Every Category, the Same Discovery

Ānanda, when the eye is stared fixed until it strains, both the eye and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of brightness and darkness, seeing arises in between them, taking hold of these objects — this is called the nature of seeing. This seeing, apart from those two objects of brightness and darkness, has, in the end, no substance of its own. Just so, Ānanda: you should know that this seeing does not come from brightness or darkness, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came from brightness, it should vanish along with darkness, and so should not be able to see darkness. If it came from darkness, it should vanish along with brightness, and so should have no seeing of brightness. If it arose from the faculty itself, then, brightness and darkness aside, this essence of seeing would have no nature of its own to begin with. If it emerged from empty space, then, having gazed outward at objects, it should turn and see the faculty itself — and besides, if space itself were doing the observing, what would that have to do with your own entrance of seeing? You should therefore know that the entrance of the eye is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, it is like a person who presses two fingers firmly into his ears: the ear-faculty, strained, produces a ringing sound inside the head. Both the ear and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of motion and stillness, hearing arises in between them, taking hold of these objects — this is called the nature of hearing. This hearing, apart from those two objects of motion and stillness, has, in the end, no substance of its own. Just so, Ānanda: you should know that this hearing does not come from motion or stillness, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came from stillness, it should vanish along with motion, and so should not be able to hear motion; and if it came from motion, it should vanish along with stillness, and so should have no awareness of stillness. If it arose from the faculty itself, then, motion and stillness aside, the substance of hearing would have no nature of its own to begin with. And if it emerged from empty space, then, having hearing for its very nature, it would not be empty space at all — and besides, if space did its own hearing, what would that have to do with your own entrance of hearing? You should therefore know that the entrance of the ear is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, it is like a person who inhales sharply through the nose until, over time, it becomes strained, so that he perceives a sensation of cold within the nose. Through that contact he distinguishes open from blocked, empty from solid, and so on to every scent, fragrant and foul. Both the nose and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of openness and blockage, smelling arises in between them, taking hold of these objects — this is called the nature of smelling. This smelling, apart from those two objects of openness and blockage, has, in the end, no substance of its own. You should know that this smelling does not come from openness or blockage, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came from openness, then blockage would vanish along with it — how then would blockage be known? And if it existed because of blockage, then in openness there would be no smelling — how then would the contacts of fragrance and foulness ever be made evident? If it arose from the faculty itself, then, openness and blockage aside, the substance of smelling would have no nature of its own to begin with. And if it emerged from empty space, this smelling ought to turn back and smell your own nose — and if space had its own smelling, what would that have to do with your own entrance of smelling? You should therefore know that the entrance of the nose is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, it is like a person licking his own lips: licking them until worn and strained, if the person is ill he tastes bitterness, and if well, a faint sweetness. It is by sweetness and bitterness that this tongue-faculty is made evident, and when it is not moved, the bland is always there. Both the tongue and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of sweet-and-bitter and bland, knowing arises in between them, taking hold of these objects — this is called the nature that knows flavor. This nature that knows flavor, apart from those two objects — the sweet and bitter, and the bland — has, in the end, no substance of its own. Just so, Ānanda: you should know that this knowing that tastes bitterness and blandness does not come from sweetness or bitterness, does not exist because of blandness, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came from sweetness and bitterness, then with blandness that knowing would vanish — how then would blandness be known? And if it emerged from blandness, then with sweetness that knowing would be lost — how then would the two aspects, sweet and bitter, be known? If it arose from the tongue, then, sweetness and blandness and the object of bitterness necessarily aside, this faculty that knows flavor would have no nature of its own to begin with. And if it emerged from empty space, then space tastes of itself and it is not your mouth that knows — and if space did its own knowing, what would that have to do with your own entrance of tasting? You should therefore know that the entrance of the tongue is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, it is like a person touching a cold hand to a hot one: if the cold is stronger, the hot hand turns cold; if the heat is stronger, the cold hand turns warm. In just this way, by the contact of this joining-awareness the knowing of separation is made evident; and if the interplay of forces is established, it is because of the contact of strain. Both the body and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of separation and joining, awareness arises in between them, taking hold of these objects — this is called the nature of sensing. This substance of sensing, apart from those objects — separation and joining, the disagreeable and the agreeable — has, in the end, no substance of its own. Just so, Ānanda: you should know that this sensing does not come from separation or