Cultivation and Realization: The Four Dhyānas

Fascicle Five
Spoken by the Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai, of the Sui dynasty
Recorded by his disciple Fashen
Revised and edited by his disciple Guanding
Explaining Dhyāna-Pāramitā's Cultivation and Realization, Topic 7, Part 1

Above, the external and internal expedient means have already been clarified at length; if the practitioner is able to apply the mind single-mindedly in cultivation, holding the dhyāna-gates in mind, realization is bound to follow — hence topic 7 now clarifies cultivation and realization at length. Hence the sūtra says: "One who cultivates my Dharma comes to know its realization for oneself."

Here, within clarifying cultivation and realization, this opens of itself into four parts: first, the marks of cultivating and realizing mundane dhyāna; second, the marks of cultivating and realizing dhyāna that is both mundane and world-transcending; third, the marks of cultivating and realizing world-transcending dhyāna; and fourth, the marks of cultivating and realizing dhyāna that is neither mundane nor world-transcending.

Here, the first is now explained: clarifying the cultivation and realization of mundane dhyāna. This itself has three parts: the four dhyānas; the four immeasurable minds; and the four formless concentrations. Here, the first is now explained: the cultivation and realization of the four dhyānas.

The four dhyānas are: the first dhyāna; the second dhyāna; the third dhyāna; and the fourth dhyāna. Here, discussing the root, correct concentrations of the form realm, only four are given. If the preliminary expedient means and the intermediate dhyāna are included as well, the count is not fixed. The Sarvāstivādins hold that there is, in addition, the "not-yet-arrived" state and the intermediate dhyāna, making six stages of concentration together with the four dhyānas. The Dharmaguptakas, by contrast, do not speak of a "not-yet-arrived" state at all, but instead speak of desire-realm concentration and the intermediate dhyāna, likewise making six stages. The Mahāyāna treatise and the master Ghoṣa, however, clarify that desire-realm concentration, the "not-yet-arrived" state, and the intermediate dhyāna are all three present together, making seven stages together with the four dhyānas. These accounts may be reconciled by reasoning through their sense. Here, discussing strictly the correct dhyānas themselves, only four are given.

First, clarifying the cultivation and realization of the first dhyāna, as the sūtra verse says:
"Free of desire and unwholesome dharmas, possessing initial thought and sustained reflection,
Free of birth [in the desire realm], with joy and happiness — such a person enters the first dhyāna.
Having already gained freedom from the fire of lust, one obtains a cool, refreshing concentration,
Like a person greatly overheated and distressed, entering a cool pool and finding joy.
Like a poor person finding a buried treasure, great joy stirs and moves the mind.
Discrimination is what is called sustained reflection; entering the first dhyāna is exactly the same."
The Buddha, within this verse, clarifies in full the marks of cultivating and realizing the first dhyāna, though its intent is difficult to see at first; this shall now be distinguished. In clarifying the first dhyāna, this opens into three distinct parts: explaining the name; clarifying its cultivation; and clarifying the marks of its realization.

First, explaining the name: as for what is called the first dhyāna, "dhyāna" here means a grove of factors. The practitioner, first attaining this dharma of a grove of factors, is thus said to attain the first dhyāna. Furthermore, dharmas such as initial thought and sustained reflection are what is called a "factor." The practitioner's cultivation of the first dhyāna's dharma of initial thought and sustained reflection necessarily arises first, before the others — hence initial thought and sustained reflection are said to give the first dhyāna its name.

Question: if it is said that whatever arises first is thereby named "first dhyāna," then desire-realm concentration and the "not-yet-arrived" state arise earliest of all — why, then, do they not receive the name "first dhyāna"? Answer: "dhyāna" means a thicket of merit; desire-realm concentration and the "not-yet-arrived" state do not yet have the dharma of a grove of factors' merit — although they do arise first, they are not named "first dhyāna." Furthermore, the Mahāyāna treatise says that desire-realm concentration, the "not-yet-arrived" state, and the intermediate dhyāna have much wisdom but little concentration, and this state is not one of true happiness; since it is not yet the correct stage, it therefore does not receive the name "first dhyāna."

Furthermore, what is called the first dhyāna is also named the samādhi possessing initial thought and sustained reflection — because some might doubt that concentration could be present at all within a mind of initial thought and sustained reflection, the Buddha therefore spoke of the samādhi of initial thought and sustained reflection. The Bodhisattva-bhūmi Treatise calls it "the dhyāna joined with initial thought and sustained reflection": when this dhyāna arises, it necessarily arises together with initial thought and sustained reflection. It is also called the noble concentration of expounding the Dharma, since, within this concentration, the path of language through initial thought and sustained reflection has not yet been cut off — hence it is given the name of expounding the Dharma. Such are its various differing names.

Second, clarifying cultivation: this, in turn, opens into two parts — first clarifying the method to be cultivated, and afterward distinguishing the mind that does the cultivating.

First, clarifying the method to be cultivated: this is precisely mindfulness of the breath, the method for cultivating the root first dhyāna. Within this, there are three parts: explaining the terms for the breath; distinguishing the marks of the breath; and clarifying the different ways the breath may be used.

First, as for what is called ānāpāna: this is a foreign term; in the Qin-dynasty translation, āna is the in-breath and apāna is the out-breath. The Sūtra on the Samādhi of Mindfulness of the Breath says: "'Ān' means arising, and 'apān' means ceasing." If explained in terms of the breath's own arising and ceasing, the sense is as given above; if spoken of in terms of the mind's arising and ceasing, this is not fixed. Here, in-breath and out-breath are taken as the correct rendering.

Second, distinguishing the marks of the breath: there are four — wind; panting; breath-with-effort; and true breath. The marks of these four kinds are distinguished in full within the discussion of regulating the breath. Counting the wind leads only to scattering; counting the panting leads only to constriction; counting the breath-with-effort leads only to fatigue; counting the true breath alone leads to concentration. The practitioner should set aside the first three and retain only the true breath, skillfully taking up its mark — soundless, unconstricted, continuous, as though present and yet almost imperceptible — and using this alone.

Third, clarifying the different ways the breath may be used: one master teaches fixing the mind on counting the out-breath. Why is this? Counting the out-breath keeps the breath from becoming urgent, the body from becoming distended and full, so that body and mind grow light and agile, easily entering samādhi. Another master teaches counting the in-breath instead — why is this? Counting the in-breath: first, makes concentration easier to enter, since the breath is thereby drawn inward and gathered in; second, cuts off external objects; third, makes it easier to see the thirty-six substances within the body; fourth, makes the body's own strength light and vigorous; fifth, genuinely settles craving and anger from within. There are such benefits as these, not of one kind only, and so one should count the in-breath. Yet another master teaches that it makes no difference whether one counts the in-breath or the out-breath, and that one should simply count whichever is more convenient, with no fixed preference either way — whichever puts the practitioner's own mind at ease and allows concentration to be entered without fault is fine. But all three masters, whatever they otherwise say, agree in not permitting the in-breath and out-breath to be counted together at the same time. Why is this? Because this gives rise to the ailment of breath-obstruction, arising in the throat like a blade of grass caught there — exhaling, it will not come out, and swallowing, it will not go in; this affliction arises from counting both at once. There is also a master who teaches counting according to the four seasons, though this is not examined in detail here.

Second, clarifying the mind that does the counting: this, too, has three parts — clarifying the counting mind itself; clarifying the shift in what it takes as its object; and a concluding distinction.

First, clarifying the counting mind itself: with a fine, attentive mind, gathering the mind in and fixing it on the breath, counting from one to ten so that the mind does not scatter — this is what is called counting the breath. If the count falls short of ten, this is called a deficient count; if it reaches eleven, this is called an excessive count. Yet neither an excessive nor a deficient count is truly the path to attaining concentration. If one counts from one to ten, always completing the full ten without ever missing a single count, this is called the accomplishment of the counting method. But if, partway through, the mind secretly wanders to some other object, the counting method falls into disorder — this is precisely how one comes to recognize that the mind has scattered. If one takes "one" alone as the count for each breath, there is then no interval left open for anything else to intrude; but should some other object arise, one may fail to notice it in time. Hence, taking a single breath alone as the object is not sufficient by itself to remove disorder. If the count exceeds ten, some further factor has arisen — the mind is then taking two things as its object within a single mind, and disorder arises from just this — hence this is called an excessive count. As for counting the breath: one should simply keep count with a fine, attentive mind fixed on the breath itself, and not fuss over the mark of the counting too much. If one dwells on the breath excessively, the qi becomes overfull, the abdomen distends, and the body grows tense, so that sitting itself becomes uneasy.

Second, as for the shift in what the mind takes as its object: at first, counting the breath, one becomes aware of the breath growing faint and subtle; at this point, one should set counting aside and simply follow the breath instead, letting it go out and come in of its own accord. If the mind then wishes to grow still, one should set following aside as well, fixing the mind and settling it in stillness — this is called stilling. If the mind then grows dark and dull, one should instead calmly illuminate form and breath together — this is called contemplating. If the mind grows restless and unsettled instead, one should set contemplating aside and return to counting, following, or stilling — hence this is called returning. Once the mind no longer runs off and scatters, the spirit gathered in and every deliberation stilled, this is called purifying. If the practitioner is able to skillfully gather the mind in this way, concentration is thereby easily attained.

Third, distinguishing why the breath serves as the first gate: Question: every dharma-gate whatsoever could in principle serve as a starting point — why, then, is only mindfulness of the breath spoken of as the first gate? Answer: this does not follow. Here, in accordance with the Buddha's own teaching, the sūtra says: "Mindfulness of the breath is the first gate by which the buddhas of the three periods of time have entered the path." Hence, when Śākyamuni first arrived beneath the bodhi tree, wishing to practice the Buddhadharma, he reflected inwardly on mindfulness of the breath — first counting, second following, and on through stilling, contemplating, returning, and purifying — exactly as given in full in the Sūtra of Auspicious Manifestations.

