“Know your mind and see your nature.
For those who are aware, there is basically no separation.”
The Platform Sutra
According to Red Pine, whose translation of the Platform Sutra is the most popular among today’s Zen practitioners, this eight-century text “has been the most studied, the most quoted, the most influential of all the texts that teach that branch of Mahayana Buddhism known as Zen.”
Teachings of Master Hui Neng, the Great Master the Sixth Patriarch, as set down by one of his disciples. During the seventh and eighth centuries under the T’ang Dynasty, Master Hui Neng taught the doctrines of no-thought and of sudden enlightenment, which, as expounded in this text, continue to be the heart of Ch’an wherever it is practiced. Huineng is a state-level high-tech enterprise mainly engaged in R & D, production and sales of thermal conductive silicone grease, electronic silicone, two-component potting adhesive and other electronic adhesives. Product Categories. Thermally Conductive Silicone Grease. Electronic Silicone. Hui-neng retains the traditional meaning of a unity between the mind and all things, but rejects an approach that entails a deliberate meditation that separates the meditator from the object (s)he concentrates on, artificially creating a tension followed by a release wherein union is achieved. “For Hui-neng, it is the practice to be engaged. Hui-neng's life-story was fortunately preserved for us in the sutra text, in the record of his first public talk, which he began as follows: Learned Audience, our essence of mind literally, self-nature, which is the seed or kernel of enlightenment bodhi, is pure by nature, and by making use of this mind alone, we can reach buddhahood directly. Soon after Huineng attained enlightenment, the Fifth Patriarch transmitted the Dharma to Huineng. As the Sixth Patriarch of the Chan School, Huineng is known primarily for his teachings on “sudden en-lightenment,” in contrast to “gradual practice,” and his methods of teaching without relying on writ-ten or spoken language.
Even though Bodhidharma has been regarded as “he who had brought Zen from the West,” little is known of his teaching. In fact, of the four texts attributed to him, only one – the “Outline of Practice” – is regarded by most scholars as his work. This text, which is less than 3 pages long, lists “four all-inclusive practices”: ”suffering injustice, adapting to conditions, seeking nothing, and practicing the Dharma,” and hardly mentions the mind. The other three texts are much longer, and do focus on the mind, but they appear to have been written by contemporaries of Hui-neng belonging to the Oxhead School or the Northern School.
It is in the Platform Sutra that practitioners and scholars have looked for the origins of the radically new teachings of the Ch’an/Zen schools. The text is presented as a sermon on the MahaprajnaparamitaSutra given by Master Hui-neng in the lecture hall of Tafan Temple. Hui-neng (638-713) is speaking to an audience including ten thousand monks, nuns, lay people, and magistrates, as well as thirty officials and thirty scholars, and, as was traditional at the time, he is standing on a raised platform. Hence the name of the Sutra.
The Platform Sutra starts with an account of Hui-neng’s early life, and the well-known narrative of his becoming the Sixth Patriarch of the Zen school after winning a verse contest (which I present in the preceding text – “Zen – Pointing directly to one’s mind”), before presenting the teachings on “sudden enlightenment” put forward by the Southern School.
Tradition says that the text was compiled by Fa-Hai, a direct disciple of Hui-neng, soon after his death. According to modern scholarship, however, the text was reworked over several decades, with contributions by the Oxhead school and Shen-hui (684-758), also a direct disciple of Hui-neng, keen to promote his own teacher against Shen-hsiu, the precept instructor who is said to have lost the verse contest. Shen-hsiu had become Hong-jen’s official successor in what Shen-hui called the Northern School of “gradual enlightenment.” Some scholars believe that Shen-hui not only invented the story of the verse contest and transmission of the robe, but also the association of the Northern School with the doctrine of “gradual enlightenment.” We may never know, because what we know about the Northern School is what the victorious Southern School has told us about it. As things stand, Hui-neng could well have been a rather obscure figure, and it would be from Shen-hui that Zen has received its foundational teachings.
The text Red Pine selected for his translation is a manuscript recovered from the “Library Cave” in Dunhuang, which had been sealed since the 11th century, and was rediscovered at the beginning of last century. This text is older than the Tsung-Pao edition that has been read by millions of Buddhists over the centuries. In places where the two texts diverge, Red Pine has tried to assess which of the texts seemed to be the most reliable.
