Master Gangxiao: Buddhist Lecture — Establishing Right View Through the Right Teaching

Establishing Right View Through the Right Teaching

All of us live in ignorance, drifting along with its currents. Occasionally, we ponder where we're headed, get fired up for a while, and put in some effort. But lacking right view, we're like headless flies — buzzing around frantically, smashing into things, still finding no way out. Then we slack off again. This is what we call a bodhisattva at the initial stage of resolve.

Because we've always lived in ignorance, when someone tells us there's a place that isn't like this — a place of pure light — we can't understand or fathom it. They tell us we live in ignorance, yet we don't even know what ignorance is. It's like a fish living in water: ask the fish what water is, and it has no idea. We live surrounded by air, bearing its pressure every day, yet we don't know what that pressure really is. It's the same now: we live in ignorance, yet we don't know what ignorance looks like. The Buddha tells us about light, but we don't even know ignorance — how could we possibly know light? We can't even imagine it. We've never seen the light — how could we recognize it? We've always lived amidst falsehood and have never once seen the true. What does the true actually look like? How would we know?

What is the true, then? That which is known without comparison, without relying on other conditions — that is the true! Its answer is singular; if there are two answers, it is not the true. Everyone must remember this! The true has only one answer. For example, I ask: what does that table look like? Everyone draws a picture. One draws the front view, another draws it from a side angle, another draws a cross-section, and so on — each one different. I can't say any one of them is wrong — they're all correct. Since they differ yet all are correct, the answer isn't singular, and therefore the table is not the true. You probably all know the story of Da Vinci painting eggs. When he first began learning to paint, his teacher had him do nothing but paint eggs — all sorts of egg shapes. An egg placed in front of you looks different from every angle, and so the egg too is not the true. That which has only one answer alone is the true — please remember this.

The true spoken of in the Dharma can only be known through direct realization — there's no other way. Only when one has personally realized it can one see the true. Earlier we spoke of hearing and contemplation. We said the Dharma flows forth equally from the Buddha's utterly pure Dharma-realm. Once the World-Honored One proclaimed it, we hear it and contemplate it. This hearing is an outer condition. But the true does not require outer conditions. What about contemplation? If we say contemplation isn't an outer condition but an "inner" one, what does it depend on? We all live in accordance with ignorance, so of course ignorance can't serve as the basis for right contemplation. If ignorance were the basis of right contemplation, then ignorance could discern right from wrong; but if it could discern right from wrong, it would no longer be called ignorance — and there we have a self-contradiction. We often run into this kind of self-contradiction when we study Buddhism. It can feel like the Dharma is full of contradictions at every turn.

Let us first ask ourselves: do we have the capacity to decide between right and wrong? This capacity we call seeds or habitual tendencies. If we have this capacity, this seed, then naturally it can overcome what is evil, draw us close to the Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and the venerable masters of old, and enable us to place right faith in the Three Jewels. But then why, only now, have we finally come to take refuge in the Three Jewels? We've been cycling through the six realms for immeasurable kalpas. Countless Buddhas have already come and gone — so many Buddhas have appeared in the world and expounded the right Dharma. Yet why have we never gone to hear it? For immeasurable kalpas, have we been happily sinking in the sea of suffering? Why do we always board the bandits' ship?

The Buddhist scriptures tell us we all have Buddha-nature. Then why does our Buddha-nature never manifest? Precisely because Buddha-nature doesn't manifest that we sink in the sea of suffering, unable to extricate ourselves. Have we ever considered whether the Buddha has deceived us? The Diamond Sutra says the Buddha is a truth-speaker, a speaker of what is real, one who does not deceive. The Buddha doesn't deceive us — so why do we never board the Dharma-ship? Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva says: if you are in difficulty, recite my name, and I will perceive the sound of your voice and come to save you. How could Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva be like this? If so, one might as well call out to mama. For example, when a small child encounters a vicious dog, the mother doesn't wait to be called — as soon as she sees it, she rushes to save the child. But Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva only comes to save you after you first call upon her — Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva is showing compassion. If she were only like this, her compassion would be insufficient. Do you think her compassion is insufficient? Of course not — this is about karmic affinity. For example, if my grandmother is carrying a big bundle and I reach out to take it from her to help her carry it, she hands it over. But if it were a stranger's old lady, and I tried to help her, she would refuse — she'd worry I'd run off with her bundle and she couldn't catch up. But if the old lady herself called out to me and asked me to carry it, that would work. It's the same with Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. When she comes to help, we're afraid she might be deceiving us, so we won't let her help.

