Actual Practice

Root Text: Those who cultivate calming and insight do so in two ways: first, practicing while seated; second, practicing carried into every activity and circumstance. As for practicing calming and insight while seated — this can, in fact, be accomplished in any of the four bodily postures, but for one who studies the path, sitting is the most excellent, and so calming and insight are explained first in terms of sitting. Briefly, there are five distinct approaches. The first is countering the coarse agitation of the beginner's mind: when a practitioner first sits in meditation, the mind is coarse and agitated, and one should cultivate calming to break this apart. If calming alone cannot break it, one should then cultivate insight. Hence this is called countering the beginner's coarse agitation through calming and insight.

Commentary: The five chapters explained above, together making up twenty-five preparatory factors, are all skillful means leading up to actual practice. This sixth chapter, actual practice, is where genuine practice — putting in real effort — actually begins. Even with every condition in place, if one does not truly apply effort in accordance with principle, one's own practice along the path still remains hard to accomplish... This is why a practitioner, once every condition is in place, body and mind pure both inwardly and outwardly, with no affliction or obstruction arising, is well placed to cultivate calming and insight with a single, undivided mind from this point on.

Cultivating calming and insight takes two distinct forms: first, cultivating it while seated; second, cultivating it carried into every activity and circumstance. First explaining the practice while seated: calming and insight can, in principle, be cultivated in any of the four bodily postures — walking, standing, sitting, or lying down — each carrying its own dignity to be respected and its own proper form to be followed... "One who studies the path" refers here specifically to a beginner in cultivating calming and insight. What was said above, that practice can be carried out in all four postures, applies to one who has long settled the mind on the path and whose skill has become fully mature; for a beginning practitioner, practicing while seated is by far the most excellent, since the mind's own thoughts settle more easily and its objects empty out more easily this way — hence calming and insight are explained first in terms of sitting.

Yet the avenues for cultivating calming and insight are numerous, and its methods are not just one; here only five approaches are explained — hence it is said "briefly" — for these five approaches are already able to encompass every gate of contemplation. The five kinds of cultivating calming and insight are: first, countering the beginner's coarse agitation; second, countering the affliction of a sinking or floating mind; third, following whatever is fitting; fourth, countering subtle attachment within concentration; fifth, balancing concentration and wisdom evenly.

As for the first, countering the beginner's coarse agitation: this means that when a beginning practitioner, taking up practice on the path, first sits in meditation to cultivate contemplation, should the mind's own thoughts be coarse and rough, scattered without rest, one should at that time cultivate calming to break this apart — calming being precisely the calming of this scattered agitation. Should calming alone fail to remove this affliction of a coarse, scattered mind, one should then cultivate insight to break it apart instead — insight being precisely the illuminating of this very dullness. One should know that however many afflictions there may be, they do not exceed two kinds: dullness and scatteredness. An ordinary sentient being is, at any given moment, either sunk in dullness or else scattered in agitation; and once calming and insight are cultivated together, both of these afflictions can be broken — for calming is able to subdue and still the coarse mind's idle thought, while insight is able to illuminate and break through subtle affliction. Hence this is called countering the beginner's coarse agitation through calming and insight.

Root Text: Cultivating calming and insight now has two aspects. The first is cultivating calming, which is itself of three kinds. The first is calming through fixing the mind and guarding an object: fixing the mind on the tip of the nose, the navel, or some similar place, so that the mind does not scatter. Hence a sūtra says: "Fix the mind and do not let it run loose — exactly like a monkey kept on a leash." The second is calming through restraining the mind: whatever thought arises in the mind, restraining it at once, not letting it run off scattered. Hence a sūtra says: "Of these five faculties, the mind is their master — you should therefore skillfully still the mind." These first two are both matters of outward technique, and need no further distinction. The third is calming through embodying true reality: whatever dharma the mind happens to think of, knowing entirely that it arises from causes and conditions and has no fixed nature of its own, the mind then takes hold of nothing — and once the mind takes hold of nothing, idle thought comes to rest of itself, hence it is called calming. As a sūtra says:
"Within every dharma, causes and conditions are empty, with no master over them — stilling the mind, one reaches the very source; hence one is called a śramaṇa."

Commentary: Cultivating calming and insight has two aspects: cultivating calming, and cultivating insight. Within cultivating calming there are three distinct kinds. The first is calming through fixing the mind and guarding an object — this is a method of fixed mindfulness. If a practitioner's own thoughts are coarse and the mind is prone to drift, one fixes the mind on a single place, keeping guard over a single object — whether fixing the mind on the tip of one's own nose, or on the elixir field at the navel, or even taking the buddhas' own excellent marks as the object of contemplation — in every case, simply keeping the mind from running off scattered... Hence a sūtra says: "Fix the mind and do not let it run loose — exactly like a monkey kept on a leash."

The second is calming through restraining the mind — that is, the effort of setting down and restraining, subduing and dissolving idle thought. Unlike the method above, of fixing the mind on some object, this instead observes one's own mind's thoughts very closely, watching whatever thought arises in the mind and restraining it the moment it appears: if a thought of greed arises, one sets it down at once; if a thought of anger arises, one likewise sets it down; if a thought of delusion arises, one likewise sets it down — whatever kind of thought arises, one subdues it with these same two words, "set down," never letting it run off scattered... These first two forms of calming are both matters of outward technique, very easily understood at a glance, and need no further, detailed distinction.

Commentary: This third kind speaks in terms of the nature of reality itself, and its meaning is somewhat deeper and more subtle: it does not fasten its attention on outward technique, but observes instead the very substance of principle, coming to understand that every dharma the mind happens to think of arises entirely from causes and conditions. "Every" here means comprehensively, without exception... Yet however many dharmas there are, they do not exceed the dependent and direct fruits of karma... whether a dependent or a direct dharma, one understands it entirely to arise from the coming-together of causes and conditions. Having arisen through causes and conditions, it must likewise cease through causes and conditions — arising and ceasing through conditions, called into existence as an illusory appearance — yet, in truth, what arises through conditions has no fixed nature at all, and seeking its arising, ceasing, coming, or going, none of it can ultimately be found. Why is this? Because one's own mind has, from the start, no arising or ceasing at all — it is only through the conditioned arising of mind's own nature that there is, unavoidably, some illusory taking-hold, and so there appears to be arising and ceasing, coming and going. One should know that "arising" is merely the coming-together of illusory causes and conditions called "arising," and "ceasing" is merely the separating-apart of illusory causes and conditions called "ceasing." What arises through conditions, in its very arising, is not truly arising at all; what ceases through conditions, in its very ceasing, is not truly ceasing at all — its very substance has no fixed nature of its own. Fully understanding that no dharma is truly born is called true emptiness. Whatever has a mark at all is entirely illusory — and once one knows it to be illusory, the mind gives rise to no clinging attachment toward it. And once the mind gives rise to no clinging attachment, the mind of idle thought comes to rest without needing to be forcibly rested at all — this is called calming through embodying true reality.

This is what is meant by fully embodying that every dharma is nothing but true emptiness, so that idle thought comes to rest of itself. The Awakening of Faith says: "Every object of experience is differentiated only through idle thought; without idle thought, one is free of every mark of every object, and this is precisely the Tathāgata's own equal Dharma-body." Relying on this Dharma-body, this is called original awakening — from this we know that resting idle thought matters more than almost anything else. Being able to bring idle thought to rest in just this way is called calming through embodying true reality.

The sūtra says: "Within every dharma, causes and conditions are empty, with no master over them." "Every" here comprehends both mundane and transmundane dharmas alike — meaning that, seeking the true substance within any dharma at all, none can ultimately be found, since every one of them arises entirely from causes and conditions, its very substance having no nature of its own, no nature from elsewhere, no nature shared in common, and no nature arising without cause — its substance being true emptiness itself, with nothing at all presiding over it as master.

"Śramaṇa" is the general term for a follower of the Buddha... and, as it is further said, "stilling the mind, one reaches the very source — hence one is called a śramaṇa." If one is able to embody true reality and still the mind in this way, one thereby reaches the very ground of the mind at its own source — for this mind is the very root of every dharma, and once the mind is stilled, its source is reached!

Root Text: When a practitioner first sits in meditation, every dharma the mind thinks of, thought following thought, never stays put — and if, even using the calming through embodying true reality explained above, idle thought still does not come to rest, one should turn to observe the very mind from which it arises: the past already gone, the present not staying, the future not yet arrived — investigated across all three time periods, it ultimately cannot be found. If a dharma cannot be found, then there is no mind there at all; and if there is no mind, then no dharma exists at all either... One further observes this thought of the mind: inwardly there are the six faculties, outwardly the six sense-objects. Faculty and object meeting each other, consciousness arises; faculty and object not yet meeting, consciousness has, from the start, no arising at all. Observing its arising is like this; observing its ceasing is just the same — the very names "arising" and "ceasing" are merely provisional labels. Once the mind of arising-and-ceasing itself ceases, still cessation manifests before one, with nothing at all left to be found — this is precisely the principle of nirvāṇa's own empty stillness, and the mind is calmed of itself.

Commentary: Should a practitioner, applying the three kinds of calming explained above, still gain no benefit — if the thoughts arising from the mind still, one after another, shift and pass away, flowing without ever settling, one thought following the next in unbroken succession, exactly like waves on the great ocean, idle and disordered thought unable to come to rest — one must then turn to observe the very mind from which these thoughts arise. This is itself the cultivation of insight. Because every dharma arises entirely from mind, manifested by mind alone — if there were no mind, by what means could any dharma arise at all? An object has, from the start, no arising of its own; it exists only because of mind. If mind were absent, the object too would be absent.