Buddha-nature
Red Pine tells us that, by Hui-neng’s day, the teaching that we all possess the buddha-nature, i.e., the inherent ability to become enlightened, had become “common knowledge among Buddhists.” And that teaching, he adds, is the foundation of Hui-neng’s teachings in the Platform Sutra. Though Hui-neng says little about the Fifth Patriarch, from whom he had received the Dharma transmission, he does mention that Hong-jen had been lecturing on the Nirvana Sutra (3rd century), where this notion first appeared. The concept of “buddha-nature” had been further developed by the Tathagatagarbha school, where the buddha-nature is referred to as a “seed” or a “womb,” interpreted either as a mere potential for buddhahood that had to be “grown” by serious practice, or, especially in China, as an inherently enlightened nature – i.e., prajna – merely concealed by the veil of our delusions, and just waiting to be uncovered.
The definition of Zen as “a transmission beyond words and scriptures, directly pointing to one’s mind” is a direct reference to the claim that, as the Platform Sutra states, we “already possess the prajna wisdom of enlightenment.” “But because our minds are deluded,” we cannot understand it by ourselves. We need “a truly good friend” to show us “the way to see our nature” (Ch. 12). Though we still need a teacher to show us the way, since “our nature,” which is the buddha-nature, is already enlightened, it will eventually be possible for us to see it directly, with our mind. The contrast between “sudden enlightenment” and “gradual enlightenment” may be better grasped as a contrast between “direct” and “indirect” enlightenment. Later in the text, we read: “Although there is only one kind of Dharma, understanding can be fast or slow. When understanding is slow, we say it’s “indirect.” And when understanding is fast, we say it’s “direct.” The Dharma isn’t direct or indirect, it’s people who are sharp or dull” (Ch. 39).
Red Pine comments that the words “prajna wisdom” are meant to differentiate prajna, usually translated as wisdom, from both mundane (practical) wisdom, and wisdom as understood in Theravada. “Prajna means ‘before knowledge’, and knowledge, (that is, the conceptual, dualistic knowledge elaborated by the intellect), according to Mahayana, is just another name for delusion. Hence, prajna is our original mind, our mind before we know anything, before there is a person who knows or something known. This non-dual nature is our original nature, our buddha nature.”
At this point, anyone who is used to the language of Theravada Buddhism is bound to feel increasingly frustrated when, one after the other, notions that had been submitted to an endless process of differentiation in order to tease out an ever more precise grasp of the truth, are now said to be … the same. The reason is that, in Theravada, the teachings are formulated in the language of dualism, which is that of the novice practitioner. It expresses the path from the standpoint of the unenlightened mind. In ancient China, and East Asia in general, though dualistic thinking was also used, an understanding and practice of intuitive thinking was still familiar. When asked to sum up their understanding of the most important matter of life and death, the monks in Hong-jen’s monastery were expected to write a poem, not a dissertation. Intuitive thought collapses opposites into an embrace of the oneness the opposites are pointing to.
So here, prajna is said to be “our original mind,” the non-dual mind, which is also what is referred to as buddha-nature, our original non-dual nature. When Hui-neng talks about what he has received from the Fifth Patriarch, he says: “I didn’t receive any instructions. The only thing he talked about was seeing our nature. He didn’t talk about meditation or liberation … Because these two teachings are not the teaching of buddhas. The teaching of buddhas is a teaching beyond duality” (Ch. 11). This is not to say that “meditation” is not to be practiced, but it is not a particular sitting practice – what Zen is often equated with. Meditation has a much wider meaning than that of a mere technique.
Non-duality
“Good friends, this Dharma teaching of mine is based on meditation and wisdom. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that meditation and wisdom are separate … Meditation is the body of wisdom, and wisdom is the function of meditation. And wherever you find meditation, you find wisdom .… What this means is that meditation and wisdom are the same … Don’t think that meditation comes first and then gives rise to wisdom or that wisdom or that wisdom comes first and then gives rise to meditation …” (Ch. 13).
Once again, do not forget that what is translated here as “wisdom” is not what we almost automatically imagine to be a “text” of some sort, but prajna, which is our original, non-dual, buddha-nature. It could be described as an intuition from the standpoint of our buddha-nature. “Meditation” is a translation of the Sanskrit dhyana, and the Pali jhana. As understood by Huineng, it is not a particular type of meditation, but merely an indication that practice must focus on the mind. The Buddha had said that desires and fears lead us to attachments and a reification of “things” into entities endowed with independent existence (in order to, temporarily, reassure ourselves). So practice had to start with a curb on desires and fears so that attachments could be cut off. With the new assumption that we have within us a pure, non-dual, buddha-nature, which is our original nature/mind, and as such prajna, Hui-neng, and Zen after him, could focus straightaway on the “conceptual traces” left by karma on the mind, thereby “pointing directly to one’s mind,” as it “lets one see into one’s own true nature and thus attain Buddhahood.“
“Meditation is the body of wisdom, and wisdom is the function of meditation.” “Meditation” is at the same time what allows us to see our original prajna nature, and prajna’s own activity. As it is said about the organ and its function – the function creates the organ as much as the organ creates the function – meditation and prajna are really the same thing, structurally inseparable from each other.