Furthermore: when Āryadeva first appeared in the world, having already subdued the non-Buddhist teachers, people everywhere came to believe in and revere him, and those he brought across into the monastic life were beyond counting. At one point, a great assembly gathered — lay and ordained disciples of the seven assemblies, together with kṣatriyas, brāhmaṇas, and others — and, in the midst of this great assembly, he ascended the lion's seat, and tears fell from him like rain. At that moment, the whole assembly silently wondered: "Could it be that the Buddhadharma is about to be extinguished, and the non-Buddhist paths about to flourish again? Or could it be that the kingdom is about to fall into great turmoil, plague and pestilence about to spread?"

The bodhisattva, knowing at once what was in the assembly's mind, wiped away his tears with a white cotton cloth, straightened his robes and bearing, raised his right hand, and said: "Neither is the Buddhadharma about to be extinguished, nor are the non-Buddhist paths about to flourish; neither is the kingdom about to fall into unrest, nor is plague about to spread. I grieve only that the sun of the Buddha has already set beneath the horizon, that the moon of the sages and noble ones has already sunk from view, and that, within these very monastic robes gathered here, there is, in truth, nothing left within them at all."

Upon hearing these words, the whole assembly, each moved to sorrow, wept aloud together. At that moment, the birds and various creatures in the open sky scattered and fell in confusion, all crying out in grief as well.

The bodhisattva then, with a voice gentle and full of compassion, consoled the assembly, speaking this verse:
"The sun of the Buddha forever remains in the world; it is only the eyeless who fail to see it.
The moon of the sages and noble ones has never truly set; it is only obstruction that keeps it from view.
Should you cleanse away the film clouding your own eyes, you would see it for yourselves at once —
Why, then, sink into an ocean of grief, deluded and drunk like a newborn child?"
At that, the assembly, hearing the bodhisattva's compassionate voice, each awakened in mind, gathered themselves, and sat down in peace, still and silent, gazing intently at the bodhisattva, all wishing to hear the Dharma. The bodhisattva then addressed the whole assembly, speaking this verse:
"The Buddha spoke of the gate to the deathless, named ānāpāna —
Among every dharma-gate whatsoever, it is the foremost path to peace and stability.
It arises through causes and conditions in due sequence, unmixed with any deluded thought,
Just as a planted pomegranate seed sends up its sprout and stem in due sequence.
Its flowers, fruit, and their color and flavor arise naturally, not something that can be forced —
When the time comes, one bears witness to it oneself; it is not like applying rouge or powder to the skin.
You who have properly cultivated this ground — I now bestow on you the pomegranate's own seed,
That your minds may enter the gate to the deathless, the dharma of the path arising in due sequence."

From this time onward, the teacher-masters of the Western Lands have transmitted this without interruption, for the most part taking this very method as the starting point of study on the path. If even the four kinds of reliance and the great beings, the bodhisattvas possessing the six supernormal powers, take this as their own opening proclamation when expounding the Dharma to liberate others, how could it not be the very first gate into the path?

In this latter age, those who inherit the transmission and teach the Dharma to others, without cultivating dhyāna themselves, having no inward path of their own, speak out and thereby only destroy others' own cultivation of concentration instead. Looking at what Āryadeva himself taught, dhyāna-concentration is precisely what is essential — the inverted state of people in this world is truly something to lament! There are, further, those who say: "The dharma of dhyāna should, without exception, never be expounded before an assembly at all." But respectfully examining Āryadeva's own example — expounding dhyāna-concentration at length before a great assembly — how, then, could one simply close one's mouth entirely in the present age? One should simply avoid saying: "I myself have realized this dharma," or "So-and-so has realized this dharma," or speaking of dhyāna's own secret and subtle states to others — to speak of these things to another incurs no small offense.

Third, clarifying the marks of realizing dhyāna: discussing realization broadly, together with the expedient means, this itself has three stages — the mark of realizing desire-realm concentration; the mark of realizing the "not-yet-arrived" concentration; and directly clarifying the mark of realizing the first dhyāna.

First, clarifying the realization of desire-realm concentration: this itself has two parts — directly clarifying its mark, and clarifying its gain and loss. Here, within the desire realm, three stages are given: the mind coarsely settling; the mind finely settling; and the realization of desire-realm concentration proper.

As for the mark of coarse settling: through the various expedient means of the path of the breath already cultivated, the mind gradually grows empty and fixed, no longer chasing after objects of thought — this is called coarse settling. As for the mark of fine settling: afterward, the mind grows ever more indistinct and refined — this is precisely the fine-settling mind. Upon reaching this coarse or fine settling, or as one is about to reach it, a body-sustaining phenomenon is bound to arise. When this phenomenon arises, body and mind become naturally upright, sitting without fatigue, as though something were sustaining the body — and, when this sustaining is proper, it merely, faintly, lends support to the body's own strength. But if it is a coarse form of body-sustaining instead, it is rigid, tense, and forceful — arriving with a strained, forced rigidity, and departing leaving the body slack and exhausted; this is not the proper phenomenon.

Once the mind has grown fine, the awakened mind itself becomes naturally bright and pure, according with concentration; the dharma of concentration then sustains the mind, unmoved of its own accord, proceeding from the shallow into the deep — sometimes throughout an entire sitting, with no thought of it scattering at all. This is why this state is called desire-realm concentration: upon entering this concentration, the marks of the desire realm's own retributive body have not yet been entirely exhausted.

Second, clarifying gain and loss: upon entering desire-realm concentration, the mind of this dharma is still shallow, not yet sustained by any factor, and so is difficult to attain and easy to lose. The causes and conditions of this easy loss are matters one must recognize. Loss of concentration is of two kinds.

First, loss through an external condition: this means that, at the very time concentration is attained, the mind is applied improperly, some fault is committed partway through in the external or internal expedient means, and dhyāna-concentration thereby regresses and is lost. Furthermore: if the practitioner, at the very moment of attaining concentration, either speaks of it to others, or displays some outward sign of concentration so that others become aware of it, or some sudden matter or condition arises and disrupts it — such various external matters as these, if not recognized and understood within, allow the obstructing dharma to arise, and concentration is thereupon lost. If one is able to guard and protect it properly, what has already been attained is not lost, and no obstruction is allowed to arise — hence this is called "attaining" it.

Second, discussing gain and loss in terms of internal causes: there are six kinds of dharma able to cause the loss of dhyāna-concentration — a mind of expectation; a mind of doubt; fright; great joy; excessive attachment; and worry and regret. Before dhyāna is attained, there is one of these: a mind of expectation. Upon entering dhyāna, there are four: doubt, fright, joy, and attachment. Upon emerging from dhyāna, worry and regret are frequently present — and this alone is enough to break apart the concentrated mind, causing it to regress and be lost. Speaking of these six generally, they may all occur before entering, while abiding within, or upon emerging from concentration alike; wherever any of these six dharmas is present, concentration is liable to regress and be lost; and if one is able to remain free of these six dharmas, concentration is thereby easily attained. Because it is thus not lost, this is called "attaining" it. Although this may seem a minor matter, if it were not explained, people would have no way of knowing it; properly grasping its sense, one comes to recognize the obstruction itself.

Second, clarifying the mark of realizing the "not-yet-arrived" concentration: following this desire-realm concentration, body and mind become indistinct and vacantly open, the sense of the desire-realm body itself lost — while sitting, one no longer sees one's own head, hands, or the seat beneath, as though it were all empty space. This is the "not-yet-arrived" concentration. As for what is meant by "not-yet-arrived": this stage is able to give rise to the first dhyāna, and so is precisely the first dhyāna's own preliminary concentration — also called the future dhyāna, and also called the suddenly deepened mind. When this concentration is realized, it is not without its own marks of shallowness and depth, though these are not given in full detail here.

Furthermore: within concentrations such as these, there may also be deviance and falsity present, which the practitioner should be able to recognize; its marks are not of one kind only, though, in brief, two matters are given: the concentrated mind being excessively bright; and being excessively dark — both of these are deviant concentration. As for excessive brightness: upon entering concentration, one sees external states of blue, yellow, red, and white, or sees the sun, moon, and stars, or palaces and other such things, or, for a full day or even as long as seven days, fails to emerge from dhyāna-concentration, seeing all manner of things as though one had attained supernormal powers — this is deviant, and one should urgently rid oneself of it. As for excessive darkness: if, upon entering this concentration, one becomes dark and dull, aware of nothing at all, no different from being deeply asleep — this is precisely a state without any mental activity at all, able to cause the practitioner to give rise to an inverted mind; one should urgently repel this as well. This, in brief, describes the marks of deviant concentration; the difficulties involved cannot be conveyed in full through writing.

Furthermore: were one to follow the Satyasiddhi-śāstra or the Abhidharma in distinguishing these two concentrations, this would not prove convenient here. Here, instead, the distinction between these two concentrations as clarified by the Venerable Ghoṣa is followed, which should likewise be without fault — exactly as already cited above from the Mahāyāna treatise's own explanation. And, having observed many practitioners at the actual moment of realizing concentration, there are, in truth, two genuinely differing marks of concentration present — hence desire-realm concentration and the "not-yet-arrived" concentration are here said to be each distinct from the other.

Third, clarifying the marks of realizing the first dhyāna: this itself has six kinds — naming the first dhyāna's own mark of arising; clarifying its factors; clarifying its cause, effect, substance, and function; clarifying its depth; clarifying its progress and regression; and clarifying its merits.

First, directly clarifying the mark of the first dhyāna's own arising: this, in turn, has four parts — directly clarifying the mark of the first dhyāna arising; distinguishing dharmas that are not truly dhyāna; explaining the causes and conditions of its arising; and distinguishing the deviant from the correct.