joining, does not exist by the disagreeable or the agreeable, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came at the moment of joining, separation would already have vanished — how then would separation be sensed? And so likewise with the two aspects, disagreeable and agreeable. If it came out of the faculty, then, the four aspects of separation and joining, disagreeable and agreeable, necessarily aside, your body's knowing would have no nature of its own to begin with. And if it must emerge from empty space, then space does its own sensing, and what would that have to do with your own entrance of touch? You should therefore know that the entrance of the body is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, it is like a person who, wearied, falls asleep, and, once well-rested, wakes; who, taking in an object, remembers it, and, losing that memory, forgets — this arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing, taken in through habituation, returns without ever overstepping its own bounds, and this is called the faculty of mind-cognition. Both the mind and the strain alike are marks of bodhi itself straining into fatigue. Dependent on the two false objects of arising and ceasing, knowing gathers in between them, drawing in the inner objects; seeing and hearing run counter to the current, and where the current cannot reach is called the nature of sensing and knowing. This nature of sensing and knowing, apart from those objects of waking and sleeping, arising and ceasing, has, in the end, no substance of its own. Just so, Ānanda: you should know that this faculty of sensing and knowing does not come from waking or sleeping, does not exist by arising or ceasing, does not come out of the faculty, and does not arise in empty space. Why? If it came from waking, it should vanish along with sleep — what then would do the sleeping? And if it must exist at the moment of arising, then at ceasing it is the same as nothing — who then would undergo the ceasing? If it existed from ceasing, then at arising ceasing is absent — who then would know the arising? If it came out of the faculty, then waking and sleeping, these two aspects, open and close along with the body; and apart from those two substances, this sensing and knowing is the same as a flower in the sky, in the end without any nature at all. And if it arose from empty space, then it is space's own knowing, and what would that have to do with your own entrance of mind? You should therefore know that the entrance of the mind is false — originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, look now at this Jeta Grove with its trees and springs and pools — what do you think? Is it that the form gives rise to the eye's seeing, or that the eye gives rise to the appearance of form? Ānanda, if the eye-faculty gave rise to the appearance of form, then on seeing empty space, which is not form, the nature of form would be annulled; and being annulled, it would be revealed that there is nothing at all — and the appearance of form being absent, what would make the substance of space evident? The same holds for space as well. And if the object of form gave rise to the eye's seeing, then on looking at empty space, which is not form, the seeing itself would be annulled; and being annulled there would be nothing at all — what then would make space and form evident? You should therefore know that seeing and form, and empty space besides, have no location at all — the two fields of form and seeing are false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, listen again to the drum sounding in this Jeta Grove as the meal is prepared, and the bell struck to gather the assembly — the sounds of bell and drum following one another in succession. Does the sound come to your ear, or does your ear go out to where the sound is? Ānanda, if this sound comes to your ear — just as, when I beg my food in the city of Śrāvastī, there is no me in the Jeta Grove — then this sound must come to Ānanda's ear alone, and Maudgalyāyana and Kāśyapa should not hear it together with you. How much less the twelve hundred and fifty śramaṇas among them, who at one hearing of the bell all come together to the place of eating? And if your ear goes out to the side of that sound — just as, when I return and dwell in the Jeta Grove, there is no me in the city of Śrāvastī — then when you hear the drum, your ear has already gone to where the drum is struck, and when the bell sounds at the same moment you should not hear them both. How much less the many sounds among them of elephants and horses, oxen and sheep? And if there is neither a coming nor a going, then there would be no hearing at all. You should therefore know that hearing and sound have no location at all — the two fields of hearing and sound are false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, smell again the sandalwood burning in the censer: if a single grain of it is lit, the scent is smelled throughout the forty li around Śrāvastī all at once. Does this fragrance arise from the sandalwood, from your nose, or from empty space? Ānanda, if this fragrance arose from your nose, then, being called what the nose produces, it should come out of the nose; but the nose is not sandalwood — how would there be a sandalwood scent inside the nose? And if you are said to smell the fragrance, it should enter at the nose; to have fragrance come out of the nose and call that smelling is not the right sense of the word. If it arose from empty space, space's nature is constant and the fragrance should be present always — what need then to burn this dry wood in the censer? And if it arose from the wood, then this fragrant substance becomes smoke by burning, and if the nose is to smell it, it should be by receiving the smoke; but the smoke rising into the air has not yet gone far — how is it already smelled forty li away? You should therefore know that fragrance, the nose, and the smelling of it have no location at all — the two fields of smelling and fragrance are false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, at your two daily meal-times, holding your bowl among the assembly, you sometimes encounter ghee or clarified butter, called a superior flavor. Does this flavor arise in empty space, in the tongue, or in the food itself? Ānanda, if