Derge Kangyur/Tengyur e-text, Esukhia/Barom edition — public domain (mechanical reproduction)
This commentary analyzes a praise dedicated to the Buddha, focusing on the mechanism of confession and the systematic removal of mental afflictions. The text argues that the root of all faults is the view of a self, which generates the dichotomy of self and other, subsequently fueling grasping and aversion. The author details a dialectic of affliction and antidote, explaining how specific mental states—such as hatred, pride, and delusion—obstruct authentic wisdom and how they may be countered through the four immeasurables (brahmavihāras), dependent origination, and the cultivation of bodhicitta. The work commits the reader to a rigorous process of recognizing internal faults and applying specific antidotes to purify the mental continuum. It concludes by contrasting the practitioner's flawed state with the perfected nature of the Buddha, who is entirely free from faults and serves as the ultimate object of devotion and the source of the non-dual wisdom necessary for liberation from saṃsāra.
Provenance
About this text
A commentary on the praise of confession, the Deśanāstavavṛtti belongs to the classical Tibetan tradition. It is attributed to the Indian author Ācārya Buddhaśānti. The work was translated into Tibetan by Buddhaśrīśānti and the translator rin chen bzang po, who is identified as a monk and a zhu chen gyi lo tsa ba. This translation is preserved in the Tengyur, specifically in volume ཀ, where it comprises 47 pages and is categorized within the Eulogy collection. The work analyzes the composition of praises, specifically focusing on the attributes of a buddha, such as the absence of faults like desire, hatred, and delusion, which obstruct authentic wisdom. It enacts a process of confession, arguing that the deterioration of the mind under the influence of afflictions should be addressed through physical gestures of respect and direct, unconcealed speech. A scholar or serious reader consults this text today to understand the dialectic of affliction and antidote, the mechanism of purifying the mental continuum, and the contrast between the practitioner's flawed state and the perfected nature of the Buddha.
Sanskrit title
Deśanāstavavṛtti
Indian author
Ācārya Buddhaśānti
Tibetan translators
Buddhaśrīśānti, zhu chen gyi lo tsa ba dge slong rin chen bzang po
Cite thisAnuvāda, “Commentary on “The Praise in the Form of a Confession”” (Toh 1160), machine draft, 2026.https://naxiai.com/tibetan/works/toh1160
Summary & commentary
Significance
The work is significant for its detailed mapping of the psychological interplay between afflictions and their specific antidotes within the Indo-Tibetan tradition. It provides a practical framework for confession and purification, illustrating the transition from conceptual agitation to the stability of vajra-like absorption.
Structure
Passages
Section
Description
1-49
Analysis of Faults and Antidotes
Examination of the nature of afflictions, the root of self-grasping, and the application of specific remedies like loving-kindness and equanimity.
50-58
The Path of Purification
Discussion on the role of bodhicitta, faith, and the removal of latent tendencies to pacify the collection of afflictions.
59-64
Praise of the Buddha
Description of the Buddha's faultless nature, his physical marks, and the efficacy of his speech and wisdom.
Themes
The Root of Affliction (17, 58)
Antidotes and Remedies (6, 7, 8, 9, 55)
The Nature of the Buddha (2, 59, 60, 62)
Mental Agitation and Stability (4, 6, 38, 44)
Summary, significance and provenance note generated by gemma4:31b from the translation and the catalogue record.
AnuvādaCommentary on “The Praise in the Form of a Confession”·
In the language of India: Deśanāstava-vṛtti. In the language of Tibet: Bshags pa’i bstod pa’i ’grel pa (A Commentary on the Praise of Confession). Homage to Mañjuśrī Kumārabhūta.
In this context, when composing a praise, those who write praises do so by taking up three aspects: the cause and result of a buddha, and the state of the characteristics of the purposeful activity. Furthermore, the one who offers the praise possesses three qualities: faith, extensive learning, and having encountered a state of peril. This [commentary] is primarily based on the state of purposeful activity through the cause of extensive learning, and because it intends to speak of the manner of confessing misdeeds by way of expressing the qualities of the Blessed One, it says:
"O King of Physicians, peerless guru of beings,
Source of all qualities, free from every fault,
Having focused upon you, my refuge, I constantly
Confess by declaring the transformations of my own faults."