First, as for the mark of the first dhyāna's arising: the practitioner, within the "not-yet-arrived" state, realizes the sixteen tactile sensations brought to completion — this is precisely the mark of the first dhyāna's own arising. What is meant by "realizing" this? If the practitioner, within the "not-yet-arrived" state, enters concentration ever more deeply, body and mind empty and still, seeing neither what is within nor without — whether for a single day or as long as seven, whether for a month or as long as a year — and, should the concentrated mind remain unbroken, guarded and protected, growing ever further, then, within this very concentration, one suddenly feels body and mind grow fixed and still, and then set into motion, stirring gradually; and, at the very moment of this stirring, one becomes aware, little by little, of having a body once again, moving and arising like a cloud or a shadow — arising, perhaps, from above, or from below, or from the waist, gradually spreading through the whole body. Arising from above tends, for the most part, toward regression; arising from below tends, for the most part, toward progress. At the very moment this sensation of movement arises, its merit is measureless. In brief, ten kinds of wholesome dharma arise together with it, as its own retinue. What are these ten? Concentration; emptiness; brightness and purity; joy and delight; happiness; the arising of a wholesome mind; clear knowledge and vision; freedom from entanglement and liberation; states manifesting directly before one; and a mind grown pliant and soft. These ten dharmas, arising together with this sensation of movement, are called the retinue of movement — the wondrous, excellent merit that adorns the dharma of movement. Were this to be distinguished in full, it could hardly be exhausted; this, in brief, describes the initial mark of the tactile sensation of movement.

In this way, whether over the course of a single day, or ten days, or a month, or four months, or even a full year, once this matter has passed, further tactile sensations arise in turn, one after another — hence this is named the first dhyāna. These further sensations that arise are the eight tactile sensations: movement; itching; coolness; warmth; lightness; heaviness; roughness; and smoothness. There are, further, eight more tactile sensations: agitation; pliancy; cold; heat; floating; sinking; firmness; and softness. Although these eight resemble the previous eight in their marks, upon fine distinction they are not without their own small differences, and so are given separate names — together with the first eight, these make sixteen tactile sensations in all.

Whenever these sixteen kinds of tactile sensation arise, each is accompanied by wholesome dharmas and merit as its own retinue, exactly as described above for the sensation of movement. The practitioner, through the "not-yet-arrived" state, brings forth such various tactile sensations, merit, and wholesome dharmas as these — hence this is called the first arising of the first dhyāna. All of this belongs to the pure four elements of the form realm, arising within the body of the desire realm itself — hence the Mahāyāna treatise says that the form derived from the four elements of the form realm attaches itself within the body of the desire realm.

Second, distinguishing dharmas that are not truly dhyāna. Question: a practitioner, within the very first sitting, before the concentrated mind is even attained, may likewise bring forth such sensations as cold, warmth, or movement, without any of the merit described above being present at all — some say: "This is simply the arising of illness." Why is this? Sensations such as heaviness and roughness arise from an illness of the earth element; sensations such as lightness and movement arise from an illness of the wind element; sensations such as heat and itching arise from an illness of the fire element; and sensations such as cold and smoothness arise from an illness of the water element. Furthermore: warmth, heat, and itching give rise to the hindrance of craving; heaviness, smoothness, and sinking give rise to the hindrance of drowsiness; movement, floating, and cold give rise to the hindrance of restlessness and regret; rigidity and roughness give rise to the hindrance of doubt; and heaviness, firmness, and roughness give rise to the hindrance of anger. One should know that, when such sensations arise, they are able to cause illness to arise within the four elements, and to give rise to the obstructing dharma of the five hindrances as well.

Others say this is the work of a demon: whenever the sensation of movement arises, exactly as described above and even beyond what was said there, all of it is a demon's own sensation arising — how, then, could this possibly be taken as the first dhyāna? Answer: this does not follow. If the mark of the sensation's arising is exactly as you have just described, this is a sensation that gives rise to illness and to the hindrances. If it is exactly as described above, and even intensifies beyond it, this too is the mark of a demon's sensation arising. What is being described here, however, is not this: if, before the "not-yet-arrived" concentration is even attained, a sensation arises first, this is, for the most part, an illness-sensation, or one that gives rise to the hindrances, or one that is the demon's own work. And if, when a sensation arises, none of the ten kinds of merit described above is present as its retinue, this too is an illness-sensation, hindrance-arising, or demon-sensation. What is described here as the sensation's arising, however, necessarily arises through the "not-yet-arrived" concentration, and is necessarily accompanied by every one of these merits as its retinue, arising together with it — hence this alone is taken as the mark of the first dhyāna's own arising. What room, then, is there for doubt?

Question: if a sensation arises before the "not-yet-arrived" state, is this always simply the arising of illness, the hindrances, or a demon's work — or is there also a sensation that treats illness and removes the hindrances without being the work of any demon? Answer: yes, this sense holds as well. Question: if this is so, how does it differ from the first dhyāna's own sensation? Answer: it does differ. Although the desire realm may have sensations that treat illness and remove the hindrances without being the work of any demon, these are still not the first dhyāna's own sensations — they remain simply the four elements' own material dharma within the desire realm, unable to bring forth concentration, without any of the wholesome dharma of a grove of factors present — hence they are not named the first dhyāna. This, in brief, sets out the marks of wholesome and unwholesome sensation within the desire realm; it is simply that, in a practitioner's very first sitting, one or two of these may sometimes be realized, or none at all may be realized. Since this dharma does exist, however, it is given here in brief. Question: does the "not-yet-arrived" state, too, give rise to the desire realm's own wholesome and unwholesome sensations? Answer: yes, this sense is not absent there either.

Third, clarifying that dhyāna's arising has two causes and conditions.

First: from the very outset of cultivating dhyāna, without regard for toil or hardship, once a wholesome mind and the power of one's own effort come to completion, the result is naturally brought about of itself — as the Lotus Sūtra says: "Rewards bestowed according to merit, extending even to dhyāna-concentration, the faculties, the powers, and such matters." Furthermore, one master says: "This corresponds to the ten wholesome actions" — though this sense is difficult to see clearly.

Second: the five aggregates of the form realm come to dwell within the body of the desire realm, coarse and fine at odds with one another, and so such matters as the sensations of agitation, movement, and the rest arise. It is like a person in the world whose sorrow and vexation give rise to an inward knot or blockage, obstructed and unable to flow freely, causing the four elements to suffer their own feverish distress — arising from the mind itself, even to the point of falling ill and dying from it, a suffering that never comes from outside at all. Here, in this dhyāna, the matter of tactile joy is exactly the same, arising from the mind as well: through counting the breath, the mind is made soft and fine, and, as the various dharmas of concentration are cultivated, the concentration-dharma of the form realm, dwelling within the body of the desire realm, comes into contact with the desire realm's own retributive body — hence the sixteen tactile sensations arise, one after another, in sequence, likewise never coming from outside, yet still able to be felt; hence they are named "tactile sensations."

Although these are eight in one counting and sixteen in another, all of them arise with reference to the four elements, born from the four elements themselves: within earth, four — heaviness, sinking, firmness, and roughness; within water, four — coolness, cold, softness, and smoothness; within fire, four — warmth, heat, pliancy, and itching; within wind, four — movement, agitation, lightness, and floating. Hence the Golden Light Sūtra says: "The two serpents of earth and water are sinking by nature; the two serpents of wind and fire are light and rising by nature."

Question: if these arise from the four elements, there should be only four of them — how can there be sixteen? Answer: this comes about through their combining with one another. Heat, for instance, is the very substance of fire; combined with water, it gives warmth; combined with wind, it gives itching; combined with earth, it gives pliancy — and, once combined with all three of the others, it loses its own original mark of heat, hence four are spoken of. Each of the remaining three elements likewise combines with the other three in the same way, and may be understood by this same pattern. Furthermore: each of these sixteen tactile sensations carries its own ten kinds of wholesome, meritorious dharma, which, combined together, come to one hundred sixty dharmas in all — though a person, in the very first sitting where this dharma arises, need not bring forth every one of them; some bring forth only three or five. This, in brief, is set out here.

Question: do these eight — or sixteen — tactile sensations arise in a fixed sequence, or not? Among the various sensations, which arises first? Answer: discussing their sequence, there is, in fact, no fixed order beforehand. Although, when the causes and conditions of the four elements come together, whichever is strongest tends to arise first, it is nonetheless most commonly observed that people's sensations arise beginning with movement, exactly as already explained above. Fourth, distinguishing the marks of the deviant and the correct: this is given in full already, within the internal expedient means, in the discussion of verifying wholesome and unwholesome capacity's clarification of the genuine and the false; this should be distinguished at length there.

Second, clarifying the meaning of the factors: this, too, opens into three parts — explaining the name "factor"; explaining the meaning of "factor"; and distinguishing the marks of the factors.

First, explaining the name "factor": the first dhyāna has five factors — the factor of initial thought; the factor of sustained reflection; the factor of joy; the factor of happiness; and the factor of one-pointedness of mind. Initial thought is the initial mind's own awakening, and is called "initial thought." Sustained reflection is the subsequent fine mind's own discrimination, and is called "sustained reflection." A mind of celebration and delight is called "joy." A mind of tranquil ease is called "happiness." Being still and undispersed is called "one-pointedness of mind." As for why these five factors are established: with reference to the unwholesome, they serve to break through the five desires and the five hindrances; with reference to the wholesome dharmas, they correspond to the practice of the five dharmas. Hence the Exegetical Treatise says: "Leaving behind the five hindrances, practicing the five dharmas, complete in the five factors — one enters the first dhyāna."

Second, explaining the meaning of "factor": as the Yingluo Sūtra says, "dhyāna is named a grove of factors" — this is precisely a statement made with reference to both the general and the particular senses of the term together. As for "factor": its meaning is that of branching apart. It is like a tree: because of its root and trunk, it has branches and twigs; the root and trunk are one, while the branches and twigs are many and varied. The meaning of "factor" within dhyāna is exactly the same — from a single concentrated mind, five factors come forth; this is the particular sense within the general. As for "grove": it is like a grove, which, because of its many trees together, comes to be called a grove. The meaning of "dhyāna" is exactly the same: the five factors combined together, taken as a whole, receive the name "dhyāna." This is precisely the general sense within the particular. Hence it is known that, whenever "dhyāna" is spoken of, the five factors are thereby already implied, just as, upon hearing the name "grove," one already knows there must be trees, and branches and twigs as well.

