The Knot Untied at Its Very Center

Sūtra: At that time the World-Honored One, wishing to proclaim this same meaning once more, spoke this verse:

Commentary: "At that time" is exactly the moment the Tathāgata had just finished explaining, in full prose detail, that the knot and its untying lie in the six sense-faculties alone. The World-Honored One now wishes to proclaim this same meaning once more, in verse, for three distinct reasons: first, because the prose explanation has not yet exhausted everything to be said; second, because some in the assembly favor the concise, condensed form a verse provides; and third, for the sake of those who will come after — and so he speaks this verse, that they, too, might benefit from it.

Commentary: This restates, going beyond what was said before, that the nature of consciousness is false, like flowers conjured in the sky. Among the Consciousness-Only school's five categories and hundred dharmas, the first ninety-four are conditioned dharmas, and the last six are unconditioned. Since these unconditioned dharmas are established only in relation to the conditioned ones, the verse opens with the words "true nature" — the very substance every dharma depends on, conditioned and unconditioned alike. These two words must not be read as modifying "conditioned" alone, as though the verse meant "the true nature of conditioned things is empty" — this misses the point. Examine closely how the Tathāgata teaches throughout: every major section of this sūtra begins from the true substance every phenomenon depends on, and this verse does exactly the same. "True nature" is exactly the self-nature of suchness itself — its own substance beyond every opposing pair, free of the mark of a name, free of the mark of an explanation in words, free of the mark of a mind's own conditioning — belonging neither to the conditioned nor to the unconditioned, yet capable of serving as what both the conditioned and the unconditioned alike depend upon, exactly as the earlier analogy of the great empty space: its own substance is not any one of the various appearances, and yet it does not refuse to let all of them manifest within it.

From "in its conditioned aspect, is empty" on, the sūtra's own intent points specifically to the sixth consciousness — "conditioned" and "unconditioned" here meaning the six consciousnesses' own defiled and undefiled aspects. Not only is the conditioned empty, but the unconditioned, too, is not truly real — this carries exactly the same meaning as the verse in the Karatalaratna treatise: "the true nature, in its conditioned aspect, is empty, since it arises like an illusion, dependent on conditions" — though that verse states its reason before its analogy in reversed order, while this sūtra does not reverse them. The second half of that same verse — "the unconditioned has no reality either, since it does not arise, like flowers in the sky" — likewise does not reverse its own order, while this sūtra's thesis and reason are, in fact, reversed here. This involves two distinct syllogisms; according to the standard form for constructing such a syllogism, one first states the subject, then establishes the thesis, then gives the reason explaining the thesis, and finally offers an analogy to illustrate both thesis and reason together — called, together, the thesis, the reason, and the analogy, the three members of an inferential proof. Any dharma whatsoever can be clarified through this inferential method; where the three members contain some flaw, the inference fails; where they contain none, it stands as a genuine, valid inference.

Constructing the syllogism: "the conditioned" is the subject; "is empty" is the thesis; the reason given is "since it arises dependent on conditions"; the supporting analogy is "like an illusion," the contrasting analogy "like empty space." Conditioned dharmas have both arising and ceasing — not merely becoming empty after they cease, but, in their very substance, already empty even as they stand. Hence "is empty" as the thesis. The reason explains exactly why this is empty: because it is a dharma produced by causes and conditions — when causes and conditions combine, it falsely appears to arise; when causes and conditions separate, this false appearance is said to cease. Since it is called "false" in the first place, it is empty, with no substance of its own — hence the supporting analogy, "like an illusion," and the contrasting analogy, "like empty space." The Zhèngmài commentary puts it this way: "an illusory thing arises from conditions, and an illusory thing is empty, without any nature of its own; the conditioned arises from conditions, and the conditioned is likewise empty, without any nature of its own."

"The unconditioned has no arising or ceasing — not truly real either, like flowers in the sky": constructing this syllogism: "the unconditioned" is the subject; "is not truly real" is the thesis; the reason given is "since it has no arising or ceasing"; the supporting analogy is "like flowers in the sky," the contrasting analogy "like suchness itself." The unconditioned, too, is not truly real, as its thesis; its reason is established in contrast to the conditioned's own arising and ceasing — for if there were no conditioned dharmas at all, how could there be any unconditioned dharma to speak of either? Hence the supporting analogy, "like flowers in the sky": exactly as flowers conjured in the sky never truly arise at all, and are, from the start, never truly real, so too the unconditioned has no arising or ceasing, and is likewise not truly real. The Zhèngmài commentary concludes: both the conditioned and the unconditioned aspects of consciousness alike are, in the end, unreal — hence my own statement that the nature of consciousness is false, like flowers conjured in the sky. One might ask: "since the Buddha refutes consciousness, how do we know he refutes its unconditioned aspect as well?" The answer: earlier in the sūtra, when the Buddha refutes the discriminating mind, he presses the refutation to its very depths, saying: "even though you have, before me, already attained the ninefold, progressive stages of concentration, you have still not exhausted your own outflows — all because you cling to this very false thought, mistaking it for something truly real." Who, then, could still claim that only the conditioned is refuted here, and not the unconditioned as well?

This next restates, going further still, that the sense-root and its object share the same source. The first half of this verse answers an implicit challenge: the provisional teachings of the lesser vehicle generally take the conditioned to be false and the unconditioned to be true — so why, now, does this verse reject the unconditioned as unreal as well? The answer: speaking of the conditioned as false is exactly what discloses the unconditioned as true — truth is plainly established only in relation to falseness, and once there is a falseness outside truth for truth to stand against, this "truth" is, in fact, not truly true at all — hence, taken together, falseness and truth alike amount to nothing but a pair of falsehoods! As the Madhyamaka-śāstra puts it: "whatever dharma is established only in dependence on something else remains, in turn, itself a dependent thing" — fully confirming this same point.

"It is not even that there is a 'true' or a 'not-true' — so how could there be a seer, and something seen?": this half-verse drives the point home by contrast. The single word "not," here, governs both "true" and "not-true" at once — "not-true" being simply another word for "false"; "true" points to the unconditioned, "false" to the conditioned. The true nature itself stands beyond every opposing pair, and so is doubly free of both "true" and "false" alike — hence, "it is not even that there is a 'true' or a 'not-true.'" How, then, could there be any "seer" or anything "seen" at all? The seer is exactly the sense-faculty — the eye-faculty named here to stand for the other five; what is seen is exactly the sense-object — form named here to stand for the other five. And "seeing" is exactly the seeing-portion, while "what is seen" is exactly the appearing-portion — seeing and appearing alike depend on this same self-verifying portion of consciousness — driving home, by contrast, that the sense-root and the sense-object, seeing and appearing, could never have any separate source from one another at all.

This closes by settling the point conclusively. Between the sense-root and its object there is no independently existing, truly real nature belonging to either one alone — and it is precisely because neither can stand independently that they must, of necessity, depend on one another, exactly like two leaning reeds: though they present themselves as two distinct appearances, they share, in truth, one and the same substance.

This next restates, going further still, that bondage and liberation are not two different things, and that both the knot and its untying lie in the six sense-faculties alone. When the six sense-faculties remain bound, one is an ordinary being; when the six sense-faculties become liberated, one becomes a sage. "Share the same cause": "cause" here means "depend upon." Whether bound or liberated, both depend on nothing but the six sense-faculties, with nothing else involved at all. "Walk no different path": when the six sense-faculties are bound, one is an ordinary being, heading down the road of birth and death; when the six knots are untied, one becomes a sage, heading down the road of nirvāṇa — birth-and-death and nirvāṇa alike lie in the six sense-faculties alone, and neither the knot nor its untying has any other road at all; hence sage and ordinary being, too, differ only in which direction they turn along this very same single road, not in walking two separate paths at all.

This further restates that the sense-root and its object share the same source. The meaning is this: observe closely the very nature within this leaning-together of the two reeds — is it existent, or is it empty? If you say it is empty, the appearance of the reeds themselves stands plainly before you; if you say it is existent, there is, within them, no truly real substance to be found at all — hence, "both emptiness and existence are equally denied," that is, neither empty nor existent. The nature shared by the sense-root and its object, by the seeing-portion and the appearing-portion, is exactly the same: say it is empty, and the confrontation between subject and object stands plainly before you; say it is existent, and no nature of its own can, in truth, ever be found — hence, again, "both emptiness and existence are equally denied." One should further understand: when the sense-faculty remains knotted, this is not the true emptiness of nirvāṇa; and when the sense-faculty becomes untied, this is not the conditioned realm of birth and death either — neither emptiness nor existence can rightly be asserted of either state at all!

This restates, once more, that bondage and liberation are not two different things. "Confusion and obscurity are exactly ignorance": "confusion" means being confused into taking it as existent; "obscurity" means being obscured into taking it as empty — this line corresponds to "when your knowledge and seeing set up further knowledge, this is exactly the root of ignorance": setting up these same two kinds of knowledge and seeing, of emptiness and existence, is exactly this confusion and obscurity, exactly this bondage, exactly what makes an ordinary being, exactly birth and death itself. "Understanding, once it dawns, is exactly liberation": "understanding" here means understanding the principle that is neither existent nor empty — this line corresponds to "when your knowledge and seeing are free of any further seeing imposed on them, this is exactly nirvāṇa, undefiled and truly pure": not setting up these same two kinds of knowledge and seeing is exactly this understanding, exactly this liberation, exactly what makes a sage, exactly nirvāṇa itself. It is precisely for this reason that the Buddhas, with one voice, declared together that the very root of the knot of birth and death, and the peace and bliss of nirvāṇa alike, are nothing but your own six sense-faculties, and nothing else at all. This closes the first part — the portion of the verse restating what came before.

Commentary: The earlier verse-lines restated what had already been taught in prose; this remaining portion is instead spontaneous verse, arising freshly on its own, to open up what follows. The first two lines here open the section ahead on the six-knotted cloth demonstrating the proper order of practice; the last two open the section on the Buddha's hidden guidance in selecting the root faculty. Having already shown that the knot and its untying share the same cause, both alike depending on the six sense-faculties, the verse now adds that untying this knot must, of necessity, follow a fixed order — since the knot itself was tied in a fixed order to begin with: falseness arising out of truth produces these six knots, which are exactly the five aggregates. Growing from the subtlest beginning into ever-greater manifestation, the aggregate of consciousness arises first — unborn, unceasing, yet combining with arising-and-ceasing to become the ālaya-consciousness; next comes the aggregate of formations, that is, the seventh consciousness; next the aggregate of perception, the sixth consciousness; next the aggregate of sensation, the first five consciousnesses; and finally the aggregate of form, one's own inner bodily faculties and the outer world alike. Each of the first four aggregates accounts for a single knot, while the aggregate of form accounts for two — comparable to putting on layers of clothing, from the innermost outward. If one wishes to untie this knot, one must proceed from the coarsest to the subtlest, in due order; only once all six knots are entirely untied are the five aggregates broken through and the five turbidities clarified! This is comparable, in turn, to taking off these same layers of clothing, from the outermost inward — one cannot see the second layer until the first has been removed — hence, "follows a fixed order." "Once the six are solved, the 'one' too disappears": set against the six knots as tied, there is spoken of a single, original source to this knot — but once all six knots are untied, the very appearance of these six knots no longer exists, and the name of "the cloth as one" can no longer be asserted either. This is exactly what opens up the later teaching on how, once the six are untied, the "one" likewise disappears. "Choose among the roots for the one that is perfectly penetrating — enter its stream, and complete awakening follows": untying this knot must proceed by choosing, among the six sense-faculties, the one that is perfectly penetrating — exactly as was said earlier, that following this perfect faculty advances a single day for every aeon it would otherwise take with an imperfect one. Hence one must choose carefully, relying on this one faculty alone to begin the actual work, entering the stream rather than flowing outward — flowing outward means turning one's back on awareness to unite with the senses, and this same faculty becomes the very root of bondage; entering the stream means turning the light backward to illuminate one's own nature, and this same faculty becomes the very source of liberation. Exactly as Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, cultivating perfect penetration through the ear-faculty, at the very start, within hearing itself, entered the stream and let go of what was heard, until arising and ceasing themselves had ceased and utter stillness stood revealed, realizing perfect penetration — and so, too, can one swiftly accomplish complete awakening.

Commentary: This portion carries, within it, a fivefold excellence: of name, of substance, of essential doctrine, of function, and of teaching.

"The subtle store-consciousness [ādāna], with its habitual tendencies, becomes a raging torrent; fearing that 'true' and 'not-true' would be misunderstood, I have not, as a rule, expounded on it": this reveals the excellence of substance. Having just shown resolving the knot at the sense-faculty, this same sense-nature is exactly the nature of consciousness itself — this consciousness relies intimately on the tathāgatagarbha, unborn and unceasing, combining with what arises and ceases to become the ālaya-consciousness, meaning "the storehouse consciousness," storing the seeds of one's own bodily faculties and the material world alike; it is also named the ādāna-consciousness, meaning "that which holds and sustains," since it is capable of holding and sustaining every seed, defiled and pure alike, together with one's own bodily faculties and the material world, so that none of it is ever lost or scattered. This consciousness is exactly the tathāgatagarbha itself, perfumed by ignorance and thereby turned from the tathāgatagarbha into the storehouse of consciousness — exactly what the Buddha, in fascicle 1, distinguished as the true root among the two roots, the beginningless, originally pure substance of bodhi and nirvāṇa itself. Its own substance runs so deep as to be beyond fathoming, so subtle as to be difficult to know at all — the two lesser vehicles cannot trace it to its source, and even equal enlightenment cannot glimpse its furthest edge — hence, "subtle."

"Its habitual tendencies become a raging torrent": as the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra puts it, "the ādāna-consciousness is exceedingly subtle; every seed within it becomes a raging torrent." "Habitual tendencies" here means the seeds of ignorance, perfuming and transforming one another in turn, falseness compounding upon falseness, gradually giving rise to every knot, until they become the raging torrent of birth and death itself — since these habituated seeds, perfuming and transforming, are capable of drawing beings into every destiny, flowing on through birth and death without end, hence the comparison to a raging torrent.

"Fearing that 'true' and 'not-true' would be misunderstood, I have not, as a rule, expounded on it": because this consciousness is exactly where truth and falseness combine, its own substance entirely true, yet mixed through with the falseness of ignorance's own habitual tendencies — exactly as, at the start of this very sūtra, the Tathāgata's tenfold display brings out its truth to the fullest, while the two false kinds of seeing, dissected in turn, refute its falseness. Were the Buddha to say it is simply "true," he fears his listeners might mistake falseness for truth, and thereby give rise to an overreaching pride — clinging, as the old verse goes, to "the very root of birth and death across countless kalpas, which the foolish call their own original self." And were he to say it is simply "false," he fears his listeners might mistake truth for falseness instead, and so turn to seeking outward — like someone riding an ox and vainly searching for the very ox he sits upon, acting this way the whole day long without ever realizing it. This is exactly why, within the provisional and lesser teachings, I have not lightly opened this up and expounded on it for anyone. As the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra itself puts it: "I do not expound this to the ordinary and the foolish, fearing they would discriminate and cling to it as a self." Though the wording of these two sūtras' verses differs — one in five characters per line, the other in seven — their meaning is entirely the same.

"The mind grasping at itself turns what is not illusion into an illusory thing; not grasping, there is nothing that is not illusion either — and if not-illusion does not even arise, how could illusion itself ever be established?": this reveals the excellence of essential doctrine. This essential doctrine holds cause and fruit together within it — that is, the actual starting point of practice, proceeding from cause to fruit — utterly simple, utterly skillful: the teaching of the sense-faculty's own nature, entered through simply this one gate alone, is skillful in its cultivation and swift in its result.