And so forth. "King of Physicians" means the foremost of healers, because he possesses the knowledge of the science that heals sentient beings tormented by the disease of the afflictions and headed for the lower realms. For that very reason, he is called "peerless," for among Brahmā, Śiva, and the rest, there is no one equal to him in skillful means. Furthermore, because he shows the supreme path to those in the three realms, he is the "Guru of Beings." If one asks, "In that case, are not the Hearers and Solitary Buddhas also gurus of beings?"
To distinguish [the Buddha] from others, the phrase "free from all faults" is stated. Desire, hatred, delusion, and so forth are called "faults" because they obstruct the arising of authentic wisdom within the continuum of the mind; [the Buddha] is free from these, along with their habitual tendencies, without exception, having definitively abandoned them. One might ask: does one become a superior [teacher] merely by being free from faults? To answer that, the phrase "source of qualities" is stated. Because they are to be studied and mastered, they are called "qualities," such as the powers and the fearlessnesses. The "source" of these is the meaning of the "basis for their production." For those very reasons, because he is worthy of being a refuge, he is the "refuge." By relying upon him, one exhausts discordant factors such as non-virtue; and because he possesses the greatness of the nature of uncommon qualities, the Buddha, the Blessed One, is the supreme refuge, and is thus called the "refuge." The word "you" refers to the object perceived by direct perception. "Having perceived the faults" means having perceived [the Buddha] with a mind of manifest faith and having made him manifest, one should connect this to the phrase "I shall confess my faults." Why confess? The phrase "sick with [afflictions]" is stated. This refers to the continuum of the mind being tormented by the disease of the afflictions and possessing the characteristics of grasping at "I" and "mine"; it does not refer to the agitation of wind and other [humors], for that is not the context here.
The transformation of one’s own faults refers to the manner in which the nature of one’s own mind, under the influence of afflictions, deteriorates and changes into other states. This should be confessed by means of physical gestures of respect, such as joining the palms, and by speaking directly without concealment. This is the meaning.
Thus, this first verse demonstrates the subject matter, the connection, the purpose, and the ultimate purpose of the work. The subject matter is the confession of one’s own faults by way of praising the qualities of omniscience. The expression of praise is the subject matter itself. The connection is the causal relationship between those two. The purpose is to turn away from afflictions by means of knowing the path. The ultimate purpose is to gradually attain the state of Buddhahood itself based upon that.
To demonstrate that very transformation of faults, it is said:
"Like the current of a river extremely difficult to cross,
With waves of improper conceptualization and analysis,
Agitated by the crocodiles and sea-monsters of the afflictions,
Even my own mind has found no peace."
O Blessed One, my own mind has found no peace, being free from afflictions. If one asks how it has become so, it is said: "Like the current of a river extremely difficult to cross." The word "like" is used as a simile.
Just as those who are swept away and distracted by the violent current of a river experience great suffering, so too, because one is distracted in the state of saṃsāra by the current of the afflictions (kleśa), which is difficult to turn back, there is no peace or happiness in the mind. This is the meaning.
Why is that? It is said: "With the waves of evil vitarka and vicāra." Vitarka refers to the coarse movement of the mind; vicāra refers to the subtle aspect of the mind. Since they are both vitarka and vicāra and are also evil, they are "evil vitarka and vicāra," meaning they are afflicted (kliṣṭa). This itself is the "wave," because it is a state in which the mind is agitated and distracted by the aspects of afflicted vitarka and vicāra; for that very reason, it is difficult to cross.
Furthermore, how is it so? It is said: "When agitated by the crocodiles of the afflictions." By the power of evil vitarka and vicāra, desire (rāga) and the other afflictions are produced. Because they produce suffering and grasp with a firm hold, they are analogous to crocodiles (makara), the creatures of the ocean. Their "multitude" refers to the great number of them. "Agitated by them" means being pervaded and distracted. For that reason, as long as afflicted vitarka has not subsided, one's own mind will not become a basis for the arising of the peaceful and virtuous (śukla-dharma) qualities.
Regarding this, it is said in the Lavaṇodaka-sūtra:
"I have no fear of thieves who steal my wealth, nor is there any fear that they will carry off my fine possessions. But the wealth of the mind’s virtue, which I have carefully and repeatedly accumulated, is being plundered right before my eyes by my own ordinary conceptual thoughts. In mountain retreats, dark chambers, or dense forests, one can well protect wealth from thieves; but there is no place to go where this ignoble conceptualization has not destroyed the wealth of virtue." Thus it is said.