Furthermore, some say: "the meaning is that of branches sustaining the trunk." Just as, within desire-realm concentration and the "not-yet-arrived" state, although a single, still, concentrated mind is present, the five factors — initial thought, sustained reflection, and the rest — are not yet present together to sustain it like branches, and so the concentrated mind remains shallow and slight, easily lost; but once the first dhyāna is attained, the dharmas of initial thought, sustained reflection, and the rest are all present, and the concentrated mind is thereby made secure and firm, difficult to break apart.

Third, distinguishing the marks of the factors: if the Ābhidharma masters distinguish these marks, they do so strictly with reference to the twenty-two mental factors, taking up and setting aside among them to distinguish the marks of the five factors — their own sense is given in full elsewhere. What this school clarifies is, in brief, of two kinds: the particular; and the general.

First, explaining the marks of the five factors particularly. What is meant by "initial thought"? Initial thought means tactile awareness, and is of two kinds: initial thought that accomplishes dhyāna; and initial thought that ruins dhyāna. It is like wind: there is a wind able to bring rain, and a wind able to ruin rain, exactly as already described above. Within the sixteen tactile sensations, whichever sensation carries the ten kinds of wholesome dharma as its retinue, peacefully adorning it, is initial thought that accomplishes dhyāna, as already described above; whichever sensation carries the twenty unwholesome dharmas instead is initial thought that ruins dhyāna. Furthermore, "initial thought" also means to be startled awake. This faculty belongs to the body-faculty, since a body possessed of sentience differs from wood or stone, and so, in response to a tactile sensation, an awareness arises. As the sūtra speaks of the meaning of seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing: seeing belongs to the eye; hearing belongs to the ear; smell and tactile sensing belong to the body; and knowing belongs to the mind — though it also applies to the tongue, since it has an additional function there as well.

Question: as the sūtra says that the six kinds of contact, through causes and conditions, give rise to sensation — how, then, can "sensing contact" belong only to the body? Answer: this is spoken of in general terms. When spoken of generally, "seeing" is also said to include "hearing," and the same holds for the rest by the same pattern; here, however, discussing "initial thought" in its particular sense, it corresponds precisely to the body. Within the "not-yet-arrived" concentration, the sixteen tactile sensations arise, coming into contact with the body-faculty and giving rise to consciousness, aware of the mark of the sensation that has just occurred — hence this is named the factor of initial thought.

Furthermore, "initial thought" also means being startled into awakening: the practitioner, attaining the first dhyāna, having never before attained such wholesome dharma and merit, the mind is greatly startled into awakening. Having long been burned by the fire of desire, upon attaining the first dhyāna, it is like a person entering a cool, refreshing pool. Yet this awakening, when it arises, differs from the awakening that arises through the body-faculty within the desire realm — why is this? Because it arises together, at one and the same time, with concentration and the other wholesome dharmas. Hence the verse says: "Like a poor person finding a buried treasure, great joy stirs and moves the mind." Hence it is said that the initial mind's coarse thought is what is called "initial thought." This differs slightly from how the Ābhidharma masters clarify the same sense — a distinction worth noting.

Second, explaining the factor of sustained reflection: the subsequent fine mind's own discrimination is called "sustained reflection." Having already discriminated the sensation's own arising, the mind of right mindfulness deliberates and discriminates further, recognizing that, the moment the sensation first arose, it was already vastly different from any wholesome dharma of the desire realm or the "not-yet-arrived" state. Why is this? Because, within this very sensation, various treasures of wholesome dharma are present, arising together with it — treasures the desire realm itself does not possess at all. Furthermore, "discrimination" here means distinguishing that the marks of the dharma-treasures within the sixteen tactile sensations are themselves not all the same — recognizing the coarse, one leaves it behind; recognizing the wholesome, one cultivates it further — and this fine mind's own discrimination is what is named the factor of sustained reflection. Hence the sūtra says: "Discrimination is what is called sustained reflection."

Question: if this is so, how does this differ from initial thought? Answer: as the treatise says: "A coarse mind resting on its object is called initial thought; a fine mind discriminating is called sustained reflection." A further question: the Abhidharma says that initial thought and sustained reflection occur within a single mind — how, then, can they now be said to be two? Answer: although the two dharmas occur within a single mind, their two marks are not present simultaneously — that is, when initial thought is present, sustained reflection is not yet clear, and when sustained reflection is present, initial thought is no longer clear. It is like striking a bell: although the bell's sound is a single sound, it nonetheless has a coarse phase and a fine phase, differing from one another. Initial thought and sustained reflection within a single mind are exactly the same. Furthermore: correspondence with the body-faculty and body-consciousness is called initial thought; correspondence with the mind-faculty and mind-consciousness is called sustained reflection. Body-consciousness is outwardly dull, and so is called coarse; mind-consciousness is inwardly sharp, and so is able to discriminate, and is called fine. Although these two take the very same single sensation as their common object, their two marks are not present together — hence this is the factor of sustained reflection.

Third, clarifying the factor of joy: seeing, through the fine mind's own discrimination and deliberation, that one has come to be aware of the subtle treasures within the sixteen tactile sensations, never before encountered — the mind is thereby joyful and delighted. Knowing, further, that what was lost, the pleasure of desire, was exceedingly slight, while what is now gained, the merit of the first dhyāna, is a pleasure exceedingly great: such initial thought and sustained reflection benefit oneself no small amount, and a deeply celebratory mind, leaping with joy beyond measure, is what is named the factor of joy.

Fourth, the factor of happiness: the practitioner, after this joy, the mind grown tranquil, receives the happiness present within the sensation itself — the dharma of happiness delighting the mind, at peace and content — this is named the factor of happiness. Question: how do joy and happiness differ? Answer: exactly as initial thought and sustained reflection were distinguished above, joy and happiness follow the same pattern: coarse pleasure is named joy, and fine pleasure is named happiness; or, alternatively, it may be said that coarse joy is joy, and fine joy is happiness. Furthermore, although joy and happiness are both marks of delight, the two marks nonetheless differ: correspondence with the joy-faculty is named joy; correspondence with the happiness-faculty is named happiness. A mind leaping with excitement is named joy; a mind at tranquil rest is named happiness. Furthermore: when the practitioner first takes happiness as an object, the mind gives rise to joy but has not yet actually received the happiness itself — this is named joy; afterward, once the sense of joy has come to rest, delighting in the happiness itself — this is named happiness. It is like a hungry person obtaining food: at first obtaining it, joy arises, but its taste has not yet actually been received — this is named joy; afterward, actually eating it, one then receives the happiness within its taste — this is named happiness. And, further still, the third dhyāna has happiness but no joy at all — hence it is known that these two faculties genuinely differ from one another.

Fifth, the factor of one-pointedness of mind: after happiness has long been received, the mind of happiness comes to rest; although the events of initial thought and sensation are still present, the mind no longer takes them as its object. Being now free of any scattering, concentration abides in stillness — this is named the factor of one-pointedness of mind. This, in brief, describes the first dhyāna's five factors, arising in sequence, and, with reference to their completion, establishes the meaning of "factor."

Third, clarifying substance and function: this itself has two parts — clarifying cause and effect; and clarifying substance and function.

First, as for cause and effect: discussed broadly, cultivating the external and internal expedient means and entering the "not-yet-arrived" state and the rest serve as the cause, and attaining the first dhyāna as its result serves as the effect. Discussed narrowly, however, the first dhyāna alone has its own cause and effect. Some say: "the four factors serve as the cause, and the subsequent factor of one-pointedness of mind serves as the effect" — but this has no textual basis. Here, following the Yingluo Sūtra's own explanation of the dhyāna-factors, the five factors serve as the cause, and the sixth, the mind of noble silence, serves as the substance of concentration — taking this substance itself as the effect. Discussed generally, cause and effect may be found in every factor causing the next in turn.

Second, clarifying substance and function: taking the mind of noble silence once again as the substance of concentration, from this silent contact the five factors are further stirred and brought forth — this, then, is the function. Why is this? Function arises from substance, and so function comes afterward while cause is what precedes it. Question: if cause and function, substance and effect, are thus paired, is there then no distinction between them at all? Answer: this does not follow. Although the five factors are used, in both cases, to clarify cause and function, and noble silence to clarify substance and effect, their sense nonetheless differs. Why is this? Within the sense of cause, the five factors serve to bring about the effect of noble silence. Within the sense of function, it is the effect of noble silence that gives rise to the dharma of the five factors — here, noble silence serves as substance, and the five factors serve as function. This is comparable to the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment: what precedes the path serves as cause, and what follows the path serves as function. Question: at times, from the substance of noble silence, a superior grade of the five factors is brought forth, and afterward an even more excellent noble silence is attained — what is the sense of this? Answer: if this is so, then cause and effect should indeed be spoken of once again; but where there is no superior grade involved, it is simply a matter of substance and function.

Fourth, clarifying depth: when the first dhyāna arises, the five factors and the mind of noble silence are not without their own differences of coarseness and fineness from one moment to the next, and so there is shallowness and depth, which must be properly distinguished. Why is this? As the treatise says: "When the Buddha's disciples cultivate the various dhyānas, there is a lower, a middle, and an upper grade, named the three grades; and, separating out each of these three grades into three further grades in turn, there are nine grades of shallowness and depth in all. Examined finely, there should be measureless grades beyond even this." Non-Buddhist practitioners, too, attain concentrations with their own shallowness and depth, though this is not spoken of in terms of grades for them, since their minds are coarse, unable to perceive it within concentration itself, and, not cultivating the uncontaminated wisdom that illuminates it, the mind fails to become aware of it at all.