This time let's talk about right view. There are a few fundamental concepts we need to address.

The Buddha says that all dharmas are conditionally originated. Whatever is conditionally originated must, by nature, be empty — there's nothing to argue about here. For a thing to arise, it must await many conditions; only when conditions come together does it arise. But the very moment it arises, it must also cease; in the very moment of arising, it ceases. Ceasing requires no condition — arising and ceasing are simultaneous. Does everyone understand this? For example, this table, in the very moment of being made, also ceased.

If arising means immediate ceasing, then how can cause and effect continue? If there's no cause and effect, this is an out-and-out heterodox view. Buddhists must believe in cause and effect, yet some people, after studying for so long, end up not believing in it. This is falling into the nihilistic emptiness of the evil destinies — an extremely sorry state. Actually, cause and effect is quite ordinary. Because you caught a cold, you take cold medicine — that's cause and effect. Because you haven't eaten for three days, you're so hungry you have no strength — that's cause and effect. The day before yesterday I read a story in a Buddhist newspaper saying that because a person recited the Buddha's name, his cancer was cured. This shows a fundamental misunderstanding of Buddhism! As if reciting the Buddha's name can cure hemorrhoids too — ridiculous, just ridiculous, a complete misunderstanding of Buddhism! Buddhism does include a medical science, you see. Through that medical science, your cancer or hemorrhoids can be treated — not by sitting there motionless, reciting the Buddha's name, and expecting to be cured. The belief that reciting the Buddha's name can obtain everything is the classic error of substituting one method for all methods! Substituting one method for all methods — that is the heterodox path!

Some people slander the Great Collection Sutra, claiming it contains a passage: in the degenerate age, countless beings practice, yet few attain the Way; only through reciting the Buddha's name can accomplishment be achieved. Where in the Great Collection Sutra is there such a passage? Originally it was something the patriarchs and great masters said out of convenience for propagating the teachings of their own school — how did it end up becoming something the Buddha said? Of course, calling it slander may be a bit too harsh.

All dharmas are conditionally originated. Take this table, for instance: it's made from nails, hide-glue, wooden planks, and human effort. The nails, hide-glue, and planks are also conditionally originated, and the conditions for those conditions are also conditionally originated. Among all the conditions for the arising of a given dharma, if even one condition is lacking, it cannot arise. In this way, all dharmas can be encompassed within the principle of conditional origination. This table was made from nails, hide-glue, wood, and a craftsman. The nails were manufactured three months ago; the hide-glue was on the market half a year ago; the wood grew for many years; the craftsman had already been in this world for over thirty years. So all the conditions for the arising of this table were prepared long ago. Since the conditions for this table's arising were already in place long ago, does this mean it could not have failed to arise? Isn't this fatalism? If it is fatalism, then it's not Buddhism — Buddhism rejects fatalism! If from Buddhist theory we deduce that Buddhism is fatalism, why should we study Buddhism? Isn't this a gravely wrong view?

All dharmas arise from conditions. In Buddhism this has a specific term: dependent origination. Buddhism says nothing arises from itself. Yet the true cannot be produced by other conditions — it must be directly realized. One is dependent on other conditions; the other is not. Are the two not contradictory? We are cultivating the path, the two obstructions are not yet exhausted, and we have not yet realized the true. Then how can we know that this dependent origination is the true? All dharmas are conditionally originated, and the cultivation that cuts through obstructions is also conditionally originated. Yet obstructions are measureless and boundless — doesn't this mean it would take a measurelessly long time to exhaust all measureless obstructions? Then when shall we ever accomplish the Buddha-path? That all dharmas are conditionally originated is the core of all sutras. This is actually very profound; at first, even Ananda did not understand it. After the Buddhas realized the Path, they jointly proclaimed conditional origination, but we, through mere analogical speculation, absolutely cannot penetrate it.

