forces the mind to seek such a sign out deliberately, one will, in most cases, fall prey to demonic interference.

Question: If this is so, then this should not be called repentance through the contemplation of signs at all. Answer: What is meant by "contemplation of signs" is only this: applying the mind to walking the path, and, once this effort bears fruit, a sign appears of itself — one then takes this sign as a basis for judgment, and so comes to know whether the offense is extinguished or not. It does not mean that, while walking the path, the mind should dwell on the matter of a sign and give rise to grasping after it. If the mind is used in that way, demonic interference is certain to follow in abundance. Question: What is the actual method of practice for repentance through the contemplation of signs? Answer: The method is set out across the various Mahāyāna Vaipulya sūtras; the practitioner should seek out these sūtras directly and practice in accordance with their text.

Third, clarifying repentance through the contemplation of no-arising: as the Samantabhadra Contemplation Sūtra says in verse:
"The whole ocean of every karmic obstruction arises entirely from deluded thought;
If one wishes to repent of it, sit upright and be mindful of true reality.
Every offense is like frost or dew, which the sun of wisdom can dissolve away;
Hence, with a mind of utmost sincerity, repent at the very root of the six faculties of feeling."
A practitioner wishing to carry out this great repentance should give rise to a mind of great compassion, feeling for all beings, and penetrate deeply to the very source of offense. Why is this? All dharmas whatsoever are, from the very beginning, empty and still — there is not even merit to be found there, how much less offense? It is only that sentient beings, failing to reflect rightly, wrongly cling to conditioned existence and thereby give rise to ignorance, along with craving and aversion; and from these three poisons, every measureless and boundless grave offense is committed at length — all of it arising from a single thought-moment of unenlightened mind.

If one wishes to remove and extinguish this, one need only turn contemplation back and ask: from where does this mind arise? If it is in the past, the past has already ceased, and a dharma already ceased possesses nothing at all — and what possesses nothing at all cannot be called mind. If it is in the future, the future has not yet arrived, and what has not yet arrived simply does not exist — and what does not exist likewise has no mind in it. If it is in the present, then within the present itself, not a single moment remains still — and within a mark that never remains still, mind cannot be found.

Furthermore, if it is said to be in the present, is the present located inside, outside, or in between the two? If it is said to be inside, then it does not depend on the outside, since it would already exist within of itself; if it is said to be outside, then it has nothing to do with me. Furthermore, an external object has no awareness of its own — how, then, could it possess mind? Since there is neither inside nor outside, how could there be any "in between" at all? And if there is no "in between," there is nowhere for it to come to rest.

Contemplated in this way, no mark or appearance is seen anywhere, in any location whatsoever — one should know, then, that this mind is, in the end, empty and still. Since mind itself cannot be found, nor can "not-mind" be found either — there is not even anything to be contemplated at all, how much less anyone who contemplates? With neither a contemplating subject nor a contemplated object, every inverted thought is cut off. And once inverted thought is cut off, there is no more ignorance, nor craving and aversion. Without these three poisons, from where could offense possibly arise?

Furthermore: the ten thousand dharmas all belong to mind — and if the very nature of mind is empty, how much more so the ten thousand dharmas? If there are no ten thousand dharmas, who is it that commits karmic offense? If offense cannot be found, then non-offense cannot be found either — contemplating offense as unarisen dissolves every offense whatsoever, since the very root-nature of every offense is empty, and ever pure.

Hence Vimalakīrti said to Upāli: "That offense is, of itself, without any offense at all — do not increase its fault. It should simply be removed and extinguished directly, without disturbing the mind over it." And likewise the Samantabhadra Contemplation Sūtra says: "Contemplating mind, no mind is found; dharmas do not abide in dharmas; my own mind is, of itself, empty, and offense and merit have no master over them — every dharma whatsoever is exactly the same, neither abiding nor perishing. Repentance carried out in this way is called great repentance, called adorned repentance, called the repentance that breaks apart mind and consciousness, called the repentance in which no mark of offense remains. One who practices this repentance has a mind like flowing water, beholding the Bodhisattva Samantabhadra and the buddhas of the ten directions in every single thought-moment." Hence it is known that the deep contemplation of no-arising is called great repentance — the most honored, the most sublime of every form of repentance. In every Mahāyāna sūtra that explains the method of repentance, this contemplation is taken as the essential core. Apart from this contemplation, none can rightly be called the great Vaipulya repentance.

Question: In repentance through the contemplation of no-arising, how does one know the mark of the offense's extinguishing? Answer: Using the mind in this way, every karmic offense is, moment by moment, extinguished of itself, moment by moment. If one wishes to know that the dharmas obstructing the path are being transformed, then, through unceasing diligence, the various signs will also naturally appear of themselves — this contemplation itself makes it known. As already stated above in the discussion of sign-contemplation — favorable dreams, numinous and auspicious marks, the opening of concentration and wisdom, and the like — the same signs should be understood to apply fully here as well.

Furthermore, if a practitioner's contemplating mind comes into accord with principle itself, this is precisely the mark of the offense's extinguishing, with no further confirmation needed elsewhere. Hence the Samantabhadra Contemplation Sūtra says: "Let this wisdom of emptiness come into accord with the mind, and know that, within a single thought-moment, it is able to extinguish the grave offenses of birth-and-death accumulated across a hundred million koṭis of incalculable eons." Taking this as confirmation: if the wisdom of the forbearance of no-arising is attained, then the very source of offense is thereby exhausted to its root — and this is precisely when moral discipline becomes pure, and dhyāna-concentration may be cultivated.

Second, clarifying that the different grades by which offense is extinguished are not uniform: since the methods of repentance themselves differ, the extinguishing of offense likewise differs accordingly. Why is this? Offense is of three grades: first, the offense of violating the non-action precept, which obstructs the path; second, offense in its own essential nature; third, the root offense of ignorance and affliction. What is generally called "offense" means, literally, "that which crushes": in the present it crushes and diminishes the practitioner's own merit and wisdom, and in lives to come brings retribution in the three lower destinies, able to crush and break the practitioner's own body and mind — hence it is called offense.