Within establishing these grades to clarify depth, there are, in turn, two senses: with reference to the same kind; and with reference to differing kinds. As for the same kind: as when the single sensation of movement arises, one becomes aware of it growing gradually deeper, all the way through nine grades. As for differing kinds: as when, once the sensation of movement has passed, some other sensation then arises in turn — although the marks of the sensations differ, the sense of concentration nonetheless grows gradually deeper, surpassing what came before. Furthermore, with reference to the five factors, depth may likewise be clarified in two senses: with reference to the same kind, as when the five factors arise together with a given sensation, there is already a mark of shallowness and depth present; and with reference to differing kinds, as when the five factors grow and increase one after another in sequence, each single factor, in turn, also has its own mark of shallowness and depth.

Question: must all sixteen tactile sensations arise together, complete in full, before something can be named the first dhyāna — or can even a single sensation arising also be named the first dhyāna? Answer: the first dhyāna is of two kinds: complete; and incomplete. If all sixteen sensations arise together in full, this is precisely the complete first dhyāna, and is superior; but if only one or two sensations arise, this too may be named the first dhyāna. Why is this? Because even a single sensation is already complete with the ten dharmas of concentration, its retinue of five factors already accomplished — it is simply that this form of the first dhyāna is not called "complete."

Fifth, clarifying progress and regression: at the time the first dhyāna is realized, there are four kinds of practitioner, differing in capacity — those prone to regression; those who abide; those who progress; and those who penetrate through.

First, as for those prone to regression: some people, upon attaining the first dhyāna, whether through some cause and condition or through none at all, regress and lose it. This loss is of two kinds: regaining it through further cultivation; or failing to regain it even through further cultivation, owing to some obstructing dharma from the past or the present life. In this latter age, those prone to regression of this kind are many.

Second, as for those who abide: some people, having attained the first dhyāna, do not regress or lose it at all, the concentrated mind remaining secure. Abiding, too, is of two kinds: abiding spontaneously, of its own accord; and abiding only through guarding and protecting it.

Third, as for those who progress: some people, upon attaining the first dhyāna, immediately progress further to a superior grade, and even progress all the way to a higher stage. Progress, too, is of two kinds: progressing spontaneously, without any application of effort; and progressing only through diligent cultivation.

Fourth, as for those who penetrate through: some people, upon attaining the first dhyāna, within this very concentration, at once bring forth the uncontaminated attainment of the path of vision and the path of cultivation, penetrating through all the way to nirvāṇa. This too is of two kinds: penetrating through spontaneously, of its own accord; and penetrating through only through cultivating contemplation.

Furthermore, within these four divisions of concentration, there are, in turn, four further kinds of practitioner differing in capacity, exactly as the four given within the "prone to regression" division: some regress and, having regressed, remain merely at regression — the nine grades gradually regressing, all the way to total loss; some regress and, having regressed, come to abide — the nine grades regressing to the eighth or seventh grade, and then abiding there without further loss; some regress and, having regressed, come to progress — the nine grades regressing to the eighth or seventh grade, or even to the first grade, and then progressing forward again from that first grade; and some regress and, having regressed, come to penetrate through — the nine grades having already regressed back to the eighth, seventh, or even the first grade, and then, in the midst of this very interval, suddenly bringing forth the true uncontaminated attainment. The remaining divisions — abiding, progressing, and penetrating through — each likewise have these same four further senses. Among these, regression may occur due to the obstruction of heedlessness, or abiding, progress, and penetration may occur due to the purity brought about through repentance — this sense is itself manifold, and cannot be distinguished here in full.

Sixth, clarifying the merit of the first dhyāna: as the verse already cited above says, "Having already gained freedom from the fire of lust, one obtains a cool, refreshing concentration." This verse may itself be understood as two kinds of merit: the merit of freedom from fault; and the merit of a wholesome mind. This corresponds to the two forms of wholesomeness, stopping and practice, and may likewise be compared to the two merits of wisdom and severance. Hence the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra says: "The first dhyāna is named both 'freedom' and 'completeness.' As for 'freedom': this means freedom from the five hindrances. As for 'completeness': this means completeness in the five factors."

Here, it is explained why, upon attaining the first dhyāna, one gains freedom from the hindrance of craving: the pleasure of the desire realm is coarse and shallow, while the pleasure now attained through the first dhyāna is fine and subtle — the superior displacing the inferior, and so one is able to gain freedom from the five desires. As for gaining freedom from anger: within the desire realm, the oppressive conditions of suffering give rise to anger; upon attaining the first dhyāna, there is no such oppression present at all, and, with a state of happiness held in the mind, there is no anger. As for being able to gain freedom from drowsiness: upon attaining the first dhyāna, body and mind grow bright and pure, sustained by the dharma of concentration, the mind no longer dull or disordered, delighting of itself in the joy of the tactile sensation — hence there is no drowsiness. As for being able to gain freedom from restlessness and regret: dhyāna-concentration sustains the mind, unmoved of its own accord, and so one is able to gain freedom from restlessness; and since regret arises on account of restlessness, where there is no restlessness, there is no regret either. As for gaining freedom from doubt: before attaining the first dhyāna, one doubts whether concentration exists or not; now, having personally realized concentration, the doubting mind is thereby removed — hence one gains freedom from doubt as well. Hence, upon attaining the first dhyāna, one is complete in every one of these merits of freedom from fault.

As for being complete in the merit of a wholesome mind upon attaining the first dhyāna: this is clarified with reference to the five factors' own merit and wholesome dharma, the sense of which is as already given above. Furthermore, upon attaining the first dhyāna, one is also complete in such wholesome states of mind as faith, moral discipline, generosity, concentration, learning, and wisdom.

Next, clarifying the second dhyāna: as the verse says: "Knowing that these two dharmas disturb the mind, though wholesome, they should be left behind. Like a great body of water, still and clear, once its waves have settled, nothing further is seen stirring it. It is like a person, utterly exhausted, resting in peaceful sleep — should a shout suddenly call out, the mind is greatly disturbed and troubled. Gathering the mind to enter dhyāna, initial thought and sustained reflection are themselves felt as a disturbance; hence, removing initial thought and sustained reflection, one is able to enter the abode of a single consciousness. Because the inner mind becomes pure, concentration arises and joy and happiness are attained; entering this second dhyāna, joy leaps up and the mind is greatly delighted." The Buddha, within this verse, clarifies at length the marks of both the intermediate dhyāna and the second dhyāna. Here, the second dhyāna is clarified in three parts: explaining the name; clarifying its cultivation; and clarifying the marks of its realization.

First, explaining the name: coming after the first dhyāna, it is thus called the second dhyāna. Having left behind initial thought and sustained reflection, at this second stage of mind one attains a superior factor of merit — hence it is named the second dhyāna, also called the samādhi without initial thought or sustained reflection. Why is this? Upon attaining the intermediate dhyāna, initial thought is cut off; and, as the second dhyāna's own inner purity arises, sustained reflection is cut off as well — hence it is also called the noble concentration of silence, since the path of language through initial thought and sustained reflection has been extinguished, and so it is named "silence." Should one attain uncontaminated right wisdom and enter this concentration, it is then named noble silence in the fullest sense. The Bodhisattva-bhūmi Treatise names it "the dhyāna joined with joy," since, when this concentration arises, it arises together with joy.

Second, cultivation: this itself has two parts — clarifying the method of cultivation; and clarifying the realization of the intermediate dhyāna.

Here, clarifying the cultivation of the second dhyāna: an ordinary person should first cultivate the six practices; a disciple of the Buddha, for the most part, cultivates the eight noble lineages instead — the sense of the noble lineages has already been given above. As for the six practices: within the first dhyāna's sixth factor, the mind of noble silence, one grows weary of and turns away from initial thought and sustained reflection, contemplating the first dhyāna as inferior and as suffering — knowing that these two dharmas disturb and trouble the concentrated mind, and so are suffering; that, arising from initial thought and sustained reflection, joy, happiness, and concentration itself are thereby coarse; that this dharma of initial thought and sustained reflection obstructs the second dhyāna's own inner purity, and so is an obstruction; that reaching for what is superior, the second dhyāna's own inner purity and peace surpasses the first dhyāna's disturbed concentration troubled by initial thought and sustained reflection, and so is excellent; that the joy and concentration born through inner purity is subtle and wondrous; and that, upon attaining the second dhyāna, the mind gains release from the obstruction of initial thought and sustained reflection, and so is an exit.

Furthermore: the practitioner, already knowing that the fault of the first dhyāna obstructs the second, and now wishing to leave it far behind, should rely on three expedient means: gaining freedom through neither receiving nor becoming attached to it; gaining freedom through reproach; and gaining freedom through analytic contemplation. It is like people in the world who, having worked together with someone and then seen their faults, wish to see them go — they, too, use three methods: first, a person of superior wisdom simply withholds any warm expression, and the other departs of their own accord; second, if they do not leave, one must reproach them repeatedly, and they will then leave of their own accord; and third, if they still do not leave, one must apply the rod, and they will then be made to leave. If one grasps these same three senses, one is able to leave behind the fault of the first dhyāna's initial thought and sustained reflection.

Second, clarifying the mark of the intermediate dhyāna's arising: the practitioner, now able to reproach the first dhyāna's initial thought and sustained reflection with a deep and thorough mind, initial thought and sustained reflection thereby extinguished, the five factors and noble silence both pass away as well. Having left the first dhyāna behind, with the second dhyāna not yet arisen, there is, in the interval between them, a further concentration-dharma present as well, which may also be named dhyāna — though it is not yet secure or firm, without any factor to sustain and support it, and so the mind feels faint and fragmentary. The various masters, for the most part, speak of this as the "shifting stillness," the mind shifting away from the first dhyāna's own noble silence. The Exegetical Treatise names it "correspondence with contemplation," this concentration taking the contemplation of the six practices as its own substance, abiding within this very concentration.

Should one depart from the contemplation of the six practices, worry and regret arise in abundance instead. Once a mind of worry and regret has arisen, the second dhyāna will never be brought forth at all — and even this very "shifting stillness" will itself be lost; at times, the first dhyāna is instead brought forth once again, and, at other times, even the first dhyāna itself is lost along with it. Left, through this, with no proper footing at all, reaching this concentration and yet falling short of completion for the lack of a single basketful of earth — one must be exceedingly careful here. The sūtra speaks of this as the samādhi without initial thought but with sustained reflection alone: the first dhyāna and its noble silence having already passed away, one simply abides within the mind that corresponds with contemplation, cultivating the second dhyāna from there.