How can conditional origination and inherent emptiness bring about the continuity of cause and effect? Take the example of an iron chain. During the Battle of Red Cliffs, Pang Tong offered the linked-boats stratagem, causing Cao Cao to use iron chains to tie the warships together. The way the iron chain links together, ring by ring, is just like a chain of cause and effect. We always assume that in the three-world cycle of rebirth, there must be something that undergoes reincarnation. If there's no permanent thing running through the three lives, and everything is conditionally originated and empty by nature, then cause and effect has no way to continue. Actually, it doesn't need to. Just as the ring-by-ring linking of an iron chain forms a complete chain, there's no need to thread a single rope through all the links. The chain of cause and effect also doesn't require a permanent self to thread through the three lives.

When a dharma is in the state of active manifestation, we may provisionally call it the bright flow; when this dharma is in the seed-state, we may provisionally call it the dark flow. Active manifestation impregnates and becomes seed: the bright flow turns into the dark flow. Within the dark flow, seeds arise and cease moment by moment. When causes and conditions ripen, the seed becomes active manifestation, and the dark flow once again becomes the bright flow. The bright flow too arises and ceases moment by moment. Thus, active manifestation impregnates seed, seed gives rise to active manifestation — ring linked with ring — the continuity of cause and effect is established.

Another example: the jasmine flower. When it blooms, it is extremely fragrant; at this time we call it the active-manifestation state — the bright flow. When we pick its blossoms and make them into tea, we can still see the flowers — though of course they are no longer fresh and bright, and the fragrance is gone. At this point we call it the dark flow. Although we can no longer smell the fragrance, it still lies latent within the tea. When we wish to drink the tea, we pour hot water over it and steep it — the fragrance of the jasmine returns. The dark flow becomes the bright flow again. When causes and conditions ripen, it shifts once more from seed-state to active-manifestation state. Active manifestation is the bright flow; seeds are the dark flow. The bright flow impregnates the dark flow — active manifestation impregnates and becomes seed. When conditions ripen, the dark flow turns into the bright flow: seed impregnates active manifestation, active manifestation impregnates seed. In this way, cause and effect is accomplished. So it goes — hidden and revealed.

Seen this way, if conditional origination were not empty by nature, the continuity of cause and effect would actually be hard to accomplish. If in the cycle there were a permanent "I" threading through, everything would become problematic. What does it mean that there is no permanence? It means that from the first moment to the second moment, change is occurring. It means the latter moment is necessarily different from the former moment. It is similar continuity. Then you might say: why can't I see this table changing? I'd say: you just don't see it! Precisely because of change, everything has its own lifespan.

Q: How exactly should we understand "no self-nature"? Lack of self-nature simply means dependent arising. But we have to keep dependent arising and conceptual imputation clearly distinct. The Mahāyānasaṃgraha lays this out very clearly, and Mr. Han Jingqing, an elder scholar in Beijing, has recently retranslated it under the title Compendium of the Essence of the Mahāyāna—more accurate, actually. I have a copy, though you wouldn't be able to read it yet.

All dharmas are dependently originated, yet this can never lead to fatalism. Why not? Here's the thing: although everything arises in dependence, at its root, dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity. You might ask, even so—doesn't "consciousness-as-capacity" still leave room for fatalism? No. Once you truly grasp that dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity, fatalism is guaranteed not to arise. Right now we think dependent origination plus emptiness leads to fatalism simply because we haven't understood this point. Consciousness is vividly alive; it is the knowing, not the known. Yet we keep objectifying it—turning the "knower" into the "known." The moment we make that flip, trouble begins, and fatalism is born. I say this table is a transformation of the ālaya-vijñāna, and you immediately start analyzing the table, trying to find the ālaya-vijñāna inside it so you can have a look. Isn't that foolish? Traditional Chinese medicine says the body has meridians, so you dissect a person to verify whether meridians exist—will that work? Of course not. Yet that's exactly the kind of foolish thing we do. A person has breath and body temperature, so you dissect a corpse trying to find breath and temperature—will that work? Absolutely not. But we keep at it. Meridians, breath, body temperature—these are attributes of life. If you could find them by dissection, that would be strange. Not finding them is exactly right. Consciousness works the same way. When we turn the "knower" into the "known," of course we end up thinking dependent arising leads to fatalism. Ordinary beings all do this. But the consciousness of dependent arising is vividly alive, arising and ceasing moment by moment—the very instant it arises, it perishes. In every single moment, good and evil can be decided. One moment can turn toward good, another toward evil. So if you're diligent and apply effort right in the living moment, you break free of fatalism.