First, as to repentance through formal procedure: this breaks the offense of violating the non-action precept that obstructs the path. Second, as to repentance through the contemplation of signs: this breaks and removes offense in its essential nature — hence the Mahāyāna treatise says: "If a monk violates the precept against taking life, then, though he may repent and have the precept restored to purity, and the offense obstructing the path be extinguished, the karmic retribution of killing itself is not thereby extinguished." This may be taken as confirming what came before by way of what follows: one should know that repentance through the contemplation of signs, since it requires greater effort, is able to remove offense in its essential nature as well. Third, as to the extinguishing of offense through repentance by the contemplation of no-arising: this breaks and removes the root offense of ignorance and every habituated cause of affliction — this alone is the ultimate removal of offense at its very source.

Third, clarifying whether the mark of restoration to the original state is complete or not. Question: Once repentance brings purity, is restoration to the original state attained? Answer: Interpretations here differ. Some say: there is no restoration — like torn cloth that has been mended: though whole again, it is never quite the same as cloth that was never torn. Some say: restoration is attained — like soiled cloth that, once washed clean, is no different from what it was originally. Some say: there is both restoration and non-restoration — as explained in the Vinaya, the first two categories of offense admit no restoration, while the latter three categories can be restored; and as explained in the Sūtra of the Initial Teaching, once the formal-procedure repentance is carried out, even the four grave offenses are entirely restored. Here it is said that this need not be fixed in only one way. It should instead be matched against the three methods of repentance already given, yielding three distinct senses in turn: first, the sense of restoration; second, the sense of exceeding the original state; third, the sense of exceeding the original state to an even greater degree.

Let us illustrate this now with a comparison. First, repentance through formal procedure: the offense is extinguished, but restoration may or may not follow — like someone suffering from a cold-type illness who takes ginger and cinnamon: the ailment is cured, but the body may or may not be fully restored to its former state. Second, repentance through the contemplation of signs: not only is the offense extinguished, but dhyāna-concentration is also brought forth — this exceeds the original state, since there was originally no dhyāna-concentration at all. It is like someone suffering from a cold-type illness who takes mineral powder and the like: not only is the coldness removed, but the body also grows more robust than it originally was. Third, repentance through the contemplation of no-arising: not only is the offense extinguished and every dhyāna brought forth, but the path itself is thereby accomplished — this exceeds the original state to an even greater degree. It is like someone who, being ill, takes an elixir of immortality: not only is the illness removed, but immortal powers and self-mastered spiritual transformation are also attained. Reasoned through in this way, how could these three possibly be treated as all the same kind?

Question: This holds for one who has precepts — but what of one who lacks them? Answer: One without precepts should receive them anew. There are also cases where the precepts are brought forth through repentance itself, as described in the Samantabhadra Contemplation Sūtra.

Furthermore, as for the bodhisattva precepts: sentient beings, life after life, may already have encountered a good spiritual friend, given rise to the bodhi-mind, and received the bodhisattva precepts — only to fall, amid the confusion of birth-and-death, into committing offenses, wrongly losing or violating them. If, in the present, such a person takes refuge in the Three Jewels once more, renews this training, and also carries out repentance to purity, then, by means of this original precept, dhyāna-concentration can likewise be brought forth. Hence, even without the outward, formal precepts, the fundamental precept of bodhi may already be present.

Furthermore, as the Mahāyāna treatise says: "Śīla, in the language of the Qin dynasty, means 'skilled at what is good' — delighting in walking the wholesome path, never given over to laxity: this is called śīla. Whether one practices what is good having received the precepts, or practices what is good without having received them, both alike are called śīla." If practicing what is good without having received the precepts can still be called śīla, then, once śīla is present, how could dhyāna and samādhi fail to be brought forth?

Question: If this is so, then what use is there in receiving the precepts at all? Answer: This does not follow. First, they assist the path; second, they establish the outward mark of the Buddhadharma — how could one not rely on them?

Question: According to what has been said above, must a beginner necessarily undergo repentance before sitting in meditation — or is this not always so? Answer: It need not always be so. As the Sūtra of the Sublime Supreme Concentration explains, simply being able to sit in meditation with a straightforward mind is itself the foremost repentance. But if, while sitting, obstacles arise in great number, such that the mind cannot be properly applied, then repentance is indeed necessary.

Second, clarifying being complete in robes and food. Here, the practice of robes is clarified as being of three kinds: first, as with the great being of the Snowy Mountains and others who cultivate the path, keeping only a single robe is sufficient, since they do not travel among people and their power of forbearance is already accomplished — this is the practice of the superior person. Second, as with Kāśyapa and others who constantly undertake the dhutanga practices, keeping only the three robes of discarded rags, needing nothing further — this is the practice of the middling person. Third, in lands of great cold, or for the lesser practitioner who cannot bear such hardship, the Tathāgata further permits keeping a hundred and one requisite items — but this still requires the proper procedure for declaring them pure, knowing moderation and contentment; if one goes beyond this into excessive craving, it becomes an obstruction to the path.

As for being complete in the practice of food, food is of four kinds: first, the superior person, dwelling deep in the mountains apart from other people, takes whatever fruit and vegetables can be found, simply enough to sustain life. Second, one who constantly practices the dhutanga austerities undertakes the practice of alms-begging — this practice of alms-begging is able to break the four kinds of wrong livelihood, sustaining oneself in reliance on right livelihood, able to give rise to the noble path, and is therefore called one of the noble lineages. The four kinds of wrong livelihood are: first, eating by "lowered mouth"; second, eating by "raised mouth"; third, eating by "the four intermediate-direction mouth"; fourth, eating by "the directional mouth." These are the marks of wrong livelihood, as Śāriputra explained for a certain woman — this should be distinguished in full elsewhere. Third, dwelling in a forest hermitage, receiving food sent by a lay donor. Fourth, having food formally designated as pure within the saṅgha. Wherever such food is present, this is called being complete in the condition — this is what is meant by being complete in robes and food. Without this sustaining condition for the body, the mind cannot be at peace, and this becomes an obstruction to the path.

Third, obtaining a quiet, secluded dwelling place. "Quiet" means not engaged in the many affairs of ordinary life — hence it is called quiet. Being free of clamor and disturbance, it is called secluded. There are three kinds of place suitable for cultivating dhyāna-concentration here: first, a place deep in the mountains, apart from other people; second, a dhutanga hermitage, at least two li removed from any village, where the sounds of herding and grazing cannot be heard and there is no clamor of any kind; third, a place removed from the households of lay people, within a pure monastery — all of these are quiet, secluded dwelling places.

