Venerable Gangxiao: General Meaning of the *Pramanavarttika*, Part Seven

General Meaning of the Pramanavarttika, Part Seven

Now let's look at the fourth verse.

Since deluded appearances are unreal, they differ from what is seen.
Because the object's appearance is illusory, the apprehending consciousness is also non-existent.

The Commentary says: Suppose someone were to say, "I too concede that pots, clothing, and the like have no own-nature to be found; all are merely differentiated by deluded consciousness." Still, isn't the consciousness that engages these appearances and is itself confused actually real? Consider a mirage city and conjured persons—the consciousness perceiving them is indeed there. But if such a consciousness exists, it too is not real, because it does not correspond to what is seen. This deluded consciousness grasps its object as possessing inherent existence. The own-nature of those objects has already been shown to be non-existent. Since the object is non-existent, the deluded consciousness that apprehends it is also not really existent. How could one maintain that this deluded consciousness exists? In the world, however, no one has ever seen a sprout arise without a seed to produce it; on these grounds your example of a mirage city does not hold up.

This verse is saying that consciousness, too, is not really existent. Why not? Because consciousness does not correspond to the object it sees. The character 同 ("same") in the verse means "identical" or "in accord." I don't know whether you've heard the recordings I gave you earlier—if you have, this will be easy to grasp: consciousness has the apprehending (能) and the apprehended (所); the apprehending is what does the knowing, the apprehended is what is to be known. Strictly speaking, the two are really one and the same and cannot be separated, yet we always go on separating them. It's already been said that the object to be known is illusory, so naturally consciousness is illusory too. When you add the false to the real, what you get as the sum is false.

Let's turn to the next passage. It begins by raising a point:

Someone says: pots, clothing, and the like are not real—they have no self-nature to be found, being only the illusory appearance of pots and clothing arising from the conceptual discrimination of consciousness. But is the deluded consciousness that engages these illusory pot-and-clothing appearances actually real? If it weren't, where would the function of seeing come from? Who produces these illusory pot-and-clothing appearances? So the correct view should be: although a mirage is illusory, the consciousness perceiving the mirage is still actually real.

The term "Gandharva city" (干闼婆城) in the prose refers to a mirage—an appearance of a city, complete with carriages, horses, and pedestrians, that sometimes appears over the sea or in the desert. People today of course understand the optical principles behind it, but the ancients didn't, and they offered mysterious explanations. For instance, the Indians of that time said this city was manifested by a kind of deity called Gandharvas; the Gandharvas are one of the eight kinds of non-human beings. "Conjured persons" (幻人) refers to what we'd now call magicians—people who use small props to produce the appearance of persons and the like, thereby deceiving and harming others.

Master Dignāga says: No, consciousness is an illusory existence, not a real one. Why? Because this consciousness does not correspond at all to what you see. Why doesn't it? Take the snake seen earlier—we've already explained that the snake has no self-nature whatsoever, being nothing more than the delusion of consciousness. This deluded consciousness, with respect to the snake—which has no real self-nature—takes it as an object possessing real self-nature. So you mistakenly believe that the non-existent snake is a real snake. This doesn't match the facts; it's inverted. Therefore this consciousness does not correspond at all to what is seen. What's more, for consciousness to arise in manifest form—for example, visual consciousness—nine conditions are required: the sense faculty, the object, the seed of consciousness itself, the six consciousnesses, the seventh consciousness, the eighth consciousness, mental attention, space, and light. Without an object, it can't arise manifestly; but the object engaged is illusory—how could true consciousness arise?

An interlocutor says: Stop with the rope-snake example; let's speak of pots and clothing. You say pots and clothing are unreal, but the fact that pots and clothing are illusory doesn't prove that consciousness is illusory! Tell me, Dignāga—why doesn't your eye see these illusory pots and clothing as chicks or stones, but still sees them as pots and clothing? Clearly consciousness absolutely cannot be called illusory.

Master Dignāga says: Isn't that self-contradictory? You yourself said that only when the object (along with the other eight conditions) is present can consciousness arise manifestly. Let's use an analogy: first there's a seed, then a sprout can arise—is that principle sound? Of course it is. Master Dignāga says: Is there any principle by which a sprout arises without a seed? The interlocutor can't affirm this either. Master Dignāga says: Clearly, to say the object is illusory but consciousness is real has no basis. So the example you cite—that although the mirage city is non-existent, the consciousness that sees it is still existent—simply doesn't hold.

At this point, someone might ask: earlier you said the object is non-existent, now you say consciousness is non-existent—isn't that saying everything is non-existent? Then what are we practicing for?