this flavor arose in your tongue, there is only one tongue in your mouth, and that tongue, having already become the flavor of butter, should not shift when it meets black rock-sugar. If it does not change and shift, it cannot be called knowing flavor; and if it does change and shift, the tongue is not many substances — how then does one tongue know many flavors? If the flavor arose in the food, the food has no consciousness — how would it know itself? And if the food knew of itself, that would be the same as someone else eating, and what would it have to do with what you call your knowing of flavor? If it arose in empty space, then chew on space and see what flavor it makes. And if space must have a salty flavor, then, having salted your tongue, it also salts your face, and the people of this world would be the same as the fish of the sea: always undergoing saltiness, they would never know the bland; and not recognizing the bland, they would not be aware of saltiness either — and knowing nothing at all, what would be called flavor? You should therefore know that flavor, the tongue, and the tasting of it have no location at all — the two fields of tasting and flavor are equally false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, every morning you rub your head with your hand — what do you think? In this rubbing and its being felt, what is it that does the touching? Is the capacity to touch in the hand, or in the head? If it is in the hand, then the head has no knowing — how is a touch made? If it is in the head, then the hand is of no use — how is it called a touch? And if each of them has it, then you, Ānanda, should have two bodies. If head and hand arise from one single touch, then hand and head must be one substance; and if they are one substance, no touch can be made at all. And if they are two substances, in which of them does the touch reside? What is in the agent is not in the object, and what is in the object is not in the agent; and it will not do for empty space to make a touch together with you. You should therefore know that the sensation of touch, the object touched, and the body have no location at all — the two fields of body and touch are equally false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, whatever your mind takes hold of among wholesome, unwholesome, and neutral phenomena, giving rise to their patterns as mental objects — do these mental objects arise from mind itself, or do they have some location apart from mind? Ānanda, if they are mind itself, then the mental object is not an object at all; and not being what mind takes hold of, how does it constitute a field? And if, apart from mind, it has some separate location, then is the mental object's own nature knowing, or not knowing? If it knows, it is called mind; and being other than you, and not an object, it is the same as another being's own measure of mind. And if it is you, and is your mind, how is it that your mind is a second thing beside you? But if it is not knowing, then, since this object is neither form nor sound, fragrance nor flavor, neither separation nor joining, neither cold nor warm, nor any aspect of empty space — where is it to be? Among form and space there is now nothing to point to, and it will not do to say that there is some further place among human beings outside of space itself. Mind having nothing it takes hold of, from what is the field established? You should therefore know that mental objects and mind have no location at all — the two fields of mind and mental phenomena are equally false, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you understand it, eye and form, taken as conditions, give rise to eye-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the eye, taking the eye as its basis, or dependent on form, taking form as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of the eye, then, form and space being absent, there is nothing at all to be distinguished, and even granting you a consciousness, what use would you put it to? And your seeing, besides, is neither blue nor yellow, red nor white, and has nothing by which it can be indicated — from what, then, would its basis be established? If it arises because of form, then when space is without form your consciousness should be extinguished — how then does it know that this is the nature of space? And if, when form alters, you know as well that the appearance of form has shifted and changed, while your consciousness does not shift — from what is its basis established? If it changes when form changes, then the aspect of a basis is of itself absent; and if it does not change, then it is constant — and arising from form as it does, it should not know where space is. And if it arises from both together, eye and form, then in their joining there is a gap in the middle, and in their parting there is a joining of the two, so that substance and nature are thrown into confusion — how does that make a basis? You should therefore know that eye-consciousness, said to arise from eye and form as conditions, has no location in any of the three — eye, form, and the resulting element of consciousness are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you further understand it, ear and sound, taken as conditions, give rise to ear-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the ear, taking the ear as its basis, or dependent on sound, taking sound as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of the ear, then, the two aspects of motion and stillness not being present, the faculty cannot become a knowing, and there is necessarily nothing known. And knowing not yet being established, what shape or appearance would the consciousness have? If you take it as the ear's hearing, then, without motion and stillness, no hearing can be made at all — how then can the ear's own shape, which is a patch of color and an object of touch, be called an element of consciousness? From what, then, is the element of ear-consciousness set up? If it arises from sound, then the consciousness exists because of sound and has nothing to do with hearing; and with no hearing, the very place of sound's own aspect is lost as well. And if consciousness arises from sound, then, granting that sound has its aspect of sound because of hearing, hearing ought to hear