Fourth, setting every worldly affair and involvement to rest. Such affairs and involvements are numerous; in brief, they may be given as four: first, setting to rest the affairs of livelihood — meaning not engaging in any conditioned occupation whatsoever; second, setting to rest personal affairs — meaning not seeking out worldly people, friends, and acquaintances, cutting off all coming and going with them; third, setting to rest the affairs of craft and technical skill — meaning not engaging in worldly trades, medicine, incantations, divination and physiognomy, calligraphy and arithmetic, calculation, and the like; fourth, setting to rest scholarly affairs — meaning reading and reciting, listening and studying, debating doctrine, and the like, all of which are to be entirely set aside. This is what is meant by setting every worldly affair and involvement to rest. Why is this? If one has many affairs and involvements, the cultivation of concentration is neglected, the mind becomes scattered and hard to gather in, and concentration cannot be attained.

Fifth, drawing near to a good spiritual friend — this is of three kinds: first, the good spiritual friend of outer protection, who manages and provides support, skillfully looking after the practitioner without causing any disturbance; second, the good spiritual friend of shared practice, who cultivates the same path together, mutually encouraging and inspiring one another without any mutual disruption; third, the good spiritual friend of instruction, who demonstrates and teaches the gates of dhyāna-concentration, both the external and internal expedient means, bringing benefit and joy. This, then, briefly clarifies being complete in the five conditions.

Second, rejecting the five desires and abandoning the five hindrances. The sūtras speak of "being free of desire and of unwholesome dharmas," together with "possessing both coarse and subtle discursive thought." "Being free of desire" is precisely rejecting the five desires. "Unwholesome dharmas" is precisely abandoning the five hindrances. As for the five desires: these are the supremely fine forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations of the world, which constantly deceive and delude every ordinary person, ruining what is wholesome. If one does not clearly recognize their fault and reject them with weariness and disenchantment, no dhyāna or samādhi can ever be obtained.

First, rejecting the desire for form: this refers to the handsome, dignified appearance of men and women — fine eyes, high brows, red lips, white teeth — and the treasures of the world, blue, yellow, red, white, crimson, violet, azure, green, and every kind of fine color, which cause the foolish, upon seeing them, to give rise at once to craving and commit every kind of unwholesome deed. A certain king, on account of desire for form, entered an enemy country alone and stayed in a courtesan's chamber. Another king, stained by desire for form, cut off the hands and feet of five hundred sages. Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of form is to be known, as the Mahāyāna treatise explains in full.

Second, rejecting the desire for sound: this refers to the sounds of the harp, the lute, the zither, the flute, string and wind instruments, bronze and stone chimes, and the singing and chanting of men and women, which cause ordinary people, upon hearing them, to become at once attached and give rise to unwholesome deeds. Five hundred sages, dwelling in the Snowy Mountains, upon hearing a certain singing voice, at once lost their dhyāna-concentration, their minds intoxicated and thrown into disorder. Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of sound is to be known, as the Mahāyāna treatise explains in full.

Third, rejecting the desire for smell: this refers to the fragrance of men's and women's bodies, the fragrant aroma of worldly food and drink, and every kind of scented incense, which cause the foolish, failing to understand the true mark of fragrance, to become attached upon smelling it, opening the gate to the fetters. A certain monk, standing by a lotus pond, smelled the fragrance of the flowers and gave rise to a mind of craving and delight; the spirit of the pond sternly rebuked him, saying: "Why do you steal my fragrance?" Because of this attachment to fragrance, every dormant fetter was thereby aroused. Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of smell is to be known, as the Mahāyāna treatise explains in full.

Fourth, rejecting the desire for taste: this refers to the bitter, sour, sweet, pungent, salty, bland, and every other delicious flavor of food and drink, which cause ordinary people to give rise to a mind of craving and attachment and commit unwholesome karma. A certain novice, attached to the taste of cream, was reborn, after death, within a jar of cream itself, receiving the body of a worm there. Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of taste is to be known, as the Mahāyāna treatise explains in full.

Fifth, rejecting the desire for touch: this refers to the softness and smoothness of the bodies of men and women, their warmth in cold weather and coolness in hot weather, and every other pleasing sensation of touch, by which the foolish, lacking wisdom, are utterly overcome, giving rise to karma that obstructs the path. A certain sage, on account of the desire for touch, lost his supernormal powers and was made to be ridden upon the neck by a courtesan. Through causes and conditions such as these, the faults of the desire for touch are to be known, as the Mahāyāna treatise explains in full.

Question: How, then, should the five desires be rejected? Answer: The method of rejecting desire is as the Mahāyāna treatise says: "How pitiable! Sentient beings are constantly afflicted by the five desires, and yet they seek them without ceasing. These five desires, the more they are obtained, grow only more intense — like fire fed with fuel, its flame growing ever fiercer. The five desires bring no true benefit, like a dog gnawing on a dry bone; the five desires increase strife, like birds contending over a piece of flesh; the five desires burn a person, like grasping a torch against the wind; the five desires harm a person, like stepping on a venomous snake; the five desires have no substance, like what is obtained in a dream; the five desires do not last, like something merely borrowed for a brief moment. Yet the people of the world, foolish and deluded, cling to the five desires, unable to let go even unto death, and for this reason undergo measureless suffering in lives to come." These five desires are shared alike by all sentient beings; every sentient being is constantly driven by the five desires, and so is called a slave of desire. Sitting bound by this ruinous desire, one falls into the three lower destinies. Now, as I cultivate dhyāna, this desire once again becomes an obstruction and a veil — it is a great thief, and must be swiftly kept at a distance. As the Dhyāna Sūtra says in verse:
"Birth-and-death never comes to an end, on account of craving desire and relishing flavor;
Nurturing an enemy, one enters the burial mound, undergoing every bitter suffering at length.
The body reeks like a corpse, its nine openings ceaselessly flowing with what is unclean;
Like a maggot delighting in a latrine, the foolish craving for the body is no different.
The wise should contemplate the body thus, and not crave attachment to the world;
Free of entanglement, free of desire — this alone is called true nirvāṇa.
As every buddha has taught, practice with one mind and single intent,
Counting the breath within dhyāna-concentration — this is called practicing the dhutanga way."
Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of the five desires is to be known, and the mind should not draw near to them, as one would keep distance from an enemy or a thief. Through this distance, the mind is free of feverish affliction, and no thought of desire arises — this is the essential point of cultivating dhyāna. The mark of rejecting the five desires is explained in full in the Mahāyāna treatise.