Third, clarifying the mark of the second dhyāna's own arising: this, too, opens into six parts — clarifying dhyāna's own arising; clarifying the meaning of its factors; clarifying its cause, effect, substance, and function; clarifying its depth; clarifying its progress and regression; and clarifying its merits.

First, clarifying the mark of the second dhyāna's own arising: the practitioner, within the intermediate dhyāna, the mind free of worry and regret, applies effort single-mindedly, devoted and unceasing; afterward, the mind grows calm and clear, without any scattering at all — this is named the "not-yet-arrived" state. Hence the treatise verse says, "one is able to enter the abode of a single consciousness" — this is precisely the arising of the second dhyāna's own preliminary concentration.

Question: the treatise speaks of a "not-yet-arrived" state only before the first dhyāna — why, then, is a "not-yet-arrived" state now spoken of before the second dhyāna as well? Answer: the treatise speaks in general terms, and so speaks of only a single such state. The Śāriputra-abhidharma-śāstra, however, speaks of four "not-yet-arrived" states and four intermediate dhyānas — here, following this same sense, a "not-yet-arrived" state and an intermediate state are spoken of at every stage.

Once this state has persisted for a long while without loss or regression, the mind applied single-mindedly and without ceasing, afterward the mind opens out, bright, pure, and radiant, the concentrated mind arising together with joy — just like a person emerging from a darkened room and seeing the sun and moon's own outer light, the mind opening out, bright and clear. The sense of the ten kinds of merit arising together as its retinue, through this very inner purity, is exactly as already given for the first dhyāna's own arising — differing only in that here they arise together through inner-purity concentration specifically. Furthermore, the second dhyāna's joy and happiness arise not from anything external at all, but from a single mind of pure clarity and great joy, wondrous and pure, surpassing the first dhyāna — hence the treatise says: "Because the inner mind becomes pure, concentration arises and joy and happiness are attained; entering this second dhyāna, joy leaps up and the mind is greatly delighted."

What is meant by "inner purity"? Discussed broadly, it is spoken of in contrast to external sense-objects; discussed narrowly, it is spoken of in contrast to inward defilement. Why is this? Just as, within the first dhyāna, when tactile happiness is attained, the body itself becomes bright and pure, and this, in turn, causes the mind to become pure as well — since tactile sensation corresponds to body-consciousness, this is named outer purity. Here, in relation to the first dhyāna's own outer purity, the second dhyāna's correspondence with mind-consciousness is said to be inner purity — and this, in turn, also causes the body to become pure; because the body is thereby purified, this is named outer purity in its own right. Inner purity is purity of mind — purity issuing from the mind causes the body, too, to become pure — hence it is called "inner" purity. As for saying it is spoken of in contrast to inward defilement: within the first dhyāna, the mind is stirred by initial thought and sustained reflection, and so this is named inward defilement; now, having attained the second dhyāna, the inner mind is free of the defilement of initial thought and sustained reflection, and so is named inner purity.

As for the phrase "concentration arises, and joy and happiness are attained": above, in the case of the first dhyāna, "birth" was spoken of; here, "concentration arises" is spoken of instead — what is the sense of this difference? Properly speaking, the first dhyāna is spoken of as "birth" because it leaves the desire realm behind and gives rise to the dharma of form-realm concentration; the second dhyāna, having no such sense of a further such birth, is instead spoken of simply as "concentration arising."

Question: if this is so, should the concentration of boundless space not likewise be spoken of as "birth"? Answer: this does not follow. The name has already been given once before, and so should not be spoken of again in the same way; and, further, the concentration of boundless space, though it leaves the form realm behind, has no grove-of-factors dharma arising at the moment concentration is brought forth, and so is not spoken of as "birth" either.

Question: the first dhyāna, too, has joy and happiness — how does this differ from the second dhyāna's own? Answer: there, joy and happiness arise from initial thought and sustained reflection, and correspond with body-consciousness. Here, joy and happiness arise from the inner mind itself, and correspond instead with mind-consciousness — this is how they differ.

Second, clarifying the meaning of the factors: the second dhyāna has four factors — inner purity; joy; happiness; and one-pointedness of mind. Here, the meaning of "factor" is clarified along the same pattern, having both a general and a particular sense — the meanings of "sustaining" and "branching apart" are as already given above.

First, as for the factor of inner purity: having left initial thought and sustained reflection behind, concentration is brought forth in reliance on the inwardly pure mind, radiant and distinct, free of any defilement — hence this is named the factor of inner purity. Second, the factor of joy: concentration arises together with joy, the practitioner deeply celebrating within, the inner mind giving rise to joy, concentration, and the other ten kinds of meritorious, wholesome dharma — delight beyond measure — hence this is named the factor of joy. Third, the factor of happiness: the practitioner receives the happiness present within this joy, tranquil, contented, and continuously delightful — hence this is named the factor of happiness. Fourth, the factor of one-pointedness of mind: the mind of happiness having come to rest, one no longer takes the inward joy and happiness of concentration as an object, nor takes any external thought or deliberation as an object either — the mind one-pointed and unmoving — hence this is named the factor of one-pointedness of mind.

Question: how is it that the Yingluo Sūtra establishes a factor of pliancy before one-pointedness of mind? Answer: this is still inner purity, simply given a different name after joy and happiness. Why is this? "Pliancy" means release, and release means ease — since there is, within, no defiling entanglement left at all, one is at ease and free, no longer troubled by sound's own sting or drawn along by initial thought and sustained reflection — hence it is called "pliancy." Question: why does the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra establish only three factors, without inner purity at all? Answer: that sūtra simply retains the essentials and omits the rest. Since the second dhyāna is named the concentration joined with joy, and joy is spoken of precisely because initial thought and sustained reflection have been left behind, the presence of inner-purity concentration is thereby already implied. The sense of the general and particular establishing of factors follows the same pattern as before, and may be understood accordingly.

Third, clarifying substance, function, cause, and effect: as the Yingluo Sūtra says, the second dhyāna's four factors serve as the cause, and the fifth, the mind of noble silence, serves as the substance of concentration — turning this back and forth to clarify the sense of cause, effect, substance, and function is no different from the first dhyāna. Fourth, clarifying depth: following the same pattern as the first dhyāna, proceeding from the initial grade in sequence to ever more excellent grades — this is the mark of shallowness and depth, which may be readily seen, and is not separately clarified here. Fifth, the sense of progress and regression follows the same pattern as the first dhyāna as well.

Sixth, clarifying merit: this itself again has two parts — the merit of freedom from fault; and the merit of a wholesome mind. Hence the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra says: "The second dhyāna is likewise named both 'freedom' and 'completeness.' As for 'freedom': this means freedom from the five hindrances. As for 'completeness': this means completeness in the four factors." As for freedom from fault: this means freedom from the fault of initial thought and sustained reflection. As for completeness: from the inner-purity, joyful mind, complete in itself, faith, reverence, shame, remorse, and the other six wholesome dharmas are brought forth.

Next, clarifying the mark of the third dhyāna. The meaning of this dhyāna, as the verse says:
"Gathering the mind into the foremost concentration, still and seeing nothing at all;
Troubled by suffering, one wishes to abandon it, just as initial thought and sustained reflection were once left behind.
Because of attachment there is suffering; losing joy, sorrow then arises.
Free of suffering, happy, and at bodily ease — one relinquishes mindfulness itself, and skillful means as well."
This verse clarifies in full the marks of the third dhyāna's cultivation and realization. Here, the meaning of the third dhyāna is explained, likewise in three parts: explaining the name; clarifying its cultivation; and clarifying its realization.

First, explaining the name of the third dhyāna: the practitioner, at this third stage of mind, attains five kinds of the wholesome dharma of a grove-of-factors' merit within concentration — hence it is named the third dhyāna. According to the Bodhisattva-bhūmi Treatise, it is named the dhyāna joined with happiness, since this concentration's own merit and retinue arise together with happiness pervading the whole body. It, too, still belongs to the samādhi without initial thought or sustained reflection, the concentration of noble silence — this is simply its general name; having already received its own name within the previous two dhyānas, it is not explained again here.

Second, explaining the method for cultivating the third dhyāna: as the first line and a half of the verse already given says: "Gathering the mind into the foremost concentration, still and seeing nothing at all; troubled by suffering, one wishes to abandon it, just as initial thought and sustained reflection were once left behind. Because of attachment there is suffering; losing joy, sorrow then arises." This verse explains at length the reproach of the second dhyāna's own mark of joy.

Here, the practitioner, contemplating the second dhyāna as a fault, and wishing to attain the third dhyāna, should, at this point, be complete in the method of the six practices in full; here, only the sense of the second dhyāna's own faulty marks and the six practices are given in brief. Although this second-dhyāna concentration arises through inner purity, its great joy remains excited and stirred, its concentration not yet secure — following the same pattern as already described above. Simply deceiving the mind's own attachment to what seems a peaceful abode — like a man who, learning his wife is in truth a rākṣasī, abandons her at once, with no further longing or attachment — one applies the mind single-mindedly to the merit of the third dhyāna, and, at that point, relinquishes both the great joy and noble silence together. One should use the same three methods as before to dispel it: not receiving it; reproaching it; and contemplating the mind, examining it to its very root. Once joy is no longer received, joy itself, together with noble silence, passes away of its own accord; and, with the third dhyāna not yet arisen, there is, in the interval, a concentration present here as well, spoken of in the same way, differing only in its own degree of depth — the practitioner, at this point, must take great care not to fall into worry or regret. Its fault is the same as already described above.

Third, clarifying the mark of the third dhyāna's own arising: this, too, follows the same pattern as before, in six parts — directly clarifying the mark of the third dhyāna's own arising; clarifying the meaning of its factors; clarifying its cause and effect; clarifying its depth; clarifying its progress and regression; and clarifying its merits.

