The Śūraṅgama Sūtra (大佛頂如來密因修證了義諸菩薩萬行首楞嚴經)

The Śūraṅgama Sūtra, Volume 1

Translation by Śramaṇa Prajñāmitra of Central India, at the Zhizhi Monastery in Guangzhou, in the first year of Shen

Disciple Upholding the Bodhisattva Precepts, Former Grand Master of Remonstrance and Concurrently Vice Director of the Secretariat-Ch

Translated by the Monk Migasaka of the Wuchang Kingdom

Thus have I heard:

Thus I have heard: At one time, the Buddha was in the city of Śrāvastī, at the Jeta Grove monastery of Anāthapiṇḍada, together with a great assembly of twelve hundred and fifty bhikṣus. All were great Arhats, free from outflows—disciples of the Buddha, upholding the Dharma, well able to transcend all states of existence. In the lands of the world, they accomplished dignified conduct; turning the Dharma-wheel with the Buddha, they were perfectly capable of receiving the transmission. They strictly upheld the Vinaya, serving as great exemplars throughout the three realms. Their manifested bodies responded in measureless ways to liberate sentient beings, rescuing and delivering those of the future, enabling them to transcend worldly defilements and burdens.

Their names were: the greatly wise Śāriputra, Mahā-Maudgalyāyana, Mahā-Kauṣṭhila, Pūrṇa-Maitrāyaṇīputra, Subhūti, Upāli, and others as the leading elders. Moreover, there were measureless Pratyekabuddhas and non-learners, together with those who had newly aroused the resolve, all coming to the Buddha’s abode. It was the time when the bhikṣus had concluded their summer retreat and were engaging in the ceremony of self-disclosure. Bodhisattvas from the ten directions came to inquire and resolve their profound doubts, reverently attending upon the compassionate and majestic one, seeking the profound meaning.

Then the Tathāgata, having arranged his seat and settled in tranquility, for the sake of the entire assembly proclaimed the deep and wondrous Dharma. The pure assembly at the Dharma feast attained what they had never experienced before. The kalaviṅka voice of the sage pervaded the realms of the ten directions. Bodhisattvas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges gathered at the site of enlightenment, with Mañjuśrī as their leader.

At that time, King Prasenajit, on the anniversary of his father’s passing, prepared a vegetarian feast and invited the Buddha to the palace precincts. He personally went to welcome the Tathāgata and arranged a lavish offering of exquisite delicacies and unsurpassed flavors, also extending his invitation to the great bodhisattvas. In the city, there were also elders and lay devotees who simultaneously prepared meals for the saṅgha, awaiting the Buddha to come and receive offerings. The Buddha instructed Mañjuśrī to lead the bodhisattvas and arhats to respond to the various hosts’ invitations.

Only Ānanda had previously accepted a separate invitation and was traveling afar, not yet returned, and thus missed his turn in the saṅgha. Since there was neither a senior monk nor an ācārya with him, he returned alone on the road. On that day, he had no one to provide him with a meal. Immediately, Ānanda took up his alms bowl and walked in sequence through the streets of the city he was visiting, seeking alms. In his mind, he initially sought the last donor to be his meal host, without discriminating between pure and impure, kṣatriya nobles or caṇḍālas. Practicing impartial compassion, he did not choose based on low status or poverty, aspiring to perfect all beings’ immeasurable merit. Ānanda already knew that the World-Honored Tathāgata had admonished Subhūti and Mahākāśyapa for being arhats whose minds were not equal and impartial. He revered the Tathāgata’s teaching of opening the way without obstruction, transcending all doubts and slander.

Passing by the city moat, he walked slowly through the outer gate, maintaining dignified deportment and solemn reverence in observing the alms-round discipline.

At that time, while Ananda was out on his alms round, he passed by a house of pleasure. There, he encountered the great illusionist, Matangi's daughter, who used the ancient mantra of the Sahasra Brahma to draw him into the chamber of lust. With seductive touches, she was about to break his precepts. The Tathagata, knowing the lustful spell cast upon him, immediately returned after his meal. The king, ministers, elders, and lay devotees all followed the Buddha, wishing to hear the essential Dharma.