Third, abandoning the five hindrances: first, the hindrance of desire; second, the hindrance of anger; third, the hindrance of sleep; fourth, the hindrance of restlessness and regret; fifth, the hindrance of doubt.

First, abandoning the hindrance of desire: what was described earlier concerns desire arising from the five external objects; here, desire arising from the internal faculty of intention is addressed. This refers to a practitioner sitting upright in the cultivation of dhyāna, giving rise to a mind of desire that continues moment after moment, covering over the wholesome mind and preventing it from growing — once this is recognized, it should be abandoned. Why is this? Even a hermit consumed by lustful desire was able to burn his own body through desire arising internally — how much more should the fire of desire arising in the mind be feared, for it burns away every wholesome dharma? Furthermore, a person given over to desire is very far from the path. Why is this? Desire is the very dwelling-place of every kind of vexation and disturbance; if the mind clings to desire, there is no way to draw near the path — as the verse on removing this hindrance says:
"One who has entered the path with a sense of shame, holding the bowl to bring merit to sentient beings —
How could such a person indulge in worldly desire, sinking into the five faculties of feeling?
Having already renounced the five desires, cast aside and given no further thought —
How could one wish to have them back again, like a fool who eats their own vomit?
Every desire brings suffering while it is sought, and, once obtained, brings much fear;
And when it is lost, sorrow and vexation follow — nowhere in it is there any true joy.
Since the affliction of every desire is like this, having rejected it, one is able to let it go,
And, gaining the joy of merit and dhyāna-concentration, one is no longer deceived by it."
Through causes and conditions such as these, the hindrance of desire is rejected, as the verse rejecting desire in the Mahāyāna treatise explains.

Second, abandoning the hindrance of anger: anger is the very root from which every unwholesome dharma arises, the condition that causes one to fall into the evil destinies, the enemy of the joy of the Dharma, the great thief of the wholesome mind, the storehouse of every kind of evil speech. Furthermore, a practitioner, while sitting, may reflect: "This person has vexed me, and has vexed those dear to me, and has praised those I resent." Reflecting in the same way about the past and the future gives nine grounds for vexation in all. From vexation, anger arises; from anger, resentment arises; from resentment, enmity arises; and from enmity comes the wish to retaliate and vex the other in turn. Anger, resentment, enmity, and vexation, together with coarse and subtle discursive thought about them, cover over the mind — hence this is called a hindrance. It must be swiftly abandoned, and not allowed to grow. As Śakra, Lord of the Devas, once asked the Buddha in verse:
"What thing, once slain, brings peace? What thing, once slain, brings freedom from sorrow?
What is the very root of poison, that swallows up and destroys every wholesome thing?"
The Buddha answered in verse:
"Slay anger, and peace is attained; slay anger, and freedom from sorrow is attained.
Anger is the very root of poison; anger destroys every wholesome thing."
Knowing this, one should cultivate loving-kindness and patience in order to remove and extinguish it, purifying the mind, as the verse in which the Buddha teaches his disciples to reject anger, in the Mahāyāna treatise, explains in full.

Third, rejecting the hindrance of sleep: dullness and darkness within the mind is called drowsiness; the limbs going slack, the body sinking into deep repose, is called slumber. Furthermore, dullness and obscurity in mental consciousness is called drowsiness; darkness and obscuration covering the five faculties of feeling, sunk into deep repose, is called slumber. For these reasons, this is called the hindrance of sleep. As the Abhidharma says: "As a mental factor that grows stronger the more it is indulged, it is able to destroy three things in the present life — happiness, benefit and joy, and merit — and is further able to destroy the true happiness of both this life and lives to come." Such an unwholesome dharma as this is the most unwholesome of all. Why is this? The remaining hindrances can still be recognized and removed by feeling and awareness, but sleep is like a dead person, possessing no awareness or consciousness whatsoever. Because there is no awareness of it, it is hard to remove and extinguish.

There was once a bodhisattva who taught a sleeping disciple, saying:
"Rise — do not lie there embracing a corpse, this provisionally-named person made of every impurity;
As one struck by a grave illness, an arrow lodged in the body, every pain and suffering gathered — how can you sleep?
As one who is bound and being led away to execution, disaster imminent — how can you sleep?
The thief of the fetters not yet slain, the harm not yet removed — it is like dwelling in the same room as a venomous snake,
Or standing amid drawn blades on the very edge of battle — how, at such a time, could you possibly sleep?
Sleep is a great darkness in which nothing can be seen, day after day deceiving and robbing a person of clarity.
With sleep covering the mind, nothing at all can be seen — with such a great loss as this, how can you sleep?"
Through various means such as these, the hindrance of sleep is rejected, awakening one to impermanence and diminishing sleep, so that no dullness remains to cover the mind. If the mind is heavily weighed down by sleep, a meditation-weight or meditation-staff and the like should be used to drive it off.

Fourth, abandoning restlessness and regret. Restlessness is of three kinds: bodily, verbal, and mental. Bodily restlessness is a fondness for wandering about and engaging in every kind of frivolous jesting, unable to sit still even briefly. Verbal restlessness is a fondness for chanting and reciting, contending over right and wrong, and idle conversation and worldly talk of no benefit. Mental restlessness is a mind given over to dissipation, indulging the intention to chase after objects, occupying itself with literary arts, worldly skills and talents, and every kind of unwholesome discursive thought — this is called mental restlessness. Restlessness as a phenomenon breaks down the very mind of one who has gone forth from home; even one who gathers the mind carefully still fails to attain concentration — how much more so one who is restless and scattered? A person who is restless and scattered is like an intoxicated elephant with no hook to guide it, or a camel with a pierced nose that cannot be controlled — as the verse says:
"You have already shaved your head and put on the dyed robe, taking up the clay bowl to walk for alms —
Why, then, delight in attachment to frivolous, restless ways, indulging laxly and losing the benefit of the Dharma?"
Having thus lost both the benefit of the Dharma and worldly happiness alike, once this fault is recognized, it must be swiftly abandoned.