the consciousness itself; and what is not heard is not the element. But if it is heard, it is the same as sound — and the consciousness having already been heard, who is it that knows this heard consciousness? And if there is no one who knows, then one is in the end like grass or wood. It will not do for sound and hearing to combine and make a middle element; and the element having no middle position, from what would the aspects of inner and outer be constituted? You should therefore know that ear-consciousness, said to arise from ear and sound as conditions, has no location in any of the three — ear, sound, and the resulting element of consciousness are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you further understand it, nose and fragrance, taken as conditions, give rise to nose-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the nose, taking the nose as its basis, or dependent on fragrance, taking fragrance as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of the nose, then in your own mind, what do you take the nose to be? Do you take the fleshly form with its pair of claws? Or do you take the nature that knows by smelling and stirs? If you take the fleshly form, then flesh is body-substance, and the body's knowing is touch: called body, it is not nose; called touch, it is an object — and the nose having no name at all, how is a basis set up? And if you take the knowing by smelling, then in your own mind, what do you take the knowing to be? If flesh is the knowing, then the knowing of flesh is from the first touch and not nose. If space is the knowing, then space knows of itself and flesh should have no awareness at all — and in that case space is you, and your body has no knowing, and Ānanda today should be nowhere at all. And if fragrance is the knowing, then the knowing belongs to fragrance, and what concern is it of yours? Moreover, if the airs of fragrance and foulness must be produced in your nose, then those two flowing airs, the fragrant and the foul, are not produced from the ilanda tree or from sandalwood — and with those two things absent, smell your own nose: is it fragrant, or foul? What is foul is not fragrant, and what is fragrant should not be foul. And if you are able to smell them both, then you alone should have two noses, and there would be two Ānandas asking me about the Way — which of them would be your own substance? And if the nose is one, and fragrance and foulness are not two, so that the foul has become fragrant and the fragrant has become foul in turn, then neither of the two natures exists, and from what is the basis set up? If it arises because of fragrance, then the consciousness exists because of fragrance; and just as the eye, having sight, cannot look at the eye, so, existing because of fragrance, it should not know fragrance. If it knows, it is not produced from it; and if it does not know, it is not consciousness at all. Fragrance does not exist by being known, and the element of fragrance is not constituted; and a consciousness that does not know fragrance is not an element established on the basis of fragrance. There being no middle, inner and outer are not constituted, and all those natures of smelling are, in the end, false. You should therefore know that nose-consciousness has no location in any of the three — nose, fragrance, and the resulting element, are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you further understand it, tongue and flavor, taken as conditions, give rise to tongue-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the tongue, taking the tongue as its basis, or dependent on flavor, taking flavor as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of the tongue, then all the sugarcane and dark plums, the goldthread and rock salt, the wild ginger and ginger and cinnamon in the world would have no flavor at all. Taste your own tongue: is it sweet, or bitter? If the tongue's nature is bitter, who is it that comes to taste the tongue? And the tongue not tasting itself, what is it that has the knowing? But if the tongue's nature is not bitter, then flavor does not arise of itself — how is a basis set up? If it arises because of flavor, then the consciousness is itself a flavor; and being in that the same as the tongue-faculty, it should not taste itself — how then does it know what is a flavor and what is not? Moreover, all flavors are not produced from one single thing; and flavors being produced from many things, consciousness should have many substances. And if the substance of consciousness is one, that substance is necessarily produced from flavor, and then salty and bland, sweet and pungent, and all the altered aspects produced by their blending, would alike be one single flavor, and there should be no distinguishing at all. And distinguishing being absent, it is not called consciousness — how then is it further called the element of tongue-and-flavor-consciousness? It will not do for empty space to produce your mind's consciousness; and in the joining of tongue and flavor, right there in the middle there is from the first no nature of its own — how is a basis produced? You should therefore know that tongue-consciousness has no location in any of the three — tongue, flavor, and the resulting element, are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you further understand it, body and touch, taken as conditions, give rise to body-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the body, taking the body as its basis, or dependent on touch, taking touch as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of the body, then, the two conditions of awareness and observation — joining and separation — being necessarily absent, what would the body be conscious of? And if it arises because of touch, then your body is necessarily absent, and who is there that, without being a body, knows joining and separation? Ānanda, a thing does not know by touch; it is the body's knowing that has touch. What knows the body is touch, and what knows touch is the body; yet what is touch is not body, and what is body is not touch, and the two aspects, body and touch, have from the first no location at all. Joined to the body, it is the body's own substance and nature; parted from the body, it is the same as the aspect of empty space. Inner