Then, the World-Honored One emitted from his crown a hundred-jeweled, fearless light. Within the light, a thousand-petaled jeweled lotus appeared, upon which a manifested Buddha sat in full lotus posture, proclaiming a divine mantra. He instructed Manjushri to take the mantra and go protect Ananda. The evil spell was destroyed, and Ananda and Matangi's daughter were brought back to the Buddha.

Ananda, upon seeing the Buddha, bowed at his feet, weeping in sorrow. He lamented that since beginningless time, he had only pursued extensive learning without fully attaining the power of the Way. Earnestly, he requested the initial expedient means by which all Buddhas of the ten directions achieve enlightenment, the wondrous Shamatha, Samadhi, and Dhyana.

At that time, countless bodhisattvas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, along with great arhats and pratyekabuddhas from the ten directions, all gathered, eager to listen. They withdrew to their seats in silence, ready to receive the sacred instruction.

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You and I share a deep bond, like brothers in this life. When you first set your heart on the path, what extraordinary quality did you see in my teachings that made you suddenly abandon the deep attachments of the worldly life?"

Ananda addressed the Buddha, saying, "I see the Tathagata's thirty-two marks of excellence, sublime and unsurpassed, with a form radiant and translucent like lapis lazuli. I have often contemplated: 'These marks are not born of worldly desire. Why is that? Desires are coarse and turbid, arising from impure mingling, mixed with pus and blood—they cannot give rise to such a sublime, pure, wondrous, and luminous gathering of violet-golden light.' Therefore, with ardent longing, I shaved my head and followed the Buddha."

The Buddha said: "Excellent, Ananda! You should understand: All sentient beings, from beginningless time, have been caught in the continuous cycle of birth and death. This is because they do not recognize the eternally abiding true mind—the inherently pure and luminous essence. Instead, they rely on all sorts of delusional thoughts. Since these thoughts are not real, they are trapped in the cycle of rebirth.

Now, if you wish to investigate the supreme enlightenment and truly reveal your inherent nature, you should respond to my questions with a straightforward mind. All Buddhas throughout the ten directions have transcended birth and death by following the same path—and all of them did so with a straightforward mind! Because their minds and words were direct, from the beginning to the end of their practice, there was never any trace of distortion or deceit."

"Ananda, I ask you now: when your mind first awakened, drawn to the Tathagata's thirty-two marks of excellence, what did you see? And who was it that felt this attraction and delight?"

Ananda said to the Buddha, "World-Honored One, this devotion arises from my mind and eyes. Because my eyes behold the Tathagata's majestic form, my mind gives rise to devotion. Thus, I resolved to renounce the cycle of birth and death."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You say that your true delight and attachment arise from the mind and eyes. But if you do not know where the mind and eyes are located, you cannot subdue the afflictions of the world. It is like a king whose kingdom is invaded by thieves. If he sends troops to suppress them, the troops must first know where the thieves are. What causes your endless wandering in samsara is the fault of your mind and eyes. Now I ask you: Where exactly are your mind and eyes?"

Ananda addressed the Buddha, saying: “World-Honored One, all beings in the world, in their ten different forms of existence, share the understanding that the conscious mind resides within the body. Even when I look at the Tathagata’s blue lotus eyes, they are on the Buddha’s face. Now, as I observe these floating sense organs of sight—composed of the four elements—they are clearly on my own face. Thus, it seems evident that the conscious mind truly dwells inside the body.”

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You are now seated in the Tathagata's lecture hall. Look—where is the Jeta Grove?"

"World-Honored One, this great, spacious, and pure lecture hall is within the Garden of Anāthapiṇḍika, yet the grove of Prince Jeta is truly outside the hall."

"Ananda, what is the first thing you see in this hall?"

