The mind is originally unmoving — so who is it that moves?

How wondrous: the self-nature is free of all birth and death. The mind of an ordinary person is caught in ceaseless rise and fall, because we cling to the idea of a separate self. Once we latch onto this “I,” we start grasping at external sense objects—form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mental phenomena—what we call “what is mine.” When we grasp at these external objects, we are tossed about by them. If circumstances are favorable, we feel joy, and that joyful state arises; when those pleasant conditions fade, that joy vanishes right along with them. When adverse circumstances appear, we suffer and grieve; once those difficult conditions pass, our sorrow and grief disappear too.

So our minds are like waves, rising and falling without end, completely swept along by whatever of the six external sense objects arises. Whatever circumstances come our way, our mind takes on their tone—this is what we call a “mind of birth and death.” In truth, the Sixth Patriarch, Master Huineng, taught us that our self-nature is untouched by birth and death. It is like a mirror: when objects appear before it, they are only reflections, and the mirror itself remains perfectly still, utterly undisturbed. The reason it can stay so unmoved comes down to the same core insight: there is no separate self to be found there, only pure, primordial clarity. This is the second of the five great declarations: "How wondrous: the self-nature is free of all birth and death."

How wondrous: the self-nature is perfectly replete in itself. This passage tells us that the mind-nature we all inherently possess is fully endowed with the infinite, boundless meritorious adornments of all buddhas. We may well ask: if we already have all these infinite buddha virtues—including the Buddha’s three bodies (dharmakaya, sambhogakaya, nirmanakaya), four wisdoms, five eyes (divine eye, fleshly eye, wisdom eye, dharma eye, and buddha eye), six supernatural powers, and countless dhāraṇī gates—why can’t we manifest them? Even something as simple as our physical eyes: a single sheet of paper blocks our sight; our feet can’t cross a small ditch. How could we possibly manifest the full meritorious adornments of the buddhas?

Why is this? A single moment of grasping and clinging causes true suchness to stray from its inherent nature, and all those meritorious adornments fail to manifest. This is precisely why the Shurangama Sutra so strongly emphasizes the “clinging mind” as the root of all birth and death, the very source of our suffering.

The Buddha told a parable in the Lotus Sutra: once there was a very wealthy elder, so rich he had untold treasures. His son, however, had no desire to stay home and enjoy the family wealth. He ran away from home, abandoned his father, and wandered far and wide, living the life of a beggar. The Buddha used this story as a metaphor for us sentient beings, and for the truth that “the self-nature is perfectly replete in itself.” If we could only abide peacefully in that pure, empty ground of our fundamental mind, we would surely bring forth all the meritorious adornments of the buddhas. But our minds refuse to rest there. We refuse to abide in this empty ground, instead clinging to the idea of a separate “self” and “what is mine”—this is what we call the clinging mind, which grasps at the six sense objects.

It is just like a son running away from home. In the endless cycle of grasping and clinging, we create the deluded causes that bind us to birth and death in the three realms, living like beggars, completely cut off from the buddhas’ virtues and spiritual resources. This is where Master Huineng reminds us: “How wondrous: the self-nature is perfectly replete in itself.” The buddhas’ meritorious adornments are not something we have to seek outside ourselves. Instead, the buddhas use their prajñā wisdom to break through our clinging to self and our clinging to dharmas, so that our own inherent meritorious adornments can naturally manifest. That is all there is to it. These virtues are already fully present within us, even as we practice; as long as we strive to recover our originally pure, true face, these complete and perfect meritorious adornments will naturally shine forth.

How wondrous: the self-nature is utterly still, never stirred. Our clinging mind is forever in motion. When it grasps at objects, it gives rise to all kinds of mental states: joy, anger, and countless others besides. This is the movement we speak of. The true, eternal mind is unmoving—this is exactly what is meant by “utterly still, never stirred.” The Shurangama Sutra places great emphasis on this phrase, “utterly still, never stirred,” in its teachings on the practice of the Shurangama Samadhi. As I studied the sutra, I came to see that the Buddha was pointing us directly to this very Shurangama Samadhi.

Ordinary meditation practice usually follows a set sequence: you focus your mind on a single object, again and again, returning to it each time your attention wanders. The Shurangama Samadhi is not like that. In his Lingfeng Zonglun, Master Ouyi emphasized one core principle: what is it? “At all times, day and night, maintain correct mindfulness of true suchness.” He is telling us to hold true suchness firmly in mind, to affirm without doubt: “How wondrous, the self-nature is utterly still, never stirred.” The wavering of our ordinary mind is nothing but birth and death, nothing but clinging. We don’t need to follow where it leads. Let go of birth and death, and hold fast to what is true and eternal. Keep your mind in correct mindfulness of true suchness, and abide unmoved in the pure, primordial ground of your original nature—this is the Shurangama Samadhi. This samadhi can be practiced at any time, in any situation. The key is simply correct mindfulness of true suchness: when any object or situation arises, bring forth the wisdom of emptiness, and do not be confused, do not grasp, do not move. Abide unmoved in the pure, primordial ground of your original nature—this is the Shurangama Samadhi.

This view makes clear the truth that “the self-nature is utterly still, never stirred.” Our minds are inherently still. So who is it that moves? It is the clinging mind. You need not trouble yourself with it—it’s only the clinging mind moving, stirred up by old karmic habits. This brings our discussion of “How wondrous: the self-nature is utterly still, never stirred” to a close. The four declarations we have covered so far all point to the essential nature of our mind, which can also be described as empty of inherent existence in its very nature.

How wondrous: the self-nature gives rise to all dharmas. This speaks to the function of the mind. Our pure, birthless mind gives rise to the karmic fruits of all ten realms (the full spectrum of sentient existence, from the lowest hell realms to full buddhahood), following along with whichever pure or defiled causes and conditions are present—this is what is meant by conventional existence as its very nature. When we bring together emptiness and conventional existence, we say that essence and function exist simultaneously. The “essence” here refers to the pure, primordial self-nature of all sentient beings; the “function” refers to the karmic fruits of the ten realms. Essence and function exist together at all times, which is precisely the middle way as its very nature. To grasp the middle way, contemplate the phrase “emptiness and conventional existence are simultaneous, unobstructed.” This is the insight the Chan patriarchs used to reveal the true nature of all phenomena, using these five declarations to point directly to our original face. It is emptiness, conventional existence, and the middle way, all at once.