First, clarifying the mark of the third dhyāna's own arising: applying effort without ceasing, cultivating single-mindedly, the mind grows deep and tranquil; at this point, the concentration of happiness has not yet arisen, and yet, without any further application of effort, the mind grows calm and still of its own accord — this is precisely the third dhyāna's own "not-yet-arrived" state. Afterward, the mind enters concentration indistinctly, relying neither on what is within nor without, arising together with happiness. At the very moment this happiness arises, it, too, has its own retinue of merit, exactly as already distinguished above, differing only in having no excited, leaping joy present; and this continuous happiness arises from the inner mind itself, the mind's own happiness wondrous and fine, beyond any comparison.

When the concentration of happiness first arises, it is not yet spread through the whole body, and, in the interval, there are commonly three faults present: first, the concentration of happiness being still shallow, the mind sinks down, with little use of wisdom present; second, the concentration of happiness being still slight, the mind and intellect become excitedly stirred, and so it is not yet at peace; and third, the mind of this concentration of happiness, together with the power of wisdom, being continuous and wondrous, gives rise, for the most part, to craving and attachment, the mind growing intoxicated by it. Hence the sūtra says: "This happiness is something the noble ones are able to relinquish; for everyone else, relinquishing it is difficult." As the third dhyāna is about to arise, these three faults are present, and so the concentration of happiness is unable to grow and spread through the whole body — the practitioner should properly regulate and adjust it.

How does one regulate it? One should use three methods: first, if the mind sinks down, one should rouse it up using mindfulness, diligence, wisdom, and other such dharmas; second, if the mind becomes excitedly stirred, one should hold it in check by recollecting the dharma of samādhi-concentration; and third, if the mind grows intoxicated, one should recollect the happiness yet to come and the other excellent, wondrous dharma-gates, to awaken oneself, so that the mind does not become attached. If the practitioner is able to skillfully cultivate these three methods, regulating and adjusting the concentration of happiness, one should know that the dharma of happiness is bound to grow and spread throughout the entire body — hence the sūtra says: "The third dhyāna receives happiness pervading the whole body."

Question: if happiness fills the whole body, and the body possesses five faculties, is happiness present within each of the five faculties as well? Answer: when happiness pervades the whole body, every pore of the body is filled with delight. At that time, although the five faculties of feeling give rise to no consciousness through any external sense-object, the dharma of happiness issues forth from within, filling every faculty completely — within each of the five faculties, delight and happiness are present throughout; it is simply that, with no external object present to correspond to, none of the five sense-consciousnesses is thereby brought forth. The faculties of feeling depend upon the body, and, the body's happiness now complete, the faculties of feeling, too, become thoroughly delighted, this happiness corresponding with mind-consciousness — and, because consciousness itself is filled from within, happiness is thus received throughout the whole body; hence the Buddha says that the third dhyāna's happiness is received throughout the entire body.

Furthermore: the first dhyāna's happiness arises from without, corresponding with the outer consciousnesses but not with mind-consciousness, and so its inner happiness is not yet complete. The second dhyāna's happiness, although it arises from within, nonetheless arises from joy, corresponding with the joy-faculty but not with the happiness-faculty — happiness there still depends upon joy, and, since even joy itself is not yet pervasive, how much less could happiness be? Here, the third dhyāna's happiness arises from within, with happiness itself as the ruling factor, no excited joy present within it at all; through the causes and conditions of mindfulness and wisdom, happiness is made to grow and spread throughout the whole body, filling both within and without, tranquil and delightful — the very foremost and highest of every worldly happiness. Hence the Buddha says that the karmic result of practicing loving-kindness lies within the ground of universal purity.

Question: the Buddha speaks of the third dhyāna as having happiness at two distinct times: received happiness; and immediate happiness — with reference to what sense is this spoken of? Answer: this is indeed so. As for immediate happiness: this is the concentration of happiness at its first arising, not yet spread throughout the body. As for received happiness: this is once happiness has already grown and is received throughout the whole body. It is like a spring within rock, gushing forth from within and overflowing outward, filling every channel and ditch completely — the happiness of the third dhyāna is exactly the same.

Second, clarifying the meaning of the factors: this opens into two parts — clarifying the meaning of the factors; and clarifying their differing sequence across sources.

Here, clarifying the factors: the third dhyāna has five factors. What are these five? Equanimity; mindfulness; wisdom; happiness; and one-pointedness of mind. First, the factor of equanimity: upon attaining the third dhyāna, as the concentration of happiness arises, one relinquishes joy without any regret — this may also be spoken of as relinquishing the three faults already described. Second, the factor of mindfulness: having attained the third dhyāna's happiness, one uses mindfulness of the three methods to guard and protect it, allowing happiness to grow further. Third, the factor of wisdom: skillfully applying the three methods to leave the three faults behind. Fourth, the factor of happiness: immediate happiness, and happiness received throughout the whole body. Fifth, the factor of one-pointedness of mind: the mind of happiness having come to rest, the mind is one-pointed and still in its own mark — exactly as already described within the second dhyāna's own arising.

Within these factors, there are, in terms of their sense, four further points to make.

First: three serve as expedient-means factors, and two serve as realization-factors. Using the three factors of mindfulness, wisdom, and equanimity to regulate and adjust the concentration of happiness, causing it to grow and spread throughout the body all the more quickly, these are called expedient-means factors; receiving bodily happiness and one-pointedness of mind, these two factors, serve as the realization — these two arise together at one and the same time, and are the true, principal factors of the third dhyāna.

Second: all four are established as factors with reference to this very stage itself. Looking toward the lower stage, wisdom, mindfulness, and happiness are established; one-pointedness of mind is established with reference to this stage on its own; and the factor of equanimity is established with reference to relinquishing the lower stage's own joy without regret.

Third: all five factors may, in common, be called expedient-means factors. The first three are as already described above — why, then, can the remaining two also be named "expedient means"? Properly speaking, because the cultivation of happiness's own growth is able to bring about further happiness to come. One-pointedness of mind is exactly the same: looking further still toward the sixth, the substance of noble-silence concentration, the five factors may, by the same pattern, all be named "expedient means" as its cause.

Fourth: all five factors may, in common, be called realization-factors. At the very moment this concentration of happiness is realized, equanimity, affection, mindfulness, and the concentration of happiness all arise naturally of themselves — like a mother protecting her child, needing no urging from anyone else — equanimous wisdom arising spontaneously, deliberating and adjusting of its own accord; all five factors belong, in this sense, to realization. Question: if this is so, does this not directly contradict what was said just before — that some are expedient means and others are realization? Answer: both senses hold their own validity; examined closely, this can be seen for oneself.

Second, clarifying the differing sequence of the factors: the various sūtras and treatises each differ in the sequence they establish. As the Satyasiddhi-śāstra clarifies the sequence of the five factors: equanimity, mindfulness, wisdom, received happiness, one-pointedness of mind. The Abhidharma clarifies the sequence as: wisdom, mindfulness, happiness, equanimity, one-pointedness of mind. The sequence given in the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra is: mindfulness, equanimity, wisdom, ease, concentration. The sequence clarified in the Yingluo Sūtra is: happiness, protection, mindfulness, wisdom, one-pointedness of mind. The sequence clarified in the Exegetical Treatise is not fixed, at times agreeing with the Satyasiddhi-śāstra, and at times agreeing with the Yingluo Sūtra.

Question: why is it only here that the sequence of the factors is unfixed, while it is not so for the other dhyānas? Answer: the first dhyāna and the others each have only a single kind of happiness; here, the third dhyāna has two kinds of happiness. Because these two kinds of happiness differ in their own before-and-after order, the sequence shifts back and forth without a single fixed order — hence the various sūtras each establish a differing sequence, though each carries its own sense, which must be properly grasped in turn.

Third, clarifying substance and function: as the Yingluo Sūtra says, the five factors serve as the cause, and the sixth, the mind of noble silence, serves as the substance. Fourth, clarifying depth. Fifth, clarifying progress and regression: both follow the same pattern as already explained above. Sixth, clarifying merit: this is complete in both the merit of freedom from fault and the merit of a wholesome mind, as the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra says: "As for freedom: this means freedom from the five hindrances. As for completeness: this means completeness in the five factors." Discussed in its own particular sense, it is the third dhyāna alone that carries the distinct merit of freedom from the fault of joy; the remaining senses may be understood by the same pattern as above.

Next, explaining the mark of the fourth dhyāna, as the sūtra verse says:
"The noble ones are able to relinquish it; for everyone else, relinquishing is difficult.
If one is able to see happiness as a trouble, one sees the great peace of the unmoving.
Sorrow and joy have already been removed; suffering and happiness are now cut off as well;
With equanimity and mindfulness, a pure mind, one enters the fourth dhyāna.
The happiness within the third dhyāna, being impermanent and unsettled, is itself suffering;
Sorrow was cut off within the desire realm; suffering was removed by the first and second dhyānas.
Hence the World-Honored Buddha, within the fourth dhyāna, says:
Sorrow and suffering have already been cut off; and now suffering and happiness are removed as well."
This four-line verse clarifies in full the marks of cultivating and realizing the fourth dhyāna. Here, explaining the fourth dhyāna, this opens into three parts: explaining the name; clarifying the method of cultivation; and clarifying the mark of its arising.

First, explaining the name of the fourth dhyāna: "dhyāna" means a grove of factors, and the fourth dhyāna gathers together four factors to form its own concentration, realized at this fourth stage of mind — hence it is named the fourth dhyāna. It, too, still belongs to the samādhi without initial thought or sustained reflection, the concentration of noble silence, and is also named the unmoving concentration. The Bodhisattva-bhūmi Sūtra calls it "the dhyāna joined with equanimity": when this concentration arises, its own substance is free of both suffering and happiness, arising together with the subtle and wondrous feeling of equanimity. This concentration corresponds with the equanimity-faculty — hence it is named the dhyāna joined with equanimity.