Understanding that every dharma is thus produced by mind, one turns the light around and looks back at this very thought, this mind capable of producing it: what shape does it actually have, in the end? Is this mind round, or square? Is it blue, or yellow? Does it belong to the past, the present, or the future? Is it located inside, outside, or somewhere in between? If one says it belongs to the past — the past is already gone. The present does not stay put. The future has not yet arrived. Investigated across all three time periods, this very thought, this mind capable of observation, ultimately cannot be found at all — for this mind has, vertically, no beginning and no end, and, horizontally, no boundary or edge whatsoever, falling into no fixed measure or location; hence it is neither inside, outside, nor in between, neither long nor short, neither round nor square, neither blue, yellow, red, nor white, belonging to neither past, present, nor future — in every place, at every time, seeking the mind's own substance, it ultimately cannot be found at all.

Yet although it ultimately cannot be found, this is not the same as the blank unknowing of an inert void, wood, or stone — hence it is said that this is not the absence of instant-by-instant awareness: when a Persian comes, one sees a Persian; when a Chinese person comes, one sees a Chinese person. Whatever sentient or non-sentient circumstance presents itself in the present moment is, without exception, known and understood with perfect clarity — hence it is said, "awareness arises spontaneously the moment a thought does."

Commentary: Having, above, turned to observe this very thought, this mind from which it arises — where, in the end, is it actually located? Investigated across the three time periods, it has no location at all. Yet within this very unfindability, awareness is never absent even for a single instant, and spontaneously knows whatever thought arises in the mind. A practitioner, turning to observe this thought once more, asks: from what does it actually arise?

Our own inward mind has six faculties — eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind — and each faculty has both a coarse, material form and a subtle, essential form. The coarse, material faculty is precisely the body born of one's own parents, illusory and unreal, hence called "coarse"; it has no function of seeing, hearing, sensing, or knowing on its own, hence it too is called mere "matter." The subtle, essential faculty, by contrast, is obstructed from an ordinary being's own fleshly eye and cannot be seen at all, though the heavenly eye is able to see it... just as the eye is able to see form, the ear is able to hear sound, and the mind, in turn, is able to know mental objects — these are the distinguishing marks of the six inward faculties. Outwardly there are the six sense-objects of form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mental objects — and because the six faculties meet the six sense-objects, pairing with one another, the six consciousnesses are thereby produced. If faculty and object do not actually connect, consciousness has no way to arise at all, since a faculty alone cannot produce it, nor can an object alone bring it about. From this we know that faculty and object together are the producing cause, and the mind of consciousness is what is produced; the six faculties are what meets, and the six sense-objects are what is met — each depending on the other, each established through the other. One should know that meeter and met, producer and produced, are all illusory and impermanent, ultimately empty, with no real substance at all.

Arising through conditions in this way, having no fixed nature, its very substance already empty — turning to observe the very mind that produces it is exactly the same, and turning to observe the very object that ceases is exactly the same as well. That is, observing that the mind does not truly arise, one observes that the dharma too does not truly arise; observing that the mind is impermanent, one observes that the dharma too is impermanent. Hence it is said, "observing its arising is like this; observing its ceasing is just the same" — from which we know that arising is itself ceasing, and ceasing is itself arising, arising upon arising, ceasing upon ceasing, ceasing upon ceasing, arising upon arising — the very names "arising" and "ceasing" are merely provisional labels, since what arises and ceases through conditions is illusory and unreal, merely an illusory appearance given a name.

A practitioner skillfully able to turn and observe in this way finds not only that the dharma produced cannot be found, but that the very mind capable of observing it cannot be found either — subject and object both gone, mind and its object both stilled — and this is precisely when the principle of true emptiness and still cessation manifests brilliantly clear before one: arising-and-ceasing having already ceased, still cessation manifests. At this moment, the whole earth sinks level and empty space itself shatters — here there is no person, no self, and no sentient being at all. Great Master Yongjia said: "Seeing with utter clarity, there is not a single thing — no person, and no buddha either; the great chiliocosm's own sand-grain worlds are but bubbles on water, and every ordinary being and sage alike is like a flash of lightning." Not only do the six ordinary destinies attain nothing at all — the four sagely realms attain nothing either; not only is the false itself empty — the true, too, is empty. Having reached this point, there remains only the single, equal mind itself — what else could there possibly be beyond this?

Root Text: The Awakening of Faith says: if the mind runs off scattered, one should gather it back and settle it in correct mindfulness. This correct mindfulness is precisely knowing that there is mind alone, with no outward object of its own at all — and, further, that this very mind, too, has no mark of its own, unfindable from one thought to the next. When one first takes up this practice, the mind cannot easily be made to settle — and forcing it to settle by sheer suppression often brings on a kind of derangement instead. It is like learning archery: only through long practice does one finally hit the mark.

Commentary: "Awakening" means arousing; "faith" means correct faith — that is, arousing correct faith in the Great Vehicle within a person of superior capacity for the Great Vehicle, hence its name, the Awakening of Faith. This treatise was composed by the bodhisattva Aśvaghoṣa, and fully explains the method by which a practitioner applies real effort in practice... If the mind's own thoughts run off, flowing and scattering across dusty objects, a practitioner should gather the mind back in and settle it within correct mindfulness. "Correct mindfulness" is precisely no-thought — a thought that is no-thought is called correct mindfulness, and this correct mindfulness is able to break through every kind of idle thought. One should know that every dharma is mind alone; apart from mind, seeking some further dharma elsewhere, none can ultimately be found at all...

Yet this mind has no direction, no fixed measure, no shape, and no boundary — its very substance ultimately cannot be found — and yet, though ultimately unfindable, every appearance remains vivid and distinct. This is what is meant by saying that empty space is, in itself, no particular appearance at all, and yet does not refuse to let every appearance play itself out within it — hence the whole teeming array of phenomena manifests brilliantly before it without exception...

One often sees a beginner, taking up the practice of calming, unable for a time to settle the mind, and so pressing down and forcibly suppressing it, straining to make it hold still — and the more forcefully this is done, the more the strain and exhaustion build, until every kind of affliction crowds in: some fall into outright derangement, some develop a genuine sickness of the mind — all of this arising simply from being unskillful in cultivating calming! This is why a beginner in applying effort should never be impatient, and should never force the issue. Consider the ancient patriarch Zhaozhou, who, for thirty years, applied his mind to nothing else at all; or the ascetic in the paper robe, who sat on his rush mat for forty years before finally according with the path. One should know that a person applying real effort is exactly like one tuning a lute: adjusting the strings slowly, neither too loose nor too tight — in time the strings come into tune, the fingers find their ease, and a wondrous sound naturally flows forth of itself. It is likewise like learning archery: only through long practice can one finally hit the mark.

Root Text: Second, cultivating insight is itself of two kinds. The first is the counteracting contemplation: such as the contemplation of impurity, which counters covetous desire; the contemplation of loving-kindness, which counters anger; the contemplation of distinguishing the elements, which counters attachment to a self; and the contemplation of counting the breath, which counters excessive discursive thought — these need no further distinction.

Commentary: This second part explains cultivating insight. The three ways of cultivating calming explained above — fixing the mind and guarding an object, restraining the mind, and embodying true reality — are now fully explained. Cultivating insight likewise has two kinds: the counteracting contemplation, and correct contemplation. The counteracting contemplation, also called the supporting contemplation, is precisely what counters the specific affliction present within one's own mind... While sitting in meditation, a practitioner must observe which idle thought predominates within their own mind.

(1) If thoughts of covetous desire predominate, one should cultivate the contemplation of impurity to counter it... Among these, best suited to a beginning, ordinary practitioner, easiest to benefit from, and most essential of all, is none other than the ninefold contemplation... One should know that these nine impure marks, though cultivated as an imagined contemplation, are nonetheless able to accomplish a great task — like a corpse floating in the great ocean, which a drowning person may cling to and thereby be saved. This is the contemplation of impurity, countering covetous desire.

(2) If thoughts of anger predominate, one should counter it with the contemplation of loving-kindness... this is precisely cultivating the contemplation of loving-kindness to counter the fire of anger. Contemplation of loving-kindness likewise has, roughly, three distinct kinds: for anger without any reasonable cause arising on its own, one cultivates loving-kindness toward sentient beings directly to counter it; for anger with some reasonable cause, arising when another person troubles or provokes one, one cultivates loving-kindness grounded in the Dharma to counter it; and for anger arising from insisting oneself is right and another is wrong, born of dispute, one cultivates loving-kindness with no object at all to counter it. A practitioner, using these three skillful forms of loving-kindness, extinguishes the fire of anger, and the mind attains a cool clarity, naturally according with the path.

(3) If thoughts of attachment to a self predominate, one counters it with the contemplation of distinguishing the elements. What is meant by "distinguishing" is this: "element" means a bounded category, since our own body is entirely a temporary aggregation of the seven great elements — earth, water, fire, wind, space, the faculties, and consciousness... Observed in this way, searching among the faculties, sense-objects, consciousnesses, and elements for a self, none can ultimately be found — and where none can be found, there is, in fact, no self there at all. Yet sentient beings fail to understand this, and falsely cling to a self where there is no self — falsely taking the four great elements to be their own bodily form, falsely taking the shadow-traces of the six sense-objects to be their own mind. In truth the five aggregates are, at root, empty, and the four great elements are not a self. If one is genuinely able to investigate and distinguish in this way, the thought clinging to a self is dissolved.