Red Pine says that “Our mind is the body, our nature is its function. The Chinese character for ‘nature’ shows the mind giving birth. Thus, our mind is the source of all things, all dharmas, all thoughts. Our nature is the mind in action. Meanwhile, our mind is who we really are, our real body.”
Note that even though, with Hui-neng and Zen, the mind moves centre stage, there remains a need to behave ethically, as “unless you put an end to right and wrong, you will give rise to self-existent dharmas, you will never be free of the Four States (origination, duration, differentiation, and cessation)” (Ch. 13). Zen is not ethically amoral, it only emphasises a focus on the mind over an ascetic discipline of the body.
One Practice Samadhi
“Meditation,” then, is not a specific practice. It is not even, as most would have expected, a sitting practice.
Deluded people think that “sitting motionless, eliminating delusions, and not thinking thoughts are One Practice Samadhi. But if that were true, a dharma like that would be the same as lifelessness and would constitute an obstruction of the Way instead. The Way has to flow freely. Why block it up? The Way flows freely when the mind doesn’t dwell on any dharma. Once it dwells on something, it becomes bound” (Ch. 14).
This notion of a practice that has to flow freely in the context of our everyday lives is closer to the Daoist notion of a dynamic flow of energy going through all things than to the motionless trance depicted in the iconic Indian Buddha seated in the lotus position. “One Practice Samadhi means at all times, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, always practicing with a straightforward [honest, sincere] mind” (Ch. 14).
Red Pine explains that Samadhi is “a Sanskrit term that refers to the concentration of the mind on a single object to the point where the separation of the object from the subject disappears.” Hui-neng retains the traditional meaning of a unity between the mind and all things, but rejects an approach that entails a deliberate meditation that separates the meditator from the object (s)he concentrates on, artificially creating a tension followed by a release wherein union is achieved. “For Hui-neng, it is the practice to be engaged in at all times in all places, namely the state of straightforward mind, which is no state at all.”
Meditation is not contemplation
True meditation “at all times, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down,” is what 13th century Japanese Master Dogen, co-founder of the Soto Zen School, meant to establish in the daily routine of his monasteries. Whether eating, or sweeping up the yard, or washing, or even going to the toilet, monks performed all activities as an uninterrupted “meditation.” Soto Zen monks may also sit, but that sitting is understood more as a training for the uninterrupted day-long meditation than as a practice directly aiming at a dramatic event of [sudden] awakening. The Soto Zen school is in fact known for its practice of shikantaza, which means, “just sitting.” It is a practice that was developed in the Soto lineage in China before Dogen brought it to Japan and reworked it on the basis of his own experience. Shikantaza is specifically defined as not being a contemplation. When Hui-neng in the Platform Sutra, says: “In this school of the Dharma, when we practice Zen, we don’t contemplate the mind, and we don’t contemplate purity, and we don’t talk about being dispassionate”(Ch. 18), he was calling for that sort of practice. Shohaku Okumura describes this “just sitting” practice as follows: “Just as the function of a thyroid gland is to secrete hormones, the function of a brain is to secrete thoughts, so thoughts well up in the mind moment by moment. Yet our practice in zazen is to refrain from doing anything with these thoughts; we just let everything come up freely and we let everything go freely. We don’t grasp anything; we don’t try to control anything. We just sit” (Realizing Genjokoan, The Key to Dogen’s Shobogenzo). Contemplating the thoughts coming and going would turn then into objects, and set up a separation between them and us. What is being practiced in “just sitting” is “goallessness” rather than mindfulness.