"The mind grasping at itself": this is exactly because every sentient being, failing to realize that the seeing-portion and the appearing-portion are, in truth, nothing but this single mind of one's own, falsely takes the seeing-portion, capable of seeing, and falsely grasps at the appearing-portion, what is seen — hence, "the mind grasping at itself." This word "grasping" is exactly the very source of bondage, and it is from this that, within what was originally free of any illusion at all, every illusory thing falsely comes to be — "illusion" meaning empty and unreal, exactly like the body, mind, and world now before us, self and dharma alike, arrayed in such profuse confusion: every single appearance whatsoever is nothing but illusion, with nothing truly real in any of it. If one can penetrate to this, then turning falseness back into truth poses no difficulty at all — one need only stop grasping, and this alone suffices. These two words, "not grasping," are exactly the actual work to be done, and exactly the very basis of liberation as well: giving rise to no grasping mind at all, taking hold of no outer sense-object at all, turning the six sense-faculties back upon themselves, slipping loose from what they cling to and subsiding inward — even what is not illusion does not so much as arise; how, then, could any illusory thing whatsoever ever come to be established at all? This word "grasping" here is exactly the very root of bondage; "not grasping" is exactly the very basis of liberation.

These two words, "not grasping," are exactly the most simple, most skillful starting point for actual practice — exactly the earlier "not following after discrimination," the three continuities of world, karma-fruit, and sentient beings; the words "not following" there name this same sudden, perfect method of practice. It is likewise exactly "when your knowledge and seeing are free of any further seeing imposed on them" — the very work carried in that word "free"; and likewise exactly the achievement of going against the very stream of desire that carries beings through birth and death, going against this very current; and likewise exactly Avalokiteśvara's own method, further on, of entering the stream and illuminating one's own nature. This work of "not grasping" is exactly the work of resolving the knot at the sense-faculty itself. As this faculty is first untied, one first attains the emptiness of self; once this emptiness is perfectly bright and complete, liberation from dharmas is accomplished; and once liberated from dharmas as well, both kinds of emptiness cease even to arise — even the state of "not illusion" does not so much as arise; how, then, could the illusory dharmas of self and of other dharmas ever be established at all? This, then, takes "not grasping" as its own essential doctrine, and "seeing through illusion" as where it leads — utterly simple, utterly skillful, with nothing whatsoever that could be added to improve upon it!

"This is called the wondrous lotus flower, the vajra king's precious awareness": this reveals the excellence of name. "This" points to the teaching of the sense-faculty's own nature, named "the wondrous Dharma-gate" — "wondrous" meaning inconceivable. This sudden and perfect teaching has its cause already encompassing the whole ocean of the fruit, and its fruit already penetrating back to the very source of the cause. Taking this sense-faculty's own nature as the causal-stage mind — since this very nature is itself the buddha-nature of original enlightenment, already buddha from the start — this is exactly the cause already encompassing the whole ocean of the fruit. Yet, helplessly, this buddha-nature lies buried within the false dharmas of the five aggregates; now, turning the faculty back and freeing it from its object, turning falseness back into truth, one realizes the ultimate fruit of wondrous awakening — and this amounts to nothing more than becoming, once again, this same, originally possessed buddha — this is exactly the fruit penetrating back to the very source of the cause. Cause and fruit thus encompassing and penetrating one another completely, inconceivable — comparable to a lotus flower, whose blossom and fruit appear together at once, cause and fruit never separate from one another; and, further, as the lotus rises up out of the mud without being stained by it, so too does this sense-faculty's own nature follow every condition without ever changing — this likens the sense-faculty's own nature to the virtue of the dharma-body.

"Vajra" is the hardest substance found even among gold itself — utmost in firmness and sharpness, capable of destroying everything, while nothing whatsoever is capable of destroying it. This likens the sense-faculty's own nature to something never stirred, never destroyed, its own spiritual light shining forth alone: illuminating suchness-principle with suchness-wisdom, whatever knot of delusion binds faculty and object together dissolves the instant it is touched by this light; beginningless ignorance shatters the instant it is struck by it; every delusion severed entirely, cultivation and realization at the fruit-stage perfectly accomplished — this likens the sense-faculty's own nature to the virtue of prajñā.

"King" carries the meaning of being free and at ease: dwelling amid defilement without being defiled by it, never falling into the conditioned realm; abiding within purity while not fixed as "pure," never mired in the unconditioned realm either; defilement and purity alike, one and the same; neither emptiness nor existence able to hold it fast — this likens the sense-faculty's own nature to the virtue of liberation. "Precious awareness" is simply another name for the true mind itself — spoken of earlier as "the precious, perfectly bright, true, pure, wondrous mind." This mind is exactly this same perfectly calm, unborn, unceasing nature of the sense-faculty — like a wish-fulfilling pearl, perfectly complete and calm, its own stillness and illumination both entirely present, the very natural, inherent samādhi of one's own nature itself.

"The illusion-like samādhi — a snap of the fingers, and one transcends even the stage beyond training": this reveals the excellence of function — that is, the very power and function of cultivation and realization. Samādhi here means "holding both equally" — holding calm and wisdom in perfect balance together. Entering the stream and illuminating one's own nature relies entirely on the power of wisdom; clarifying this turbidity and restoring its clarity comes, instead, from the power of samādhi. And knowing that the true mind is already fully possessed, and that illusory delusion is, at root, empty — this, too, is the power of wisdom; while, where there was originally nothing to cultivate or realize at all, giving rise to an illusory cultivation that requires no cultivation, an illusory realization that requires no realization — this, too, is the power of samādhi. It is by means of this equal holding of samādhi and wisdom together that one resolves the knot in due sequence, until arising and ceasing themselves have ceased and utter stillness stands revealed — exactly what is meant by "every illusion entirely dissolved, the mind of awakening itself unmoved," realizing perfect penetration and abiding in the very samādhi of the Śūraṅgama itself.

"A snap of the fingers, and one transcends even the stage beyond training": this makes plain that the cultivation is skillful and its result swift — exactly the earlier teaching that following this perfect faculty advances a single day for every aeon it would otherwise take with an imperfect one. Hence one can, in the space of a mere finger-snap, transcend even the stage beyond further training entirely — for merely untying the first three knots already equals this same stage beyond training; how much more so, then, once utter stillness stands revealed, and one goes on to attain unsurpassed knowledge and awareness itself?

"This Abhidharma of all the Blessed Ones of the ten directions is the one single road, the gate to nirvāṇa": this reveals the excellence of teaching. "This" points to the teaching of the sense-faculty's own nature. Abhidharma means "the teaching beyond compare" — meaning that this teaching of resolving the knot at the sense-faculty is the very summit among teachings, beyond anything any other teaching could compare to. "All the Blessed Ones of the ten directions" means all the Buddhas of the ten directions — "Blessed One," sometimes rendered "Bhagavān," is a special title for a Buddha, containing six meanings at once: mastery, blazing splendor, dignified adornment, renown, auspiciousness, and honor — one of the terms the tradition, among its "five untranslated categories," leaves untranslated precisely because it holds so many meanings at once. "The one single road" is the very wondrous path of practice shared in common by the Buddhas of past, present, and future alike; "nirvāṇa" alone is singled out here since every virtue is, in it, fully complete, both kinds of death forever ended, the great, final nirvāṇa without remainder. This word "gate" refers specifically to the gate of practice. Fascicle 4's great opening of the complete, perfect understanding was the gate of awakening; this present teaching of perfect cultivation is the gate of practice; fascicle 8's attainment of perfect realization will be the gate of realization. As Mañjuśrī's own verse selecting the perfectly penetrating faculty later puts it: "every Tathāgata of the past has already accomplished this very gate" — pointing to exactly this same, single gate of practice; there, it names the ear-gate outright, while here, it points to the ear-gate only in hidden fashion — this being exactly the single gate one enters deeply through. This closes the second part — the verse in full.

Sūtra: Thereupon Ānanda, together with the whole assembly, having heard the Tathāgata's own unsurpassed, compassionate instruction — the reprised verse and the spontaneous verse alike, woven together, radiant and clear, their wondrous principle utterly transparent — found their minds and eyes opened wide, and marveled at what they had never known before!

Commentary: This, too, is the sūtra compiler's own account of their awakening. Thereupon Ānanda and the whole assembly, having heard the Buddha relate how the Buddhas of the ten directions declared, with one voice, that the knot and its untying lie in the sense-faculty alone, with nothing else at all — and having heard the Tathāgata, that is, our own founding teacher Śākyamuni, explain this once more in full detail — all of this flowing forth from his own unsurpassed, compassionate mind as this teaching of complete meaning. "The reprised verse" translates the term for verse that restates what prose has already said; "the spontaneous verse" translates the term for verse that arises freshly on its own, also meaning verse composed to praise and commend — "entering the stream and thereby attaining complete awakening," together with the fivefold excellence just revealed, both carrying this same sense of praise and commendation.

"Woven together, radiant and clear, their wondrous principle utterly transparent": the first phrase points to the verse itself, as the vehicle of expression; the second, to the principle it expresses. "Woven" means mingled and combined — that is, the reprised and the spontaneous verse blended together, each answering the other, before and after in mutual correspondence, the text turning like brocade being woven, its meaning flowing like pearls upon a tray; "radiant" means the literary brilliance and splendor of the language itself; "clear" means the crystalline lucidity of its own phrasing and structure. "Wondrous principle" is exactly the perfectly calm, unborn, unceasing nature of principle itself: neither emptiness nor existence can be asserted of it, neither truth nor falseness can be established upon it, bondage and liberation are not two different things, cause and fruit encompass and penetrate one another completely — hence, "wondrous." Its own principle is pure, without the slightest speck of dust to stain it, like a lotus flower; its own function is bright and penetrating, breaking through the five aggregates all at once, like vajra itself. Listening closely to all this, their minds and eyes opened wide — that is, the mind's own eye opened fully, seeing all the way through to the very nature of the sense-faculty itself, exactly the nature of the tathāgatagarbha — and, relying on this very nature of the sense-faculty for their own cultivation and realization, this is exactly the teaching of complete meaning, no longer doubted at all. From this point on, they ask only to be shown the proper order of practice, and to have a single gate selected for them, so as to begin their actual cultivation — with no further doubt or hesitation remaining at all. This closes the second great division — verifying and resolving the two doubts.

Sūtra: Ānanda, palms joined, bowed and said to the Buddha: "I have now heard the Buddha's own unreserved, great compassion, and these true, genuine words of Dharma — its nature pure, wondrous, and ever-constant. Yet my mind still does not fully grasp what it means for the six to be untied and the one to disappear, nor the proper order for untying this knot. I beg only that you, in your great compassion, once more take pity on this assembly, and on generations yet to come, and bestow this teaching upon us, to wash away our deeply settled, stubborn defilement."

Commentary: This recounts Ānanda's own gratitude for what came before. Palms joined, bowing, he addresses the Buddha respectfully: I have now heard the Buddha's own equal, unreserved, great compassion. This "unreserved" carries two senses: first, unreserved toward persons — never abandoning even the lowliest capacity, extending this same, highest teaching equally to all; second, unreserved toward the teaching itself — never begrudging its own most secret core, but laying it out entirely, in full. "Its nature pure, wondrous, and ever-constant": "nature" here is exactly the nature of the sense-faculty, sentient beings' own true nature of original enlightenment — a nature belonging neither to the conditioned nor to the unconditioned, free of every mark, hence "pure"; that the knot and its untying share the same cause, and sage and ordinary being walk no different path, is its own subtle function, hence "wondrous"; and that choosing among the sense-faculties for the one that is perfectly penetrating, entering its stream, brings one to complete awakening, its dharma-body abiding forever, hence "ever-constant." This speaks in terms of what is expressed by the teaching; "true, genuine words of Dharma" refers instead to the vehicle expressing it — the prose and the verse together, both alike the Tathāgata's own true, genuine speech, the very sentences of this wondrous teaching he has spoken. This line recalls fascicle 12, where Ānanda mistakenly doubted that the sense-nature might be subject to annihilation, and even suspected the Tathāgata of contradicting his own sincere words, amounting to nothing but idle theorizing — until, through the bell struck in silence and the dream cited as proof, its permanence was demonstrated, and, further, through the Buddhas' own explanation of its meaning, he came at last to know that the Tathāgata's words have, all along, been nothing but true and genuine.

This follows on from this: though he has heard the Tathāgata's own true, genuine words of Dharma, his mind still cannot fully penetrate them — what, exactly, does it mean for the six to be untied and the one to disappear? And what, exactly, is the proper order for untying this knot? "Order" here carries the sense both of kind and of sequence. Since these two meanings are not yet thoroughly clear to him, he begs only that the Tathāgata, in his great compassion, once more take pity on this present assembly, and on sentient beings yet to come, bestowing this ambrosial teaching upon them, to wash away the deeply accumulated, false habituation, and the deep, subtle defilement of ignorance itself, built up within their own sense-faculties.

Sūtra: At once the Tathāgata, seated on his lion-throne, straightened his inner garment and gathered his outer robe about him, reached out his hand toward a jeweled table inlaid with seven kinds of treasure, and took up a flowered cloth offered by the Kalāpa-heaven.

Commentary: Ānanda has asked to be shown two things: what it means for the six to be untied and the one to disappear, and the proper order for untying this knot. The Buddha first answers the second of these, citing an actual demonstration in his answer, word and appearance both brought out together — a truly skillful way of teaching, making it easy for anyone to grasp. "At once" is exactly the moment of Ānanda's own request. The Tathāgata, seated on his lion-throne, straightens his inner garment, meaning his undergarment; "gathered" means drawing together; his outer robe, called the saṃghāṭī. "A jeweled table inlaid with seven kinds of treasure": this table is set with seven precious materials; reaching out his hand toward this table, he takes up a cloth offered by the Kalāpa-heaven, meaning "the heaven of divided time," that is, the Yāma heaven — a cloth of fine, jeweled brocade, woven from precious material.

Sūtra: Before the whole assembly, he tied it into a single knot, and asked Ānanda: "What is this called?" Ānanda and the assembly said to the Buddha: "This is called a knot." The Tathāgata then tied the flowered cloth once more, making a second knot, and asked Ānanda again: "What is this called?" Ānanda and the assembly again said to the Buddha: "This, too, is called a knot." Tying the flowered cloth in this same way, one after another, he made six knots in all. Each time a knot was tied, he took hold of the very knot his own hand had just made, and, holding it up, asked Ānanda: "What is this called?" And each time, Ānanda and the assembly, in the very same way, answered the Buddha in turn: "This is called a knot."

Commentary: Fine brocade of this kind was, in the Western Regions, a costly and precious thing, woven into cloth of immeasurable value — and, further, being an offering from a heavenly being, all the more precious still. The Buddha uses this fine brocade to stand for the very nature of the tathāgatagarbha itself; the cloth stands for this same nature following conditions to become the ālaya-consciousness, falseness arising out of truth, each dependent on the last in turn, falsely forming these six knots — hence the image of a single cloth tied into six knots. Each time a knot is tied, he asks Ānanda directly, wanting him to examine and answer for himself, coming to understand for himself the very order in which the knots were tied — for although each is alike called "a knot," they are by no means without their own sequence, that is, their own kind and their own order. Exactly as with the earlier image of empty space named differently according to the shape of its vessel — since these six knots are, in fact, tied one after another in a fixed sequence, this passage necessarily discusses the six knots vertically, in sequence, not as a lateral analogy standing in for the six sense-faculties all at once.