But how, exactly, should you apply effort? Dependent arising is like a vast net; all dharmas hang on it, and each of us occupies a particular spot. Because everyone's spot is different, your point of entry should be different too—each person's method of practice should be their own.

This "knower" and "known" is a crucial concept in the Mahāyāna teachings. Mr. Han has a small red card with what he calls the "Four Haves and Four Have-Nots":

Only similar continuity, no unchanging oneness;
Only mutual dependence, no independent existence;
Only the discriminating consciousness, no discriminated object;
Only now hidden, now manifest, no true ultimate appearance.

I published this verse in Amrita, but since it was just four lines and took up so little space, it didn't catch readers' attention. It's actually a critical teaching. I've even printed these four lines on my business cards and spread the idea wherever I go.

The Dharma teaches dependent origination. But what is it that arises in dependence? Take a table. It requires wood, nails, a person. The tree has grown for fifty years, the nails came out of the factory a year ago, the person is already over thirty. But this misses the point of "like a dream, like an illusion, like a bubble, like a shadow" and "emptiness." What is a table? A table is simply a function—something that lets us read and write. The great tree is also an abstract function; the nails are an abstract function; the person, too, is a function. Since all are functions, they can't be defined by how many years they've existed. All dharmas arise dependently; what arises in dependence is "consciousness-as-capacity." Our error is falling into the side of the "known." The "knower" stands free of all relative concepts.

Dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity—an absolute knowing that must never be objectified. If you try to approach it through objectification, you'll never know consciousness. Then how do you know it? Only the knowing itself can know itself. There's a text called the Verse on the Rules of the Eight Consciousnesses. Some people say, "I want to study the eight consciousnesses"—but studying that text will never actually let you know them. Everything is a manifestation of mind-consciousness, all of it illusory. Look at the Twenty Verses: the karma of killing is accomplished without any external object—mind-consciousness alone is sufficient.

It is precisely because dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity that dharmas can be directly realized. Once you've directly realized the truth but others haven't, out of great compassion you set up countless skillful means so that ordinary beings, by analogy, can begin to understand that truth is something to be directly experienced.

Every dharma is this knowing; no dharma exists apart from consciousness. If there were such a dharma, it couldn't be directly realized. And if it can't be directly realized, we can't even say whether it exists or not. If there were dharmas beyond direct realization, the Dharma-realm would be incomplete.

Someone asked: If all dharmas are impermanent, then how do I get reborn? The Twelve Links describe our passage through three lifetimes. What is it that takes rebirth? The Verse on the Rules of the Eight Consciousnesses says: "It leaves last, arrives first, the lord of the house." When I first studied Yogācāra at Mount Jiuhua, I was taught that the ālaya-vijñāna is what takes rebirth. Later, Mr. Han Tingjie told me plainly: the ālaya-vijñāna is essentially what people commonly call the soul. The Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra says:

The ādāna-consciousness is profound and subtle;
All its seeds flow like a torrent.
I do not expound this to ordinary fools,
Lest they discriminate and cling to it as a self.

People today still cling to the ālaya-vijñāna as the self. They argue: if everything is impermanent, how can a person take rebirth? How can three lifetimes continue to unfold? Without something permanent, wouldn't the whole thing collapse? And so the Buddhist teaching of "impermanence" gets twisted into the Chinese folk figure of the Impermanence Ghost—and there are even two of them: Black Impermanence and White Impermanence.

Someone asked: Dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity—it can't be reasoned about from the side of the "known." The "knowing" is absolute, beyond objectification. As I've said, when we study the Verse on the Rules of the Eight Consciousnesses, we've already turned the eight living consciousnesses into research objects. That very act makes them something they're not. To know the eight consciousnesses, you can only use the eight consciousnesses themselves. Using the sixth consciousness to study them is already getting things backwards.