and outer not being constituted, how is a middle established? And the middle not being established, and the natures of inner and outer being empty, then when your consciousness arises, from what is its basis established? You should therefore know that body-consciousness has no location in any of the three — body, touch, and the resulting element, are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda, as you further understand it, mind and mental phenomena, taken as conditions, give rise to mind-consciousness — but does this consciousness arise dependent on the mind, taking mind as its basis, or dependent on mental phenomena, taking those phenomena as its basis? Ānanda, if it arises because of mind, then in your mind there must be something thought that makes your mind evident; and if there is no phenomenon before it, mind has nothing from which to arise, and apart from its conditions it has no form at all — what use would the consciousness be? Moreover, your conscious mind, together with all your reckoning and your nature of discerning — are they the same, or different? If they are the same as mind, they are mind, and how are they what mind produces? And if they are different from mind and not the same, there should be nothing they are conscious of; and if there is nothing they are conscious of, how are they produced from mind at all? But if there is something they are conscious of, how is that a consciousness of mind? Neither of the two natures, the same and the different, being established, how is a basis set up? If it arises because of mental phenomena, then the phenomena of the world are not apart from the five objects. Look at the phenomena of form, and those of sound, of fragrance, of flavor, and of touch: their aspects are distinct and they stand over against the five faculties, and they are not what mind gathers in. Your consciousness is settled to arise on the basis of phenomena; so look closely now — what aspect does each of these phenomena have? Set aside form and space, motion and stillness, openness and blockage, joining and separation, arising and ceasing: go beyond all these aspects, and in the end there is nothing to be found. When they arise, form, space, and all such phenomena arise along with them; when they cease, form, space, and all such phenomena cease along with them. Its cause being absent, a consciousness existing because of such arising — what form and aspect would it make? And the form and aspect not existing, how is a basis produced? You should therefore know that mind-consciousness has no location in any of the three — mind, mental phenomena, and the resulting element, are, all three, originally neither a matter of causes and conditions, nor of any spontaneous nature.

Ānanda said to the Buddha: "World-Honored One, the Tathāgata has always taught that all the world's various transformations come about through the combination of causes and conditions — through the combining of the four great elements. Why, then, does the Tathāgata now reject both causes-and-conditions and spontaneity alike? I do not know where this teaching belongs. I beg only that you, in compassion, reveal to sentient beings the middle way, the teaching of complete meaning, free of empty argument."

At that time the World-Honored One said to Ānanda: "You once turned away from the teachings of the śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas, resolving to seek unsurpassed bodhi — and so I now reveal to you the ultimate truth. Why, then, do you again entangle yourself in the world's empty arguments and deluded talk of causes and conditions? Though you are learned, you are like a person who can recite the names of medicines but cannot recognize the real medicine when it is right in front of him — the Tathāgata truly calls this pitiable! Listen closely now: I shall distinguish and reveal it for you, and shall let those who cultivate the Great Vehicle in time to come penetrate the real aspect as well." Ānanda fell silent, and received the Buddha's holy intent.

Ānanda, as you have said, "the four great elements in combination make the world's various transformations evident." Ānanda, if the nature of those elements were, in substance, not a combining, then they could not blend with the other elements at all, just as empty space does not blend with any form. And if they are a combining, then they are the same as transformation itself: beginning and end constituting one another, arising and ceasing succeeding one another, birth and death and death and birth, birth upon birth and death upon death, like a whirling firebrand-wheel that never once comes to rest. Ānanda, it is as water becomes ice, and ice becomes water again.

Consider the nature of earth: coarse, it is the great earth; fine, it is a mote of dust; and so down to the near-void mote, which is made by splitting into seven parts that aspect at the very border of the finest form. Split the near-void mote further, and it is truly the nature of empty space. Ānanda, if this near-void mote, split, becomes empty space, then you must hold that space gives birth to the aspect of form. You have just asked whether it is by combination that the world's transforming aspects are produced: then look at this single near-void mote — how much space is combined to make it exist? It will not do for near-void motes to combine and make a near-void mote. And for a near-void mote to be split and enter into space, how many aspects of form are combined to make that space? If it is form that joins, then the joined form is not space; and if it is space that joins, then the joined space is not form. Form can still be split — but how is space joined at all? You do not know from the first that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of form is true emptiness, and the nature of emptiness is true form — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, fire has no self of its own; it depends on various conditions to appear. Observe a household in the city that has not yet cooked its meal, wishing to light the stove, holding a burning-glass up to the sun to kindle fire. Ānanda, as for what is called combination: it is as I and you and the twelve hundred and fifty bhikṣus are now one assembly; and though the assembly is one, question its root and each has a body of his own, and