Just as influential in the Zen tradition, however, is the very different practice found in the Rinzai school, which Hakuin (1686-1769) revived after a period of stagnation. Bret W. Davis tells us that “the Rinzai school, with its use of koans, teaches a more dramatic route through an intense state of meditative concentration …in order to cultivate the “great ball of doubt.” Koans are apparently irrational statements or stories presented as short exchanges between master and disciple, meant to shock the mind into “glimpses” (kensho) wherein the non-dual nature of the mind is directly intuited. Instead of being encouraged to relax into a state of “goallessness,” Rinzai practitioners are required “to break through all dualistic oppositions, of subject/object, inner/outer, pure/defiled, being/nothingness, speech/silence, etc … The entire world of relativities in which we live must be transcended … before it can be reaffirmed … The relation between emptiness and form must itself be understood non-dually … Even the duality between duality and non-duality must be let go of. To attempt to do this by means of analytical reason, however, only produces yet further dualities. This Gordon knot cannot be teased apart with the fingers of the intellect; it must be cut directly and holistically with the sword of intuitive wisdom” (Bret W. Davis – “Forms of Emptiness in Zen”).
With Zen, the Buddhist approach has become positive
With Zen, which grew out of the concept of buddha-nature, and also incorporated the Hua-yen view of reality as an interconnected network of mutually interpenetrating phenomena, the Buddhist path turned into a positive practice. In India, the Buddhist approach had been negative, with talk of craving, ignorance and suffering. Because we had karmic defilements, we had been reborn in this life, and, unless we worked hard at cleansing these defilements, we would be reborn, and suffer again. And it would be all our fault! With the reinvention of Buddhism in East Asia, in a culture nurtured by the abundance of the Dao, humans themselves came to be seen as possessing a pure, non-dual buddha-nature, ready to help them awaken to the beauty of the phenomenal world. India had said: existence is suffering; all things are empty of own being and impermanent. East Asia replied: “true emptiness, wondrous being.”
Sources
Red Pine (Bill Porter) – The Platform Sutra – The Zen Teaching of Hui-neng (2006)
Shohaku Okumura – Realizing Genjokoan, The Key to Dogen’s Shobogenzo (2010)
Bret W. Davis – Forms of Emptiness in Zen (Research paper)
Anyone interested in a reformulation of Buddhist thought in the language of Western philosophy may have a look at my other blog, dedicated to Nishida Kitaro, Nishitani Keiji and Ueda Shizuteru:
https://thekyotoschoolofphilosophy.wordpress.com
Artists and writers often portray world saviors and heroes with such beauty that we tend to admire these creations rather than the individuals commemorated. This was not the case in China. Their drawings and stories of spiritual arhats tend to reflect their lifetimes-long struggles and conquests of the 'villains and thieves' of their lower nature that robbed them of truth and hindered their progress.
But, we wonder, when one attains enlightenment would he not become godlike in appearance? Wouldn't such illumination change his whole life for the better? 'Not much,' a Zen Master once said. 'His head is covered with ashes and his face smeared with mud,' implying that while inwardly there is a great transformation, outwardly one's life may continue unchanged. This idea is borne out in the story of Hui-neng (638-713 AD), considered to be the father of Zen tradition, who perpetuated Gautama Buddha's teachings while giving them a characteristically Chinese quality. His story, like that of many spiritual figures of the distant past, is a legend in the sense that the incidents related are largely suggestive and symbolic. At times it reflects conflicts between the two main divisions of Ch'an Buddhism, the Sudden Enlightenment and the Gradualist schools, which did not begin until years after his death and continued for several centuries between their respective followers. Behind these elements, however, we can still discern the life of an enlightened soul and the ideas of the tradition he represents.
Hui-neng Cutting Bamboo, by Liang K'ai
Hui-neng was but a lad when his father died and, forced to forego an education, he provided for his mother and himself by gathering firewood and selling it in the markets of Canton. It was at one of these markets that he heard a verse from the Diamond Sutra — 'Let your mind flow freely without dwelling on anything' — that illumined his mind and set his soul afire. Asking where he could learn more, he was referred to the Tung-tsan Monastery, five hundred miles to the north. By unexpected good fortune he was soon able to provide for his mother, and so set out for the monastery. When he arrived, the Fifth Patriarch, Hung-jen, came to greet him and inquired: 'How can you, an uneducated commoner from the South, possibly hope to attain buddhahood?'
Hui-neng answered him, 'Although people are distinguished as Northerners and Southerners, there is neither north nor south in buddha-nature. In physical appearance, barbarians and monks may look different, but what difference is there in their buddha-nature?' By way of response, the Patriarch sent him off to the granary, where he was put to work hulling rice and splitting wood. He labored there for many months, until he heard something that disturbed him. The scholar and head monk Shen-hsiu had written a verse on a corridor wall in response to a request by the aged Patriarch:
Our body is the Bodhi Tree,
And our mind is a bright mirror.
At all times diligently wipe them,
So that they will be free from dust.