(4) If thoughts of discursive searching and scattered distraction predominate, one counters it with the contemplation of counting the breath. "Counting the breath" means counting one's own breath through the nose — setting aside the windy, panting, or coarse states, and counting only the fine, continuous breath, as though barely there and yet never quite gone, passing in and out through the nose, from one up to ten, and then from ten back to one — counting the inhalation but not the exhalation, or the exhalation but not the inhalation — continuous and fine throughout, the mind resting on the breath and the breath resting on the mind, with no other object of attention at all, following the breath alone, the count kept perfectly clear. In this way, every searching, discursive thought within the mind is entirely dissolved without remainder — hence it is said, "these need no further distinction."

Root Text: The second is correct contemplation: observing that every dharma has no fixed mark, and that all of them arise from causes and conditions — and that what arises through causes and conditions has no fixed nature, which is precisely true reality itself. Once one has understood that the object of contemplation is, in every respect, empty, the mind that contemplates ceases of itself to arise. This principle is discussed at length elsewhere throughout this text; the reader may examine it there. As a sūtra verse says:
"No dharma is ever truly firm and fixed, ever present only within a thought — one who has already understood, seeing emptiness, gives rise to no conceptual thought about it at all."

Commentary: What was explained above is the counteracting contemplation; here correct contemplation is explained. This means observing that every dharma arises neither of itself, nor from another, nor from both together, nor without any cause at all — its very substance being at once empty, at once conventional, and at once the middle: the inconceivable, perfect principle of the three truths. Among these three contemplations, the hardest of all to cultivate is the contemplation of emptiness, since ordinary sentient beings, from beginningless time, have been obstructed by ignorance and cling to the myriad dharmas as truly existing — to speak of emptiness does not, of itself, make emptiness easy to realize — hence one must first fully understand that no dharma has any fixed mark, and this markless state is precisely emptiness...

The Diamond Sūtra says: "Whatever has a mark is entirely illusory; seeing every mark as no true mark at all, one thereby sees true reality itself." If one is able to fully understand, exactly as it is, that the object of contemplation is, in every respect, empty, then the mind that contemplates ceases of itself to arise — for mind, from the start, has no arising of its own, and exists only because of its object; and if the object were absent, mind too would be absent. This principle of calming and insight is treated at length throughout this text, both before this point and after; the reader may examine it there without need for further repetition here.

As the sūtra verse says: "No dharma is ever truly firm and fixed, ever present only within a thought." "Every dharma" refers to both the dependent and the direct fruits of karma alike; arising through causes and conditions, they likewise cease through causes and conditions, hence it is said they are never truly firm and fixed... "One who has already understood, seeing emptiness, gives rise to no conceptual thought about it at all" — these two lines carry a very deep meaning. "Already understood" means having already understood that every dharma is empty, with nothing there at all — and once this point is reached, no idle or disordered thought remains. Once idle thought is gone, the mind is pure of itself. "Seeing emptiness" here means not merely understanding a bare emptiness, but fully realizing the ultimate emptiness of great prajñā itself; "no conceptual thought" means not merely having no thought, but having no thought even of "neither existing nor not existing" — hence it is said, "gives rise to no conceptual thought about it at all."

Further: "no dharma is ever truly firm and fixed, ever present only within a thought" corresponds to calming through embodying true reality, the contemplation of emptiness; "one who has already understood, seeing emptiness" corresponds to the expedient calming that accords with conditions, the conventional contemplation; and "gives rise to no conceptual thought about it at all" corresponds to the calming that stills discrimination between the two extremes, the contemplation of the middle way. If one can investigate these four lines deeply, more than half of what follows in this text will already be understood! This concludes the first approach, countering the beginner's coarse agitation through calming and insight.

Root Text: Second, countering the affliction of a sinking or floating mind through calming and insight. If, while sitting in meditation, a practitioner's mind grows dark and blocked, blankly neutral or dazed, or prone to excessive sleepiness, one should at that time cultivate insight to illuminate it clearly. If, while seated, the mind is prone to float, agitated and restless, ill at ease, one should at that time cultivate calming to still it. This is a brief account of countering the affliction of a sinking or floating mind through calming and insight — but one must skillfully recognize which remedy matches which affliction and apply it accordingly, never allowing any confusion or error in how the two are matched.

Commentary: This second approach counters the affliction of a sinking or floating mind through calming and insight. While a practitioner sits still cultivating dhyāna-contemplation, the mind may grow dull and dark, blocked and closed off; or it may float, agitated and restless; or it may fall into a blank, neutral state, or become dazed and vacant. This "blank, neutral state" means having nothing recorded or distinguished within it — this too has two kinds, a covering form and a clear, aware form...

If, while sitting still, a practitioner finds this kind of covering, blank-neutral state arising, one should cultivate insight to illuminate it clearly, holding this awareness continuously, so that one falls neither into dullness nor into the dark, covering blankness in which objects fail to appear distinctly. If, while seated, none of the dull, blank-neutral affliction described above is present, but the mind instead floats, agitated and restless, ill at ease — this too is no good. A floating mind is mental restlessness; agitated unease is bodily restlessness — and restlessness of body and mind together, unsettled both inwardly and outwardly, the mind scattered and thought adrift, is likewise enough to damage the Dharma-body and destroy one's own merit. When this affliction of floating restlessness arises, one must likewise cast it off at once, cultivating calming to still it, not letting it float.

This is a brief account of the mark of countering the affliction of sinking or floating through calming and insight — but one must skillfully recognize which remedy matches which affliction and treat it accordingly: using calming to treat scatteredness, and insight to treat dullness. That is, calming where calming is called for, insight where insight is called for — knowing the illness, recognizing the remedy, prescribing according to the illness — one must never apply the wrong remedy carelessly, only worsening the affliction instead; hence it is said that one must never allow any confusion or error in this. "Confusion" means disorder; "error" means one-sidedness — that is, one must never practice this in a disordered, mismatched way.

Root Text: Third, following whatever is fitting in cultivating calming and insight. If, while sitting in meditation, one cultivates insight to counter a sinking mind, and yet the mind still fails to become clear and pure, gaining no benefit from the Dharma, one should at that time try cultivating calming instead to still it. If, upon cultivating calming, one immediately feels body and mind grow settled and quiet, one should know that calming is fitting here, and should use calming to settle the mind. If, while sitting in meditation, one cultivates calming to counter a floating mind, and yet the mind still fails to settle, gaining no benefit from the Dharma, one should try cultivating insight instead. If, upon cultivating insight, one immediately feels the mind and spirit grow clear, still and at ease, one should know that insight is fitting here, and should use insight to settle the mind. This is a brief account of following whatever is fitting in cultivating calming and insight — but one must skillfully practice according to whatever proves fitting, so that mind and spirit find peace, the affliction of the hindrances comes to rest, and every dharma-gate is realized.

Commentary: Among the five distinct approaches within the actual-practice chapter, the first two are now complete; this third explains following whatever is fitting in cultivating calming and insight. This approach follows on from the previous one, countering the affliction of sinking or floating. "Following whatever is fitting" means following whatever proves convenient for oneself — neither restricted to cultivating calming alone, nor confined to cultivating insight alone, but practicing according to whatever suits oneself, seeking only what is truly fitting, with actual benefit as the goal.

Having, before, cultivated insight to counter the affliction of a sinking mind, if the mind still fails to become clear and pure, and gains no benefit from the Dharma, one should at that time try cultivating calming instead to still it. "Try cultivating" means practicing only after testing it — if, after testing, it accords well with the mind, one need not hesitate to rely on it and practice it further. If a practitioner, while sitting in meditation, is troubled by heavy drowsiness, one would ordinarily cultivate insight to counter it — but if long practice brings no benefit, one need not hesitate to cultivate calming instead to still it, and in time the affliction of drowsiness, too, can be dissolved. This is what is meant by "using poison to counter poison" — body and mind becoming pure through this very effort of using calming to settle the mind.

If, while sitting in meditation, one cultivates calming to counter a floating mind, and yet the mind still fails to settle, gaining no benefit from the Dharma, one should try cultivating insight instead. If, upon cultivating insight, one immediately feels the mind and spirit grow clear, still and at ease, one should know that insight is fitting here, and should use insight to settle the mind. What came before explained following whatever is fitting in cultivating calming; this now explains following whatever is fitting in cultivating insight.

If a practitioner, while sitting in meditation, cultivates calming to counter the demon of a sinking or floating mind, and yet the mind remains agitated and restless, unable to settle, one should at that time try cultivating insight instead. If, upon cultivating insight, one becomes aware of oneself that the mind and spirit have grown clear and pure, deep and still, at ease — this accords with insight, and so one should cultivate insight to settle the mind. This is the mark of following whatever is fitting in cultivating calming and insight. Cultivating calming and insight, then, requires skillfully practicing whatever genuinely proves fitting and convenient, so that the mind is at peace and the spirit content, the affliction of the hindrances comes to rest, and the gate of pāramitā is thereby realized.