Master Dignāga says: When I say consciousness is non-existent here, I mean the apprehended consciousness is non-existent. I have not said that illusory consciousness is non-existent. The point is, consciousness is illusorily existent, and this illusorily existent consciousness illusorily manifests the entire multiplicity of phenomena, illusorily manifests the great cosmos, illusorily manifests the six realms of saṃsāra, and so on. You must not mistake the Buddha's intention; otherwise it falls into the wrong grasp of emptiness. In the Yogācārabhūmi-śāstra, volume thirty-six, it is said: if someone says, "Only 'everything is merely provisional' is true, and everything else is non-existent," then since everything is provisional, is your statement "everything is merely provisional" itself true? When you say both the real and the false are non-existent, you're an absolute nihilist. This view "not only defeats itself but also defeats the world for those who hold it." The Buddha once spoke in secret: "Better to be one who holds a view of self than to be one who wrongly grasps emptiness." Why? Because a person with a view of self is merely confused about objects, yet still seeks liberation; a person who wrongly grasps emptiness says everything is empty, everything is non-existent, even cause and effect is non-existent, and so they don't practice—they'll never see the day of release.

Next is the fifth verse.

These are all hypothetical— the well-awakened one can know.
The wise cut afflictions— as easily as dispelling fear of the snake.

The Commentary says: As it is said, the three realms have only provisional names. Once the coarse perception of pots and the like has been removed, one knows that there's a matter arising from name and word. The one who observes well, having clearly understood, lets the fear of the snake be removed upon seeing the rope. Again, upon careful reflection and understanding of the distinction, even on the rope and the like there is no false grasping. When one observes in this way, all dharmas capable of producing defilement are easily and quickly eliminated. The net of afflictions and the fruits of karmic action will naturally be severed.

The "觉" in "善觉者" means awakened observation. Looked at this way, the three realms also have only provisional names. Pots, clothing, and the like are merely name and word. Upon careful examination, everything comes down to mistaking the rope for the snake; the fear of the snake that arose is entirely superfluous. Examining further, the rope is just broken hemp; taking it as a rope is also false grasping. All sentient beings, because of this confusion, grasp the external snake and grasp the consciousness apprehending the snake as real. Right now you grasp the snake, so you're afraid; if you grasped something pleasant, you'd rejoice. And so on. Because of grasping, every kind of mental factor (every mental dharma) arises, causing you to create karma and drift through the three realms. But when you examine carefully, both the grasped snake and the grasping consciousness are illusory, with not the slightest real nature to be found. This is what we commonly call the contemplation of emptiness. Through this contemplation—suffering, rope-snake and consciousness alike—you won't cling. Without clinging, you don't create karma. You simply do what should be done, as it should be done; doing what should be done as it should be done means not doing it with deliberate intent. When you don't act with deliberate intent, you don't create karma.

Aside: Is this what you once called "stepping on a watermelon rind"?
Not quite. At this point you can tell what should be done from what shouldn't, so you go with the flow.
Not acting with deliberate intent means not creating karma, so no "defiled dharmas" arise—that is, no defiling actions causing you to wander in birth and death arise.

Someone asks: In that case, aren't karmic results severed? Master Dignāga says: How could that be? Suppose you catch a chill and run a fever; fevered and confused, in your delirium you see all kinds of strange things, but once you recover, those strange things are gone. Would you then say, "Where did those things go? I still have the illness—how can I live without those things?" Master Dignāga says: Your worry right now is just like that. You should understand: the absence of those things is recovery from the illness; the absence of saṃsāra is liberation. This is not the severance of karmic results. After you're liberated, you can still distinguish what should be done from what shouldn't; this can serve as a foothold, and you can go on to save sentient beings. This is absolutely not annihilationism.

Next is the final verse.

The wise observe worldly matters— but follow the worldly way.
Seeking to cut afflictions— one must understand the true supreme meaning.

As worldly people, regarding worldly matters such as pots and clothing, take them as really existent, calling them pots, clothing, and the like. The wise are likewise: they conform their speech to the world, knowing these are not really existent. If one wishes to observe the faults of afflictions and seek liberation, one should, within the true supreme meaning, thoroughly investigate and apply the mind correctly in accordance with principle; then, with respect to all objects and the deluded consciousness that apprehends them, the binding of afflictions will no longer grow.

"Worldly matters" here refers to what is universally agreed upon in the world—for example, a table, which everyone says exists. The passage means: strictly speaking, pots, clothing, tables, chairs, and the like are not really existent, but because everyone in the world takes them to be real, you too should call them real, and then skillfully guide and transform them. Never go up to someone and immediately speak of illusoriness. In Buddhist logic terms, this is "contradicting worldly convention." If you go up and immediately speak of illusoriness, people are left at a loss. This is Master Dignāga's admonition to those who study the path.

The text continues: "If one wishes to observe the faults of afflictions and seek liberation," one must do so within the "true supreme meaning." The true supreme meaning is different from ordinary worldly views: the world says pots and clothing exist, while you understand they are actually illusory—this is the true supreme meaning. One must "thoroughly investigate" the true supreme meaning; thorough investigation means broadly learning and considering that all dharmas are like this, not being satisfied with just a little.

That's the general meaning of this treatise. I haven't let it develop into a freewheeling discussion—forgive me.