What disturbed Hui-neng was the statement that our minds collect dust and need to be continually wiped clean; to him our mind, being part of our spiritual nature, is always pure and above delusion. Putting this thought into verse, he asked a visitor to write on the wall:
The Tree of Perfect Wisdom is originally no tree.
Nor has the bright mirror any frame.
Buddha-nature is forever clear and pure.
Where is there any dust?
When the Patriarch read this, he realized that the illiterate lay-brother Hui-neng had 'entered the door of enlightenment' and was worthy of succeeding him.
Readers familiar with the verse in H. P. Blavatsky's Voice of the Silence — 'For mind is like a mirror; it gathers dust while it reflects. It needs the gentle breezes of Soul-Wisdom to brush away the dust of our illusions' (p. 26) — may wonder whether the verse of Shen-hsiu or of Hui-neng was closer to the truth. Both are! At our present stage of development our minds do gather the 'dust' of vagrant thoughts and feelings and need 'the gentle breezes of soul wisdom' to clear away illusions. But on a higher level where mind and spirit blend, duality disappears, forms and attachments dissolve before the oneness that transcends illusions. As William Q. Judge wrote: 'The Higher Self needs no concentration because it is always pure, free, unconditioned' (Echoes of the Orient 3:316). To reach this higher state The Voice of the Silence suggests:
Thy Soul-gaze centre on the One Pure Light, the Light that is free from affection, . . .
The more thou dost become at one with it, thy being melted in its BEING, the more thy Soul unites with that which IS, the more thou wilt become Compassion Absolute.— pp. 58, 70
Achieving enlightenment is one of the principal aims of Zen Buddhism: the word buddha, from the root budh, means 'to awaken, to enlighten.' According to tradition, when the Patriarch came upon Hui-neng's verse, he erased it. But late that night he summoned Hui-neng and, while others slept, imparted to him the sacred Law (Dharma). Coming to the line in the Diamond Sutra, 'One should use one's mind in such a way that it will be free from any attachment,' Hui-neng exclaimed with delight: 'Who could have conceived that mind-essence is intrinsically free from becoming and annihilating! That mind-essence is intrinsically self-sufficient, and free from change! Who could have conceived that all things are manifestations of mind-essence!'
Certain now of the youth, the Patriarch gave him, as he himself had so long ago been given, the robe which symbolized successorship, and declared: 'Hui-neng, you are now the Sixth Patriarch. Guard well these teachings and deliver them to as many as possible.' Then he explained how, since the Indian monk Bodhidharma had brought it to China, this sacred Law has been transmitted heart-mind to heart-mind from one patriarch to another. This is reminiscent of the way Buddha Sakyamuni had passed it to his disciple Kasyapa when, instead of speaking to an assembled multitude, he had held up a flower. While the audience awaited teachings, Kasyapa alone had grasped the essence of the Law.
As the night grew on, the Patriarch became increasingly concerned for the safety of his young successor. Finally he got up and escorted Hui-neng to the river where, as they got into a boat together, he picked up the oars. When Hui-neng offered to row, his teacher replied, 'No, it is only right for me to get you across the river' — an allusion to Buddhist teachers helping their disciples reach the 'other shore' of spirituality. But the young patriarch insisted: 'I have had the honor to inherit the Dharma from you; since I am now enlightened, it is only right for me to cross the sea of birth and death by my own effort to realize my own essence of mind.' Whereupon Hung-jen gave him the oars, and they reached the far shore safely. There they bade each other farewell, the Patriarch confident that his teachings would now be preserved.
Many tales are told of Hui-neng's later life. In one, as he made his way southward, he heard footsteps approaching. Throwing down his Dharma-robe, he turned to face his pursuer only to discover that it was a hot-tempered monk, Hui-ming, who demanded not the robe, but to be taught the Dharma. Hui-neng began by telling him to concentrate, to keep his mind perfectly empty and receptive. After a while he asked Hui-ming, ``When you are thinking of neither good nor evil, return to what you were before your father and mother were born.' Instantly, the monk's mind opened, enlightened.
This story illustrates the basic Buddhist concept that our higher or buddha-mind is always present: we need but drop off the blinders of sense and mind-born illusions to see it. Or as Hui-neng often said: 'Buddha-mind is here! Awake and behold it!' However, before Hui-ming departed he confessed that he still wanted to know Buddha's esoteric teachings. 'These,' Hui-neng declared, 'I cannot give you. Each must discover them in himself.' This thought, echoing Buddha's final commandment, 'Be lamps unto yourselves!' filled Hui-ming with light. Bowing in homage, he declared that henceforth he was Hui-neng's devoted disciple.