As for regret, if it follows restlessness, then regret alone does not constitute a hindrance. Why is this? At the very moment of restlessness, the mind is not yet fixed on any object — but afterward, when one wishes to enter concentration, great regret arises over what was done before, and worry and vexation cover the mind; hence this is called a hindrance. Furthermore, regret is of two kinds: first, regret arising afterward because of restlessness, as just described; second, regret like that of a person who has committed a grave and serious offense, constantly harboring fear, the arrow of regret lodged firmly in the heart and unable to be pulled out. As the verse says:
"What should not be done, is done; what should be done, is left undone —
Burned by the fire of affliction, one falls, in lives to come, into an evil destiny.
If a person is able to repent of an offense, once repented, let there be no further worry —
With a mind thus at ease and joyful, one should not dwell on it constantly.
But if there are these two kinds of regret — over what should have been done and was not,
Or over what should not have been done and was — this is the mark of the foolish.
It is not that, through regretting in the mind, what was left undone can now be done,
Nor that whatever evil has already been done can be made undone."
Through causes and conditions such as these, the hindrance of restlessness and regret is rejected; the mind and spirit become pure, with no covering hindrance remaining, constantly abiding in a wholesome mind, and thus becoming still and at ease. Through this, the mind attains the joy of the Dharma.

Fifth, abandoning the hindrance of doubt: because doubt covers the mind, a concentrated mind cannot be attained with regard to any dharma whatsoever. And because a concentrated mind is absent, one gains nothing at all within the Buddhadharma — like a person entering a mountain of treasure who, having no hands, is unable to take anything at all. Furthermore, doubt in general is of very many kinds, and not all of it necessarily obstructs concentration. The doubt that truly obstructs concentration here refers to three specific kinds: doubt about oneself; doubt about one's teacher; and doubt about the Dharma.

Doubt about oneself: if a person thinks, "My faculties are dull and clouded, my offenses deep and grave — am I truly a fit vessel for this?" — giving rise to this self-doubt, the dharma of concentration will, in the end, never be brought forth. To remove this, one must not belittle oneself, since the depth of one's wholesome roots from past lives is difficult to measure.

Doubt about one's teacher: "That person's dignified bearing and outward appearance are of such a kind — they themselves lack the path, so how could they possibly teach me?" Giving rise to this kind of doubt and arrogance directly obstructs concentration. The method for removing it is as the Mahāyāna treatise says: "It is like gold within a foul-smelling leather sack — because one desires the gold, one does not discard the foul sack on that account. The practitioner should be exactly the same: even though a teacher may not be entirely pure, one should still give rise to the perception of them as a buddha." This matter is explained fully where the Mahāyāna treatise recounts Sadāprarudita's own seeking of a good spiritual friend — this should be explained in full there.

Doubt about the Dharma: people of the world mostly cling to their own original mind, unable to place immediate faith in the Dharma they have received, and so do not receive and practice it with a reverent mind. If the mind gives rise to hesitation and vacillation, the Dharma cannot color the spirit. Why is this? As the verse rejecting doubt says:
"Like a person standing at a forked road, doubtful and unsure, grasping at nothing —
So it is, exactly the same, with doubt regarding the true reality of all dharmas.
Because of doubt, one fails to diligently seek the true reality of all dharmas;
This doubt itself is born from delusion, and is the very worst among evils.
Amid wholesome and unwholesome dharmas, amid birth-and-death and nirvāṇa,
There is a fixed, real, and true dharma present — do not give rise to doubt regarding it.
If you harbor doubt and confusion, you are bound as though by the jailer of death and rebirth,
Like a deer seized in a lion's grip, unable to attain liberation.
While still in the world, though doubt may arise, one should follow the sublime and wholesome Dharma —
Just as, observing a forked road, one should follow whichever path is favorable and good."
Furthermore, within the Buddhadharma, faith alone is what allows one to enter; without faith, though one may remain within the Buddhadharma, nothing at all is ultimately gained. Through causes and conditions such as these, the fault of doubt is to be recognized, and it must be swiftly abandoned.

Question: The unwholesome dharmas and defiling objects are measureless in number — why abandon only these five? Answer: Within these five hindrances are contained the three poisons together with the equal-portion affliction as their very root, and they are also able to encompass the eighty-four thousand gates of worldly affliction. Why is this? The hindrance of desire is precisely the poison of craving; the hindrance of anger is precisely the poison of aversion; the hindrances of sleep and doubt together constitute the poison of delusion — hence it can be known that the three poisons are already contained within them. The hindrance of restlessness and regret arises generally from all three poisons at once, and so belongs to the equal-portion affliction — together making four divisions of affliction in all. Within each one of these there are twenty-one thousand, and across all four together there are eighty-four thousand — hence removing these five hindrances is precisely removing every unwholesome dharma whatsoever.

The practitioner who abandons the five hindrances through causes and conditions such as these is like one freed from debt, or cured of a grave illness, or a starving person who has reached a land of plenty, or one who has escaped and been rescued from among enemies and thieves — at ease, in peace, and free of affliction. The practitioner is exactly the same: once these five hindrances are removed, the mind is at ease, pure, and joyful. It is like the sun and moon obscured by five things — smoke, cloud, dust, mist, and the hand of the asura Rāhu — unable to shine forth; a person is exactly the same.

Fourth, harmonizing the five things: first, regulating food and drink; second, regulating sleep; third, harmonizing the body; fourth, harmonizing the breath; fifth, harmonizing the mind. Why is this? Here, a familiar comparison may be borrowed to illustrate this method. It is like a potter who, wishing to fashion various vessels, must first skillfully knead the clay, making it neither too hard nor too soft, before it can be set upon the turning wheel and cord. It is also like tuning a lute: the strings must first be tuned, neither too slack nor too taut, before one can begin to play and produce every wondrous melody from it. The practitioner cultivating the mind is exactly the same: by skillfully harmonizing these five things, ensuring they are properly attuned, samādhi arises with ease; but if any of them is left unharmonized, many obstacles and difficulties arise, and wholesome roots are hard to bring forth.

First, regulating food: food is the very basis of the dharma of sustaining the body in order to advance on the path. If one eats to excess, the breath becomes constricted and the body feels full, the hundred channels fail to circulate, the mind becomes stopped up, and sitting meditation is left unsettled. If one eats too little, the body grows weak and the mind restless, unable to settle its thoughts firmly. Neither of these is the way to attain concentration. Furthermore, if one eats impure and turbid things, the mind and consciousness become dull and confused; if one eats things unsuited to one's own constitution, dormant illnesses are stirred up and the four elements thrown into disorder. This is the very beginning of cultivating concentration, and must be attended to with the greatest care — hence it is said, "when the body is at ease, the path flourishes." As the sūtra says: "Eating with a knowledge of proper measure, constantly delighting in dwelling in a quiet place, with a still mind delighting in diligence — this is what every buddha has taught."