Root Text: Fourth, countering subtle attachment within concentration through calming and insight. When a practitioner first uses calming and insight to break through coarse agitation, and this agitated mind has come to rest, one attains concentration — and because the settled mind is now fine and subtle, one feels the body itself as empty and still, and experiences a certain pleasure from it; at times a certain keen, ready mind may arise, able, with this subtle mind, to seize upon some skewed, deviant understanding. If one does not recognize that this settled mind's own state is itself illusory and unreal, one is certain to give rise to craving attachment toward it — and having given rise to craving attachment, one clings to it as real. If one instead recognizes it as illusory and unreal, then neither the affliction of craving nor the affliction of [wrong] views arises — this is cultivating calming. Yet even having cultivated calming this way, should the mind still cling to craving or views, and the resulting karmic entanglement still not come to rest, one should then cultivate insight, observing this very subtle mind within concentration. If one no longer sees any subtle mind within concentration to speak of, one no longer clings to any view about concentration; and once one no longer clings to any view about concentration, the karmic affliction of craving and views is entirely broken apart — this is cultivating insight. This is a brief account of countering subtle attachment within concentration through calming and insight; the method of distinguishing calming from insight here is the same as before, differing only in that it breaks through this subtle failing of clinging to a view about concentration itself.

Commentary: This fourth approach counters what applies specifically to one who has already practiced for a long time — a beginning practitioner has no such affliction to speak of, since this particular state is extremely subtle, not easily encountered by a mind still coarse. When a practitioner breaks through coarse mental agitation, dissolving the mind's own floating, idle thoughts, the mind is thereby able to settle into dhyāna-concentration itself. Within this concentration, one's thoughts grow fine and subtle, and one feels one's own body as utterly empty and still, experiencing a certain pleasure from it. At times a certain keen, ready mind may arise between thoughts, giving rise, within concentration, to unwarranted speculation, various views crowding in — since the mind, now fine and subtle, accords with the state of concentration itself, a faint thought of a mountain brings a mountain into view, a faint thought of water brings water into view — and so a practitioner takes this to be some excellent, superior state, seizing upon a skewed, deviant understanding, clinging to it as real, unwilling to let it go — little knowing that this is, in its entirety, nothing but a single illusory scene arising from the settled mind's own stillness, a mere shadow-trace of a mental object; clinging stubbornly to it can hardly avoid the calamity of falling into wrong views.

The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says: "Setting up further knowledge on top of what is already known and seen is itself the very root of ignorance." And again: "When a state is merely recognized without claiming sagehood, it is a wholesome state; but the moment it is taken as a sign of sagely attainment, one falls prey to every kind of deviant influence." Words of this kind are, in every case, sincere instruction for one sitting in meditation — I beg the reader to take heed of them.

If one fully understands that this state is illusory and unreal, one gives rise to no craving attachment toward it, and no discriminating view arises; giving rise to no craving attachment, no affliction of craving has any way to arise; giving rise to no view, the ground of the mind remains settled — this is cultivating calming. Yet even having cultivated calming to still it this way, should one's own illusory state prove impossible to cast aside, still craved and clung to from thought to thought, the karmic entanglement of craving and views still failing to come to rest — a practitioner should then set calming aside and cultivate insight instead, illuminating this state directly. Turning to observe this very subtle mind within concentration, with a single, focused mind, settling the spirit and observing in stillness — exactly like a cat stalking a mouse — through this faint, careful illumination, this subtle mind spoken of within concentration ultimately cannot be found at all. This is called cultivating insight amid the subtle mind.

One often sees non-Buddhist practitioners in the world who, having tasted just the slightest flavor of dhyāna within concentration, immediately take their own effort to be already complete, and from this give rise to wrong views, denying cause and effect entirely — neither recognizing the need to counter this through cultivating calming and insight, nor able to see the state for what it is, clinging to it as real instead. This is a person doubly lost in delusion — how sorrowful!

Root Text: Fifth, balancing concentration and wisdom in cultivating calming and insight. If a practitioner, through cultivating calming or through cultivating insight, enters dhyāna-concentration while sitting in meditation, but, having entered concentration, has no contemplative wisdom present at all, this is a deluded concentration, unable to sever the fetters. Or, if contemplative wisdom is present only in a slight degree, one is thereby unable to bring forth true wisdom, sever the fetters, or open up any dharma-gate. At such a time one should cultivate insight to analyze and break through, so that concentration and wisdom become evenly balanced, able to sever the fetters and realize every dharma-gate.

If a practitioner, through cultivating insight while sitting in meditation, has the mind suddenly open into awakening, wisdom shining clear, but has only a slight degree of concentration present, the mind becomes agitated and scattered, like a lamp in the wind, unable to illuminate anything clearly, unable to escape birth-and-death. At such a time one should cultivate calming once more — and through cultivating calming, one attains a settled mind, like a lamp within a sealed room, able to dispel darkness and illuminate everything with perfect clarity. This is a brief account of balancing concentration and wisdom in cultivating calming and insight. If a practitioner, sitting upright with body composed, is able to skillfully apply the intent of these five approaches to cultivating calming and insight, taking up or setting aside each as fitting without error, one should know that such a person is skillfully cultivating the Buddhadharma — and, cultivating it skillfully, this very life will certainly not pass by in emptiness.

Commentary: This fifth approach cultivates calming and insight together. "Unable to sever the fetters" means unable to sever the binding fetters of affliction. "Realizing every dharma-gate" means realizing the perfect and sudden dharma-gates of every pāramitā. "Contemplative wisdom present only in a slight degree" means having calming without insight, concentration exceeding wisdom; "concentration present only in a slight degree" means having insight without calming, wisdom exceeding concentration. Concentration without wisdom is a barren concentration; wisdom without concentration is likewise a reckless wisdom. If one wishes to sever the fetters and realize every dharma-gate, there is no way but cultivating calming and insight together, balancing concentration and wisdom evenly.

At the causal stage these are called calming and insight; at the fruit stage they are called concentration and wisdom. Calming and insight together are like a bird's two wings, or a cart's two wheels — separated, both are harmed; joined, both flourish together. Hence the simile of a lamp within a sealed room is used, precisely to show that calming and insight must, without fail, be kept in balance before one can escape the sea of suffering at all.

One should know that cultivating calming and insight together, balancing concentration and wisdom evenly — what is this, in the end, but a single recitation of Amitābha's name? In Sanskrit, Amitābha; in Chinese, "measureless light and measureless life." Light is precisely wisdom; life is precisely concentration — light and life being not two different things is precisely the wondrous calming and insight of concentration and wisdom evenly balanced. When we recite a single recitation of the Buddha's name, the mind that recites and the Buddha recited cannot ultimately be found — this is calming. Yet the reciting mind and the recited Buddha remain utterly clear and distinct — this is insight. One should know: precisely when they are utterly clear and distinct, their very substance ultimately cannot be found; and precisely when it ultimately cannot be found, they remain, as ever, utterly clear and distinct — at once calming and insight, at once insight and calming, calming and insight evenly settled, concentration and wisdom not two — this is precisely measureless light and measureless life itself. If a practitioner is able to cultivate calming and insight skillfully through this very gate of reciting the Buddha's name, this life will not pass by in emptiness, and buddhahood is certain to be accomplished, whether in this present life or a life to come.

Root Text: Further, second, explaining practice carried into every activity and circumstance: sitting upright at length is the most excellent essential for entering the path — yet this encumbered body must inevitably engage in worldly affairs, and if one fails to cultivate calming and insight while following along with whatever circumstance and object one meets, the cultivation of the mind is left broken with gaps, and karmic entanglement arises wherever one turns — how, then, could one hope to accord swiftly with the Buddhadharma? But if one constantly cultivates this same skillful means of concentration and wisdom at every single moment, one should know that such a person will certainly come to penetrate the whole of the Buddhadharma. What is meant by practice carried into every activity? "Activity" here means six kinds: walking, standing, sitting, lying down, working, and speaking. What is meant by practice carried into every circumstance? "Circumstance" here means the six sense-objects: the eye meeting form, the ear meeting sound, the nose meeting smell, the tongue meeting taste, the body meeting touch, and the mind meeting mental objects. A practitioner who cultivates calming and insight across these twelve matters is said to practice calming and insight carried into every activity and circumstance.

Commentary: The actual-practice chapter above divides into two major sections: practice while seated, and practice carried into every activity and circumstance. Practice while seated divided further into five distinct approaches... Now the second, practice carried into every activity and circumstance, is explained — but before explaining it in detail, one must first grasp its general meaning, so that whatever one then practices, everywhere, will accord with the ocean of the Buddhadharma.

One should know that every circumstance presently before us is entirely the seeing-portion and appearing-portion within one's own mind: mind is the seer, the object is what is seen, the seeing-portion capable of seeing meeting the appearing-portion that is seen. One should further know that these two portions, seeing and appearing, have, at root, no substance of their own — both are given substance entirely by the self-witnessing portion and the witness-to-the-self-witnessing portion, their very substance being at once empty, at once conventional, at once the middle: the inconceivable, perfect principle of the three truths. Seen in this light, every single thing, without exception, is itself a wondrous truth — hence it is said that mountains, rivers, and the whole earth entirely reveal the Dharma-king's own body, and every feather and every scale manifests every samādhi everywhere; and again, that lifting up a single blade of grass is itself the sixteen-foot golden body, and green bamboo and yellow chrysanthemum are nothing but prajñā itself...