"World-Honored One! First, I saw the Tathagata in the hall; then, I observed the great assembly. Looking outward from there, my gaze fell upon the groves and gardens."

"Ananda, when you look at this grove, what is it that allows you to see?"

"World-Honored One, this great lecture hall has open doors and windows, so from within the hall, I can see far into the distance."

At that moment, the World-Honored One, amidst the great assembly, extended his golden-hued arm and placed his hand upon Ānanda’s head. He then addressed Ānanda and the entire assembly:

"There is a meditative state called the Great Buddha-Crown Śūraṅgama King, complete with ten thousand practices—the one gateway through which all Buddhas of the ten directions transcend, the wondrous and majestic path. Listen now with full attention!"

Ānanda bowed his head to the ground and received these compassionate instructions with reverence.

The Buddha said to Ananda, "As you have said, 'My body is in the lecture hall, the doors and windows are wide open, and I can see the distant groves and gardens'—are there also beings in this hall who, without seeing the Tathagata, see what is outside the hall?"

Ananda replied, "World-Honored One, if I cannot see the Tathagata in the hall, it is impossible for me to see the woods and springs."

"Ananda, it is the same with you. Your mind, which perceives and understands everything—if this perceiving, understanding mind truly resides within your body, then it should first be able to know the inside of your body. But have you ever heard of any being who first sees what is inside their own body, and only then observes external things? Even if you cannot see your own heart, liver, spleen, or stomach, you should at least be aware of the growth of your nails, the lengthening of your hair, the movement of your tendons, and the pulsing of your veins. If your mind is truly within, why are you unaware of these internal processes? If you cannot know what is inside, how can you claim to know what is outside? Therefore, you should understand that your statement—'this perceiving, knowing mind dwells within the body'—is incorrect."

Ananda bowed and addressed the Buddha, saying: "Hearing the Dharma teaching from the Tathagata, I now realize that my mind actually resides outside the body. Why is this so? It is like a lamp lit inside a room: the light must first illuminate the room, then pass through the doorway to reach the courtyard. All beings, unable to see inside their own bodies but only what is outside, are just like a lamp placed outside—it cannot illuminate the interior. This reasoning is clear and leaves no room for doubt. Does it not align with the Buddha’s ultimate meaning? Have I grasped it correctly?"

The Buddha asked Ananda, "These monks have just returned to the Jeta Grove after going through Shravasti to collect alms food. I have already finished my meal. Now, tell me—when one monk eats, do all the others become full?"

Ananda replied, "No, World-Honored One. Why? Although these monks are Arhats, their bodies and lives are distinct. How could one person satisfy the hunger of all?"

The Buddha said to Ananda, "If your mind that perceives and knows is truly outside your body, then the body and mind would be separate and have no connection to each other. What the mind knows, the body would not feel; what the body feels, the mind would not know. Now I show you my soft, gentle hand. When your eyes see it, does your mind recognize it?"

"Yes, World-Honored One!" replied Ananda.

The Buddha said to Ananda, "If it can perceive the body, how could it be outside? Therefore, you should understand that your claim—'the mind that perceives and knows resides outside the body'—is incorrect."

Ananda said to the Buddha, "World-Honored One, as you have said, 'Since we cannot see what is inside, it does not reside within the body; and since the mind and body are aware of each other and cannot be separated, it is not outside the body.' Reflecting on this, I now understand where it is."

The Buddha asked, "Where is it now?"

Ananda replied, "Since this conscious mind cannot see within but can perceive the outside, I consider that it must be hidden within the sense faculties. It is like someone holding a crystal bowl over both eyes: though the bowl covers them, it does not obstruct vision. The sense faculty perceives and immediately distinguishes what is seen. The reason my conscious, knowing mind cannot see inside the body is because it resides within the sense faculties. The reason it clearly observes the outside without obstruction is because it is concealed within those faculties."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You said that the visual faculty is hidden within the eye, like a crystal. If a person were to cover their eyes with a crystal, would they see the mountains and rivers, and also see the crystal?"