Second, regulating sleep: sleep is a dharma covered over by the delusion of ignorance; though it should not be indulged, if one does not sleep at all, the mind and spirit become empty and vacant; and if one sleeps to excess, this not only neglects the cultivation of the noble Dharma, but also wastes one's effort in vain, darkening and clouding the mind and causing wholesome roots to sink beneath the surface. One should awaken to impermanence and subdue sleep, so that the pathway of the spirit becomes pure and bright, and the mindful heart becomes clear and undefiled — only in this way can the mind come to dwell in the noble realm, with samādhi manifesting before it. Hence the sūtra says: "Do not neglect the first and last watches of the night either — do not let the cause and condition of sleep cause an entire life to pass by in vain, gaining nothing at all. One should be mindful that the fire of impermanence burns all the worlds, and swiftly seek one's own liberation, rather than sleeping."

Third, harmonizing the body; fourth, harmonizing the breath; fifth, harmonizing the mind. These three should be applied together, and cannot properly be explained separately — though the methods do differ across the beginning, middle, and end, corresponding to the different marks of entering, abiding in, and emerging from meditation.

First, entering dhyāna and harmonizing the three things — beginning with the body. When a practitioner wishes to enter samādhi, the harmonizing of the body should begin even before formal concentration: walking, standing, moving forward, and coming to rest, every motion and stillness of the body, must all be carried out with careful attention. If one's actions are coarse and unrefined, the breath will follow suit and become coarse; and because the breath is coarse, the mind becomes scattered and hard to gather in. Moreover, if one is agitated and disturbed at the time of sitting, the mind will not be calm and at ease — hence, even while still outside formal concentration, one must already apply the mind in anticipation, preparing the way with skillful means.

When one then actually enters dhyāna, the body must be skillfully settled into its proper place. Upon first reaching the meditation seat, at the place where one is to sit, one should always make it comfortable and secure, so that no difficulty arises even after a long time. Next, the legs should be properly arranged: in the half-lotus posture, place the left foot upon the right thigh, drawing it close to the body, so that the toes of the left foot align with the right thigh and the toes of the right foot align with the left thigh. If the full lotus posture is desired, then further draw the right foot up and place it upon the left foot as well. Next, loosen and properly adjust the belt of one's robe, so that it does not come loose while sitting. Next, the hands should be settled: place the left palm upon the right hand, one resting upon the other, facing each other, set upon the left foot, drawn close to the body, and settled directly before the heart. Straighten the body: first sway and stretch the body and every limb and joint, doing this seven or eight times, as in a self-massage, taking care that the hands and feet are not left out of alignment. Once this is done, straighten the body directly upright, so that the spine is properly aligned, neither bent nor thrust upward. Next, straighten the head and neck, so that the nose is aligned directly with the navel, neither tilted nor crooked, neither lowered nor raised, the face level and settled straight ahead. Next, open the mouth and exhale the impure air from within the chest. The method of exhaling: open the mouth and release the breath, letting it flow out freely, imagining that, at every place within the body where the hundred channels are obstructed, the breath carries this obstruction entirely out with it as it leaves; then close the mouth and draw pure air in through the nose. Do this up to three times; if the body and breath are already well harmonized, even a single time is sufficient. Next, the mouth should be closed, the lips and teeth lightly touching, the tongue resting against the upper palate. Next, the eyes should be closed, allowing only enough light to be shut out and no more. The body should then be held upright and sitting straight, as steady as a placed stone, with no stealthy shifting or scratching of the body, head, or any of the four limbs. This is the method of harmonizing the body upon first entering dhyāna-concentration. Taking the essential point: neither too slack nor too tense — this is the mark of a properly harmonized body.

Second, the method of harmonizing the breath upon first entering dhyāna. The harmonizing of the breath has, in all, four marks: wind, panting, breath-with-effort, and true breath. The first three are unharmonized marks; the last alone is the harmonized mark. What is the mark of wind? While sitting, the breath going in and out through the nose is felt to make a sound. What is the mark of panting? While sitting, though there is no sound, the breath going in and out is obstructed and does not flow smoothly — this is the mark of panting. What is the mark of breath-with-effort? While sitting, though there is no sound and no obstruction, the breath going in and out is not fine and subtle — this is called the mark of breath-with-effort. As for the mark of true breath: no sound, no obstruction, no coarseness, going in and out continuously and finely, as though it were present yet almost imperceptible, sustaining the spirit at ease, the feelings held in quiet contentment — this is the mark of true breath. Dwelling on wind leads to scatteredness; dwelling on panting leads to obstruction; dwelling on breath-with-effort leads to fatigue; dwelling on true breath leads to concentration.

Furthermore, while sitting, if the marks of wind, panting, or breath-with-effort are present, this is called unharmonized, and applying the mind while in this state becomes itself a source of trouble, making the mind hard to concentrate. To harmonize it, one should rely on three methods: first, settling the mind low and at ease; second, loosening and relaxing the body; third, imagining the breath pervading every pore, going in and out uniformly and without obstruction. If the mind is made fine and subtle in this way, the breath will naturally become faint and gentle; once the breath is harmonized, every trouble ceases to arise, and the mind concentrates with ease. This is the method of harmonizing the breath for a practitioner first entering concentration. Taking the essential point: neither rough nor slippery — this is the mark of a properly harmonized breath.

Third, harmonizing the mind upon first entering concentration. Harmonizing the mind has two aspects: first, subduing scattered thoughts, not allowing the mind to run wild and escape; second, ensuring that sinking and floating, slackness and tension, are each brought to their proper measure. What is the mark of sinking? If, while sitting, the mind is dark and dull, retaining nothing, the head inclined to droop — this is the mark of sinking. At such a time, one should fix the mind at the tip of the nose, holding it steady upon this object, not allowing the intention to scatter — this can remedy sinking. What is the mark of floating? If, while sitting, the mind and spirit drift and stir restlessly, the body also unsettled, thoughts wandering off to other objects — this is the mark of floating. At such a time, one should settle the mind, directing it downward and fixing it upon its object, restraining every scattered thought, and the mind will then come to rest in concentration — in this way the mind is easily made calm and still. Taking the essential point: neither sinking nor floating — this is the mark of a properly harmonized mind.