Yet although the principle is exactly this, the actual matter must still be revealed gradually — hence, amid every activity and circumstance, one must genuinely practice in accordance with this principle at every single point, or else fail to avoid the futility of counting grains of sand in the ocean, sighing helplessly at its vastness.

"Yet this encumbered body must inevitably engage in worldly affairs" — these two lines reveal precisely why one cannot simply sit upright at length forever. Because we are born into this world with this illusory body, situated within the arena of ordinary life, pressed the whole day through by clothing, food, shelter, and the rest, we must inevitably engage in worldly affairs and dusty entanglements — wishing to sit constantly and cultivate the path alone is, in truth, an impossible task. Hence one must cultivate calming and insight while following along with whatever circumstance and object one meets, so that this time does not pass by in emptiness...

If, at every moment, amid every activity, meeting every circumstance, one constantly cultivates calming and insight, constantly settling the mind in concentration and wisdom — through a skillful means of this kind, whatever activity one is engaged in, whatever circumstance one meets, one need only turn to observe one's own mind, investigating where this circumstance actually comes from and where it actually goes, observing this at every moment, tracing it to its ultimate source, where, in fact, it has no real substance at all. One should know that a person who does this remains amid the dust of the world without being stained by that dust — blending their own light with the ordinary world, yet never bound or encumbered by worldly affairs. Conventional truth is itself the Buddhadharma; the very toil of the dusty world is itself the Buddha's own work — this is the seal of samādhi in which the ultimate and the conventional are fully interfused. At this point, one is, as it is said, eating the whole day through without ever once truly biting into a single grain of rice, wearing clothes the whole day through without ever once truly touching a single thread — seeking nothing but the path, cultivating nothing but calming and insight.

Yet even seeking the path with a single mind the whole day through, worldly affairs may still be carried on without hindrance, freely and without obstruction — mountains remain mountains, and rivers remain rivers just as before, every circumstance vivid and distinct — and though the whole teeming array of phenomena is arrayed before one, the mind holds nothing at all within it, giving rise to thought that clings to nothing. This is precisely cultivating calming and insight while following along with whatever circumstance and object one meets. Able to do this, how could opening the Buddha's own knowledge and vision, and realizing every dharma-gate, possibly remain a difficult task?

Root Text: First, walking. When about to walk, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to walk?" If it is driven by affliction, or an unwholesome or morally neutral matter, one should not walk. If it is not driven by affliction, but is instead a wholesome, beneficial matter in accordance with the Dharma, one should walk. What is cultivating calming while walking? While walking, knowing that because of this walking, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises — fully understanding that neither the mind that walks nor any dharma within this walking can ultimately be found — idle thought comes to rest: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while walking? One should think: it is because the mind moves the body that there is advancing forward, called "walking"; because of this walking, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning at once to observe this very mind that walks, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the walker nor any dharma within this walking has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: What follows now explains the mark of cultivating calming and insight, one by one, through each of the twelve matters — walking, standing, sitting, lying down, and the rest. First, walking: cultivating calming and insight while walking along a road. Before even taking the first step, one should already contemplate, giving rise to a thought like this: "For what purpose am I now about to walk this road?" If this walking is driven by affliction, or by an unwholesome act such as killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, or false speech, or by some morally neutral matter, one should not walk. If this walking is not driven by affliction, but is instead for the sake of some wholesome, beneficial matter in accordance with the Dharma — walking to cultivate precepts, concentration, and wisdom, to burn incense, to bow, to scatter flowers in offering to the Buddha, to listen to a sūtra or hear the Dharma taught — one should walk. In sum: committing no evil, doing every good — this is when one should walk; otherwise, one should not.

As for cultivating calming while walking: this means that, while walking along a road, one is able to understand that, because of this very walking, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma now appears — without this walking, none of these matters within walking would exist at all, which is to say, every dharma is walking alone. One should further know that walking and not walking are both manifested by mind alone, existing only because of mind — if this single thought of walking did not arise, the foot that walks would not move, nor would there be any road to be walked upon at all. From this it can be seen that this mind is what makes walking possible; the foot is what walks, and the road is merely the occasion drawing it forward. If the mind does not walk, the foot cannot walk either — how, then, could there be any road walked upon at all? If one knows that an object has, from the start, no arising of its own, existing only because of mind, then every dharma is mind alone, and every dharma converges on this mind, going no further. If one knows that mind, too, has, from the start, no arising of its own, existing only because of its object, then every dharma is walking alone, and every dharma converges on this walking, going no further. Traced to its ultimate source, the subject has no fixed mark of its own as subject, and the object has no fixed mark of its own as object — subject and object being, at root, both still — this is cultivating calming. As calming is like this, so too is insight — hence the patriarchs of old devoted themselves to the constant-walking samādhi.

Root Text: Second, standing. When about to stand still, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to stand?" If it is for the sake of some affliction, or an unwholesome or morally neutral matter, one should not stand. If it is for the sake of some wholesome, beneficial matter, one should stand. What is cultivating calming while standing? While standing, knowing that because of this standing, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises — fully understanding that neither the mind that stands nor any dharma within this standing can ultimately be found — idle thought comes to rest: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while standing? One should think: it is because the mind settles the body in place that there is what is called "standing"; because of this standing, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning to observe this very mind that stands, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who stands nor any dharma within this standing has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: This explains cultivating calming and insight while standing. "Standing" here means resting in place — that is, settling still, as distinct from walking. "It is because the mind settles the body in place" means that the body is governed by the mind: when the mind settles, the body settles; if the mind does not settle, the body cannot settle either. "Ultimately empty and still" means that both the mind that stands and the dharma within which it stands are, in every respect, free of the four extremes and beyond every hundred forms of negation — their very substance being, at root, still, according perfectly with true emptiness — hence it is called "ultimately empty and still." The rest is as explained in the text.

Root Text: Third, sitting. When about to sit, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to sit?" If it is for the sake of some affliction, or an unwholesome or morally neutral matter, one should not sit. If it is for the sake of some wholesome, beneficial matter, one should sit. What is cultivating calming while sitting? While sitting, understanding that because of this sitting, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises, and yet not a single one of them can ultimately be found — idle thought fails to arise: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while sitting? One should think: it is because the mind intends to fold the legs and settle the body that there is what is called "sitting"; because of this, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning to observe this very mind that sits, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who sits nor any dharma within this sitting has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: "It is because the mind intends to fold the legs and settle the body" means that once mind arises, every dharma follows from it — the mind giving rise to this intention is precisely what causes both legs to be folded and the body settled in place, the feet drawn in and no longer walking. This is what is called sitting in the lotus posture. If one is able, while sitting, to recite a single recitation of Amitābha Buddha's name, so that subject and object are both effaced and yet both remain vividly present at once, this is itself cultivating calming and insight — for calming and insight are never apart from one's own mind: reciting the Buddha's name is itself being mindful of one's own mind, and one's own mind is itself calming and insight. This mind, from beginningless time, has been neither dull nor scattered, neither sinking nor floating — not scattered, hence utterly empty and still, which is calming; not dull, hence utterly clear and distinct, which is insight. If one can, honestly and wholeheartedly, hold fast to a single recitation of Amitābha's name, one's own mind's calming and insight will manifest of itself!

Yet this word "sitting" must, above all, be carefully distinguished, and not spoken of as though it were all one thing. If one sits for the sake of idle amusement, in some hall of song and dance, one should not sit there. If one sits in order to resolve birth-and-death and seek the buddha-path, in a place where the Dharma is taught, a place of practice, listening to sūtras and taking up the path — this is when one should sit. Where sitting would be evil, one should not sit — this is calming; where sitting would be wholesome, one should sit — this is insight; hence this distinction must be carefully made.

Root Text: Fourth, lying down. When about to lie down, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to lie down?" If it is for some unwholesome, indulgent matter, one should not lie down; if it is to regulate the four great elements, one should lie down as the lion-king lies down. What is cultivating calming while lying down? While resting, understanding that because of this lying down, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises, and yet not a single one of them can ultimately be found — idle thought fails to arise: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while lying down? One should think: because of fatigue and weariness, the mind grows dim and dark, and the six senses are let loose unrestrained — because of this, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning at once to observe this very mind that lies down, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who lies down nor any dharma within this lying down has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: Calming and insight can be cultivated in all four bodily postures — walking, standing, sitting, and lying down — so that at every moment, in every place, without exception, all become the very working of calming and insight. Yet lying down is, in itself, generally something unwholesome — how, then, can calming and insight be cultivated through it? Because lying down is able to regulate the physical body, replenishing what the spirit lacks...

If one lies down in order to regulate one's own four great elements, one should lie down as the lion-king lies down. As for the "four great elements": our own body draws together the outward elements of earth, water, fire, and wind to form the four great elements of the inward body... The great element of earth has solidity and obstruction as its nature... the great element of water has moistness as its nature... the great element of fire has dryness and heat as its nature... the great element of wind has movement as its nature... One should know that the four great elements are like venomous snakes: should even one of them fall out of balance, a hundred and one illnesses can follow, hence they must be carefully regulated into harmony.