Second, clarifying the method of cultivation: as the single line of verse already given above says, this happiness is such that "the noble ones are able to relinquish it; for everyone else, relinquishing is difficult. If one is able to see happiness as a trouble, one sees the great peace of the unmoving." The Buddha, within this verse, clarifies in full the expedient means for cultivating the fourth dhyāna. Why is this? The practitioner wishing to attain the fourth dhyāna should deeply perceive the trouble present within the third dhyāna.

How does one perceive this trouble? At first, wishing to attain happiness, one seeks it single-mindedly, with great toil and hardship; and, having attained it, guarding and cherishing it with attachment, this too is a form of suffering; and, should it ever be lost or broken, one suffers all over again from this as well — hence the sūtra says: "The happiness within the third dhyāna, being impermanent and unsettled, is itself suffering." Furthermore, this dharma of happiness clouds over mindfulness, keeping it from being pure. The practitioner, having deeply perceived that the third dhyāna's happiness carries within it this great trouble of suffering, should single-mindedly grow weary of it and turn away, seeking instead the fourth dhyāna's own seed of unmoving concentration. At this point, at the border of the third dhyāna, one should cultivate the method of the six practices, following the same pattern as already described, and should likewise apply the same three methods to dispel it: non-attachment; reproach; and analytic contemplation. Practicing these three methods, the third dhyāna thereby passes away and is extinguished; and, with the fourth dhyāna not yet reached, in the interval between them, a preliminary concentration necessarily arises, corresponding with contemplation, in the same manner as already described above — differing only in no longer involving sorrow or joy. Its own fault is as already described above as well.

Third, explaining the mark of the fourth dhyāna's own arising: this is realized exactly as the three lines of verse already given above describe, and, following the same pattern as before, opens into six parts — directly clarifying the realization of the fourth dhyāna; clarifying the meaning of its factors; clarifying its substance and function; clarifying its depth; clarifying its progress and regression; and clarifying its merits.

First, clarifying the mark of the fourth dhyāna's own arising: the practitioner, through the intermediate dhyāna's own unceasing practice, comes to enter the "not-yet-arrived" state, the mind free of agitation or scattering — this is precisely the fourth dhyāna's own preliminary concentration. Afterward, the mind opens out and is brought forth, the concentrated mind at peace, the in-breath and out-breath both cut off; at the very moment concentration arises, it arises together with equanimity, free of both suffering and happiness, empty, luminous, and still, its wholesome dharma and retinue following the same pattern already described — differing only in having no excited stirring of joy or happiness present at all. At that point, the mind is like a bright mirror, unmoving, and like clear water free of any ripple, every scattered thought cut off entirely, right mindfulness firm and secure, just like empty space itself — this is named the true, genuine dhyāna-concentration of the mundane world, free of any defiling stain whatsoever.

The practitioner, abiding within this concentration, the mind no longer relies on the wholesome, nor clings to the unwholesome, with nothing at all to depend upon or lean against — without shape, without substance, and without any particular kind of form or mark whatsoever — and yet, within, accomplishes the dharma of pure form. How is this known? Were there no root of pure form present at all, then, within concentration, in response to the proper causes and conditions, it ought not be possible for various forms to be brought forth at all — as with the transformative forms brought forth in common through the four immeasurable minds, the stations of mastery, and the totality-bases, all of which depend upon the fourth dhyāna. If one were to conclude, simply because no forms are seen, that there is therefore no form present at all, then, as in the concentration of the sphere of boundless space, where the three kinds of form are extinguished, no form-dharma whatsoever ought to be capable of manifesting there either. Here, however, every form-dharma is able to manifest freely, with no diminishment at all to the dharma of concentration itself — hence one should know that this is a concentration of true form. It is like a bright mirror: its own substance is pure form, and so, whatever is placed before it, every form is able to appear within it; were there no pure form as its basis, it could never manifest any image of form within empty space at all.

Furthermore: because this fourth dhyāna's own wise concentration is one-pointed in mind, mindfulness is forever pure — hence it is also named the unmoving concentration, and also named unmoving wisdom. Within this dhyāna, should one wish to shift one's object and study any matter whatsoever, it is accomplished exactly as intended — every supernormal power and transformation, every raining down of the Dharma in teaching, all issue from this very concentration without exception. As the sūtra says: "The Buddha takes the fourth dhyāna as his own root and foundation."

Second, clarifying the meaning of the factors: the fourth dhyāna has four factors — the factor of neither suffering nor happiness; the factor of equanimity; the factor of purity of mindfulness; and the factor of one-pointedness of mind.

As for the factor of neither suffering nor happiness: this dhyāna, at its first arising, arises together with the feeling of equanimity; and, since the mental factor of equanimity-feeling corresponds with neither suffering nor happiness, it is called the factor of neither suffering nor happiness. Second, the factor of equanimity: having attained the concentration of neither suffering nor happiness, one relinquishes the superior happiness of the stage below without any regret arising. Furthermore: true concentration, though it has arisen, is not yet brought to completion — should the mind advance toward some superior concentration, it would then simply follow along with this thought and shift accordingly, and could not be named the unmoving concentration; hence, when this concentration arises, the mind does not dwell on or cling to it, and is able of itself to relinquish and leave it behind — hence this is named the factor of equanimity. Dhyāna-concentration here being clear and distinct, equanimous wisdom illuminating it fully, this is named the factor of purity of mindfulness. The concentrated mind being still, although it meets with every kind of condition, the mind gives rise to no agitated thought at all — this is named the factor of one-pointedness of mind.

If the meaning of the factors is explained in sequence, it is exactly as just given; discussed generally, however, the very first single factor already contains all four factors within it. Question: why does the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra place the factor of neither suffering nor happiness third, while here it is placed first? Answer: both orderings have their own reason. Here, it is spoken of with reference to its own arising; that source, by contrast, establishes it with reference to its completion — comparable to how the third dhyāna's own factor of happiness was placed differently in different sources; the ordering is not fixed.

Third, as for substance and function: as the Yingluo Sūtra says, the fourth dhyāna's four factors serve as the function, and the fifth, noble silence, serves as the substance. Fourth, depth. Fifth, progress and regression: both may be understood following the same pattern as above. Sixth, merit: the fourth dhyāna, too, is complete in both kinds of merit, freedom from fault and a wholesome mind, as the Mahāsaṃnipāta Sūtra says: "Freedom from the five hindrances; completeness in the four factors." And it is the fourth dhyāna alone that carries the distinct merit of freedom from the faults of sorrow, joy, suffering, and happiness; its wholesome mind — reverence, faith, shame, remorse, and the other six wholesome dharmas — all arise from this very unmoving concentration, the fourth dhyāna. The depth of its merit and wholesome roots is doubled in excellence over what came before, and may be understood by the same pattern as already given.

Question: here, in clarifying the bodhisattva path, one ought properly to speak of the true mark of all dharmas, the exceedingly profound concentration of emptiness, and such matters — why, then, speak instead of the ordinary person's own four dhyānas, a contaminated, deluded dharma of birth-and-death within the mundane world? Answer: this does not follow.

As the Exegetical Treatise poses this very question and answers it: "Within the discourse of the perfection of wisdom, only the empty mark of all dharmas is spoken of — how, then, can a bodhisattva bring forth dhyāna-concentration at all within such an empty dharma? Answer: the bodhisattva knows that the five desires and the five hindrances all arise from causes and conditions, without any nature of their own, empty and without anything to be found in them at all, and so relinquishing them is exceedingly easy. Sentient beings, however, through inverted causes and conditions, cling to these very matters of desire, craving a slight and inferior pleasure, and thereby remain far from the deep, subtle pleasure of concentration found within dhyāna. The bodhisattva, for the sake of these very sentient beings, gives rise to a mind of loving-kindness and compassion, and cultivates dhyāna-concentration: fixing the mind upon its object, leaving the five desires behind, removing the five hindrances, entering the joyful first dhyāna; extinguishing initial thought and sustained reflection, gathering the mind and entering deeply into inner purity, attaining subtle and wondrous joy, entering the second dhyāna; through this deep joy dispersing concentration, leaving all joy behind, attaining happiness pervading the whole body, entering the third dhyāna; leaving behind all suffering and happiness, all sorrow and joy, the in-breath and out-breath cut off of themselves, adorning oneself with pure, subtle equanimity, entering the fourth dhyāna.

"This bodhisattva, although already knowing that all dharmas are empty and without mark, teaches sentient beings through the marks of dhyāna precisely because sentient beings themselves do not yet know this. If the emptiness of all dharmas were itself something that could be grasped as 'empty,' it could not properly be called emptiness at all, nor, in that case, ought one to have to relinquish the five desires in order to attain dhyāna, since there would then be nothing to relinquish and nothing to attain in the first place. But here, the very mark of all dharmas' emptiness cannot itself be found either — hence one should not raise the objection: 'If all dharmas are empty, how could dhyāna possibly be attained at all?' Furthermore: the bodhisattva does not practice dhyāna out of any grasping at its marks or attachment to it — it is like a person taking medicine in order to cure an illness, not because the medicine itself is pleasant to the taste. The bodhisattva practices dhyāna for the sake of pure moral discipline and the accomplishment of wisdom. Within every single dhyāna, the bodhisattva practices great loving-kindness and the contemplation of emptiness, with nothing at all depended upon within dhyāna itself; and, because the five desires are coarse, deceptive, and inverted, they are treated instead through this fine, subtle, empty dharma — just as a poison may be used to treat other poisons."

Furthermore, the Exegetical Treatise also says: "It is like a king who, seeing his own son falling from a high cliff, and fearing he is certain to die, catches him with something soft, so that his body and life are not destroyed. The bodhisattva is exactly the same: seeing sentient beings falling away, far removed from prajñā, inverted and plummeting downward, the bodhisattva therefore teaches the empty dharma of the four dhyānas in order to catch them, so that the very life of their dharma-body and wisdom is not lost."

Hence, in now discussing the practice of the bodhisattva path, this brief clarification of the four dhyānas is, in its own sense, without any fault at all.
The Shi Chan Boluomi Cidi Famen, Fascicle Five, ends here.