“Indeed, World-Honored One! That person would truly see lapis lazuli through eyes of lapis lazuli.”

The Buddha said to Ananda, "If your mind were truly enclosed within your eye like a crystal, then when you see mountains and rivers, why don't you also see your own eye? If you could see your eye, then your eye would be an external object like the mountains and rivers, and it could not be said to follow along with your seeing. But if you cannot see your own eye, how can you claim that this perceiving, knowing mind is hidden inside the eye like a crystal? Therefore, you should understand: your statement that 'this aware, knowing mind is concealed within the sense organ like a crystal' is incorrect."

Ananda addressed the Buddha, saying: "World-Honored One, I have been thinking further: 'In the body of living beings, the organs are inside, and the openings are outside. Where there are organs, there is darkness; where there are openings, there is light.' Now, as I face you, when I open my eyes and see light, I call this seeing the outside; when I close my eyes and see darkness, I call this seeing the inside. What is the meaning of this?"

The Buddha said to Ananda: "When you close your eyes and see darkness, is this dark realm facing your eyes, or not facing them? If it is facing your eyes, then the darkness is in front of you—how can it be considered inside? If you claim it is inside, then when you are in a dark room without sun, moon, or lamp, is all that darkness within your body? If it is not facing your eyes, how can you see it? If you say that by closing off external sight, an internal object appears, and that seeing darkness with closed eyes means it is within the body—then when you open your eyes and see brightness, why don’t you see your own face? If you cannot see your own face, then the idea of an internal object facing you does not hold. If you could see your face, then this perceiving mind and your eye faculty would be in empty space—how could they be inside? If they were in empty space, they would not be part of your body. In that case, when I now see your face, it would also be your body. Your eyes would already know, and your body would feel nothing. If you stubbornly insist that body and eyes each have their own awareness, then there should be two knowers—and your one body would become two Buddhas! Therefore, you should understand: your claim that 'seeing darkness means seeing inside' is incorrect."

Ananda said: "I have often heard the Buddha teach the four assemblies: 'From the mind arise all phenomena, and from phenomena arise all mental states.' Now, as I reflect upon this, I realize that the very faculty of thinking is indeed the nature of my mind. Wherever thoughts merge, the mind is present—neither inside, outside, nor in between."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You now say, 'Because phenomena arise, various thoughts arise, and wherever there is contact, the mind appears there.' If this mind has no substance, then there is nothing to make contact with. If it has no substance yet can still make contact, that would be like saying the nineteenth realm arises from the union of seven dust particles—such reasoning is not valid.

If it does have substance, then as when you pinch your own body with your hand, is the mind you perceive coming from within or entering from outside? If it comes from within, it should first be aware of what is inside the body. If it enters from outside, it should first perceive your face."

Ananda said, "Seeing is the function of the eye. The mind knows, but it is not the eye. To say the mind sees is not correct."

The Buddha said: "If the eye itself could see, then when you are in a room, could the door see? In that case, people who have already died still have eyes remaining—they should all be able to see things. If they can see things, why are they called dead? Ananda! Furthermore, that conscious, knowing mind of yours—if it truly has a substance, is it one substance or many substances? Is it now within your body, spread throughout your body, or not spread throughout your body? If it is one substance, then when you pinch one limb, all four limbs should feel it. If they all feel it, then the pinch would have no specific location. If the pinch has a specific location, then your 'one substance' cannot be established. If it is many substances, then you become many people. Which substance is you? If it is spread throughout the body, it would be the same as the pinch mentioned earlier! If it is not spread throughout the body, then when you touch your head and also touch your foot, your head would feel it, but your foot would be unaware. Yet this is not the case for you. Therefore, you should know: the idea that the mind exists wherever it encounters objects is incorrect."