If a practitioner wishes to regulate these four great elements, one should lie down as the lion-king lies down — the lion-king's own repose is not truly dull sleep at all, but alert yet still, still yet alert, entirely unlike an ordinary person's unrestrained, deep slumber. How, then, can calming and insight be cultivated while lying down? While resting, one must fully understand that, because of this lying down, wholesome dharmas such as precepts, concentration, and wisdom, and unwholesome dharmas such as killing, stealing, and sexual misconduct, all arise — and investigating and observing this minutely, none of it, in the end, has any real substance at all. From this one knows that seeking arising and ceasing, delusion and awakening, coming and going, within this act of lying down, none of it can ultimately be found — and in this way idle thought fails to arise, hence it is called cultivating calming.

As for cultivating insight while lying down: while actually lying down, a thought like this should arise in the mind: because of fatigue and weariness, the mind grows dim and dark, and the six senses are let loose unrestrained. "The six senses" are precisely the six faculties — eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind. Because of this, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises — and at that moment one should turn to observe this very thought, this mind capable of lying down, finding it to have no appearance at all; knowing that both the one who lies down and every dharma within this lying down are, in their very substance, empty and still, ultimately unfindable at all — a practitioner who does this is said to be cultivating insight.

Root Text: Fifth, working. When about to do some work, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to do this?" If it is for some unwholesome or morally neutral matter, one should not do it; if it is for some wholesome, beneficial matter, one should do it. What is cultivating calming while working? While working, understanding that because of this work, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises, and yet not a single one of them can ultimately be found — idle thought fails to arise: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while working? One should think: it is because the mind moves the body and hands to carry out various tasks that there is what is called "working"; because of this, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning to observe this very mind that works, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who works nor any dharma within this work has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: This explains the fifth: calming and insight can also be cultivated while working. Whether carrying water and fetching firewood, greeting guests and seeing them off, dressing and eating, coughing or swinging the arms — none of it need be set apart from cultivating calming and insight. "Work" means undertaking some task; one should know that this single word "work" is, in truth, the very head of every good and the very chief of every evil, and so, before undertaking any task, a practitioner must carefully examine and weigh it, investigating minutely whether the task in question does harm or brings benefit. If this work benefits others, one should carry it out with courage and diligence; if it harms others, one must stop and never undertake it.

"Turning to observe this very mind that works" means turning to observe this very mind capable of work, finding it neither inside, outside, nor in between, with no appearance at all — subject and object, worker and work, ultimately empty and still — hence it is called insight. One should further know that this single word "work" carries very great power indeed — not only are the causes and effects of the human and heavenly realms brought about through undertaking action, but even the causes and effects of the four sagely realms above them come about through undertaking action as well; without undertaking action, nothing at all would exist. It is said: this mind is hell, this mind creates hell; this mind is buddha, this mind creates buddhahood — enough to show that both the flow of birth-and-death and the wondrous, ever-abiding peace of liberation come from nothing other than this single word, "work." From this we know that good and evil are rooted in mind, and mind is the very root of all undertaking — for when the mind moves, the body moves, and when the body moves, the surrounding world moves; if the mind does not move, the surrounding world, too, does not move!

Long ago there was a blacksmith who spent his whole life forging iron, making weapons for his living. A wandering teacher, taking pity on him, converted him to reciting the Buddha's name — with every strike of the hammer, reciting a single recitation of the Buddha's name. The blacksmith followed this instruction, and in time his practice matured — as it is said, "when the water arrives, the channel forms of itself" — and when his life was about to end, he uttered this verse: "Clang, clang, clang, clang — long forged, it has become fine steel; all is at peace upon the river, and I now go to the Western Land." Seen in this light, reciting the Buddha's name while forging iron is itself cultivating calming and insight — may every reader of good will take care never to regard this lightly.

Root Text: Sixth, speaking. When about to speak, one should think: "For what purpose am I now about to speak?" If it is driven by affliction, speaking of some unwholesome or morally neutral matter, one should not speak; if it is for some wholesome, beneficial matter, one should speak. What is cultivating calming while speaking? While speaking, knowing that because of this speech, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises — fully understanding that neither the mind that speaks nor any afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma within this speech can ultimately be found — idle thought comes to rest: this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while speaking? One should think: it is because the mind's own discursive activity stirs the breath, striking against throat, lips, tongue, teeth, and palate, that sound and speech are produced; because of this speech, every kind of wholesome or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning to observe this very mind that speaks, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who speaks nor any dharma within this speech has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight. Practicing calming and insight through these six activities above, applying them as fitting to each moment, every one of them already carries within it the intent of the five approaches explained earlier, exactly as described above.

Commentary: This sixth explains that calming and insight can be cultivated even while speaking with the mouth. Coarse words and refined speech alike return to the same first principle; every kind of ordinary, worldly speech, and every joy, anger, sorrow, and delight it expresses, is never truly at odds with true reality itself...

What is cultivating calming while speaking? This means that, while speaking, one should investigate at once, understanding that because of this speech, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises... Affliction, however many forms it takes, does not exceed three: first, views and thought — confusion about principle giving rise to discriminating views, craving arising toward an object giving rise to attached thought; second, dust-and-sand afflictions — the sentient mind's own idle thoughts and habitual tendencies, as numerous as dust motes in the air or grains of sand in a river; third, ignorance — that is, a state of having nothing clearly understood at all, dark and obscured.

...Through the three kinds of calming, one subdues these afflictions; through the wisdom of the three contemplations, one illuminates and breaks through these three kinds of affliction, bringing forth the three kinds of wisdom inherent from the start, revealing the three truths of one's own nature — and in this way, the original scenery of one's own ground is fully and thoroughly revealed. But how, then, can calming actually be cultivated through speech? While speaking, rather than observing the object spoken of, one turns instead to observe the very subject that speaks — fully understanding that this mind capable of speech ultimately cannot be found, and so whatever wholesome or unwholesome matter is spoken of within this speech likewise cannot ultimately be found, since apart from a subject there is no object at all. In this way, both subject and object are, without exception, ultimately unfindable, and the illusory mind of idle thought comes to rest — this is called cultivating calming.

What is cultivating insight while speaking? One should think: a dead person, too, still has a mouth — why, then, can a dead person not speak? My own speaking must, then, come entirely from discursive activity stirring the breath and the rest, and so sound and speech arise. "Discursive activity" means: a coarse mind engaging its object is called awareness; a fine mind discriminating within it is called reflection. From this we know that speech comes from an inward stirring of the breath, striking against throat, lips, tongue, and palate, and so sound is produced — otherwise, how could one possibly wish to speak at all? One should know that the mouth, by itself, cannot speak; speech exists only because of mind. If the mouth alone could speak, then the mute of the world would also be able to speak — why, then, can they not? This is enough to make clear that speech does not belong to the mouth at all. It is only because the mind is stirred that the mouth is then able to speak.

Turning to observe this very mind capable of speech, one finds it neither inside, outside, nor in between, neither blue, yellow, red, nor white — seeking its own substance, it has no appearance at all, its very substance being at once empty, at once conventional, at once the middle. Not only is the mind capable of speech itself empty, conventional, and the middle — every wholesome or unwholesome word spoken within that speech is likewise empty, conventional, and the middle, ultimately empty and still. This is what is called cultivating insight while speaking.

Long ago, the Second Patriarch Huike went before the First Patriarch Bodhidharma seeking instruction, and, the pain unbearable, cut off his own arm with a knife, and begged the First Patriarch: "Master, please settle my mind for me." The Patriarch said: "Bring me this mind, and I will settle it for you." The great master answered: "Searching for the mind, it cannot ultimately be found." The First Patriarch said: "Then I have already settled your mind for you." This accords precisely with the meaning of calming and insight as ultimately empty and still. The gateways for cultivating calming and insight are exceedingly numerous — but were one taught simply to recite a single recitation of Amitābha, these six great characters, this is simplest and easiest of all: if one can, without giving rise to any discriminating thought, press straight ahead reciting it, this already accords with calming and insight. This is why a genuine practitioner should never chase after lofty, distant goals, but should enter deeply through a single gate instead — like a rat gnawing through a coffin: gnawing at the very same spot, today and tomorrow, it will certainly break through in the end; but gnawing here and there at random, it will never break through at all!

Root Text: Next, cultivating calming and insight through the gate of the six faculties. First, cultivating calming when the eye sees form. Whatever form is seen, know it to be like the moon reflected in water, with nothing fixed or real about it: if one sees a form agreeable to one's own feelings, no craving attachment arises; if one sees a form disagreeable to one's own feelings, no anger or vexation arises; if one sees a form neither agreeable nor disagreeable, no ignorance or disordered thought arises — this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight when the eye sees form? One should think: whatever is seen, its very mark is empty and still. Why is this? Within that meeting of faculty, object, space, and light, there is, in itself, nothing seen and no discrimination at all — it is only through the coming-together of causes and conditions that visual consciousness is produced, and, following it, mental consciousness, which is then able to discriminate among the various forms; because of this, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning at once to observe this very mind that thinks of form, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the seer nor any dharma within this seeing has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: The six activities above are now complete; this second part explains cultivating calming and insight through the six faculties meeting the six sense-objects. For a beginning practitioner, cultivating calming and insight so that it truly accords with practice and actually yields benefit is far from easy, since calming and insight do not, by nature, accord with affliction — one must resolve utterly, letting everything go, subject and object no longer two, giving rise to no discrimination, forgetting the very body itself, before any real benefit follows. One should know that calming and insight are the sharp axe that breaks attachment, the steel blade that destroys emotional views, the very stairway to bodhi, the wondrous medicine that removes affliction...