Sūtra: The Buddha told Ānanda: "When I tied this cloth the very first time, you called it a knot. This fine, brocaded cloth was, in truth, a single piece to begin with — so why, then, did you call the second and the third tying a 'knot' as well?" Ānanda said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, this precious brocade was woven and spun into a single cloth — though it remains, at root, one single piece throughout, yet, as I consider it, each time the Tathāgata ties it, this tying itself earns the name of a knot; and were it tied a hundred times over, it would, in the end, be called a hundred knots. How much more so, then, this cloth, which has only six knots tied into it — in the end, never reaching seven, nor ever stopping short at five. Why, then, would the Tathāgata allow only the first tying, and not the second or the third, to be called a knot?"

Commentary: The section above asked repeatedly, to bring out the sequence itself; this section now asks deliberately, to show that each knot, whatever its place in the sequence, is alike a knot. From "The Buddha told Ānanda" on, the passage should properly read: "this fine, brocaded cloth was, in truth, a single piece to begin with" — these two lines placed first — followed by "when I tied it the very first time, you called it a knot," and then, placed after these, "so why, then, did you call the second and the third tying a knot as well?" — the meaning flows more naturally read in this order, and the reversal here is likely a copyist's error. This passage, on its surface, may seem rather flat and uneventful — but the Zhèngmài commentary observes that, examined closely, it is in fact of the utmost importance. Consider the six knots later untied in the teaching on perfect penetration — first motion, second stillness, third the faculty itself, fourth awareness, fifth emptiness, sixth extinction: read from first to last, they differ in how far removed or how closely bound up with truth they remain; read from last to first, they differ in how subtle or how coarse they are. Without first showing plainly that every one of these knots, whatever their place in the sequence, is alike simply "a knot," the beginning student might overlook the coarser knots entirely and find no way in from the start, while one midway along the path might become stuck at the subtler ones and never reach the very end. Showing that all six knots, first to last, are alike knots is exactly meant to ensure that every one of them, from beginning to end, can genuinely be untied in full! How truly one must trust that the Buddha's own words run deep! And rather than stating this outright, he deliberately turns the question back on Ānanda, drawing the answer out of him instead — precisely so that the doctrine might be unpacked in full through this very analogy.

Sūtra: The Buddha told Ānanda: "This precious brocaded cloth, as you know, was originally a single piece — yet when I tied it six times, you spoke of six knots. Examine this closely: is the cloth's own substance the same throughout, while it is only the knots that differ? What do you think — the first tying is called the first knot, and so on, up through the arising of the sixth knot: could I now take this name of the sixth knot and make it, instead, the first?" "No, World-Honored One! So long as these six knots remain, this sixth one can never, in the end, be the first — even were I to spend my whole life exhausting every power of clear discernment I possess, how could I ever make these six knots' own names fall into confusion?" The Buddha said: "Just so! These six knots differ from one another, and yet, traced back to their own origin, they were all made from a single cloth — one could never make their own order fall into confusion." "It is exactly the same with your own six sense-faculties: in the end, they are the very same, and yet, in the end, they differ from one another as well."

Commentary: Before this precious, brocaded cloth was ever tied, not even the name "one" could properly be applied to it — how much less, then, "six"? This is what is meant by their being utterly the same. Yet once tied, the appearance of these six knots is now fixed, and "one" can no longer be seen at all — this is what is meant by their being utterly different. The Buddha now has Ānanda examine this closely, so that, knowing how sameness comes to appear as difference, he might likewise come to see how this difference could be resolved back into sameness again.

The first five lines here show that a fixed order exists; the last three deliberately pose a difficult question, to have Ānanda judge for himself whether or not it could be otherwise. The meaning is: could I now take this sixth name and exchange it with the first, head for tail? The Buddha's own intention here is this: since the six faculties remain, in their nature, mutually aware of one another, he tests whether they could truly be exchanged for one another in this way.

So long as the six knots remain untied, their own sequence stands plainly fixed, and so the sixth can never, in the end, be the first. The Buddha wishes to turn six into one, and asks Ānanda to judge whether this is possible. Even were I to spend my whole life in the most extensive learning, exhausting every power of intelligence and eloquent discernment I possess, how could I ever make what has a fixed order become something without any order at all, confusing the very names of "one" and "six"? Ānanda, recognizing that their function stands opposed to one another, thus answers that they cannot be exchanged for one another at all.

This is the Buddha's own confirmation. The six knots differ in their own sequence — "traced back" means following this sequence back to its source: these knots were, at their very origin, all made from a single cloth, and to try to throw their own sequence into confusion could never succeed at all — how, then, could their prior appearance of unity ever be seen again?

This now applies the analogy to the doctrine directly. Your own six sense-faculties are exactly the same as this very cloth and its knots. Before the sense-faculty's own original substance was ever tied into a knot, not even the appearance of "one" could be found in it at all — where, then, could "six" possibly be found? This is exactly what is meant by their being, in the end, utterly the same. Yet once falseness has arisen out of truth, and the knot has been tied, the appearance of these six is now plainly fixed, and cannot be thrown into the slightest disorder — this is exactly what is meant by their being, in the end, utterly different.

Sūtra: The Buddha told Ānanda: "If you truly object to these six separate knots and wish instead for a single one, how could that be brought about?" Ānanda said: "As long as these knots exist, disputes over 'this' and 'that' arise among them — each knot naturally gives rise to the sense that it is not any of the others. But if the Tathāgata were to untie them all completely today, so that no knot remained at all, then there would be no 'this' or 'that' either — and if there is not even a single knot left, how could there be six?" The Buddha said: "It is exactly the same with 'once the six are untied, the one also disappears.'"

Commentary: This examines once more, making plain the meaning of "once the six are untied, the one also disappears," wanting Ānanda, so directly addressed, to awaken on his own to the very method for untying the knot. Hence the Buddha tells him: I have tied this cloth into six knots — you certainly object to these six knots, each different from the others, and do not wish them to remain; you would rather have this one, originally single cloth restored, made once more into one — how, then, could this actually be brought about? This question plainly implies that the knots must, in fact, be untied — and the Buddha poses it deliberately, so that Ānanda might awaken to this on his own. Ānanda says: were these six knots to remain as they are, each would hold its own fixed position, and both "one" and "six" would have their own fixed names — but were six made into one instead, disputes over "this" and "that" would spring up at once, like weapons clashing in battle, each knot naturally giving rise, within itself, to the sense that "this knot is not that one, and that knot is not this one" — "this" and "that" here being exactly "one" and "six" themselves. But were the Tathāgata, today, to untie all six knots entirely, from six back to one, so that no knot remained at all, then there would be no "this" or "that" left either. "Not even be called one": not even the name of a single cloth could still apply — why is this so? Because "one cloth" was, from the start, a name set up only in relation to "six knots" — and once the six knots are untied, "one" can no longer be established either. And since not even "one" can be established, how, then, could "six" ever come to be? This is exactly the meaning of "once the six are untied, the one also disappears."

This now applies the analogy to the doctrine directly. The Buddha's own earlier statement — "untying the knots follows a fixed order: once the six are solved, the 'one' too disappears" — is exactly the same as this cloth and its knots, no different at all. If the six knots within the sense-faculty are all, together, entirely untied, the true substance itself stands revealed of its own accord — and these two words, "the one disappears," do not mean that the true substance itself disappears as well: the true substance is, from the start, neither one nor six at all. What disappears here is only that "one" spoken of in relation to "six" — this "one" and this "six" alike belong only to falseness, to what is set up only in dependence on something else, and so can, in this sense, disappear; the true substance itself stands utterly beyond every such opposing pair, and so can never disappear at all.

Sūtra: "It is because of your own beginningless, wild disorder of mind and nature that knowledge and seeing falsely arise; this falseness, once arisen, never rests, and this very toil of seeing gives rise to sense-objects."

Commentary: This first shows how falseness arises out of truth, forming the six knots in order from the subtlest to the coarsest. "Because of your own beginningless... wild disorder of mind and nature": "mind" here is exactly the pure, original mind itself; "nature" is exactly the wondrous nature of suchness itself. "Wild" points to ignorance — a single thought stirring falsely, exactly like Yajñadatta's own mad terror arising out of nothing at all; "disorder" points to the three subtle marks, disturbing this same true, pure mind — this forms the first knot. "Knowledge and seeing falsely arise": this is exactly the knowledge and seeing that arise from sticking to this very falseness, belonging to the mark of intellect; seeing the objective realm as such, failing to realize it is the mind's own manifestation, falsely clinging to it as something really existing outside the mind — subject and object, both together, becoming false — falseness compounding upon falseness, moment after moment continuing without a break, hence "this falseness, once arisen, never rests," belonging to the mark of continuity. These two belong to attachment to dharmas, forming the second and third knots. "This very toil of seeing gives rise to sense-objects": this toilsome deliberation grows deeper still, forming the marks of grasping-and-clinging and of conceptualized names — these two belonging to attachment to self, falsely perceiving a self and what belongs to this self, manifesting the very toil and defilement of sense-objects, and so producing the appearance of a world — this is exactly body, mind, and world, forming the last three knots. The order of these six knots is exactly this, each one distinctly traceable, arising one after another in due sequence.

Sūtra: "It is like straining one's own eyes, until wild flowers appear before them — arising, within this calm, essential brightness, out of nothing at all."

Commentary: Straining one's own eyes: it is like someone staring fixedly into empty space — after gazing for a long while, the eyes grow strained, and this very strain of seeing produces wild flowers as its own strained appearance, arising, within this clear, calm space, within this essential, bright seeing itself, out of nothing at all — the seer and what is seen alike becoming false together. The seer here points to what belongs to mind; what is seen points to what belongs to form. Straining one's own eyes stands for falseness arising out of truth; the healthy eye stands for the wondrous mind itself; the strain that develops stands for ignorance; the wild flowers stand for the ten dharma-realms — birth and death, nirvāṇa, defilement and purity, every such realm equally like flowers conjured in space. "Calm, essential brightness" stands for true principle and true wisdom themselves: before a single thought has yet stirred, only true wisdom illuminates true principle, originally without a single thing present at all. Once a single thought has stirred, exactly as the passage on the six sense-entrances puts it: "both the eye and its strain alike belong, together, to this very mind of bodhi, staring until this strained appearance results" — and from this, the six knots arise, the five aggregates fully formed.

Sūtra: "Every world, whether mundane or transcendent — mountains, rivers, the great earth, birth and death, nirvāṇa itself — is nothing but this very wild strain, this inverted, flower-like appearance."

Commentary: The passage above formed the knots in their forward order, from subtle to coarse, in both doctrine and analogy alike; this passage now applies the analogy in reverse order, from coarse to subtle. The passage above wished to make plain the order in which these knots first arose; this passage wishes to make known the order for returning to their original source instead. "Mountains, rivers, the great earth" are exactly the fifth and sixth knots, among the sense-objects. "Birth and death": only once there is a bodily faculty is there birth and death at all — this corresponds to the fourth knot, the knot of the faculty itself. Everything above belongs within the bounds of the three realms, the domain of attachment to a self. "Nirvāṇa" belongs outside the three realms, the domain of attachment to dharmas — this corresponds to the third and second knots. "This very wild strain" points to the karmic mark of ignorance itself, corresponding to the first knot. This entire realm, mundane and transcendent alike, is nothing but falseness arising out of truth, the flower-like appearance produced by a single, inverted thought. The six knots arise in order from the first to the sixth; this passage, concerned with untying them, proceeds instead from the sixth back to the first — hence this section is titled "applying the analogy in reverse order." Though this runs in reverse of the order in which the knots first arose, it runs, in fact, in the very same order by which they must actually be untied.

Sūtra: Ānanda said: "This strain, being alike a knot — by what means is it to be untied?"

Commentary: "This strain" points to the very wild strain, the inverted, flower-like appearance just described — from the first knot through the sixth, all alike called "a knot," and so all alike requiring their own untying. These words, "alike a knot," already carry within them the sense of kind and of sequence — but the actual method for untying it is not yet known.

Sūtra: The Tathāgata took the knotted cloth in hand and pulled it sharply to the left, asking Ānanda: "Is it untied this way?" "No, World-Honored One." He then pulled sharply to the right instead, and asked again: "Is it untied this way?" "No, World-Honored One."

Commentary: This draws out the realization that neither extreme succeeds in untying it. The Tathāgata pulls the knotted cloth left and right in turn, asking Ānanda each time whether it comes undone this way — and each time Ānanda answers the Buddha: no, World-Honored One. Left and right here stand for the two extremes of emptiness and existence: an ordinary being, clinging to existence, remains sunk forever in birth and death, and so can never possibly untie any of these knots at all; while one of the two lesser vehicles, stuck fast in emptiness, remains forever obscured from nirvāṇa itself — how, then, could either one possibly realize perfect penetration?

Sūtra: The Buddha told Ānanda: "I have just pulled the cloth left and right, and it did not come undone either way — what method would you devise to actually untie it?" Ānanda said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, one must work at the very center of the knot — only then will it come undone."

Commentary: This draws out the realization that only the middle way actually succeeds in untying it. Pulling left and right, in the end, fails to untie it at all — so what method, then, might you devise, to actually bring about its untying? Ānanda answers the Buddha: World-Honored One, one must work at the very center of the knot — the instant one does, it comes undone at once. The center of the knot here stands for the middle way itself: only by relying on the middle way's own teaching of complete meaning can these six knots actually be untied.

Sūtra: The Buddha told Ānanda: "Just so, just so! To remove a knot, one must work at its very center."

Commentary: This confirms that the middle way alone must be relied upon. The Zhèngmài commentary observes: though "the center of the knot" here serves as an image for the middle way, this is not a middle way formed by combining emptiness and existence together, nor is it some separate middle way established apart from emptiness and existence either — it is, rather, simply awakening to the fact that this very sense-nature, in its own substance, is free and unbound by anything at all: it was never, from the start, bound to existence in the first place, and one need only stop mistaking it for existence — with no need, beyond this, to labor at contemplating emptiness in order to break through existence at all. And penetrating to the fact that this same sense-nature, in its own function, manifests everywhere and interfuses freely: it was never, from the start, bound to emptiness either, and one need only stop obscuring it as emptiness — with no need, beyond this, to labor at contemplating existence in order to break through emptiness either. Exactly as, later in the sūtra, perfect penetration through the ear-faculty neither clings to existence nor contemplates emptiness, but relies solely on turning hearing back upon itself, letting go of the sense-object and entering suddenly — from which the three emptinesses are gradually realized, this wondrous substance manifesting of itself, and existence thereby breaking apart of its own accord; and once even this state of shared emptiness ceases to arise, the great function arises of itself, and emptiness, too, falls away on its own. This turning of hearing back upon one's own nature is thus exactly this same center of the knot — the middle way that transcends both emptiness and existence together. Those before us, failing to grasp this, forced upon it three separate, artificially constructed contemplations instead — a needless, superfluous addition, truly like drawing legs on a painted snake. And note, further: failing to untie the knot at either extreme corresponds to the earlier "when your knowledge and seeing set up further knowledge" — that is, setting up these two kinds of knowledge, of emptiness and of existence — "this is exactly the root of ignorance"; while untying it through the middle way corresponds to "when your knowledge and seeing are free of any further seeing imposed on them" — that is, free of these same two views, of emptiness and of existence — "this is exactly nirvāṇa." It is precisely because this middle way is doubly free of both emptiness and existence that it is spoken of as being "free of seeing" in the first place. One might ask: "if it doubly negates both, without doubly affirming either, might this fall short of the truest middle?" The answer: since the Buddha himself speaks only of emptiness and existence being doubly denied, one should simply honor the Buddha's own words as they stand — and, in any case, if its own substance is not existence, has it not, in that very sense, already become emptiness? And if its own function is not emptiness, has it not, in that very sense, already become existence as well?