Ananda addressed the Buddha, saying: "World-Honored One! I have also heard you, when discussing the true nature of reality with Manjushri and other Dharma Princes, say: 'The mind is not inside, nor is it outside.' As I reflect on this: 'Internally, I cannot perceive it; externally, it does not interact with awareness. Since it cannot be known within, it cannot be said to reside inside. Yet body and mind are aware of each other, so it being outside makes no sense. Since they are mutually aware, and yet nothing is seen within, it must be in between.'"

The Buddha said: "You speak of a 'middle point,' but this middle point is not something vague or without a location. Now, as you try to determine this middle, where exactly is it? Is it in a place? Or is it in the body? If it is in the body, then if it is at the edge, it is not the middle; if it is at the center, it is the same as being inside. If it is in a place, does it have a marker? Or does it have no marker? If it has no marker, it is as if it does not exist; if it has a marker, then it is not fixed. Why? For example, when someone uses a marker to indicate the middle, from the east it appears to be west, from the south it becomes north. Since the marker itself is confused, wouldn't the mind also become disordered?"

Ananda replied, "That is not what I meant. As the World-Honored One has said, 'When the eye and forms come together, eye-consciousness arises.' The eye can perceive, but forms themselves have no awareness. Yet consciousness arises between them—that is where the mind resides."

The Buddha said, "If your mind is between the sense faculties and the sense objects, does this mind-essence encompass both, or does it not encompass both? If it encompasses both, then things and the essence would be mixed and disordered. Things are not the essence of awareness; they stand in opposition to each other. How could that be the middle? Therefore, it cannot encompass both. If it is neither aware nor unaware, then it has no essence. What form would the middle take? Thus, you should understand: to say it is in the middle is not correct."

Ananda said to the Buddha, "World-Honored One! In the past, I have seen you turning the Dharma wheel together with the four great disciples—Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Subhūti, Pūrṇa, and Śāriputra—and you often said, 'The nature of the mind that perceives and discriminates is neither inside, nor outside, nor in between; it is nowhere at all. Not clinging to anything is called the mind.' Since I do not cling to anything, can this be called the mind?"

The Buddha said to Ananda, "You say, 'The mind that perceives and discriminates has no location.' All phenomena in the world—in the sky, on land, in water, or in flight—are collectively called 'everything.' If you claim not to be attached to them, does this attachment exist or not? If it does not exist, it is like the hair of a tortoise or the horns of a rabbit—how can you speak of 'not being attached'? If there is a state of 'not being attached,' it cannot be called non-existent. Where there is no form, there is nothing; where there is not nothing, there is form. Where form exists, there is attachment—how can you speak of 'no attachment'? Therefore, you should understand that to say 'the mind that perceives and discriminates is unattached to everything' is incorrect."

At that time, Ananda rose from his seat among the assembly. He bared his right shoulder, placed his right knee on the ground, joined his palms respectfully, and addressed the Buddha, saying:

"I am the youngest brother of the Tathagata. I have received your compassionate care, and though I have now left the household life, I still rely on your indulgence. Therefore, though I have heard much, I have not attained the state of no outflows. I was unable to subdue the spell of the Kapila mantra and was turned by it, drowning in the house of desire. This must be because I do not know the true reality and where it leads.

I only pray, O World-Honored One, with great compassion and pity, to reveal to us the path of shamatha, so that those of wrong views may abandon their erroneous ways!"

Having spoken these words, he prostrated himself with his five limbs on the ground. The entire assembly, eagerly awaiting with thirst and reverence, leaned forward to respectfully hear the teaching.

At that moment, the World-Honored One emitted rays of light from his face—a radiance dazzling like a hundred thousand suns. The entire Buddha-world trembled in six ways. In that instant, all the countless lands in the ten directions were revealed, and through the Buddha’s majestic spiritual power, all these worlds merged into a single realm. Within that realm, every great bodhisattva remained in their own land, palms joined in reverence, ready to receive the teaching.