Take, for example, the scholars who study Dream of the Red Chamber—the so-called "Redologists." They research and research: was the Grand View Garden in Beijing or Nanjing? Where exactly was Cao Xueqin from? No matter how deeply you dig, you can't claim your conclusions are correct. Why? Nobody can serve as judge; there's no standard answer—unless Cao Xueqin himself came back and said, "I'm from such-and-such a place, and here's why I wrote the character of Simple Cousin." Anything anyone else produces is just guessing around the edges.

It's the same with Buddhism. Mahākāśyapa and Ānanda said one thing; Nāgārjuna and Āryadeva said another; Asaṅga and Vasubandhu said yet another; the Chinese patriarchs and masters said still another. Whose is the standard? Whose is right? Nobody can judge—only Śākyamuni Buddha himself. Maybe each of them was drawing the table from a different angle, and we don't know which angle is which.

So here's what I tell people: what we're doing now is not teaching you the Dharma. I'm simply showing you the way—acting as your guide, leading you into the presence of Śākyamuni Buddha so that he himself can instruct your practice. People today are in a sorry state. It's not that there are no practitioners; there are no good teachers. When your practice reaches a certain level, there's no one to confirm it for you. Think of Huineng: he heard the Diamond Sūtra and his heart stirred, so he went to find Hongren. He recited, "Bodhi originally has no tree," and Hongren recognized him. By then you could say Huineng was just a membrane away—one poke and he'd break through. Like painting a dragon and adding the eyes: the dragon was already drawn; only the final dot remained. Hongren expounded the Diamond Sūtra for him. Huineng was blessed—he met Hongren. But what about us?

Someone said: Dependent arising is consciousness-as-capacity; consciousness is vividly alive—so does that mean we can do whatever we want? If it's all just a transformation of mind-consciousness, can't we just do as we please? Let me tell you: no, you can't. I have mind-consciousness, and so do you. This world is co-created by everyone's mind-consciousness, and these consciousnesses serve as conditions for one another—either as supporting conditions or as indirect object-conditions. The arising of dharmas requires many conditions, yet consciousness itself, as the absolute of dependent arising, arises and ceases in the same instant. So in every moment we can decide good or evil; a moment can turn toward good, a moment can cut off evil. That's why, in practice, we must apply effort right in the living moment.

But from first generating the aspiration to full Buddhahood, it takes three great asaṃkhyeya kalpas. Within the Dharma of dependent origination, once a cause is planted, the fruit will surely come. Once bodhicitta arises, Buddhahood is certain. Someone asks: Can Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva become a Buddha? Why do they ask? Because Kṣitigarbha's great vow is: "If the hells are not emptied, I will not become a Buddha; only when all beings are saved will I attain bodhi." When will the hells be emptied? If they were emptied, the six realms of saṃsāra couldn't hold together. So Kṣitigarbha can't become a Buddha. I say: that's wrong. If Kṣitigarbha can't become a Buddha, then neither can we. Or take Master Hsuan Hua: he vowed to burn his body at the age of one hundred, yet he passed away in his seventies—and some people say he was a fraud. Isn't that simply a failure of right view?

Our obstacles are measureless, yet we can become Buddhas. Why? Think of dreaming. In a single dream, how many things do we do? Measureless. And in the great dream of ignorance, wandering through saṃsāra since beginningless time, how many afflictions have we accumulated? Measureless. Yet the moment we wake up, we wake in an instant—no matter how far we ran in the dream, it makes no difference. It's not as if dreaming of a distant place means we can barely wake, while dreaming of a trip to the local market means we snap awake right away—there's no such rule. What the Chan school calls sudden awakening to Buddhahood is precisely this: in the great dream of ignorance, waking in a single instant. Of course, everything requires the convergence of conditions—nothing happens without them—which is why the Buddha said that from the first stirring of aspiration to full Buddhahood, three great asaṃkhyeya kalpas must pass. That number is vast, but it's finite. Even waking fully from an ordinary dream takes a few minutes, sometimes ten or more—you don't snap instantly into complete clarity and jump out of bed ready to work. So too, waking from the great dream of ignorance isn't instantaneous; it takes three great asaṃkhyeya kalpas.