Question: Can the mind also have marks of slackness and tension? Answer: This too occurs. The mark of a tense mind arises from gathering the mind too forcefully during sitting, applying thought in eager anticipation of results; because of this, when entering concentration, the breath rises upward and the chest feels tight and pained. One should loosen and relax the mind, imagining the breath flowing downward, and the trouble will naturally subside. As for the mark of a slack mind: one becomes aware that the mind's intent has grown loose and wandering, the body inclined to slump and sag, perhaps drooling from the mouth, or at times growing dull and clouded; at such a time, one should draw the body in and apply thought more firmly, holding the mind steady upon its object, body and mind mutually sustaining one another — this is the remedy. The mind may also have marks of roughness or slipperiness, which can be understood by the same reasoning. This is the method of harmonizing the mind upon first entering concentration.

When one wishes to enter concentration, the movement is, by its very nature, from the coarse into the fine: the body, being coarsest, comes first; the breath, situated between, comes next; the mind, being finest of all, comes last. By skillful means, harmonizing the coarse until it becomes fine, the mind is settled and stilled — this is the initial expedient means for entering concentration.

Second, harmonizing the three things while abiding in sitting meditation. Throughout the course of a single sitting, however long or short it may last, the mind should be gathered and applied with continuous care. Here, one should skillfully recognize the harmonized and unharmonized marks of the three things — body, breath, and mind.

While sitting, even if the body was properly harmonized at the outset, it may come to be too slack or too tense, tilted or bent, uneven in its posture — once this is noticed, it should be corrected at once, always kept comfortable and secure, neither slack nor tense throughout, level and upright.

Furthermore, throughout the sitting, even if the body remains harmonized, the breath may become unharmonized — its unharmonized marks are as described above: wind or panting, or breath-with-effort, with the body feeling swollen and full. This should be remedied at once using the methods already given, always keeping the breath's path continuous and fine, as though present and yet almost imperceptible.

Furthermore, throughout a single sitting, even if body and breath remain harmonized, the mind may come to sink or float, become too slack or too tense. If this is noticed at such a time, it should be adjusted back to its proper measure using the methods already given.

These three things have no fixed order among them — whichever becomes unharmonized should be adjusted accordingly, so that, throughout the course of a single sitting, body, breath, and mind remain harmonized together, without contradiction, blended and undivided. In this way, longstanding troubles can be removed, no obstacle or difficulty arises, and the achievement of concentration can be attained.

Third, when sitting meditation is about to conclude and one wishes to emerge from concentration, one should first release the mind toward other objects, open the mouth and release the breath, imagining it dispersing at will through the hundred channels of the body; then gently move the body, next the shoulders and neck, then the two feet, making all of them supple; then use the hands to massage every pore of the skin, next rub the hands until they are warm and cover the two eyes with them, then withdraw the hands and open the eyes, waiting until the body's warmth and perspiration have gradually subsided before moving and resting freely as one wishes. If this is not done — if, for instance, the mind was in the midst of settled concentration and one emerges too abruptly — the subtle qualities of that state will not yet have dispersed and will remain lodged within the body, causing headaches and stiffness throughout the hundred joints, much like a rheumatic disorder, resulting in restlessness and unease in later sittings, so that the mind becomes reluctant to sit at all. This point must always be kept in mind — this is the method for harmonizing body, breath, and mind upon emerging from concentration, moving from the fine back out into the coarse. This is what is meant by skillfully entering, abiding in, and emerging from concentration. As the verse says:
"Advancing and resting each have their own proper sequence, the coarse and the fine never at odds with one another —
Just as with a well-trained horse, whether it is made to go or made to stay."

Fifth, practicing the five dharmas: first, aspiration; second, diligence; third, mindfulness; fourth, skillful wisdom; fifth, one-pointedness of mind.

Aspiration: when a practitioner first cultivates dhyāna, wishing to emerge from the desire realm and attain the first dhyāna, this is also called resolve, also called vow, also called delight — since the practitioner's inner mind is resolved upon and delights in the various dhyānas. Question: If a mind of longing and expectation arises, does this not become an obstacle to cultivating dhyāna — how, then, can this be taken as an expedient means? Answer: "Aspiration" here means simply the mind of great resolve accomplishing its vowed delight — hence it is called aspiration; it does not mean that, while actually applying the mind in practice, one should give rise to thoughts of longing and expectant recollection. If a mind of longing and expectation arises, the mind will not be clear and still; and if the mind is not clear and still, no samādhi whatsoever can ever be brought forth.

Second, diligence: this is of two kinds — bodily diligence and mental diligence. If a practitioner is able to cultivate the twelve dhutanga practices, this is precisely being complete in both bodily and mental diligence. As the Buddha told Kāśyapa: "A forest-dwelling monk, far removed from the two kinds of attachment, pure in body and mind, practices the dhutanga austerities. The dhutanga practices are twelve in number: first, dwelling in a forest hermitage; second, constantly practicing alms-begging; third, begging for alms in sequence without discrimination; fourth, receiving only a single meal a day; fifth, eating with moderation; sixth, not drinking any liquid after midday; seventh, wearing discarded, worn-out robes; eighth, keeping only the three robes; ninth, dwelling among graves; tenth, resting beneath trees; eleventh, sitting in the open air; twelfth, constantly sitting and never lying down. These are called the twelve dhutanga practices." This is explained in full in the Dhutanga Sūtra, and should be given in full detail there.

"Dhutanga" means "shaking off" — shaking off every unwholesome dharma of body and mind. If, while cultivating dhyāna, one practices these methods, this is called conduct free of laxity, complete in both bodily and mental diligence. One should know that such a person is able to attain the noble fruits of all three vehicles — how much more so the dhyāna of the ordinary world?

Furthermore, a practitioner who, for the sake of cultivating dhyāna, upholds the precepts purely, abandons the five hindrances, and applies undivided effort without neglect through the first and last watches of the night — like drilling for fire without ever pausing until the fire catches — this is called diligence. As the Buddha told Ānanda: "Every buddha, with a single-pointed mind, diligently applies effort, and therefore attains the three kinds of bodhi." How much more so, then, every other wholesome path?