The Buddha said to Ananda, "All sentient beings, from beginningless time, have been entangled in various delusions and inverted views. The seeds of their karma naturally cluster together like the *akṣa* fruit. Practitioners who fail to attain supreme enlightenment—or who instead become *śrāvakas*, *pratyekabuddhas*, or even fall into the paths of external teachings, heavenly demons, or demonic followers—do so because they do not know the two fundamental roots and thus cultivate in confusion. It is like trying to cook sand to make a fine meal: even after countless eons, it will never become edible.

"What are these two roots? Ananda, the first is the root of beginningless birth and death—that which you and all beings now take to be your own nature: the mind that grasps at objects. The second is the originally pure essence of beginningless enlightenment and nirvana—that which is your inherently luminous consciousness, which gives rise to all conditions yet is overlooked by them. It is because sentient beings have overlooked this fundamental clarity that, though they act all day long, they remain unaware of it and thus wander aimlessly through the various realms of existence."

"Ananda, you now wish to know the path of Shamatha, aspiring to transcend the cycle of birth and death. I ask you once more!"

At that moment, the Tathagata raised his golden arm, curled his five-wheeled fingers, and asked Ananda, "Do you see this now?"

Ananda replied, "I see."

The Buddha asked, "What do you see?"

Ananda said, "I saw the Tathagata raise his arm and curl his fingers into a radiant fist, illuminating my mind and eyes."

The Buddha asked, "With what do you see?"

Ananda replied, "All of us here have seen it with our own eyes."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "Now answer me: When I make a fist and raise it, shining light before your eyes, you see it clearly. What is it within you that recognizes this shining fist?"

Ananda replied, "At this moment, the Tathagata is asking where the mind resides. As I search and trace with my mind, that which is capable of searching—I take that to be my mind."

The Buddha said, "Ah, Ananda! This is not your true mind!"

Ananda was startled. He rose from his seat, pressed his palms together, and said to the Buddha, “If this is not my mind, then what should it be called?”

The Buddha said to Ananda, "These are just fleeting illusions of the external world, deceiving your true nature! From time without beginning until this very life, you have mistaken the thief for your own child, losing your original, unchanging essence. That is why you remain trapped in the cycle of rebirth."

Ananda said to the Buddha, "World-Honored One! I am your beloved younger brother. Out of love for the Buddha, you allowed me to leave home. With this very mind, I have not only made offerings to the Tathagata but have also traveled throughout countless lands to serve all Buddhas and wise teachers, undertaking great acts of courage and performing all difficult practices. Even if one were to slander the Dharma and forever lose their wholesome roots, it would still be due to this mind. If what has been revealed is not the mind, then I would be mindless, like wood or stone. Apart from this awareness, there is nothing else. How can the Tathagata say this is not the mind? I am truly alarmed and fearful, and all those in this assembly are filled with doubt. We beseech your great compassion to enlighten those of us who do not yet understand!"

At that time, the World-Honored One, wishing to guide Ānanda and the great assembly to enter the patience of the unborn Dharma, placed his hand on Ānanda’s head while seated on the lion throne and said:

“The Tathāgata has always taught that all phenomena arise from the mind alone. All causes and effects, worlds, and minute particles take form based on the mind.

Ānanda, in all worlds and everything within them—down to every blade of grass, every thread, every knot—if you trace their origin, each possesses its own nature. Even empty space has name and form. How much more so the pure, wondrous, luminous mind, the nature of all minds—how could it lack substance?

If you cling to the discriminating, perceiving, and knowing faculty as the mind, then this mind should exist independently, apart from all forms, scents, flavors, touches, and other sensory activities. As you are now listening to my teaching, your discernment arises because of sound. Even if you were to extinguish all seeing, hearing, feeling, and knowing, and inwardly abide in silent stillness, that would still be a shadowy discrimination of mental objects.

I am not commanding you to deny this as mind. But examine your mind carefully: if apart from sensory objects there exists a discerning nature, that is your true mind. If the discerning nature has no substance apart from objects, then it is merely a shadowy discrimination of those objects. Objects are not permanent; when they change and perish, this ‘mind’ would be like the fur of a turtle or the horns of a rabbit. Then your Dharma-body would be annihilated, and who would cultivate and realize the patience of the unborn Dharma?”