As for cultivating calming and insight when the eye sees form: whatever the eye sees, however many forms there may be, they do not exceed three kinds — first, manifest color... second, shape... third, expressive form... The Abhidharma treatises further distinguish three other kinds: visible and resistant form... invisible yet resistant form... and invisible, non-resistant form...

A practitioner cultivating calming, whatever form the eye happens to see among those described above, understands it entirely to be a flower conjured in the sky, the moon reflected in water — seemingly existing yet not truly existing, not truly existing yet seemingly there, with nothing fixed or real about it at all. If one sees a form agreeable and pleasing to one's own feelings, one should regard it as illusory, like a bubble or a shadow, giving rise to no craving attachment. If one sees a form disagreeable and repugnant to one's own feelings, one gives rise to no anger or vexation. If one sees a form neither agreeable nor disagreeable, a neutral form, one is neither repelled nor drawn, giving rise to no ignorance and no disordered thought at all — this is cultivating calming. One should know that within every kind of manifest color, shape, and expressive form explained above, each one carries its own distinction of agreeable, disagreeable, and neutral — the reader may work this out in detail for themselves.

Commentary: Cultivating calming when the eye sees form is now explained; next, cultivating insight when the eye sees form. A practitioner should think: whatever is seen, agreeable, disagreeable, or neutral, is entirely like a flower conjured in the sky or the moon reflected in water, like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, or a shadow — its very mark being, from the start, empty and still, with not the least trace of any dharma there to be found at all... One should know that both the seer and the seen are, in their very nature, empty and still — free of both subject and object, beyond every kind of relative opposition, ultimately empty and still. This is called cultivating insight.

Just as Aniruddha, having lost both his eyes through excessive exertion, was, out of the World-Honored One's own compassion, instructed to cultivate the vajra samādhi of joyfully seeing and illuminating clarity, and thereby attained the heavenly eye — able, without relying on the fleshly eye at all, to observe the whole trichiliocosm as clearly as an object held in the palm of the hand. This is precisely gaining benefit from cultivating calming and insight through the eye's own seeing of form. From this it can be seen that calming and insight can be cultivated everywhere at all — every faculty, every dust-object, is, without exception, true perfect penetration; every single thing, without exception, is itself the very path of bodhi.

Root Text: Second, cultivating calming when the ear hears sound. Whatever sound is heard, know it to be like an echo: if one hears a sound agreeable to one's own feelings, no attached fondness arises; a sound disagreeable to one's own feelings, no anger arises; a sound neither agreeable nor disagreeable, no discriminating thought arises — this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight while hearing sound? One should think: whatever sound is heard, it is empty, with nothing there at all — it arises only through the meeting of faculty and object, producing auditory consciousness, followed by mental consciousness, which then forcibly gives rise to discrimination; because of this, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises, and this is called "hearing sound." Turning to observe this very mind that hears sound, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the hearer nor any dharma has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: This second part explains cultivating calming and insight through the ear meeting the dust of sound. Knowing sound to be like an echo means that every sound is exactly like an echo answering back from a mountain valley — not truly real at all, merely an illusory appearance given a name...

One should know that every sentient being, driven by affliction, spends the whole day following sound outward, unable to turn hearing back to hear their own true nature. If one is able to turn and observe this very mind that hears, finding it to have no appearance at all — both the hearer and everything heard being, in the end, empty and still — this is precisely what is meant by "turning hearing back to hear one's own nature, and this nature becoming the unsurpassed path." The Śūraṅgama Sūtra's own account of the ear-faculty's perfect penetration says: "At first, within hearing itself, one enters the stream and forgets the object heard. Once what is entered into is itself stilled, the two marks of motion and stillness no longer arise at all, utterly clear. Increasing gradually in this way, both the hearing and what is heard are exhausted; and even this exhaustion of hearing does not remain fixed. Awareness and what is aware of become empty; this very emptiness of awareness becomes utterly perfect. Emptiness and what is emptied are themselves dissolved; arising-and-ceasing having thus ceased, still cessation manifests before one — and suddenly one transcends both the mundane and the transmundane, perfectly bright throughout the ten directions." This accords precisely with this contemplation's own principle — that the hearer and the heard are, in the end, empty and still — hence it is called cultivating insight.

Root Text: Third, cultivating calming when the nose smells a scent. Whatever scent is smelled, know it to be like a mirage, unreal: if one smells a fragrance agreeable to one's own feelings, no clinging arises; an odor disagreeable to one's own feelings, no anger arises; a scent neither agreeable nor disagreeable, no disordered thought arises — this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight when smelling a scent? One should think: this scent I now smell is illusory, with nothing real about it. Why is this? It is only through the meeting of faculty and object that olfactory consciousness arises, followed by mental consciousness, which forcibly seizes upon the mark of the scent; because of this, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises, and this is called "smelling a scent." Turning to observe this very mind that smells the scent, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the smelling nor any dharma has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: This third part explains cultivating calming and insight when the nose smells a scent. Whatever scent a practitioner happens to smell... yet this dust of scent has the capacity to follow conditions either way: used for good, it becomes good; used for evil, it becomes evil — from which it can be seen that this single word "scent" is, in truth, the very cause and condition of both rising and falling, the very root of both good and evil...

Knowing that the coming-together of causes and conditions gives rise to an illusory appearance of arising, and their separating-apart gives an illusory name of ceasing — arising and ceasing being merely illusory names, and the extinguishing of this illusion being called true — turning to observe in this way, where, in the end, is this very mind capable of smelling actually located? Investigated minutely, it is neither inside, outside, nor in between, with no direction and no shape of its own at all. One should know that both the smelling and what is smelled are, in their very nature, empty and still — free of both subject and object, beyond every kind of relative opposition, ultimately empty and still. This is called cultivating insight.

Root Text: Fourth, cultivating calming when the tongue receives a taste. Whatever taste is received, know it to be like a taste obtained within a dream, illusory: if one receives a delicious taste agreeable to one's own feelings, no craving attachment arises; a foul taste disagreeable to one's own feelings, no anger arises; a taste neither agreeable nor disagreeable, no discriminating thought arises — this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight when the tongue receives a taste? One should think: this taste now received cannot, in truth, ultimately be found at all. Why is this? Inward and outward, the six flavors have, by nature, no distinguishing feature of their own; it is only through the coming-together of the inward tongue-faculty that gustatory consciousness arises, followed by mental consciousness, which forcibly seizes upon the mark of the taste; because of this, every kind of afflicted, wholesome, or unwholesome dharma arises. Turning to observe this very consciousness that attends to taste, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who receives the taste nor any dharma has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: Whenever eating, receiving flavors such as sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty, or bland, calming and insight can equally be cultivated. As the ancients said: "Eating rice the whole day through, one has never once truly tasted a single grain of it" — since the mind gives rise to no discrimination at all. The tongue, taking taste as its condition, gives rise to gustatory consciousness; gustatory consciousness arises depending on the faculty, and the tongue-faculty is able to taste through consciousness — this capacity to taste is precisely called gustatory consciousness. Following it, mental consciousness arises at the same moment, able to discriminate what is pleasant or unpleasant — the tongue-faculty being the discriminating subject, the dust of taste being the discriminated object, subject and object meeting together, hence it is said that consciousness arises.

Root Text: Fifth, cultivating calming when the body feels a touch. Whatever touch is felt, know it to be like a shadow, illusory and unreal: if one feels a pleasant touch agreeable to one's own feelings, no craving attachment arises; a painful touch disagreeable to one's own feelings, no anger or vexation arises; a touch neither agreeable nor disagreeable, no recollecting or discriminating thought arises — this is cultivating calming. What is cultivating insight when the body feels a touch? One should think: light or heavy, cold or warm, rough or smooth, and the like, are called "touch"; the head and the other five parts together are called "the body." The nature of touch is illusory, and the body too is unreal — it is through the coming-together of causes and conditions that bodily consciousness arises, followed by mental consciousness, which recollects and discriminates marks such as pain and pleasure; hence this is called "feeling a touch." Turning to observe this very mind that attends to touch, finding it to have no appearance at all — knowing that neither the one who feels the touch nor any dharma has any ultimate substance at all — this is cultivating insight.

Commentary: "Touch" means contact. Whatever cold or warm wind blows against the body, or the soft, fine smoothness of a man or woman's body, or fine garments worn upon it — all of this is called the dust of touch...

The Buddha's own disciple, the Venerable Pilindavatsa, upon first resolving to leave the household life and take up the path under the Buddha, heard the Tathāgata repeatedly teach that nothing in the world is truly a source of joy. One day, begging for alms in the city, his mind fixed on the śramaṇa's own path, he failed to notice a poisonous thorn on the road and injured his foot — pain shooting through his whole body. He reflected at once: "This awareness I have, aware that pain has occurred — though it is aware of the pain, this very awareness, in its own pure nature, has no pain within the awareness itself." He reflected further: "If this single body possessed two separate awarenesses, there ought to be two separate pains — why, then, is only this one foot in pain?" Turning to observe in this way, before long, gathering his attention, body and mind suddenly became empty — he no longer felt any subject that felt the pain, nor any object of pain felt at all; subject and object were, in that instant, both forgotten, and the ground of his mind became pure. If even a disagreeable touch can be handled this way, then an agreeable or neutral touch, one may readily infer, can be handled the very same way — this is called cultivating calming.