Sūtra: "Ānanda, when I teach the Buddha-dharma, I teach that it arises from causes and conditions — not the coarse appearance of things merely combining together, as the world understands it. What the Tathāgata reveals, of every dharma, mundane or transcendent, is this: knowing each one's own original cause, he shows how it emerges according to whatever condition it depends upon."

Commentary: Everything taught above — selecting the perfectly penetrating faculty, entering deeply through this single gate, resolving the knot at the sense-faculty, all the way up to the accomplishment of buddhahood itself — likewise arises from causes and conditions. Only, this particular kind of causation is an exceedingly subtle causation: simply not following after outer objects, but turning the light back to illuminate one's own mind instead — taking the perfectly calm, unborn, unceasing nature as the cause, and the sequential resolving of the knot, cultivated and realized in due order, as the condition, one returns to the very source of one's own mind, ultimately pure — this is by no means the coarse causation of the world, where the four elements merely combine to manifest one changing appearance after another.

From "what the Tathāgata reveals" on, the passage shows that the Buddha's own words may be trusted completely. "Dharma," used twice here, covers both: the six ordinary, defiled dharmas of this world, and the four sagely, pure dharmas transcending it — neither ever departing from causation. Worldly dharmas take the outflow-laden seeds already present within the karmic consciousness as their cause, and the wholesome, unwholesome, or neutral karmic conduct accumulated across past lives as their condition; transcendent dharmas take the undefiled seeds already inherent within one's own nature as their cause, and the truths, causal chains, and perfections cultivated in this present life as their condition. The Tathāgata knows, one by one, each dharma's own inherent cause, and how each, in turn, follows whatever condition it happens to meet, giving rise to every dharma of the ten realms, defiled or pure alike — this is exactly what is meant by "manifesting according to the mind's own capacity, appearing in accordance with karma."

Sūtra: "And so it is that, even beyond world-systems as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, he knows the exact number of raindrops falling there; and of everything before us now — why the pine grows straight, why the thornbush grows crooked, why the swan is white and the crow is black — he understands, in every case, its own ultimate origin."

Commentary: This follows from the passage above: the Buddha is capable not only of knowing the general characteristics of the ten realms as a whole, but, further, the most minute, particular characteristics of every sentient and insentient thing alike — even in world-systems as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, at the furthest possible remove, he knows the exact number of every single raindrop falling there from the heavens above; and of every kind of plant now before us — why does the pine grow straight, why does the thornbush grow crooked — naming two to stand for the rest, extending equally to animals as well — why is the swan born white, why is the crow born black? He understands, in every single case, its own ultimate origin — that is, he knows the full history and cause behind each and every one of these lives.

Sūtra: "For this very reason, Ānanda: choose, from within your own mind, among the six sense-faculties — for if the knot in the faculty is removed, the appearance of the sense-object vanishes of itself, and every falseness dissolves away entirely. What, then, could possibly remain, if not truth itself?"

Commentary: It is precisely because the Buddha's own wisdom illuminates the whole dharma-realm perfectly, with nothing whatsoever left unknown, that the very method for resolving this knot he has just taught can never be mistaken, and the very attainment he promises can never fail to come about. Examine this carefully, then, from within your own mind, and choose, among the six sense-faculties, the most perfectly complete one, relying on it to resolve the knot — since, at this first step of practice, the mind must not be divided between two tasks at once, but must apply its whole strength to this one alone. Hence the Buddha's earlier instruction to select a single faculty: within this one faculty alone, should all six knots be entirely removed, then the coarser appearance of the sense-object naturally vanishes first, and the subtler falseness dissolves away in turn as well. Falseness purified and truth alone remaining, this single, true mind beyond every opposing pair — reaching this point, one has penetrated all the way to the very source and depths of every dharma: one truth, and everything is true, with no falseness left to stand against it at all; and whatever is not true is simply falseness — hence, "what, then, could possibly remain, if not truth itself?" This closes the first part — teaching, first, the actual method for untying the knot.

Sūtra: "Ānanda, let me ask you: with all six knots of this Kalāpa cloth present at once, can they be untied and removed all together, at the same time?" "No, World-Honored One. These knots were originally tied one after another, in order, so today they must likewise be untied one after another, in the same order. Though all six knots belong to the very same substance, they were not tied at the same moment — so when it comes time to untie them, how could they possibly be removed all at once?"

Commentary: Here the Tathāgata deliberately questions Ānanda, drawing out his own realization of this fixed order, so that those who come later will not fall into the same confusion. The Buddha asks Ānanda: with all six knots of this cloth present before us now, can they be untied and removed all together, at the very same time? Ānanda answers: no, World-Honored One. Though all six knots belong to one and the same cloth, they were tied one after another, in a definite sequence, not all at the same moment — and so, when the time comes to untie them, this too must proceed in the same sequence, one after another; how could they possibly be removed all at once? The Buddha's own intention here was always to have Ānanda awaken, on his own, to this very sequence — hence this deliberate question — and Ānanda's answer, given now, is entirely correct.

Sūtra: The Buddha said: "It is exactly the same with untying the six sense-faculties. As this faculty is first untied, one first attains the emptiness of self; once this emptiness is perfectly bright and complete, liberation from dharmas is accomplished; and once liberated from dharmas as well, both kinds of emptiness cease even to arise."

Commentary: This directly reveals that once the knot in the sense-faculty is entirely untied, this very moment is itself one's own true samādhi of self-nature — exactly this great, crowning king of samādhis, the Śūraṅgama itself, the illusion-like samādhi by which one transcends the very stage beyond training in a mere finger-snap. Seeing now that Ānanda, through this analogy, has already come to understand that this fixed order cannot be skipped over, the Buddha confirms this directly: exactly as with the analogy, where the cloth can only be restored to its original state by untying its knots in due sequence, so too is the very method for resolving the knot in the six sense-faculties exactly the same.

"As this faculty is first untied, one first attains the emptiness of self": following the order of resolving the knot by going against the stream, one first unties the last three knots within this faculty — the sense-object gone and the faculty itself exhausted, this faculty's own knot now resolved — and, this one faculty resolved, the same three knots are removed from all five of the remaining faculties as well, exactly what is meant by "once resolved in one, resolved in all." Untying the fifth and sixth knots frees one from the sense-object, breaking through the discriminated attachment to self, equal to the first fruit; untying the fourth knot exhausts the faculty itself, breaking through the innate attachment to self, equal to the fourth fruit, realizing the principle of the emptiness of self — "the emptiness of self" being exactly "the emptiness of a person." Among the three emptinesses, this one comes first, hence "one first attains the emptiness of self" — this is exactly untying the earlier three knots born of "this very toil of seeing giving rise to sense-objects," and thereby escaping birth-and-death by segments. "Once this emptiness is perfectly bright and complete, liberation from dharmas is accomplished": this covers two further knots — for although the emptiness of self has already been attained, the emptiness of dharmas has not yet been attained, this emptiness not yet perfectly bright and complete, attachment to dharmas not yet liberated. If one can first set aside one's own fondness for wisdom itself, breaking through the discriminated attachment to dharmas, this unties one further knot; and then set aside one's own fondness for principle itself, breaking through the innate attachment to dharmas, this unties yet another — and this emptiness then becomes perfectly bright and complete, liberation from dharmas thereby accomplished, so that even nirvāṇa itself, examined in turn, is seen to be illusion-like as well. This is exactly untying the earlier two knots born of "knowledge and seeing falsely arise; this falseness, once arisen, never rests," no longer dwelling even in the transcendent nirvāṇa of the two lesser vehicles. "And once liberated from dharmas as well, both kinds of emptiness cease even to arise": the first half means that attachment to dharmas has now been broken through, no longer bound even by this very dharma — "this dharma" here being exactly the dharma of the twin emptinesses of self and of dharmas, cultivated and realized as the very substance of nirvāṇa itself. To remain dwelling even in this dharma is called falling, at the very summit, into a still subtler obstruction, so that boundless, inconceivable, wondrous states can never manifest at all — but now, no longer dwelling even here, this is called liberation from dharmas. Once liberated from dharmas, turning the light back once more to illuminate one's own nature, even this state of shared emptiness ceases to arise at all, untying, at last, the very first knot that arose in the beginning — arising and ceasing themselves now ceased, utter stillness stands revealed. This is exactly untying the wild disorder of mind and nature described earlier, exhausting entirely this wild strain, this inverted, flower-like appearance.

Sūtra: "This is called a bodhisattva, proceeding from samādhi, attaining the patient acceptance of the unborn."

Commentary: This names the very attainment realized. Everything taught above — cultivating and realizing by resolving the knot at the sense-faculty, until all six knots are entirely untied — is exactly this: called a bodhisattva, proceeding from samādhi — exactly what the verse meant by "the illusion-like samādhi — a snap of the fingers, and one transcends even the stage beyond training." "Attaining the patient acceptance of the unborn": ascending to the first abiding of the perfect teaching, one attains exactly this very forbearance — no longer seeing, within the three realms or beyond them, even the slightest mark of any dharma arising or ceasing at all. Those still deluded see every dharma as genuinely, substantially real; but cultivation and realization, reaching this point, the knot in the sense-faculty entirely resolved, samādhi already entered, this wondrous mind already awakened to, the very eye of the path already opened — one thus sees every dharma as unborn, exactly as the section on how seeing cannot be divided puts it: "the Tathāgatas of the ten directions, and the great bodhisattvas as well, abiding in their own samādhi, see that seeing itself, together with its own conditions, and every conceived appearance whatsoever, is like flowers conjured in empty space — originally nothing there at all." Not only are the defiled dharmas of birth and death like flowers conjured in space — the pure dharma of nirvāṇa is likewise exactly the same. These space-conjured flowers themselves stand for the very meaning of the unborn: to a diseased eye, they seem to exist; to a healthy eye, there is, in truth, nothing there at all — space-flowers were never, in truth, born to begin with, and every single dharma's own unborn nature is exactly the same. Settling this very principle, sealing it firmly into one's own mind with full acceptance, is called attaining the patient acceptance of the unborn. This closes the third great division — the six-knotted cloth demonstrating the proper order of practice.

Sūtra: Ānanda and the whole assembly, having received the Buddha's own instruction, their wisdom now awakened to perfect penetration itself, found themselves free of every doubt. With one accord, they joined their palms, bowed at his two feet, and said to the Buddha: "This very day, our own body and mind stand utterly clear and bright — we have found, at last, this joyful freedom from all obstruction!"

Commentary: Ānanda and the whole assembly gathered there, having received our Buddha's own guidance and instruction — selecting a faculty and going against the stream, the six untied and the one disappearing, the proper order for resolving the knot — have now had their wisdom awakened to perfect penetration itself. "Wisdom awakened" is exactly the wondrous wisdom illuminating the sense-faculty's own nature; "perfect penetration" is exactly the wondrous principle realized as this very forbearance. Though not yet actually cultivated and personally realized, they have now come to decisive, clear understanding, entirely free of doubt.

"Utterly clear and bright" is exactly the mind and eye opened wide, illuminating everything without a shadow of doubt remaining. Earlier, at the close of the cycle refuting falseness and revealing truth, their own account of awakening spoke of "body and mind utterly cleared away"; at the close of the cycle without arising, without obstruction, it spoke of "body and mind grown light and at ease"; and now, taught to resolve the knot at the sense-faculty, it speaks of "body and mind utterly clear and bright, this joyful freedom from all obstruction" — "joyful" here meaning a feeling of expansive relief, everything now plainly understood and thoroughly penetrated, hence this freedom from every obstruction.

Sūtra: "And yet, though we have already come to understand the meaning of the six being untied and the one disappearing, we still do not know the very root faculty for perfect penetration itself."

Commentary: Ānanda's own earlier answer to the Buddha, in the passage on resolving the knot, said: "were they all, together, entirely untied, then there would be no 'this' or 'that' either — and if there is not even a single knot left, how could there be six?" — showing that he has already come to understand the meaning of the six being untied and the one disappearing. The words "and yet" mean: though he has come to understand this meaning, he still cannot fully penetrate to the very root faculty for perfect penetration itself, with no way, therefore, to actually begin his own cultivation — for what use is mere understanding alone?

"Root faculty" carries two distinct senses here: first, in relation to place — as the sūtra will later say, "the true substance of the teaching, in this particular place, lies in the pure nature of hearing itself" — making the ear-faculty the root faculty suited to this particular world; second, in relation to the person — Ānanda, foremost in learning, being habitually accustomed to relying on the ear-faculty, as Mañjuśrī's own verse later puts it, "this skillful means is easiest to accomplish, and so is fit to teach Ānanda" — making the ear-faculty, once again, Ānanda's own particular root faculty as well. The Tathāgata had said earlier: "choose carefully, then, among them, whichever one you may enter through, and I will make it plain for you, so that you may advance" — but Ānanda, still at the first fruit, his own wisdom still shallow, cannot yet fully penetrate to which faculty is actually this root faculty for perfect penetration.

Sūtra: "World-Honored One, we have drifted so long, orphaned and exposed across so many kalpas — how could we ever have imagined, how could we ever have hoped, to be received into the Buddha's own family as though born of the same heaven — like an infant who has lost its own mother's milk, suddenly meeting its own mother once again?"

Commentary: This rejoices at the good fortune of encountering the Tathāgata. "We" is Ānanda's own way of referring to this one class of those still in training. Drifting through birth and death, scattered across every destiny. "Orphaned and exposed across so many kalpas": across kalpas so distant in the past, they fled their own father and ran away, like orphaned children with nothing to lean on and nowhere to turn, drifting through birth and death, never attaining nirvāṇa — how different, in truth, from sleeping exposed out in the open, with no shelter and no home to return to at all? To have attained a human body now, at least, without falling into the lower destinies, already counts as good fortune indeed! "How could we ever have imagined, how could we ever have hoped, to be received into the Buddha's own family as though born of the same heaven": how would we ever have dared even to think, even to imagine, standing as brothers alongside the Buddha himself — yet now we find ourselves received into his own family, as though born of the very same heaven, truly beyond anything we could ever have hoped for. Father and son, elder and younger brother — bonds joined by heaven itself — are called "family bound by heaven"; ruler and subject, friend and companion — bonds joined by human duty — are called "relations bound by human ties." Ānanda, the Buddha's own cousin, has now been received into this very family bound by heaven itself — an occasion for celebration deeper still!

"Like an infant who has lost its own mother's milk, suddenly meeting its own mother once again": having drifted so long, never yet moistened by the milk of the Dharma, like an infant deprived of its mother's milk, its very life hanging by a thread — but now, having left the household life to follow the Buddha, remaining constantly at his side, drinking deeply of the Dharma's own milk at last, this life of wisdom can now continue on, exactly like meeting one's own loving mother once again.

Sūtra: "And if, through this same fortunate encounter, the path itself should now come to be accomplished — this secret teaching we have received turning into a realization genuinely our own — then, and only then, would this differ at all from never having heard it in the first place."