Immediately, Ānanda and the great assembly fell silent, lost in contemplation.

The Buddha told Ananda: "All those in the world who practice cultivation may achieve the nine successive stages of meditation, yet they fail to attain the exhaustion of outflows and become Arhats. This is because they cling to this deluded thought of birth and death, mistaking it for reality. Therefore, although you have acquired extensive learning, you have not attained the fruit of sainthood."

Ānanda, hearing this, was overcome with grief and tears once more. He prostrated himself fully, with his forehead, hands, and knees touching the ground, then rose to his knees, joined his palms, and addressed the Buddha, saying:

"Since I first resolved to leave home and follow the Buddha, I have relied on your majestic power, always thinking to myself: 'There is no need for me to cultivate—surely the Tathāgata will bestow samādhi upon me.' I did not realize that body and mind cannot substitute for one another, and thus I lost my original mind. Though my body left home, my mind never entered the Way. I was like a poor son who abandons his father and flees.

"Now I understand that even with much learning, if one does not practice, it is no different from having heard nothing at all—like someone who talks about food but can never be filled by it.

"World-Honored One! We are now entangled by two hindrances, all because we do not know the tranquil, eternal nature of the mind. We only pray that the Tathāgata, in his compassion for our destitution, will reveal the wondrous, luminous mind and open our eyes to the Way!"

Instantly, from the chest of the Thus-Come One, a radiant light emerged from the auspicious swastika mark, shining brilliantly with countless hues. This light instantly pervaded all the Buddha-lands as numerous as dust motes in the ten directions, bathing the crowns of all the Thus-Come Ones in every precious realm, then swirling back to envelop Ānanda and the great assembly. The Buddha then declared to Ānanda, "I shall now raise for you the great banner of the Dharma, so that all beings throughout the ten directions may attain the wondrous, subtle, secret, pure, and luminous nature of mind, and gain the clear eye of wisdom."

"Ananda, you just answered that you saw my luminous fist. What is the source of this fist's light? How does it form a fist? And with what do you see it?"

Ananda replied, "Because the Buddha's entire body is like pure gold, radiant as a jeweled mountain, born of perfect purity, therefore it emits light. I see this with my own eyes. And because you curl your five fingers into a fist to show others, therefore there is the form of a fist."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "Today, I speak to you truthfully: Those who possess wisdom must use analogies to gain understanding. Ananda! Consider my fist: without my hand, there is no fist; without your eyes, there is no sight. By comparing the nature of your eyes to the nature of my fist, is the principle not the same?"

Ananda replied, "Indeed, World-Honored One! Since there is no 'my eye,' there can be no 'my seeing.' The relationship between my eye faculty and the Buddha’s fist is analogous in principle."

The Buddha said to Ananda, "Your analogy is not correct. Why? If a person has no hands, they cannot form a fist at all. But a person without eyes does not completely lack the capacity to see. How can this be? Go and ask a blind person on the road: 'What do you see?' That blind person will surely answer you: 'All I see before me is darkness, nothing else.' From this perspective, it is the objects before them that are dark—how is their capacity to see diminished?"

Ananda asked, "If the blind see only darkness before their eyes, how can that be considered seeing?"

The Buddha said to Ananda, "Is there any difference between the darkness seen by a blind person, who has no eyes, and the darkness seen by a sighted person in a pitch-black room? Or is there no difference at all?"

"Indeed, World-Honored One! This person in the dark and those blind people—both are equally in the dark, with no difference between them."

Ananda, if a blind person who sees only darkness before them suddenly gains sight, and then sees various forms in the world, we call this 'seeing with the eyes.' Similarly, if a person in total darkness suddenly obtains a lamp, and then sees various forms in the world, should we call this 'seeing with the lamp'? If the lamp could see, it would not be called a lamp. Moreover, if the lamp were doing the seeing, what would that have to do with you? Therefore, you should understand that the lamp can reveal forms, but the act of seeing belongs to the eyes, not the lamp. The eyes can reveal forms, but the true nature of seeing belongs to the mind, not the eyes.