each has the clan and family name into which he was born — Śāriputra of a brahmin clan, Uruvilvā of the Kāśyapa clan, and Ānanda too of the Gautama line. Ānanda, if this nature of fire exists by combination, then when that hand holds the mirror to the sun to seek fire, does this fire come out of the mirror, out of the tinder, or from the sun itself? Ānanda, if it comes from the sun, then it is able of itself to burn the tinder in your hand — and every tree and thicket it passed through on the way should be set alight as well. If it comes out of the mirror, then it is able of itself to come out of the mirror and kindle the tinder — why, then, does the mirror not melt? Even the hand holding it shows no sign of heat — how, then, would the mirror liquefy? And if it is produced from the tinder, why must it wait on sun and mirror and the meeting of their light before fire arises at all? Look closely once more: the mirror is held in the hand, the sun comes from the sky, the tinder is produced from the ground — from what quarter did the fire travel to arrive here? The sun and the mirror are far apart from one another; there is neither a true mixing nor a true combining between them, and yet it would be wrong to say the fire's light simply has no source at all. You still do not know that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of fire is true emptiness, and the nature of emptiness is true fire — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. Ānanda, know that where a person in the world holds up a mirror in one place, fire arises in that one place; and were it held up throughout the Dharma-realm, it would arise filling the whole world — and arising throughout the world, how could it have any fixed location? It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, the nature of water is unfixed: it flows or rests without constancy. The great sorcerers of Śrāvastī — the sage Kapila, the sage Cakra, Padma-mahāsattva and the rest — seeking the essence of the moon to mix into their magical potions, hold up a moon-crystal in the hand on the days of the waxing moon, catching the water that gathers from the moon. Does this water come out of the pearl, exist already in empty space, or come from the moon itself? Ānanda, if it comes from the moon, then, being able to make the pearl give out water from so great a distance, every tree and thicket it passed through should spit out a flow as well; and if they do flow, what need is there to wait on the moon-crystal for the water to come out? And if they do not flow, it is clear the water did not come down from the moon. If it comes out of the pearl, then water should always be flowing from this pearl — what need to catch it at midnight on the days of the waxing moon? And if it arises from empty space, space's nature is boundless and the water should have no limit; from human beings up to the gods, all alike would be drowned, and how would there still be travel by water, by land, and through the air? Look closely once more: the moon rises in the sky, the pearl is held in the hand, and the basin that catches the pearl's water was set out by a person — from what quarter did the water pour to arrive here? The moon and the pearl are far apart from one another; there is neither a true mixing nor a true combining between them, and yet it would be wrong to say the water's essence simply has no source at all. You still do not know that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of water is true emptiness, and the nature of emptiness is true water — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. Where a pearl is held up in one place, water comes out in that one place; and were it held up throughout the Dharma-realm, water would be produced filling the whole Dharma-realm — and being produced filling the world, how could it have any fixed location? It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, wind has no fixed substance; its moving and stillness are not constant. When you straighten your robe to enter the assembly, the corner of your outer robe brushes against the person beside you, and a faint breeze touches that person's face. Does this wind come out of the corner of the robe, arise from empty space, or come from that person's own face? Ānanda, if this wind comes out of the corner of the robe, then you are wearing wind, and the robe would fly and shake and should leave your body altogether. I am now letting my own robe hang here in this Dharma-assembly: look at my robe — where in it is the wind? It will not do for the robe to have a place inside it where wind is stored. If the wind arises from empty space, then when your robe does not move, why is there no brushing? Space's nature abides constantly, and so wind should be produced constantly; and when there is no wind, space itself ought to be extinguished. The extinction of wind can be seen — but what would the extinction of space look like? And if space had arising and ceasing, it would not be called empty space; while if it is called empty space, how does wind come out of it? And if the wind is produced of itself from that face it brushed, then, being produced from that face, it ought to brush you instead — why, when it is you who straightened the robe, does it brush the other way? Examine it closely: the straightening of the robe is yours, the face belongs to that person, and empty space is still and takes no part in the flowing motion — from what quarter, then, did the wind stir and come here? Wind and space are, by nature, separate from each other; there is neither a true mixing nor a true combining between them, and yet it would be wrong to say this nature of wind simply has no source at all. You truly do not know that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of wind is true emptiness, and the nature of emptiness is true wind — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. Ānanda, as from your one person slightly stirring the robe a slight wind comes out, so were it stirred throughout the Dharma-realm, wind would be produced brushing the whole land — and pervading the world, how could it have any fixed location? It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, space has no form of its own; it is revealed only through form. Consider, in a place far from the river in Śrāvastī, the