Commentary: This passage, in translation and polishing, was rendered rather too tersely, so that its meaning is not immediately plain. The sense of the first two lines is this: if, through this same rare and fortunate encounter, teacher and student truly meeting one another, one is actually able to cultivate according to this teaching and thereby accomplish the very fruit of bodhi, this alone could be said to do no disgrace to one's own birth, and to be worthy of so rare an encounter. "This secret teaching we have received": this refers to the teaching the Buddha has not lightly expounded, which we have now had the chance to hear as well — and only if we are genuinely able to proceed from hearing, to reflection, to actual cultivation, resolving the knot at the sense-faculty itself, can samādhi actually be entered and this very forbearance actually be realized. But were we, instead, to remain just as we were before, understanding only through the medium of words, clinging merely to intellectual comprehension without ever adding actual practice and realization to it, then this hearing would accomplish nothing at all — no different, in the end, from never having heard it in the first place.

Sūtra: "I beg only that you, in your great compassion, bestow upon me this secret, adorned teaching, and grant me, at last, the Tathāgata's own final instruction." Having said this, he threw himself, his entire body, to the ground, withdrawing to hold this secret request silently within his own heart, hoping the Buddha would grant it to him in hidden fashion.

Commentary: He begs only that the Tathāgata, in his own great compassion, bestow upon us this secret, pure, and adorned teaching — that is, this very request to be shown the root faculty for perfect penetration itself. "Secret" and "adorned": "secret" points, in hidden fashion, to the ear-faculty, which the Tathāgata has been unwilling to name outright — hence "secret"; the ear-faculty's own method of going against the stream to sever affliction, this teaching of complete meaning for cultivation and realization, is no mere defiled practice clinging to outward appearances — hence "adorned," meaning pure. The Buddha had earlier wanted only for Ānanda to choose carefully within his own mind — but Ānanda, lacking the wisdom to choose for himself, now asks the Buddha to instruct him directly; and were the Buddha to consent to point this out plainly, this would become the Tathāgata's own truly final instruction. "Final" here means the complete, full accomplishment of this teaching, brought to its very conclusion. Though selecting the faculty and resolving the knot, the six untied and the one disappearing, the proper order for resolving the knot, and the very names for cultivation and realization have all already been fully set forth — without knowing the root faculty for perfect penetration itself, how could one ever actually find one's own way through the door of the magnificent house at all?

"Having said this, he threw himself, his entire body, to the ground, withdrawing to hold this secret request silently within his own heart": "withdrawing" means retreating back to his own place; "holding... silently" means holding this request within his own mind, without ever giving it voice — a silent, inward prayer, hoping the Buddha would grant it to him in hidden fashion, without any need to state it outright — this belongs to a request made only in intention. And the Buddha, whose own great wisdom perceives every capacity directly, answers this same silent request precisely by not naming the faculty himself, but instead charging the twenty-five sages to each explain their own approach in turn. As Master Jiaoguang observes: the Buddha's own great and skillful design, and the deep resonance between teacher and student here, can both be fully seen in this very moment!

Sūtra: At that time the World-Honored One announced broadly to the whole assembly — to the great bodhisattvas, and to the great arhats whose every outflow was exhausted: "You bodhisattvas, and you arhats, born within my own Dharma, have attained the stage beyond further training. Let me now ask you: at your very first resolve, awakening to the eighteen elements, which one brought you to perfect penetration? And by what skillful means did you enter samādhi?"

Commentary: "At that time" is exactly the moment of Ānanda's own silent request — and the World-Honored One, knowing that he sought only a hidden answer, does not name the faculty outright. He announces broadly to the whole assembly — the great bodhisattvas, and the great arhats who had already turned their minds toward the greater vehicle, their every outflow exhausted, not those śrāvakas of fixed, unchanging nature. The Buddha tells them: you bodhisattvas and arhats, born within my own Buddha-dharma — that is, born from the Buddha's own mouth, born through the Dharma's own transformation — have, within my own Buddha-dharma, attained the very stage beyond further training. This "beyond further training" does not refer only to arhats — bodhisattvas, too, may be called "beyond further training." As the Zhèngmài commentary puts it: "precisely because those upon the grounds already share the arhat's own title, why would a bodhisattva ever shy away from this same name, 'beyond further training'? A bodhisattva knows truth to be already inherently possessed, and penetrates falseness to be, at root, empty — and so his very cultivation is itself a cultivation requiring no further cultivation at all." As Yongjia put it: "one who has ceased all learning, who acts without contrivance, this idle one upon the path, neither removes false thought nor seeks after truth" — this stands as plain proof of exactly this same bodhisattva "beyond further training."

"Let me now ask you: at your very first resolve": the Buddha does not ask each of them what they have personally realized, but asks only after their very first resolve — since the causal-stage mind is the very root from which all cultivation begins. "Awakening to the eighteen elements, which one brought you to perfect penetration?" — and he does not mention the seven great elements separately, since the five great elements of earth, water, fire, wind, and space are already subsumed within the six sense-objects; the great element of seeing is subsumed within the six sense-faculties; and the great element of consciousness is subsumed within the six consciousnesses — so that asking after the eighteen elements already includes all twenty-five approaches within it. Asking "which one brought you to perfect penetration" carries one meaning; and asking further, "by what method did you first set your hand to actual practice, as your own skillful means, before finally entering samādhi," carries yet a second meaning besides.

The first question — among the twenty-five approaches, which one brought perfect penetration? — carries this sense: since these twenty-five approaches, between them, encompass every dharma there is, every single one of them a genuine path, every dharma alike leading through — hence every one of these sages, cultivating through his or her own approach, alike realized perfect penetration. The second question — by what skillful means? — carries this sense: though there is only one single way home, the skillful means for reaching it are many and varied — and so each of these sages must explain, in turn, the actual method they relied on at the causal stage, something personally realized and genuinely attained, not empty talk without any real proof behind it at all. This makes plain that the sagely nature penetrates through everything without exception, not merely through a single gate alone. That I earlier had Ānanda alone choose a single faculty with great care was simply because the teaching was matched to his own particular capacity at that moment. This closes the first part — the Buddha's own question to the assembled sages.

Sūtra: Then Ājñātakauṇḍinya, together with the other four bhikṣus, rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "In the Deer Park and at Kukkuṭārāma, I witnessed the Tathāgata's own first attainment of the path, and, through the sound of the Buddha's own voice, I awakened to the Four Noble Truths. The Buddha asked us bhikṣus whether we had understood, and I was the very first to declare that I had — and the Tathāgata confirmed this, naming me Ājñāta, 'the one who first understood.' This wondrous sound, secret and perfectly complete — through sound itself, I attained arhatship. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, sound itself is foremost."

Commentary: Kauṇḍinya and the five bhikṣus, together with the Deer Park itself, have already been explained in fascicle 1, in the section on how seeing does not move. As the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra explains, Kukkuṭārāma, "the Bamboo-and-Pheasant Grove," takes its name from an old account of a wildfire once burning through a forest, where a hen pheasant soaked her own feathers in water to try to save it from the flames — and this place, blessed with this same auspicious energy, makes the path especially easy to accomplish for anyone who cultivates there. Perhaps some of the five bhikṣus practiced in this very place as well, and so it is named here alongside the Deer Park.

Having witnessed the Tathāgata's own first attainment of the path, and his subsequent teaching to liberate beings, turning the wheel of the Four Noble Truths three times over for our own sake, I awakened, through the very sound of the Buddha's own voice, to the principle of these Four Truths: awakening that suffering is the bitter fruit of birth and death, possessing the nature of pressing and compelling; that origination is the cause of this suffering, affliction itself, possessing the nature of drawing forth its own result; that cessation is the blissful fruit of nirvāṇa, possessing the nature of something that can be realized; and that the path is the very cause of this transcendent bliss, possessing the nature of something that can be cultivated. The Buddha made use of sound itself to carry out his own Buddha-work, and it was through sound itself that I attained understanding. Among the six sense-objects, form would ordinarily come first — yet here sound is placed first instead, with the ear-faculty held back until last among the sense-faculties further on, precisely because the true substance of the teaching, in this particular world, lies in the pure nature of hearing itself. This, too, is specifically matched to Ānanda's own particular capacity.

This recounts his own awakening to perfect penetration and his attainment of realization. The Buddha asked the bhikṣus whether they had understood, and I was the very first to declare that I had. The Tathāgata confirmed that I was the very first to understand, and so named me Ājñāta, meaning "the one who first understood." What I understood was nothing other than the Buddha's own subtle, wondrous voice of the Dharma. This sound is called "wondrous" because I awakened to the fact that sound as a sense-object, though a dharma born of conditions, is, in its own appearance, false, and yet, in its own nature, forever true — this very nature being the substance of wondrous awakening's own brightness. Its own substance is secret, without any form or appearance whatsoever; its own function is perfectly complete, illuminating the whole Dharma-realm everywhere at once. Taking sound as my own root cause of cultivation, I awakened to this true principle, and thereby attained the path of arhatship.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: having realized it through the sense-object of sound, he takes sound itself as foremost.

Sūtra: Upaniṣad rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "I too, having witnessed the Buddha's own first attainment of the path, contemplated the impurity of the body, and gave rise to a profound revulsion and renunciation, thereby awakening to the very nature of form: from this impurity, through the stage of white bones and fine dust, form finally returns to empty space — and once both emptiness and form are gone, I attained the path beyond further training. The Tathāgata confirmed this, naming me Niṣad, 'the one whose form is exhausted' — dust and form both entirely gone, this wondrous form, secret and perfectly complete. Through form itself, I attained arhatship. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, the very cause found through form is foremost."

Commentary: Upaniṣad's own name means "the emptiness of form's own nature." "I too, having witnessed the Buddha's own first attainment of the path": this is because he, too, encountered the Buddha very early on. "Contemplated the impurity of the body" is one of the four foundations of mindfulness — contemplating the body as impure. Though Upaniṣad possessed keen faculties, his own obstruction of affliction ran heavy, his own nature given strongly to craving and desire — and so the Buddha taught him to cultivate the contemplation of impurity, as its direct antidote, and he thereby gave rise to a profound revulsion and renunciation toward this very body.

"Awakening to the very nature of form": because his own faculties were so keen, once he had cultivated this contemplation, he not only freed himself from this obstruction, but was able, further, to awaken to form's own true nature as well. "From this impurity": this points to this very physical body, impure from its very seed onward, and, following it all the way through to after death, the nine successive contemplations: first, the corpse swelling; second, turning livid and bruised; third, decaying; fourth, smeared with blood; fifth, festering and oozing; sixth, devoured by worms; seventh, scattering apart; eighth, reduced to white bone; and ninth, burned to ashes. Only "white bones" and "fine dust" are mentioned here specifically because "fine dust" is exactly this ninth contemplation, of burning: the bones burned down to ash, transformed into fine dust, this dust, caught by the wind, scattering the instant it is blown — returning, in the end, to emptiness itself. That is: form itself cannot be found at all — yet without form, emptiness itself cannot be made manifest either; not only is form itself gone, but emptiness, too, is gone along with it — hence, "both emptiness and form are gone" — and it was by this very means that he attained the path beyond further training.

The Tathāgata confirmed his name as "the emptiness of form's own nature." "Dust and form both entirely gone": this is exactly the "both emptiness and form are gone" just described — the false appearance now entirely exhausted, the true nature thereby revealed. "Wondrous form" is exactly form as nature itself: nature, in its entirety, becoming form; form, in its entirety, being nothing but nature — with no need to analyze form down into emptiness at all, since every single form is, in itself, already the tathāgatagarbha. This principle being secret is called "secret"; pervading the whole Dharma-realm, its great function perfectly complete, is called "perfectly complete." Taking form as his own root cause of cultivation, he thereby attained the path of arhatship.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: as he has realized this perfect penetration, taking the contemplation of form as his own causal-stage mind, it is exactly this same sense-object of form that he holds as foremost.

Sūtra: Gandhavyūha, the Fragrance-Adorned Youth, rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "I heard the Tathāgata teach me to contemplate closely every conditioned appearance. I then took leave of the Buddha to dwell quietly in retreat, keeping a pure vigil, when I saw several bhikṣus burning aloeswood incense — its fragrance, silent and still, entering into my nose. I observed this very fragrance: it was not the wood itself, nor was it empty space, neither smoke nor fire — going nowhere it could be found to cling to, coming from nowhere it could be traced back to. Through this, my own discriminating mind dissolved away, and undefiled understanding dawned. The Tathāgata confirmed this, granting me the name Gandhavyūha, 'Fragrance-Adorned' — this fragrance as an object suddenly vanished, and this wondrous fragrance, secret and perfectly complete, remained. Through fragrance itself, I attained arhatship. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, fragrance-adornment is foremost."

Commentary: Gandhavyūha, the Fragrance-Adorned Youth, attained the path by contemplating fragrance as a sense-object, adorning his own dharma-body with his own nature's true fragrance. "Youth" here means one who entered the path in pure chastity from a young age, not that he was literally still a child in years. Rising from his seat and bowing to the Buddha, he says: I heard the Tathāgata teach me to contemplate closely every conditioned appearance. "Contemplate closely" means observing, with the light of wisdom, every appearance-bearing, conditioned dharma throughout the world — that is, every dharma produced by causes and conditions, exactly as the Diamond Sūtra puts it: "every appearance whatsoever." Every one of these appearances is nothing but falseness and illusion, not a genuinely real, ever-abiding dharma at all.

"I then took leave of the Buddha to dwell quietly in retreat, keeping a pure vigil, when I saw several bhikṣus burning aloeswood incense": having received this teaching, I took my leave of the Buddha and withdrew to cultivate on my own. "Dwelling quietly" means resting peacefully, concealing one's own traces and dimming one's own light; "a pure vigil" means a pure chamber for keeping vigil — that is, a room for purifying one's own mind and cleansing oneself, for calm cultivation and contemplative practice; even now, people's own quiet retreats are often called by this same name. "I saw several bhikṣus burning aloeswood incense": this fragrant wood comes from a tree cut down and left lying on the ground for a long while, its outer layers rotting away while its heartwood remains hard — placed in water, it sinks, hence its name. As the Avataṃsaka Sūtra puts it: "beside Lake Anavatapta grows aloeswood incense, called 'lotus-treasury'; burn even a single pellet of it, and its fragrance spreads throughout the whole of Jambudvīpa" — from which one may infer that his own nose was, in this case, never actually enveloped in any smoke at all.

"Its fragrance, silent and still": without form, without sound. "Entering into my nose": I then took up this very circumstance to cultivate contemplation, taking this fragrance itself as the very object of my own contemplation. I observed that this fragrance did not come from the wood itself — for the wood alone, unburned, could never carry its scent so far; nor did it emerge from empty space — for space's own nature is constant and unchanging, while this fragrance is not always present; nor did it come from the smoke — for it entered silently and still, my own nose never actually enveloped in any smoke at all; nor did it arise from the fire — for fire, in this world generally, does not, of itself, produce any fragrance at all. When it could not be smelled, this fragrance had gone nowhere it could be found to cling to; and at the very moment it could be smelled, this fragrance had come from nowhere it could be traced back to — its very substance, examined directly, empty and still. And so, this fragrance no longer serving as any object to be conditioned upon, the nose itself had nothing left to pair with — faculty and object both, together, dissolved away, and mental consciousness dissolved along with them; faculty, object, and consciousness alike now empty, undefiled understanding dawned.

The Tathāgata confirmed this, granting me the name "Fragrance-Adorned." "This fragrance as an object" is exactly this scent as a sense-object; "suddenly" means in the briefest possible span of time; "vanished" means dissolved away entirely. "Wondrous fragrance" is exactly one's own nature's true fragrance itself — its own substance invisible, hence "secret"; its own function manifesting everywhere at once, hence "perfectly complete." Taking fragrance as my own root cause of cultivation, I thereby attained the path of arhatship.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: as he has realized it, taking the sense-object of fragrance as his own root cause of cultivation, realizing perfect penetration through it, he takes this very sense-object of fragrance as foremost.