Although Ananda and the assembly had heard these words, their mouths fell silent, yet their minds remained unawakened. They still hoped for the Tathagata’s compassionate voice to reveal the truth, and so, with palms joined and hearts purified, they stood reverently awaiting the Buddha’s compassionate instruction.

At that moment, the World-Honored One extended his hand, its palm marked with the fine lines of a web and radiating light. He spread his five wheel-like fingers and instructed Ānanda and the great assembly:

"When I first attained enlightenment, in the Deer Park, I said to the five bhikkhus including Ājñāta Kauṇḍinya and to you fourfold assembly: 'All sentient beings fail to achieve Buddhahood or become Arhats because they are misled by transient dust-like afflictions.' At that time, what enabled you to awaken and now attain the holy fruit?"

At that moment, Kaundinya rose and addressed the Buddha, saying, “I, now the eldest among the assembly, am the only one here who has gained the name of understanding, having realized the fruit of enlightenment through contemplating the two words ‘guest’ and ‘dust.’ World-Honored One! It is like a traveler who stops at an inn, where he may rest or eat. Once his needs are met, he packs up and continues his journey, never settling there permanently. But the innkeeper himself does not depart. Reflecting in this way, I understood: ‘What does not stay is called the guest; what stays is called the host. Thus, that which does not abide defines the meaning of “guest.”’

“Again, it is like after a fresh rain, when the clear sun rises in the sky and its light enters through a crack, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air. The dust moves and stirs, while the space itself remains still and undisturbed. Reflecting in this way, I understood: ‘What is clear and still is called space; what is moving and agitated is called dust. Thus, that which is in motion defines the meaning of “dust.”’”

The Buddha said, "That is so."

At that moment, the Tathagata, in the midst of the assembly, bent his five fingers, then opened them again, and after opening, bent them once more. He asked Ananda, "What do you see now?"

Ananda replied, "I saw the Buddha's jeweled palms opening and closing among the assembly."

The Buddha asked Ananda, "Do you see my hand opening and closing here in the assembly? Is it my hand that opens and closes, or is it your seeing that opens and closes?"

Ananda replied, "World-Honored One, when your precious hand opens and closes among the assembly, I see the Tathagata's hand opening and closing—it is not my seeing-nature that opens and closes."

The Buddha asked, "Who is moving, and who is still?"

Ananda said, "The Buddha's hand is not at rest, yet my seeing nature is not even still—what is it that is not at rest?"

The Buddha said, "That is so."

The Tathagata then emitted a ray of precious light from the palm of his hand, shining it to Ananda's right. Immediately, Ananda turned his head to look to the right. Then, another ray of light was emitted to Ananda's left, and Ananda again turned his head to look to the left. The Buddha asked Ananda, "Why is your head swaying back and forth today?"

Ananda replied, "I saw the Buddha's wondrous light shining to my left and right, so I turned to look both ways, and my head moved on its own."

Ananda, you are turning your head left and right to follow the Buddha's light. Is it your head that is moving, or is it your seeing that is moving?

"World-Honored One! My head moves by itself, yet my seeing nature has no fixed place. Who, then, is the one that shakes?"

The Buddha said, "It is so."

Then the Tathagata addressed the assembly: "If we call that which moves 'dust,' and that which does not abide 'a guest'—then observe Ananda's head, which moves by itself, while his seeing does not stir. Observe also my hand opening and closing by itself, while the seeing does not stretch or fold. Why, then, do you now take movement to be your body? Take movement to be your environment? From beginning to end, thought after thought arises and ceases, and you lose your true nature. Acting in confusion, you let your essential mind lose its truth, mistaking objects for yourself. In this way, you revolve in the cycle of birth and death, bringing about your own wandering!"

The Great Buddha's Crown Supreme Shurangama Sutra, Volume One