Continuing his journey to spread his teachings, Hui-neng eventually arrived in Canton. There he came upon a monastery in which its Master was speaking on the Mahaparinirvana Sutra. Intrigued, he stayed to listen and volunteered his thoughts on the subject. The dharma master was impressed, recognized him as a dharma-successor, and invited him to join them and be initiated in their Order. Hui-neng did this, for he had not yet officially become a Buddhist.
There, and wherever he later traveled, his humility, good humor, and insight inspired those who heard him or read his writings. One of his often repeated themes was that enlightenment is a 'turning' inwards, an awakening to one's buddha-nature, which he insisted requires neither formal meditation nor philosophical discussion, only doing what is kind and helpful for all living creatures. This 'buddha-nature' corresponds to the theosophical atma-buddhic consciousness which, when our hearts and minds open to its light, lets us vision things as they are. This is a spiritually transforming experience similar to what Christians and Hindus refer to as being 'born again' or becoming 'twice born.'
It was the method of obtaining this illumination that distinguished Hui-neng's teachings from Shen-hsiu's. While both emphasized teachings of the Mahayana School, Shen-hsiu advocated a process of gradual enlightenment attained by formal meditation, rituals, and the study and practice of scriptures, while Hui-neng, although recognizing the value of discipline and sustained effort, insisted that enlightenment comes spontaneously when we open ourselves to our innate and everlasting buddha-nature.
When asked 'What is the best way to attain liberation?' Hui-neng explained that the attainment of samadhi does not depend on the cross-legged position, or on any position, nor does it depend on a teacher or rituals — which are but aids for the deluded. Actually, he declared, there is no such thing as attaining liberation:
From the point of ordinary men, enlightenment and ignorance are two separate things. Wise men who thoroughly realize Mind-essence, know that they are of the same nature. This sameness of nature, that is, this non-duality of nature, is what is called 'true nature'; neither decreases nor increases; it is undisturbed in an annoying situation and is calm in samadhi. It is neither eternal, nor not-eternal . . . It is beyond existence and non-existence . . .
He elaborated his ideas with such clarity and wit that they not only have brought enlightenment to many, but have had a far-reaching influence on Chinese culture. For Hui-neng and his followers successfully adapted what was still essentially an Indian system to the Chinese character, giving it a practical emphasis and incorporating elements from Chinese traditions, particularly Taoism. According to Chinese historian Huai-chin Nan, this influence transcends any differences that originally existed between the Northern and Southern schools.
Shortly before his death, Hui-neng called his disciples together and told them he would not be with them much longer, adding
Do your best each of you; go wherever circumstances lead you.
With those who are sympathetic
You may have discussion about Buddhism.
As to those whose point of view differs from ours,
Treat them politely and try to make them happy.
Disputes are alien to our school,
They are incompatible with its spirit.
Greatly saddened at his impending death, one inquired if he had chosen a successor. The Patriarch explained that he expected all of his disciples to succeed him in transmitting the Dharma to others. Later, after saying good-bye to each in turn and reminding them to seek to become one with their own buddha-nature, his soul left his body. In due time his body was embalmed and placed in a stupa, and by Imperial Decree tablets were erected to commemorate his life. The main points mentioned were: the Patriarch inherited the robe when he was 24, was ordained at 39, and died at the age of 76. For 37 years he preached for the benefit of all sentient beings; 43 of his disciples inherited the Dharma, while those who had attained a measure of enlightenment were too many to be numbered. The robe which had been transmitted from the First Patriarch, as well as other sacred objects, were placed in the Po-lam Monastery and carefully preserved. His teachings were published and circulated and are treasured today by both scholars and the uneducated, by rich and poor. Thus is recorded the life of an enlightened soul who was for a time housed in the humblest of abodes.
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A Buddhist Bible, Dwight Goddard, editor and publisher, Thetford, VT, 1938.
Manual of Zen Buddhism, Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki, The Eastern Buddhist Society, Kyoto, 1935.
The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch, notes and trans. Philip B. Yampolsky, Columbia University Press, New York, 1967.
Sources of Chinese Tradition, comps. William Theodore de Bary, Wing-tsit Chan, Burton Watson, Columbia University Press, New York, 1960.
The Zen Teachings of Huang Po, trans. John Blofeld, Rider & Company, London, 1958.
(From Sunrise magazine, June/July 2001; copyright © 2001 Theosophical University Press)