Sūtra: The Medicine-King and Medicine-Supreme Bodhisattvas, both true sons of the Dharma-King, together with five hundred Brahmā-heaven beings present in the assembly, rose at once from their seats, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "Through beginningless kalpas, we have been skilled physicians of this world, tasting with our own mouths every plant, tree, mineral, and stone found throughout this Sahā world — one hundred and eight thousand kinds in all — and so came to know thoroughly which are bitter, which sour, which salty, which bland, which sweet, and which pungent; and, further, which combine well with others, which possess their own fixed properties from birth, which change and transform through preparation, which are cooling, which are warming, which are poisonous and which are not — knowing all of this completely, in every case. Having served the Tathāgata, we came to understand taste's own nature: neither empty nor existent, neither identical with body and mind, nor separate from body and mind either — and, discerning the very cause behind each taste in this way, we awakened from this. We were graced by the Tathāgata's own confirmation, given the names Medicine-King and Medicine-Supreme, we two brothers, and now, in this very assembly, stand as true sons of the Dharma-King, our own understanding made bright through the very cause of taste, our own rank now that of a bodhisattva. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as we have realized it, the cause discerned through taste is foremost."

Commentary: Both Medicine-King and Medicine-Supreme are called "true sons of the Dharma-King" because each is capable of carrying forward the Buddha's own lineage, fit to inherit the Dharma-King's own household estate. Tracing this back to its more distant cause: in a past age, there was a buddha named Vaiḍūryaprabha, whose monk Sūryagarbha proclaimed the true Dharma. At that time, there lived an elder named Nakṣatrarāja-prabha, who, upon hearing this teaching, offered various medicinal fruits to Sūryagarbha and the assembly, vowing: "may I, in ages to come, be able to heal both the bodily and the mental afflictions of sentient beings" — and the whole world rejoiced, giving him the name Medicine-King; his younger brother, named Vidyutprabha, offered ghee and other fine medicinal delicacies to the Buddha and the sangha, and was given the name Medicine-Supreme — this being the deeper cause behind these two names. The five hundred Brahmā-heaven beings are their own fellow practitioners and companions.

From "through beginningless kalpas" on, they recount their own past causes. "Skilled physicians of this world": one who knows well the root of an illness, and is well able to treat it, so that the medicine reaches the illness and the illness is thereby removed — only such a one may properly be called a skilled physician. "Tasting every kind of medicine — with our own mouths, throughout this Sahā world" — showing that this tasting of medicines to save beings took place specifically within this very land. However many kinds of medicine there may be, they do not extend beyond four categories — plants, trees, minerals, and stones — one hundred and eight thousand kinds in all, and we came to know all of this thoroughly: which is bitter, which is sour, and so on down to which is pungent; and, further, which possesses the nature of combining well — many medicines together treating a single illness; which possesses its own fixed property from birth — as licorice root is sweet by its very nature, and the coptis root bitter by its very nature, one single medicine capable of treating one single illness on its own; which changes and transforms — as through refining, roasting, or preparation, an effect is only then achieved; which is cooling by nature, capable of treating a feverish illness; which is warming by nature, capable of treating a cold-natured affliction; which is poisonous and which is not, which may be used and which may not — knowing all of this completely, in every case. In this way, there was no illness in the world too difficult to heal, and no life that could not be saved — this being skill in healing the illnesses of the body. As for skill in healing the illnesses of the mind, this lay in proclaiming the Buddha's own teaching widely, guiding people's hearts, turning them from evil toward good, and leading them from confusion back to awakening.

"Having served the Tathāgata" refers to our own founding teacher Śākyamuni himself. These two true sons of the Dharma-King have, for a very long time, cultivated the cause of the greater vehicle in this very world — ever since the Tathāgata's own attainment of buddhahood, across countless kalpas, he has already returned to this Sahā world eight thousand times, and it is exactly here that the deep affinity between teacher and disciple lies, hence their ability to serve him in this way. Because of this unforgotten habituation from past lives, they continued to take taste as a sense-object for their own contemplation, and were thereby able to understand taste's own nature as neither empty, nor existent, neither identical with, nor separate from, body and mind. As the tongue makes contact with a given medicine, taste blazes forth vividly as present — hence "not empty"; and yet, though taste appears in this way, it has, in truth, no substance or nature of its own at all — hence "not existent" either: this is the very first stirring of an awakened mind, understanding that it has no substance of its own. "Body and mind" here refers specifically to the tongue-faculty and the tongue-consciousness: without any medicine present, neither the tongue nor its consciousness manifests, of itself, any taste of bitterness or the rest at all — hence "not identical with body and mind"; yet without the tongue and its consciousness tasting it, no medicine could ever make its own bitterness or other flavor known by itself either — hence "not separate from body and mind" either: this is a further stage of observation, understanding that it has nowhere it could be said to come from.

"Discerning the very cause behind each taste, we awakened from this": because, discerning in this way the very cause behind taste as a sense-object, it has, in the end, neither any fixed substance of its own, nor anywhere it could be said to come from, being nothing but illusory, false names and appearances — though its own appearance is false, its own nature remains forever true — and it was from this that we awakened: this very sense-object of taste is, at root, nothing but the tathāgatagarbha, the wondrous nature of suchness itself.

Their own contemplative practice now accomplished, and the complete, perfect understanding opened up as well, they were graced by the Tathāgata's own confirmation, receiving, we two brothers, the names Medicine-King and Medicine-Supreme Bodhisattva. This was the Tathāgata perceiving their own particular capacity directly, and, on the basis of their own vows and practice, establishing these fine names for them. "Bodhisattva" is the title for one who benefits both self and others together, whose own understanding and practice accord with one another perfectly — the first half of the name pointing to what they received from a past buddha, the second to what they have now realized as a present fruit. Now, within the Tathāgata's own Dharma-assembly, they stand as true sons of the Dharma-King — the provisional vehicles being, by contrast, mere secondary sons, and the two lesser vehicles outsiders to the family entirely. "Our own understanding made bright through the very cause of taste": through contemplating taste as a sense-object, from the shallowest level to the deepest, they perfectly awakened to the true nature of their own original enlightenment's own wondrous brightness — building practice upon this same understanding, and realization upon this same practice, their own rank ascending to that of a bodhisattva — this being genuine cultivation and actual realization indeed.

This closes their answer on perfect penetration: according to what they themselves have cultivated and realized, taking the sense-object of taste as their own root cause of cultivation, it is exactly this that they hold as foremost.

Sūtra: Bhadrapāla, together with his sixteen companion bodhisattvas, rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "We first, in the age of the buddha Bhīṣmagarjitasvararāja, heard the Dharma and left the household life. At a time of communal bathing, entering the bathhouse in our turn as usual, we suddenly awakened to the very cause of water: it was neither washing away any dust, nor washing the body itself — in between the two, at perfect ease, we attained a state of nothing to be found at all. This awakening, habituated from that time and never forgotten, has carried through to this very day, when we left the household life to follow the Buddha and thereby attained the stage beyond further training. That buddha named us Bhadrapāla — 'wondrous touch,' fully disclosed and made manifest, established us as true sons of the Buddha. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as we have realized it, the cause found through touch is foremost."

Commentary: Bhadrapāla's name means "the worthy one who guards himself" — guarding himself through his own worthy virtue, a benefit to himself; or, alternatively, "the worthy protector" — protecting all sentient beings through this same worthy virtue, a benefit to others as well; he is also called "worthy-foremost," his own rank that of equal enlightenment, foremost among all the worthy ones. Together with his fellow practitioners and companions on the path, sixteen bodhisattvas in all — "bodhisattva" here being another name for one capable of awakening both himself and others, a great being indeed — they rise together from their seats, bow to the Buddha, and recount their own realization of perfect penetration.

"We" refers to Bhadrapāla together with his companions. "First, in the age of the buddha" refers to a past age, the time of the buddha Bhīṣmagarjitasvararāja. This buddha is called "the King of Awesome Sound" because, as the Lotus Sūtra puts it, his own spiritual wisdom was boundless, guiding all beings alike; the commentaries explain this as meaning he taught with a great voice reaching throughout the whole world, a great Dharma-king teaching fearlessly. According to the Lotus Sūtra, twenty thousand million buddhas named King of Awesome Sound appeared in succession, one after another — Bhadrapāla belongs to the semblance-Dharma age of the very first of these, since he lived at the same time as the bodhisattva Sadāparibhūta, "Never Disparaging." Bhadrapāla and his companions had, at first, belonged among the arrogant multitude, constantly disparaging and reviling this bodhisattva Never Disparaging — but later, seeing his own spiritual power, they repented of their earlier wrong and came, once again, to place their faith in him, and so had the chance to hear the Dharma he had received and passed down, giving rise to the resolve to leave their own worldly households behind. The text here states plainly only that they "first heard the Dharma in the age of the buddha King of Awesome Sound and left the household life," leaving the fuller story out for brevity's sake. As the Lotus Sūtra itself says: "the bodhisattva Never Disparaging at that time was none other than myself; and the fourfold assembly who constantly disparaged this bodhisattva at that time are none other than Bhadrapāla and his companion bodhisattvas here in this very assembly."

"At a time of communal bathing, entering the bathhouse in our turn as usual": the Buddha established, for all seven categories of disciples, a proper discipline of ritual bathing — the whole sangha bathing once every half-month, entering the bathhouse in their turn as usual. At the very moment of bathing, as water touched the body, a sensation of coolness, warmth, roughness, or smoothness was felt — and from this, they investigated this very water closely: was this sensation of touch produced because the water was washing away some dust, or because it was washing the body itself? If one says it appears because it washes away dust, then dust itself, being without any awareness at all, how could it ever give rise to a sensation of touch? And if one says it appears because it washes the body, then this body, itself a temporary aggregate of the four elements, originally insentient — how could it ever feel any touch either? And so they suddenly awakened to this very cause of water — water itself becoming the very cause that led them to this awakening: it was neither washing away any dust, nor washing the body itself; faculty and object both, together, dissolved away, subject and object both, together, vanished — in between the two, at perfect ease, they attained a state of nothing to be found at all. Seeking the very appearance of touch as a sense-object, it could, in the end, never be found at all — the appearance entirely exhausted, the nature thereby revealed, their own contemplative practice thus accomplished.

"This awakening, habituated... and never forgotten" refers to the seed formed by this same past contemplative practice, habituating the eighth consciousness, never forgotten across however many kalpas may have passed. Consider that Bhadrapāla, having first left the household life in the semblance-Dharma age of the buddha King of Awesome Sound, and, on account of his own angry, disparaging thoughts toward the bodhisattva Never Disparaging, went twenty billion kalpas without ever once encountering a buddha, hearing the Dharma, or seeing the sangha, and endured a thousand kalpas of great suffering in the Avīci hell — and yet, even so, this habituation from that past life was never forgotten, and he continued to guard this same wholesome root, all the way down to this very day, when he left the household life to follow the Buddha. This present buddha is our own founding teacher; meeting again this same past affinity, receiving his teaching, severing his own delusions, and leaving behind the household of the three realms entirely, he thereby attained the stage beyond further training — not the lesser vehicle's own "beyond further training," but realization at a far deeper stage indeed. That past buddha gave him the name Bhadrapāla.

"Wondrous touch, fully disclosed and made manifest": "wondrous touch" is spoken of in contrast to "false touch" — false touch involves a sensing faculty and a sensed object, giving rise to awareness between them, and this is called "touch"; but now, neither washing away dust nor washing the body, this false touch having been entirely exhausted, this wondrous touch stands fully disclosed and made manifest instead — this subtle, wondrous touch as a sense-object neither existent nor empty, nothing but the single nature of the tathāgatagarbha itself, manifesting according to the mind's own capacity, appearing in accordance with karma — "disclosed and made manifest" meaning exactly this manifestation. "Established us as true sons of the Buddha" means realizing the rank of a bodhisattva, their own stage that of equal enlightenment, true sons of the Buddha indeed, fit to inherit the Buddha's own position.

This closes their answer on perfect penetration: as the Buddha asks after perfect penetration, according to what they themselves have realized, they took touch as a sense-object as the very cause leading to their own awakening — habituated, in the past, through contemplative practice upon this same sense-object of touch, and later attaining this wondrous touch, fully disclosed and made manifest — and so they hold this very cause found through touch as foremost.

Sūtra: Mahākāśyapa, together with Bhikṣuṇī Golden-Light and her companions, rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "In a past kalpa, in this very world, a buddha appeared, named Candrasūryapradīpa. I had the chance to draw near him, hearing his teaching and cultivating accordingly. After his final nirvāṇa, I made offerings to his relics, lighting lamps to carry his light onward, and gilding his own image with violet-gold light — and, from that time onward, life after life, my own body has always been perfectly filled with this same violet-gold radiance. This Bhikṣuṇī Golden-Light and her companions are my own family from that same life, who gave rise to this same resolve together with me. I observed that the six sense-objects of this world all decay and pass away, and so cultivated only through emptiness and stillness, entering the attainment of cessation, so that body and mind could pass through a hundred thousand kalpas as though it were the space of a single finger-snap. Through this very method of emptiness, I attained arhatship. The World-Honored One has declared me foremost in ascetic practice, this subtle Dharma opened and made bright within me, every one of my outflows dissolved away entirely. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, the cause found through mental phenomena is foremost."

Commentary: Mahākāśyapa's name means "the great tortoise clan" — his own family name, distinguishing him from other Kāśyapas. He is also called "the great drinker of light," since the venerable one's own bodily radiance outshone every other light around him. His original name, Pippalāyana, was itself the name of a tree — his parents having prayed before this very tree for his birth, and named him accordingly. Bhikṣuṇī Golden-Light was his own wife, who gave rise to the resolve to leave the household life together with him at the very same time.

This recounts his own past cause. In a past age, in this very Sahā world, there appeared a buddha, manifesting in the world according to the capacities of that time, named Candrasūryapradīpa, "Sun-Moon-Lamp-Brightness." This buddha's own name reflects three kinds of wisdom: as the sun illuminates the day, enabling people to carry out their own tasks, standing for conventional wisdom illuminating worldly affairs; as the moon illuminates the night, bringing people coolness and relief, standing for true wisdom illuminating principle itself; and as a lamp illuminates both day and night alike, truth and the conventional both unobstructed together, standing for the wisdom of the middle way illuminating both principle and phenomena at once. This buddha, complete in all three kinds of wisdom together, was thus named Sun-Moon-Lamp-Brightness. I had the chance to draw near him, becoming one of the Buddha's own constant followers, hearing his teaching and cultivating accordingly; and after his final nirvāṇa, moved by the Buddha's own profound kindness, I made offerings to his relics. The Sanskrit śarīra is rendered "sacred bones" — through the Buddha's own power of great compassion and vow, his own indestructible, vajra-like body was reduced to these relics, spread throughout the heavens and the human world alike, serving as a field of blessing for the world, so that all who reverently bow to and make offerings before them thereby gain blessings of their own. "Lighting lamps to carry his light onward": lighting lamps as an offering, to carry forward the light of the sun's own brightness, together with gilding his own image in violet-gold light. The Commentary of Consecration, citing the Sūtra on the Transmission of the Dharma-Treasury, recounts: after the buddha Vipaśyin's final nirvāṇa, the gold on his stūpa and image had worn away, and a poor woman, moved to grief before this image, wished to have it restored, yet was ashamed to have no means to pay for it — until, having begged for a little gold, she hired a craftsman to apply a thin gilding, and together they accomplished this merit. The goldsmith, delighted, and having finished gilding the image to a fine polish, vowed to become husband and wife with her — and for ninety-one kalpas thereafter, among gods and humans alike, their bodies were forever the color of gold, their hearts forever full of mutual affection. Based on this account, the gilding of an image with violet-gold light here may in fact trace back to a separate causal story — or perhaps the translation here simply dropped the reference to the age of the buddha Vipaśyin by omission.