The Venerable Bhadrapāla, formerly having heard the Dharma and left the household life under the Buddha Bhīṣmagarjitasvararāja, once entered the bathhouse along with the other monks at bathing time, and suddenly awakened to the true nature of water: it neither washes away dust, nor truly washes the body — right in between the two, at ease, he attained a state in which nothing at all remained, a wondrous touch, pure, originally undefiled. This place of purity, free of defilement, is not two, not different, from ultimate emptiness and stillness itself — hence this is called cultivating insight.

Root Text: Sixth, the mark of cultivating calming and insight through the mind's own knowing of mental objects is as already explained at the very start of the section on practice while seated. From the account above of cultivating calming and insight through the six faculties, applying it as fitting to whatever occasion, each already carries within it the intent of the five approaches explained earlier, already distinguished at length there, and not repeated again here. A practitioner able to cultivate calming and insight in this way through walking, standing, sitting, lying down, seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing — throughout every occasion at all — should know that this is a person genuinely practicing the Mahāyāna path. As the Larger [Prajñāpāramitā] Sūtra says: the Buddha told Subhūti, "If a bodhisattva, walking, knows that he walks; sitting, knows that he sits; even down to putting on the saṃghāṭī robe, gazing and blinking, single-minded throughout, entering and leaving dhyāna-concentration alike — know that this is what is called a bodhisattva-mahāsattva."

Commentary: This sixth explains cultivating calming and insight through the mind-faculty itself — that is, mental consciousness attending to the leftover shadow-traces of the previous five sense-objects. Mental consciousness attending to the mark of a mental object was already explained at length at the very start of the section on practice while seated...

One should know that this mental consciousness carries the very greatest power of all, able to attend comprehensively to everything, penetrating all three kinds of cognitive object... The three kinds of object are: (1) the object of direct nature... (2) the object of isolated shadow-image... (3) the object of borrowed substance... The three kinds of valid cognition are: (1) direct perception... (2) inference... (3) reliance on the sacred teaching...

From the account above of cultivating calming and insight through the eye and the other five faculties, applying it as fitting to whatever occasion, each already carries within it the same meaning as the five approaches explained earlier... Based on the above, cultivating calming and insight is spoken of as sixfold, one for each of the six faculties meeting the six sense-objects in turn — but in truth, within the very substance of their nature, there is, from the start, no "six" or "not six" at all, since this nature is itself mutually known throughout. Because our own inherent, wondrously bright true mind constantly emits its own light and shakes the earth at every one of the six sense-gates, there is, from the start, no mark of good or evil, subject or object, to be found there at all — it is only because sentient beings, upside-down in delusion, are obstructed by affliction, that this inherent true mind, though never truly separated, comes to seem separated, and one's own mind's bodhi and nirvāṇa, though never truly turned away from, comes to seem turned away from — so that seeing never goes beyond form, and hearing never goes beyond sound. But if one is able to turn seeing back to see one's own nature, and turn hearing back to hear one's own nature — one faculty, once turned back to its own source, and all six faculties are liberated together...

As the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: "The Tathāgata's single faculty is able to see form, hear sound, smell scent, distinguish taste, feel touch, and know mental objects, all at once." If this holds for one faculty, it holds for every other faculty as well — this is precisely the meaning of the six faculties' interchangeable use. So too: Aniruddha, without eyes, is able to see; the nāga Upananda, without ears, is able to hear; the river-goddess Gaṅgā, without a nose, smells fragrance; Gavāṃpati, with an unusual tongue, knows taste; the space-god Śūnya, without a body, feels touch; and Mahākāśyapa, without relying on conscious thought at all, knows all things with perfect, complete clarity...

A practitioner able to cultivate calming and insight in this way — through the six activities of walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, and through the six faculties of seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing meeting the six sense-objects, at every hour of the day and night alike — should know that this is a person genuinely practicing the path of Mahāyāna. In Sanskrit, "mahā" carries three senses: great, many, and supreme; "yāna" means a vehicle — stated briefly, this is precisely the Great Vehicle. A practitioner who, at every moment, holds this constantly in mind, cultivating calming and insight, is a person genuinely practicing this very path of the Mahāyāna, the Great Vehicle.

One should know that the path of the Great Vehicle values, above all, benefiting both self and other, adorned with both merit and wisdom. Cultivating calming is the adornment of merit; cultivating insight is the adornment of wisdom. Among the six pāramitās, the first five cultivate merit, and the sixth cultivates wisdom — merit and wisdom together being what adorns; the true-cause Dharma-body being what is adorned; subject and object no longer two, this is precisely the wondrous adornment itself. A practitioner cultivating calming and insight is, through this very adornment, adorning themselves — hence it is said, this is truly practicing the path of the Mahāyāna.

Root Text: Further, if a person is able to practice the Great Vehicle in this way, everywhere at all, such a person stands supreme and unsurpassed in the world, with no equal at all. A verse in the Treatise says:
"Sitting quietly among trees in the forest, one extinguishes every evil in stillness — attaining a single, undivided mind in tranquil detachment, this joy is not the joy of the heavens.
People seek worldly gain — fine robes, a fine bed and bedding — but this joy brings no true peace, and the seeking of gain is never satisfied.
Wearing the patched robe amid quiet solitude, moving or still, the mind ever one — illuminated by one's own wisdom, one contemplates the true reality of every dharma.
Amid every kind of dharma, one enters through the very same contemplation of equality — the mind of understanding wisdom utterly still, with nothing in the three realms its equal."

Commentary: "If a person," down through "with no equal at all," praises one who upholds this Dharma as possessing inconceivable merit — for such a person is able to shoulder the Tathāgata's own household work, gathering in sentient beings through the twin dharmas of compassion and wisdom, and so stands, within the world, most honored and most exalted, with no one in the world able to equal them. "The Treatise" is the Mahāyāna treatise, the Great Perfection of Wisdom Treatise itself...

"Attaining a single, undivided mind in tranquil detachment" is precisely the mind being utterly still and clear. One should know that we sentient beings, minds like monkeys, thoughts like galloping horses, rushing east and west, in accord with affliction the whole day through — how could such a mind possibly attain tranquil, detached oneness? One must sit upright and hold true reality in mind before this can actually be accomplished...

"This joy is not the joy of the heavens" speaks of worldly happiness compared against transmundane happiness — a difference between the ordinary and the sagely, as far apart as heaven from the depths. Worldly happiness is conditioned and outflow-bound, that is, subject to arising and ceasing, and comes, in the end, to ruin; transmundane happiness is outflow-free and unconditioned — unconditioned meaning unborn and unceasing, never coming to ruin at all — hence it is said, "this joy is not the joy of the heavens." That is, understanding that every conditioned activity is impermanent, a dharma of arising and ceasing, and that once arising-and-ceasing itself has ceased, still cessation itself becomes the true joy — this joy of still cessation is utterly incomparable to any joy of arising and ceasing found among humans or even in the heavens. This is precisely the meaning of the contemplation moving from the conventional into emptiness.

"People seek worldly gain," the four lines that follow, reveal precisely how an ordinary, foolish being, lost in delusion, chases after falseness, mistaking a thief for one's own child, taking the illusory for the real... A sūtra says: "The three realms find no peace, exactly like a house on fire, filled with every kind of suffering, truly a thing to be feared." Sentient beings, in their ignorance, remain within this burning house of the three realms neither aware nor alarmed, neither startled nor afraid — fighting among themselves instead, the strong preying on the weak, seeking nothing all day long but fame, craving nothing but money... How sorrowful — the depth of sentient beings' own upside-down delusion can truly be called extreme!

"Wearing the patched robe amid quiet solitude," what follows, shows that there is indeed a road out of this, a gate ascending to nirvāṇa, so as never to be burned by this fire, never to suffer this pain forever... "Moving or still, the mind ever one" is precisely calming; "illuminated by one's own wisdom, one contemplates the true reality of every dharma" is precisely insight. "Every dharma" here refers to both the dependent and direct fruits of karma together — cultivating the wisdom of prajñā, one contemplates every dependent and direct dharma alike, and every single dharma is true reality itself. "True reality" means the markless...

"Amid every kind of dharma, one enters through the very same contemplation of equality": cultivating the contemplation of emptiness, once one thing is empty, everything is empty — the conventional and the middle both empty as well; cultivating the conventional, once one thing is conventional, everything is conventional — emptiness and the middle both conventional as well; cultivating the middle, once one thing is the middle, everything is the middle — emptiness and the conventional both the middle as well, with nothing outside the middle apart from emptiness and the conventional, and nothing outside emptiness and the conventional apart from the middle. Raising one already implies all three; speaking of three is itself speaking of one — the three and the one not two different things — hence this is called the contemplation of equality, also called the perfect contemplation.

"The mind of understanding wisdom utterly still, with nothing in the three realms its equal" — these two lines show precisely that a person who genuinely applies effort in cultivating this contemplation cannot be spoken of in the same breath as an ordinary worldly person at all...

This concludes the great chapter on actual practice. Yet among every form of practice, this calming and insight of reciting the Buddha's name is supreme of all — for this method is one the World-Honored One taught entirely of his own accord, without even being asked, the very simplest, the very most perfect and sudden, the very best, the very finest of all. If one can simply, honestly recite the Buddha's name, this is already calming and insight, not two different things. If a person recites nothing but "Amitābha," this alone is called the unsurpassed, wondrous calming and insight.