Third, mindfulness: as the Mahāyāna treatise says: "Be mindful that the desire realm is impure, deceptive, and contemptible; be mindful that the first dhyāna is to be honored and cherished." This shares the same sense as the six contemplations, differing only in name. The six contemplations are: growing weary of the lower realm's suffering, coarseness, and obstruction — three in number, which is precisely contemplating desire as impure, deceptive, and contemptible; and reaching for the superiority, subtlety, and transcendence of the higher realm — three more, which is precisely contemplating the first dhyāna as honorable and cherished.

Now, in explaining these six items, there are, in themselves, two aspects: explained in terms of the fruit, and explained in terms of the cause. First, explained in terms of the fruit within the desire realm: as for "growing weary of the lower realm's suffering, coarseness, and obstruction" — this means growing weary of the coarse, heavy body and mind of the lower desire realm. The practitioner reflects: the retributive body received within the desire realm now is pressed upon by hunger and thirst, cold and heat, sickness and pain, blade and rod, and every other kind of affliction — hence it is called suffering. "Coarseness" means that this body is made up of the thirty-six foul, unclean things such as excrement and urine — hence it is called coarse, coarse because it is ugly and repulsive. "Obstruction" means that this body, being made of solid matter, cannot move freely, blocked and hindered by mountains, rivers, and stone walls — hence it is called obstruction.

Next, explained in terms of the fruit within the form realm: as for "reaching for what is superior" — the practitioner reflects and comes to know that the bliss of the form realm is superior. Just as the bliss of the desire realm is suffering, the bliss of the form realm is superior — attaining bliss that surpasses suffering, and so it is called superior. As for "subtlety" — the body received in the form realm is like a reflection in a mirror: though it has form and color, it possesses no material obstruction, and so it is called subtle. As for "transcendence" — attaining the five supernormal powers, one sees clearly through obstructions to what lies beyond, unhindered by mountains and walls, and so it is called transcendence.

Second, clarifying the six contemplations in terms of the cause: first, in terms of the cause within the desire realm, clarifying "growing weary of suffering, coarseness, and obstruction." The practitioner reflects: if, within this retributive body, the mental factors that arise take craving desire as their object and one cannot escape it, then, as the sūtra says, "all sentient beings are slaves to craving" — hence it is called suffering. "Coarseness" means that, taking the five defiling objects of the desire realm as its object, the mind stirs and scatters, giving rise to unwholesome deeds — hence it is called coarse. "Obstruction" means being covered over by the hindrance of affliction — hence it is called obstruction. Next, in terms of the cause within the form realm, clarifying "reaching for what is superior, subtle, and transcendent." The practitioner reflects: the superior bliss of the first dhyāna arises from within the bliss itself — hence it is called superior. The bliss of craving desire arises from the five external defiling objects, bound up with vexation and heat and enmity, and is thus inferior; it is not like the subtle bliss of dhyāna-concentration, in which the mind is settled and unmoving while the dharma of bliss is accomplished — hence it is called subtle. The bliss of craving desire, by contrast, leaves the mind scattered and racing about — hence it is called coarse. "Transcendence" means that the mind attains freedom from the covering hindrances and reaches the first dhyāna — hence it is called transcendence, just as a spring welling up from rock does not come from outside but wells up of itself from within.

This, then, explains the meaning of mindfulness in terms of these six contemplations — the intent should now be clear. Question: Since this passage is describing how a disciple of the Buddha cultivates dhyāna, what use is there in explaining the six contemplations practiced by ordinary, unenlightened people? Answer: Since it has already been said that dhyāna is shared in common across the three realms, one should also know the causes behind whatever is practiced there. If a disciple of the Buddha makes use of the eight noble lineages, gives rise to the sixteen aspects of contemplation, and takes freedom from desire as the object of mindfulness in order to enter the first dhyāna, then there is no fault in this at all. This will be distinguished fully further below, where the uncontaminated dhyānas are clarified.

Fourth, skillful wisdom: weighing the marks of gain and loss, light and heavy, between the bliss of the desire realm and the bliss of the first dhyāna. Here two explanations are given, turned over from opposite sides. As to "weighing": this is simply the name for using wisdom to deliberate and measure. As to "gain and loss": the bliss of the desire realm is a loss, and the bliss of the first dhyāna is a gain — since the bliss of the first dhyāna has no fault, it is called a gain, and since the bliss of the desire realm has fault, it is called a loss. It may also be said, conversely, that the first dhyāna is a loss and the bliss of the desire realm is a gain: because the bliss of the desire realm is coarse, it is taken to be real, and gives rise to a strong sense of gain; the first dhyāna, by contrast, is felt as loss because the body is perceived as empty and still, experiencing a subtle bliss that seems almost like nothing at all, unable to be fixed and grasped — losing, in this way, the very appearance of bliss, and so it is called a loss.

As to "light and heavy": the desire realm is light, and the first dhyāna is heavy. The desire realm is light because the bliss obtained there, associated with the five sense-consciousnesses, is swift and shallow. The bliss obtained in the first dhyāna is heavy because it is associated with the mind-consciousness, abides for a long time, and takes a deep object — hence it is called heavy, "heavy" here meaning precious and weighty. It may also be said, conversely, that the desire realm is heavy and the first dhyāna is light: the bliss of the desire realm is heavy because it comes bound up together with affliction, weighing down the mind; the bliss of the first dhyāna is light because the mind is only lightly encumbered. There is also a further teaching that skillful wisdom means this: when a practitioner first cultivates dhyāna, they skillfully recognize the internal and external expedient means and apply them with skill, never losing what is proper to the moment, and thereby swiftly attain dhyāna-concentration — hence this too is called skillful wisdom.

Fifth, one-pointedness of mind: once a practitioner is already able to skillfully weigh matters through wisdom, applying the mind without error, they should now simply devote the mind single-mindedly, holding to the one and proceeding accordingly — hence this is called one-pointedness of mind. It is like a person wishing to travel a good road, who must first know which paths are open and which are blocked, and, having determined this with certainty, then proceeds with a single, undivided mind. Hence it is said: "without wisdom, there is no dhyāna; without dhyāna, there is no wisdom" — the meaning lies exactly here.

End of Fascicle Two of the Shi Chan Boluomi Cidi Famen.