"From that time onward" means from that very moment of gilding the image onward. "Life after life, my own body has always been perfectly filled with this same violet-gold radiance": this is exactly the fruit corresponding to that same cause, never once betraying the vow he made. This Bhikṣuṇī Golden-Light likewise received a corresponding reward for her own vow, becoming husband and wife with Kāśyapa in turn — hence, "my own family from that same life." "Who gave rise to this same resolve together with me" carries two senses: first, giving rise to this same resolve together in that past life, restoring the Buddha's own image; second, giving rise to this same resolve together in this present life, leaving the household life to follow the Buddha.

Kāśyapa's own contemplation is, properly speaking, of mental phenomena directly — yet the text speaks of contemplating "the six sense-objects" because mental phenomena are themselves nothing but the shadow cast off by the other five sense-objects, and so both are mentioned together. "Decay and pass away": mental phenomena appear only in dependence on mental consciousness, shifting and changing, decaying and perishing, moment after moment, never once coming to rest. "Only through emptiness and stillness": since they decay and change, impermanent as they are, their very substance, examined directly, is empty and still. "Cultivated... entering the attainment of cessation": this attainment is capable of extinguishing the six consciousnesses, so that discrimination no longer arises at all, and mental phenomena themselves are thereby emptied — hence "cessation"; and capable, further, of exhausting the seventh consciousness's own defiled half, the manas, so that this too no longer arises — hence "exhaustion"; only the seventh consciousness's own pure half remains, sustaining this very samādhi. One who enters this attainment finds that body and mind can pass through a hundred thousand kalpas as though it were the space of a single finger-snap. Kāśyapa dwells, even now, on Mount Kukkuṭapāda, awaiting Maitreya's own descent to receive the transmission of the robe, having entered exactly this same attainment.

"Through this very method of emptiness, I dissolved away mental phenomena entirely" is exactly the same as "I observed that the six sense-objects of this world all decay and pass away, and so cultivated only through emptiness and stillness" above — this is simply a closing restatement, not some separate, additional method. Mental phenomena now dissolved, faculty and consciousness likewise exhausted, the fetters of affliction severed along with them, he thereby attained the path of arhatship. "The World-Honored One has declared me foremost in ascetic practice": the Sanskrit dhūta is rendered "shaking off" — since he was able to shake off mental phenomena so thoroughly. Because the arising-and-ceasing mental phenomena within him were now entirely dissolved, this subtle, wondrous nature of dharmas itself stood revealed before him, and he was thus able to awaken to the very nature of dharmas, fully understanding the mind of the tathāgatagarbha itself, dissolving away every one of his own outflows entirely. Considered only in terms of an arhat's own outward traces, this breaks through merely the attachment to self; but considered in terms of his realization of perfect penetration, the attachment to dharmas is dissolved away as well.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself cultivated and realized was nothing other than this — taking mental phenomena as his own root cause of cultivation, and holding this as foremost of all. This closes the first section — perfect penetration through the six sense-objects.

Sūtra: Aniruddha rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "When I first left the household life, I was constantly given to sleep, and the Tathāgata rebuked me, comparing me to a beast. Hearing the Buddha's rebuke, I wept and reproached myself, and, refusing to sleep for seven full days, lost the sight of both my eyes. The World-Honored One then showed me the vajra samādhi of joyful, luminous seeing. Without depending on my own eyes at all, I came to see the ten directions, this essential truth utterly transparent, exactly as though viewing a fruit held in my own palm. The Tathāgata confirmed that I had attained arhatship. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, reverting seeing to its very own source is foremost."

Commentary: Aniruddha, also rendered Aniruddha or Anuruddha, means "without poverty," also translated "as one wishes." In a past kalpa, he offered coarse rice to a pratyekabuddha, and, as its result, went ninety-one kalpas without ever experiencing the fruit of poverty, attaining whatever he wished for — he is the Buddha's own cousin. Rising from his seat and bowing to the Buddha, he recounts his own past cause: when I first left the household life, whenever I sat listening to the teaching, I was constantly given to falling asleep, and the Tathāgata rebuked me, comparing me to a beast. As the verse goes: "Tsk, tsk — why do you sleep so, like a conch, a snail, a clam, or an oyster? Sleep on for a thousand years at a stretch, and never once hear the Buddha's own name." Hearing the Buddha's rebuke, I wept and reproached myself for my own heavy karmic hindrance, and, for seven days and seven nights, refused myself any sleep at all — and so lost the sight of both my eyes; the eye takes sleep as its own nourishment, and seven days without it was enough to cause this blindness.

Seeing that Aniruddha, upon hearing this rebuke, had reproached himself and lost his eyesight through his own excessive diligence, the Buddha, delighted to find in him a capacity ready to be taught, showed him a method of cultivation in which understanding no longer follows after the sense-faculty at all — called the vajra samādhi of joyful, luminous seeing. "Joyful" here means "delighting in." "Seeing" itself divides into seeing the nature and seeing the sense-object: to see the sense-object is to flow outward, following after this object, and so remain caught in endless transmigration; to see the nature is to enter the stream, turning the faculty back upon itself, and thereby attain freedom from every falseness. The Buddha therefore taught him this method of delighting in seeing the nature itself: turning back his own originally possessed mental light, illuminating this very nature of seeing capable of seeing — illuminating it, and illuminating it again, until this illumination reaches all the way to his own original, bright self-nature, never stirred, never destroyed, suddenly opening the true vajra eye itself, called attaining the vajra samādhi. Aniruddha, cultivating diligently according to this teaching, thereby developed a heavenly eye reaching halfway around his own head — hence, "without depending on either the coarse or the subtle eye-faculty at all, I was able to see the ten directions" — this being exactly this solitary, spiritual light shining forth alone, entirely freed from the inner faculty itself.

"This essential truth utterly transparent, exactly as though viewing a fruit held in my own palm": this makes plain the very capability of this heavenly eye reaching halfway round the head. "Essential" is exactly the essence of seeing belonging to this joyful seeing itself — falseness turned back into truth, utterly penetrating without any obstruction at all, hence the comparison to viewing the great trichiliocosm as though viewing a fruit held in one's own palm. Aniruddha, at the assembly recorded in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, told the Brahmā-king Śikhin: "I have attained the heavenly eye, and see the great trichiliocosm exactly as though viewing an āmalaka fruit held in my own palm" — how, then, could the heavenly eye merely received as a heavenly being's own karmic reward ever be compared, even slightly, to the venerable one's own attainment here? The Tathāgata confirmed that I had thereby attained the path of arhatship.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself cultivated and realized was exactly this — turning back this very essence of seeing that had been flowing outward, becoming forever free of the burden of the sense-object — this is turning one's back on the senses; and following this original, bright, true seeing back to its source, slipping loose from what it clings to and subsiding inward — this is uniting with awareness itself. The very samādhi the Buddha bestowed here was matched precisely to Aniruddha's own situation: worried, as he was, that his own faculty had been destroyed and so could no longer see any sense-object at all, the World-Honored One taught him instead to turn seeing itself back and let go of the sense-object entirely — with no need to see any object at all — following this seeing back to its own source and freeing it from the faculty itself — with no need to make use of the faculty at all. This is exactly teaching matched precisely to the capacity at hand, giving exactly the right medicine for the very illness before him.

Sūtra: Kṣudrapanthaka rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "I lack the capacity for reciting and retaining, having no gift for broad learning at all. When I first encountered the Buddha and heard the teaching, I left the household life — yet, memorizing a single verse of the Tathāgata's own teaching, across a full hundred days, I would remember the first half and forget the last, or remember the last and forget the first. The Buddha, taking pity on my own foolishness, taught me instead to dwell quietly and regulate my own breath, in and out. I then observed this breath, down to its very subtlest, most minute detail, until arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing — every one of these processes — appeared to me within the very span of a single instant. My own mind then opened vast and wide, attaining great freedom from obstruction, until every one of my own outflows was exhausted, and I attained arhatship. Dwelling beneath the Buddha's own seat, I was confirmed as having reached the stage beyond further training. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, turning the breath back to its own emptiness is foremost."

Commentary: Kṣudrapanthaka's own name means "born on the road"; his younger brother Mahāpanthaka's name means "continuing on the road." Their mother, on two separate occasions, followed her husband abroad, and, by the custom of the Western Regions, a woman about to give birth would return to her own mother's home for the occasion. The first time she was due to give birth, she set out for home too late, and, halfway along the road, gave birth right there at the roadside — hence the name "born on the road." The second time, she ought to have set out earlier still, and yet again failed to arrive in time, giving birth this time along a smaller side road — hence the name "continuing on the road," continuing, that is, his elder brother's own circumstance of being born upon the road, hence this same name. Rising from his seat, he bows and addresses the Buddha.

"I lack the capacity for reciting and retaining, having no gift for broad learning at all": as the Sūtra of Parables recounts, Kṣudrapanthaka, in the age of the buddha Kāśyapa, was a monk versed in the three baskets of scripture, with five hundred disciples of his own — yet he begrudged them the meaning of these scriptures, unwilling to properly instruct them, and, as a result, brought upon himself this very retribution of dullness and stupidity. Yet, owing to a wholesome root planted in that same past life, he was born into this same present age alongside the Buddha, and, upon first encountering him and hearing his teaching, left the household life. The Buddha's own rule for those newly leaving the household life was to first learn a four-line verse: "Do no evil in body, speech, or mind; trouble no sentient being in this world; hold right mindfulness, and see that the objects of desire are empty; leave far behind any painful practice that brings no real benefit." The meaning of this verse is that one who leaves the household life must cultivate and uphold purity in these same three karmic activities, never troubling other beings, seeing through the five desires clearly, and never following the non-Buddhist path of empty, fruitless ascetic practice. Kṣudrapanthaka tried to memorize a single verse of the Tathāgata's teaching — this very first verse — and across a full hundred days, would remember the first four characters and forget the last three, or remember the last three and forget the first four; five hundred arhats together tried teaching him this same single verse, and still he could not recite it. His own elder brother, who had left the household life before him, seeing his younger brother so dull and slow-witted, judged that his remaining a monk would serve no purpose at all, and sent him back to lay life. Hearing this, Kṣudrapanthaka took a rope to a tree in the back garden, intending to end his own life. The Buddha, manifesting as the spirit of that very tree, rebuked him, saying: "In the age of the buddha Kāśyapa, you served as a monk versed in the three baskets, with five hundred disciples, yet begrudged them the teaching and refused to instruct them — this is exactly why you have received this present retribution. You ought only to reproach yourself for this — why, then, harm your own body instead?" And the Buddha then manifested his own buddha-body directly, telling him: "Do not be afraid — your own attainment of unsurpassed awakening does not depend on your elder brother at all." The Buddha then took him by the hand and led him to a quiet room, pointing to a broom and asking: "What is this?" He answered: "A broom." The Buddha asked again: "Can you remember these two words, 'a broom'?" He answered: "Yes, I can." The Buddha then had him recite "sweep away dust" day and night without pause, and, after a long while, changed these words to "remove defilement" instead. Kṣudrapanthaka reflected: as dust and dirt are swept away, the ground itself becomes clean — and, day and night, taking up this same formless broom, sweeping back and forth, back and forth, he swept away the very dust and defilement covering the ground of his own mind, entirely and completely.

This recounts his following the Buddha's instruction to regulate his own breath. The Buddha, taking pity on my own foolishness and dullness, taught me to dwell quietly in a still place, regulating my own breath and thereby gathering in my own mind. Though my own dullness traced back to the distant cause of begrudging the Dharma to others, my own inability to memorize anything belonged, more immediately, to a scattered, undisciplined mind — and so the Buddha bestowed on me this samādhi of regulating the breath, regulating the breath moving out of and into my own nose. The breath within the nose carries four distinct aspects: audible breath is called "wind"; breath that catches and obstructs is called "qi"; breath that never fully empties, in or out, is called "panting"; and breath silent, unobstructed, and fully emptied, in and out alike, is called simply "breath" itself. According to the Tiantai school's own method of calming and contemplation, regulating the breath means leaving behind these first three aspects — wind, qi, and panting — until the breath itself becomes subtle, continuous, and entirely at ease; this corresponds to the first three of the six subtle gates: counting, following, and stilling.

"I then observed this breath, down to its very subtlest, most minute detail": at that time, following this instruction, observing my own breath, my own effort growing ever more refined, my own mind grew gradually more and more subtle — first regulating only its movement in and out, and later coming to exhaust its own arising and ceasing entirely; as my samādhi deepened further still, I came to exhaust these four marks of arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing completely — first arising is called "arising"; continuing uninterrupted is called "abiding"; gradually growing subtle is called "changing"; and having already ceased is called "ceasing." "Every one of these processes" refers to these same four marks, shifting on without ever coming to rest; "instant" means the very briefest possible span of time — a single thought contains ninety such instants, and a single instant contains nine hundred arisings and ceasings. Exhausting the breath down to this level of detail may truly be called the most subtle and minute observation possible! This corresponds to the latter three of the six subtle gates: contemplation, turning back, and purification.

This recounts his own awakening and attainment of the fruit. "My own mind then opened vast and wide": having exhausted the very place where the breath through the nose arises, he found that every one of these processes existed only within a single instant — and this instant itself has no substance of its own, existing only within a single thought — and the very nature of this thought is, at root, empty. Opening vastly to this realization, penetrating through every dharma at once, he attained great freedom from obstruction, until the three outflows belonging within the three realms — desire, existence, and ignorance — were exhausted first of all, and he attained arhatship. Dwelling beneath the Buddha's own seat, he was graced with the Buddha's own confirmation, attaining the stage beyond further training.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself realized was exactly this — following the Buddha's instruction to regulate his own breath, in and out. "Turning the breath back" means the nose-faculty no longer conditioned upon any outer sense-object at all, but instead turned back to observe the very appearance of the breath itself; "to its own emptiness" means exhausting every one of these processes as empty, following and according with this very principle of emptiness — this is turning one's back on the senses and uniting with awareness itself. This is exactly what is meant by "the outgoing breath does not become entangled with any external condition, and the incoming breath does not come to rest within any aggregate or element" — beginning in an utter incapacity even to recite a single verse, and ending in the very attainment of this fruit: it is exactly the nose-faculty, then, that he takes as his own root cause of cultivation, and holds as foremost of all.

Sūtra: Gavāṃpati rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "I once committed an offense with my own mouth, mocking a monk in a past kalpa, and, life after life ever since, have suffered a cow's own affliction of the mouth. The Tathāgata showed me the single-flavored, pure Dharma-gate of the mind's own ground, and I attained the extinguishing of the discriminating mind and entered samādhi, observing that this very awareness of taste is neither a substance nor a thing — and, in response to this single thought, I found myself lifted at once above every worldly outflow. Freed within from body and mind, freed without from the material world, I departed far from the three realms of existence, like a bird escaped from its cage; defilement left behind and dust dissolved away, my own Dharma-eye grew pure and clear, and I attained arhatship — the Tathāgata himself confirming that I had reached the stage beyond further training. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, returning taste to its own knowing is foremost."