kṣatriyas and brahmins, the vaiśyas and śūdras, together with the Bhāradvājas and the caṇḍālas and the rest, newly settled and digging a well in search of water. For every foot of earth removed, a foot of empty space appears in its place; and so on, up to removing a full fathom of earth, revealing a full fathom of empty space in turn — the depth of the space keeping exact pace with how much earth is removed. Does this space come from the earth, from the digging, or does it arise spontaneously, with no cause at all? Ānanda, if this space arose spontaneously with no cause, why was it not unobstructed before the earth was dug? One saw only solid ground, remote and with nothing passing through. If it comes out because of the earth, then as the earth came out one should see space go in. And if the earth came out first and no space went in, how is space said to come out because of earth? But if there is no going out and coming in, then space and earth would from the first have no different cause; and having no difference they are the same — so why, when the earth came out, did space not come out along with it? If it comes out because of the digging, then the digging brings out space and should not bring out earth; and if it does not come out because of the digging, then the digging brings out earth of itself — how, then, is space seen? Examine again, and closely examine, and closely look: the digging follows a person's hand and is turned this way and that, and the earth is moved because of the ground — from what, then, does this space come out? Digging and space, one solid and one empty, cannot act upon each other; there is neither a true mixing nor a true combining between them, and yet it would be wrong to say this space simply has no source at all. If this nature of space is round and pervading and originally does not stir, then know that the present earth, water, fire, and wind are alike called the five great elements, their natures truly round and fused, all of them the tathāgatagarbha, originally without arising or ceasing. Ānanda, your mind is in a daze and does not awaken to the four great elements being, from the first, the tathāgatagarbha. You should consider: does space come out, or go in, or neither come out nor go in? You do not know at all that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of awareness is true emptiness, and the nature of emptiness is true awareness — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. Ānanda, as one well's space, and space giving rise to one well, so it is with the space of the ten directions: filling the ten directions completely, how could it have any fixed location? It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, the awareness of seeing has, in itself, no content of its own — it exists because of form and space. As you are now here in the Jeta Grove: bright in the morning and dim at evening, and should you stay till midnight, with a white moon there is light and with a dark moon there is darkness — and brightness and darkness and the rest are analyzed by means of seeing. Is this seeing one and the same substance as brightness, darkness, and the great void of space together, or not the same substance? Is it, perhaps, both the same and not the same, or both different and not different? Ānanda, if this seeing were from the first one substance with brightness, with darkness, and with empty space, then brightness and darkness, as two substances, annul each other: in darkness there is no brightness, and in brightness there is no darkness. If it were one with darkness, then in brightness the seeing would be lost; and if it must be one with brightness, then in darkness it would be extinguished — and being extinguished, how would it see brightness and see darkness at all? And if darkness and brightness differ while seeing has no arising or ceasing, how is "one substance" constituted? But if this essence of seeing is not one substance with darkness and with brightness, then set aside brightness and darkness and empty space, and analyze the source of seeing: what form and aspect does it make? Apart from brightness, apart from darkness, and apart from space, this seeing is from the first the same as a tortoise's hair or a rabbit's horn. Brightness, darkness, and space, these three things, being wholly different — from which of them is seeing set up? Brightness and darkness stand opposed to each other — how then could it be "both the same"? And the three being from the first absent — how then could it be "both different"? Divide space, divide seeing, and there is from the first no dividing line between them — how could it be called "not the same"? Seeing darkness and seeing brightness — this seeing-nature itself never changes — so how could it be called "not different"? Examine still more finely, and finely examine, and examine in detail, and closely examine and look: brightness comes from the sun, darkness follows the dark of the moon, what passes through belongs to space, and what blocks goes back to the great earth — from what, then, does this essence of seeing come out? Seeing-awareness and dull space are neither truly mixed nor truly combined, and yet it would be wrong to say this essence of seeing simply comes out of nowhere at all. If the natures of seeing, hearing, and knowing are round and pervading and originally do not stir, then know that boundless unmoving space, together with the stirring earth, water, fire, and wind, are alike called the six great elements, their natures truly round and fused, all of them the tathāgatagarbha, originally without arising or ceasing. Ānanda, your nature is sunk under, and you do not awaken to your seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing being, from the first, the tathāgatagarbha. You should consider this seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing: does it arise, or cease? Is it the same, or different? Is it neither arising nor ceasing? Is it neither the same nor different? You have never known that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of seeing is true awareness and bright, the essence of awareness is true, bright seeing — pure and unmoved from the start, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, appearing according to each sentient being's mind and capacity to know. As one faculty of seeing sees throughout the Dharma-realm, so it is with hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching, with the sensing of touch and the knowing of awareness: their wondrous virtue is lustrous, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, filling the ten directions of emptiness completely — how could they have any fixed location? It manifests according to karma; the unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