Some claim you can attain Buddhahood in this very body. That teaching flatters certain habits and has become wildly popular. But cultivating the Way means working at the level of causes. Don't be afraid of how long it takes. With right view and right faith, what's there to worry about? So the first step in practice is to seek right view. With right view, you can cut through the two obstacles and resolve all doubt. This right view can destroy everything else yet remain itself undestroyed. Take prajñā: prajñā is great wisdom; prajñā is the merit of right view. The very substance of right view can only be seen through direct realization.

Honestly, establishing right view is no easy thing. What does it rest on? It rests on the inherently present, undefiled seeds. Because we possess these undefiled seeds from beginningless time, right view is possible for us. These seeds have lain dormant since beginningless time, never meeting the conditions that would let them sprout and grow. Now they've met those conditions—the teachings the Buddha established—and slowly, they're beginning to germinate. Even though we haven't yet seen the bodhi shoot emerge from these undefiled seeds, their power is already growing. As I just said: prajñā is the merit of right view, and prajñā corresponds to reality itself, whereas ignorance is illusory.

And the situation today? Some people don't understand dependent origination. They cling to a phrase or two of the Buddha's words, use one dharma to replace all dharmas, and claim this one practice is supreme while everything else is inferior. This is sheer heterodoxy. For instance, some say: "One Buddha-name contains all eighty-four thousand teachings—just keep reciting it and that's enough." During the war with Japan, a Japanese Buddhist sect came over teaching that you only need to chant the title of the Lotus Sūtra—that's heterodoxy too! Look at the Pure Land scriptures. Take the Amitābha Sūtra, recited in our daily liturgy. Right in the middle it says that in the Western Land of Bliss, the Buddha is expounding the five roots, the five powers, the seven factors of awakening, the noble eightfold path, and much more. How could a single Buddha-name suffice, with no need to study anything else?

Some people don't understand dependent origination. They cling stubbornly to their own views and mistake them for the Dharma's view. This happens when a practitioner has gained a bit of skill and entered a certain state. No matter how fiercely they push forward, they won't succeed. It's like a strongman—no matter how powerful he is, he can't lift himself off the ground.

Some don't understand dependent origination. They cling to tathatā as an essence and seek to realize it directly. But tathatā is a universal truth—a common characteristic. How do you directly realize something eternally unchanging? Tathatā cannot be directly realized. If it could be, then tathatā itself would become something fabricated. And since the Buddha can directly realize it, by that logic the Buddha would be fabricated too.

Some don't understand dependent origination. They say wisdom is inherent, eternally unchanging. If that were so, what could obstruct it? If nothing can obstruct wisdom, we should already be liberated. Or is it ignorance that obstructs wisdom? If ignorance can block even wisdom, how are we supposed to cut through the two obstacles? And if there's nothing to cut, there's no path to liberation! For this, I'd point you to the Sūtra of Perfect Enlightenment and similar texts.

Some cling to external objects. They say: if there are no objects, it's inconceivable—but if there are objects, how can they be directly realized? They can't. So they turn emptiness into dead emptiness. Once emptiness becomes nihilism, everything vanishes—no objects, no consciousness, no cause and effect, no dependent origination. True, the Buddha does speak of "no object, no consciousness" in certain contexts—but that's to break your conceptual attachment. It breaks the view, not the dharma itself. They say there are objects but objects can't be directly realized, so truth is unattainable. And there are plenty more muddled views besides.

So then, what is genuine dependent origination? Dependent arising as consciousness-as-capacity! That's the real thing. And tathatā? Tathatā is just a provisional name. But even though it's only a name, the Buddha didn't establish it as a joke—"He does not speak without reason." There's a profound intention behind it. The two obstacles are dependently originated; the holy path is also dependently originated. When the obstacles are exhausted, reality reveals itself. At that point, what exists is seen as existing, and what doesn't is seen as not existing.

If we want to gain right view, we should rely on the sacred teachings and keep our distance from self-view and self-conceit. How? It's like a baby learning to talk. Whether you understand or not, you just keep learning. Your mother teaches you to say "hello," so you say "hello"—don't worry about what "hello" means. The neighbor blurts out a curse word, and you pick that up too—don't worry about what it means. The more you absorb, the more naturally speech comes. And once you can speak, understanding follows. It's like a child in elementary school: just remember what the teacher tells you—one plus one equals two—and don't worry about why. That's enough.