Commentary: Gavāṃpati's name means "cow's lord" — for after a cow has eaten, it constantly, endlessly chews its cud, its mouth grinding back and forth without end, and the venerable one's own mouth did exactly the same, this being the ripened fruit of his own past karma. Hence he tells the Buddha: "I once committed an offense with my own mouth, mocking a monk in a past kalpa." Seeing an elderly monk eating without any teeth left, he had laughed, comparing him to a cow chewing grass — and this same elderly monk told him directly: "I have already realized the path of arhatship — you have committed an offense with your own mouth, and ought to repent of it at once." He himself recognized his own fault, and though he did, in fact, repent of it, he continued, life after life, to suffer this same retribution of a cow's own mouth — hence, "suffered a cow's own affliction of the mouth." Because Gavāṃpati suffered from this affliction of the tongue, the Buddha directed him to dwell among the heavens instead, sparing him the mockery and consequent downfall he might otherwise suffer among humans; and whenever he came down to join the Dharma assembly, the Buddha had him hold a string of prayer beads in his mouth, so as to forestall any mockery — for heavenly beings, possessing knowledge of past lives, would know the very cause behind this retribution of his and would never dare mock him, and so he was permitted to dwell among them.

"The Tathāgata showed me the single-flavored, pure Dharma-gate of the mind's own ground, and I attained the extinguishing of the discriminating mind and entered samādhi": here the Tathāgata, teaching according to his own particular capacity, wishing to have him find his way home along the very road he was already on, showed him this single-flavored, pure Dharma-gate of the mind's own ground, entered through the tongue-faculty itself. This "single flavor" is neither the flavor of something sweet or bitter, nor the flavorlessness of something bland — it means, rather, turning one's contemplation back upon the very nature of the faculty itself, no longer contemplating sweetness, blandness, or any other such sense-object at all, but contemplating only this wondrous flavor of the middle way, doubly free of both emptiness and existence — this alone is "the single flavor." This pure ground of mind, freed from the sense-object and from the faculty alike, tasting one's own nature directly — this single, pure flavor is exactly the mind's own original ground, and, relying on it to cultivate, one can accomplish samādhi itself — hence, "Dharma-gate."

"I, no longer following after sweetness, blandness, or any other flavor as a sense-object to give rise to discrimination, attained the extinguishing of the grasping, conditioned mind of consciousness": the sense-object no longer being conditioned upon at all, the faculty has nothing left to pair with, and the discriminating mind is thereby extinguished — this is exactly setting aside what arises and ceases. "Entered samādhi" here admits of both a cultivating and a realizing aspect — this refers to the samādhi still within the stage of cultivation. How, then, does one actually cultivate this? One need only make use of the sense-faculty's own nature, its own, originally possessed light of wisdom, to illuminate and contemplate this very nature of knowing that tastes flavor: it does not arise from the tongue-faculty's own substance alone, since, without any outer object present, the tongue produces no such knowing at all; nor does it emerge from sweetness, bitterness, or any other such substance alone either, since, were the tongue not to taste it, no substance could ever make its own flavor known by itself. And it was by awakening to the sense-faculty's own nature in this way, freeing it from the faculty and from the sense-object alike, that, in response to this single thought, he found himself lifted at once above every worldly outflow. This is exactly holding fast to what is ever-true and constant, the constant light appearing before him, the sense-faculty, its object, and the discriminating mind all falling away at once.

"Freed within from body and mind": from the observation above, that this very awareness of taste is not a substance, he awakened to the fact that the tongue's own nature has nothing to do with the tongue-faculty's own substance at all, and so was able to escape entanglement within the realm of sentient beings. "Freed without from the material world": from the observation above, that this awareness of taste is not a thing either, he awakened to the fact that the tongue's own nature has nothing to do with any flavor or other such substance either, and so was able to transcend the material world as well. And, further, from this earlier "in response to this single thought, lifted at once above every worldly outflow," he was able to depart far from the three realms of existence entirely. Faculty and object both, together, now freed, the realm of sentient beings and the material world both, together, transcended — like a bird escaped from its cage: the bird stands for the true nature, fallen into falseness while deluded; the cage stands for the three realms and the five aggregates — and now, understanding and practice matching one another perfectly, falseness left behind and truth realized, he is exactly like a bird escaped from its own cage. Considered against the framework of perfect penetration, this corresponds to the three coarser knots of faculty and object already untied; "defilement left behind and dust dissolved away, my own Dharma-eye grown pure and clear" corresponds to the three subtler knots untied thereafter — exactly what fascicle 12 puts, at its close: "once conceptual appearances, taken as dust, and discriminating feeling, taken as defilement, are both left far behind, your own Dharma-eye should become clear and bright at that very moment." Becoming a great arhat, breaking through ignorance, and realizing the dharma-body itself, the Tathāgata personally confirmed that he had reached the greater vehicle's own stage beyond further training.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself cultivated and realized was exactly this — taking the tongue-faculty as his own root cause of cultivation, returning to this single flavor, this pure mind, turning back this very knowing that had been sticking to and following after its sense-object — and so he takes this same tongue-faculty as foremost of all.

Sūtra: Pilindavatsa rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "When I first resolved to enter the path, following the Buddha, I heard him repeatedly teach how nothing in this world at all is truly a source of joy. Begging for alms in the city one day, my own mind absorbed in this very teaching, I failed to notice a poisonous thorn along the road, and, stepping on it, my whole body ached with pain. I reflected: there is an awareness that knows this deep pain — and though it is aware of this pain, this same awareness, this pure mind itself, has no pain to be aware of at all. I reflected further still: how could a single body have two such awarenesses? Gathering in this very thought before long, body and mind alike suddenly became empty, and, over three full weeks, every one of my own outflows was entirely exhausted, and I attained arhatship, personally confirmed by the Buddha as having reached the stage beyond further training. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, this pure awareness, leaving the body behind entirely, is foremost."

Commentary: Pilindavatsa's name means "remaining habit." Across five hundred past lifetimes, he had been born a brahmin, his own nature given strongly to arrogance and pride — and each time he crossed the Ganges, he would call out to the river's own spirit, addressing her as "little maidservant," commanding the river to stop flowing so he could cross. The spirit, though she did in fact stop the river each time, grew resentful, and complained of this to the Buddha. The Buddha had him apologize to her directly — and so, palms joined, he addressed her: "little maidservant, do not be angry!" — at which the whole assembly could not help but burst out laughing. The Buddha explained: he genuinely holds no arrogance at all — it is only that this river-spirit was, in a past life, actually his own maidservant, and this is simply a remaining habit from that time.

When I first resolved to leave the household life, following the Buddha, who shaved my head himself, I entered the path leading beyond the world. I heard the Tathāgata repeatedly teach how nothing in this world at all is truly a source of joy — that is, the truth of suffering, among the Four Noble Truths, which the Tathāgata taught constantly to beings of lesser capacity, and so I had many chances to hear it, and, having heard it, cultivated this same contemplation according to his teaching. "Begging for alms in the city, my own mind absorbed in this very teaching": that is, contemplating the truth of suffering, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, never departing from this same contemplative practice. So absorbed was I in this contemplation that I failed to notice a poisonous thorn along the road, and, walking on without looking, injured my own foot, the poison entering my body, my whole body — that is, my entire body — aching with pain. Right in the midst of contemplating the truth of suffering, to suddenly encounter an actual instance of suffering was, in fact, an excellent opportunity for genuine awakening.

"I reflected: there is an awareness that knows this deep pain": right at the very moment the poison took effect and the pain struck, I reflected that, within my own body, there is something capable of awareness, aware of this very deep pain — and, planting my own feet firmly in place, I examined closely: who, exactly, is this one aware of this pain? And from this, I came to know: though there is, within the body-faculty, a mind capable of awareness, aware of this deep pain, this is merely a false awareness that has pain — while my own original awareness, this pure mind itself, genuinely has no pain in it at all, nothing capable of being pained within this very mind of awareness — this is a true awareness that has no pain at all. Of the last three lines here, Master Jiaoguang observes: "though there is a mind capable of awareness, and a pain it is aware of, the undiscriminating, pure mind of awareness within the body-faculty itself has, at root, no pain to be aware of, and no painful awareness capable of being aware of it either."

This "reflection" here is not a matter of consciousness, but belongs, rather, to wisdom itself — exactly the right reflection of the eightfold noble path. A single person, a single body, ought to have only a single awareness — so why, then, does this body now manifest both an awareness that knows pain, and an awareness of the pure mind of awareness itself? How, in a single body such as this, could there possibly be two such awarenesses at once? "Gathering in" means gathering together the false thought that knows pain, forming it into a single ball of doubt, and following, instead, this true awareness that has no pain at all — and, before long, body and mind alike suddenly became empty. "Body" here is the body-faculty that ached with pain; "mind" is the body-consciousness that was aware of this pain. "Suddenly became empty": through the very power of this true awareness melting them away, this ball of doubt shattered at once, true purity remaining and falseness entirely cut off, exactly like hot water dissolving ice — hence, "suddenly became empty." Over the course of three full weeks, every one of his own outflows was entirely exhausted, this single, pure, original awareness, this pure, true mind, forever free of falseness and illusion, and he thereby attained arhatship. "Personally confirmed... as having reached the stage beyond further training" should be understood exactly as explained above.

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself cultivated and realized was exactly this — this single, pure, original awareness, leaving false body and mind behind entirely — and so he takes this same body-faculty as his own root cause of cultivation, holding it as foremost of all.

Sūtra: Subhūti rose at once from his seat, bowed at the Buddha's feet, and said to the Buddha: "Through boundless kalpas, my own mind has been free of every obstruction. I recall my own births, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges — and, even while still in my mother's womb, I already knew emptiness and stillness, extending this same realization until the ten directions themselves became empty as well, and leading sentient beings, too, to realize this very nature of emptiness. Graced by the Tathāgata's own revealing of awareness's own true emptiness of nature — this nature of emptiness itself truly aware — this emptiness, perfectly bright and complete, I attained arhatship, entering suddenly into the Tathāgata's own treasury, this bright, precious ocean of emptiness itself, my own knowledge and seeing now one with the Buddha's own — confirmed as having reached the stage beyond further training, liberated in this very nature of emptiness, held by me as unsurpassed. As the Buddha now asks after perfect penetration: as I have realized it, turning every appearance into 'not,' exhausting even this very negation itself, and returning every dharma to nothing at all, is foremost."

Commentary: Subhūti's name translates as "born of emptiness." At the moment of his birth, his own family's treasury suddenly turned empty, and his father, greatly alarmed, sought a divination to discover whether this omen was fortunate or not — and, the resulting sign being both auspicious and fortunate, he was named "Good Fortune"; yet, not long after, the family's treasury reappeared once more, and so he was also given the name "Good Manifestation." Rising from his seat, he bows and addresses the Buddha: through boundless kalpas, my own mind has been free of every obstruction — "mind" here being exactly the mind-faculty itself, and "free of obstruction" being exactly emptiness itself. "I recall my own births, as numerous as the sands of the Ganges" speaks, in the most emphatic terms, of the sheer number of his own past lives, likened to the sands of the Ganges — this being the knowledge of past lives he has attained, with no confusion at all across the interval of any rebirth — and this recounts his own distant root of cultivation.

"Even while still in my mother's womb, I already knew emptiness and stillness": in this present life, receiving birth according to the appropriate conditions, even while still within his mother's own womb, he already knew that the four elements are, at root, empty, and the five aggregates are without any real existence at all — their very substance, examined directly, empty and still. "Extending this same realization" — and so on, up through his emergence from the womb — from the emptiness of self, he went on to awaken to the emptiness of dharmas as well: the worlds of the ten directions, every phenomenon arrayed throughout them, all alike empty and still — the very same realm of the twofold emptiness of self and of dharmas realized by a bodhisattva of profound mind — this belonging to the benefit of himself alone. And after leaving the household life to follow the Buddha, cultivating himself while also transforming others, he taught widely, for the sake of sentient beings, this same suchness of the twofold emptiness of self and of dharmas, leading sentient beings, too, to realize this very nature of emptiness — that is, the true, suchness self-nature of the emptiness of self and the emptiness of dharmas alike — this belonging to the benefit of others.

Though Subhūti had already awakened to the twofold emptiness of self and of dharmas, he had not yet fully penetrated to the fact that this very nature of emptiness is itself none other than the nature of the tathāgatagarbha — until, graced by the Tathāgata's own revealing of awareness's own true emptiness of nature, and this same nature of emptiness itself truly aware — already explained in the passage on the great element of space — he awakened to the fact that emptiness, in its entirety, is awareness, and awareness, in its entirety, is emptiness. "This emptiness, perfectly bright and complete": this means that this wondrous nature of true emptiness, unlike a merely one-sided emptiness, is thus "perfect"; and, never falling into a mere emptiness of severance, is thus "bright" as well — and, riding upon this same wondrous awakening, he thereby realized the great fruit of arhatship.

"Entering suddenly into the Tathāgata's own treasury, this bright, precious ocean of emptiness itself, my own knowledge and seeing now one with the Buddha's own": these three lines follow from the point above — that although he had already attained the twofold emptiness of self and of dharmas, there still remained a trace of "emptiness" itself present — and so he contemplated this very nature of emptiness once more, until even this emptiness, too, became empty. This is exactly the earlier "both kinds of emptiness cease even to arise" — and so he was able to enter suddenly into the Tathāgata's own emptiness of ultimate meaning, this bright, precious, wondrous nature, this true ocean of emptiness itself — and, having already suddenly become one with the Buddha's own emptiness, his own knowledge and seeing naturally became one with the Buddha's own knowledge and seeing as well. The Buddha's own knowing knows nothing in particular, and yet there is nothing it does not know; the Buddha's own seeing sees nothing in particular, and yet there is nothing it does not see. "Confirmed as having reached the stage beyond further training": the Tathāgata confirmed that he had already reached the greater vehicle's own stage beyond further training. "Liberated in this very nature of emptiness": though he realized this nature of emptiness, he does not dwell within emptiness itself, nor is he bound by emptiness either — this is genuine liberation, unlike the two lesser vehicles, sunk in emptiness and stuck fast in stillness, bound by this very emptiness itself — theirs not being true liberation at all. The Tathāgata confirmed that the true emptiness he had realized poses no obstruction whatsoever to wondrous existence either — hence, "held by me as unsurpassed."

This closes his answer on perfect penetration: what he himself cultivated and realized was exactly this. "Turning every appearance into 'not'": every appearance here means the appearance of a self and the appearance of a dharma, both entirely turned into emptiness — that is, into this very negation itself. This line covers the twofold emptiness of self and of dharmas together. "Exhausting even this very negation itself": "negation" here is exactly the very emptiness capable of emptying; "this very negation" is exactly what is thereby emptied — the twin appearances of self and of dharmas; "exhausting" likewise means emptiness itself — that is, both what empties and what is emptied are, together, emptied entirely, exactly what is meant by "emptiness, and what is emptied, both dissolved away" — the illness cured, the medicine, too, set aside. Before self and dharmas are emptied, one must rely on the very wisdom that empties them; but once both self and dharmas are, together, emptied entirely, even this wisdom that empties them dissolves away as well.

"Returning every dharma to nothing at all, is foremost": this "dharma" here is not the dharma of mental objects as a sense-object, but rather the dharma comprising the appearance of self, the appearance of dharmas, and the appearance of "no dharma" as well — since the mind-faculty, being itself without any nature of discrimination, turns back every one of these false, arising-and-ceasing dharmas, returning them all to this original nature of awareness, this emptiness of ultimate meaning itself. This word "nothing" is exactly this very emptiness of ultimate meaning — and to realize this emptiness of ultimate meaning, it is exactly this same mind-faculty that he holds as foremost of all.