Ānanda, consciousness has no single source; it arises falsely, dependent on the six pairs of sense-faculties and their objects. Look now across this whole assembly of noble ones — as your eye passes over them, roving freely, it sees them at first exactly as a mirror does, without distinguishing anything at all. Then your consciousness, one by one, picks out and names each one in turn: this is Mañjuśrī, this is Pūrṇa, this is Maudgalyāyana, this is Subhūti, this is Śāriputra. Does this act of recognizing consciousness arise from the seeing, from the appearances themselves, from empty space, or does it emerge suddenly, with no cause at all? Ānanda, if your consciousness-nature arose within seeing, then, without brightness and darkness and form and space — these four being necessarily absent — there is from the first no seeing of yours at all; and the nature of seeing not existing, from what would consciousness arise? And if your consciousness-nature arose within the appearances and not from seeing, then, since it neither sees brightness nor sees darkness, and brightness and darkness not being looked upon there is no form and no space, that appearance not existing, from what would consciousness arise? If it arose in empty space, then, being neither the appearance nor the seeing, and not being seeing there is nothing to distinguish with, so of itself it could not know brightness, darkness, form, or space; and not being the appearance, its conditions are extinguished, and seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing have no place to be established. Standing between these two negations, space is not the same as nothing, and existence is not the same as a thing — and even granting that your consciousness arose, what would it distinguish? And if it emerges suddenly with no cause at all, why do you not pick out the bright moon in the middle of the day? Examine yet more in detail, and finely and in detail examine: seeing is lodged in your eye, the appearance is pushed forward as the scene before you, what can be given a shape becomes existence and what has no aspect becomes nothing — from what, then, does this condition of consciousness come out? Consciousness stirs and seeing is clear; they are neither truly mixed nor truly combined — and so likewise with hearing and listening, sensing and knowing — and yet it would be wrong to say the condition of consciousness simply comes out of nowhere at all. If this conscious mind is from the first from nowhere, then know that discerning, and seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing, are full and utterly still, and their nature is not from anywhere; and together with empty space and earth, water, fire, and wind they are alike called the seven great elements, their natures truly round and fused, all of them the tathāgatagarbha, originally without arising or ceasing. Ānanda, your mind is coarse and unsettled, and you do not awaken to seeing and hearing making knowing evident as being, from the first, the tathāgatagarbha. You should consider these six places of conscious mind: are they the same, or different? Are they empty, or existent? Are they neither the same nor different? Are they neither empty nor existent? You have simply never known that, in the tathāgatagarbha, the nature of consciousness is bright knowing, and true consciousness is the brightness of awareness itself — wondrously aware and utterly still, pervading the whole Dharma-realm, containing and giving forth the ten directions of emptiness — how could it have any fixed location? The unknowing world mistakes this for a matter of causes and conditions or of spontaneity — all of it merely the discriminating, calculating mind; there is only talk, with no real substance in it at all.

At that time Ānanda and the whole assembly, receiving the Tathāgata's subtle and wondrous instruction, felt body and mind grow entirely open, free of every obstruction. Each one of them came to know, for themselves, that mind pervades the ten directions, and saw the empty space of the ten directions the way one sees a leaf held in the palm of the hand. Everything that exists in the whole world is nothing but the wondrous, bright, original mind of bodhi; the essence of mind, perfectly full and complete, encloses and contains the ten directions within itself. Looking back at the body born of their own parents, it seemed like a single speck of dust blown about somewhere within the boundless space of the ten directions, now appearing, now vanishing; like a single bubble floating on a vast, calm ocean, arising and ceasing with no origin to be found. Clearly he knew for himself that he had gained the original wondrous mind, ever abiding and unceasing. He bowed to the Buddha, joined his palms, gained what he had never had before, and before the Tathāgata spoke this verse in praise of the Buddha:

"Wondrously still, all-holding, unmoving Honored One — Śūraṅgama King, rare in this world! You have dissolved away my inverted thinking of a hundred million kalpas, so that without passing through an asaṃkhya of ages I gain the Dharma-body. May I now win the fruit and become a Jewel-King, and return to deliver beings numberless as the Ganges' sands; this deep mind I offer up to lands numberless as dust — and that is what is called repaying the Buddha's kindness. I humbly ask the World-Honored One to bear witness: into the evil world of the five turbidities I vow to enter first; and if a single sentient being has not yet become Buddha, I will not take final nirvāṇa here. Great hero, great strength, great compassion! I ask you further to examine and remove the subtle delusions; let me swiftly mount to unsurpassed awakening, and sit at the seat of enlightenment in the worlds of the ten directions. The nature of śūnyatā itself may be dissolved away — this vajra mind will never be moved!"