In that regard, first of all, the Blessed One taught the impure, loving-kindness, and dependent origination, respectively, to those possessed of desire, hatred, and delusion, and spoke of the four brahmā abodes. To demonstrate the situation that is inconsistent with those [teachings], it is said:
"When the great waves of the ocean of desire are turbulent, if one relies upon the pool of the impure, then my mind will surely be consumed and destroyed by the fire of hatred, like dry grass."
And so forth. "Desire" refers to the desire for sensory objects and the desire for things in general. Because it is so vast and powerful, it is like an ocean. The "waves" are the various conceptual thoughts associated with it, by which one becomes agitated, wavering, and disturbed. As it is said in that very sūtra:
"Just as the ocean of clear flowing water is made to be turbulent and disturbed by waves, [so too is the mind]."
"Likewise, the water of the one-pointed mind is thoroughly agitated by conceptual thoughts," so it is said. If one asks what should be done when that occurs, it is the application of the antidote. Therefore, it says: "If one relies upon the raft of the impure..." This means that if, for the sake of removal, one relies upon and dwells in the raft of the method for crossing the ocean of desire by meditating on the impure—the unattractive object. At that stage, how does the mind abide? It says: "There, my mind was utterly destroyed and scorched like dry grass by the fire of hatred." This means that at the stage of meditation, due to the influence of relying on an unpleasant object, my mind was harmed like dry grass being burned by the fire of hatred; a peaceful mind free from desire was not found. This is an expression of one's own fault. If one asks, "Since I was thus harmed by hatred, should I not rely on my own antidote?" for that reason it says: "In order to pacify the torment of the fire of hatred," and so forth. Hatred is the mind that intends to harm others; it is the aspect of malice. That itself is the fire, which completely burns the continuum of the mind with the torment of mental unease arising from it. "Pacifying" means the subsiding of that harm, which is the reversal of that mental continuum. "For the sake of" means for that purpose. If one asks what is to be done for the sake of pacification: "Even if the pond of loving-kindness is meditated upon..."
Thus it is said: if, as an antidote to the fire of hatred, one meditates upon and repeatedly cultivates loving-kindness—the desire for all sentient beings to be happy—a friendly mind as cool as the water in a pond, it is capable of extinguishing the fire of hatred. If one asks what happens from that, it is said: "In that state, desiring the happiness of all beings..." This refers to the state of such meditation, where one focuses with a mind of loving-kindness upon all beings without exception, including those belonging to the three realms, desiring their happiness and rejoicing in their freedom from harm. If one asks what happens when the mind is directed in this way, it is said: "...the mind is seized by the mud of attachment." When one desires happiness through a mind of loving-kindness, a craving of attachment associated with a mind of subsequent delight arises. Because this is the place where the mind becomes fixated and sinks, it is like mud; by such means, the mind is completely seized. This shows that because a grasping attachment toward beings arises through a mind of loving-kindness accompanied by delight, that itself is a fault. If one asks how that is established, it is said: "In order to purify the stains of the mud of attachment." Attachment is the intense clinging to things. Because it is the cause of cyclic existence, it is like mud. That itself is the stain—the defect of clinging to one's own mind as "I" and "mine."
If one asks what should be done to purify and cleanse such stains, it is said: "Even if one washes with the water of equanimity..." The attachment that has settled like the stain of mud must be recognized as a fault through the intellect of insight. If one then washes and removes the stain with the water-like equanimity that is free from attachment and aversion and is entirely indifferent toward all beings, what fault would there be? To this it is said: "In that case, the compassion of the Protector of the World, which dispels the suffering of all beings, would also perish." O Protector of the World, in such a state of remaining in equanimity, the great compassion that engages in delivering all sentient beings and dispels the suffering of all beings—the very compassion that serves as the Protector and Refuge of the world—would perish and cease to exist. Consequently, I would not become a bodhisattva.
If one then thinks, "I shall cultivate that very compassion," it is said: "O Lord, if I were to meditate on compassion, a great sorrow would arise within me." The word "O Lord" is an address. If, having seen that fault, one were to cultivate and manifest compassion itself, a great mental anguish arising from the manner of compassion—what is called "sorrow"—would arise in my mind. The meaning is that one's mind would become intensely tormented by the sorrow of thinking, "Alas! These sentient beings are afflicted by suffering."
If one asks, "What should be done in that case?" it is said: "If, for the sake of pacifying this, one relies on joy..." This means that if one relies upon and dwells in the divine abode called "joy," which pacifies the distress arising from compassion and establishes equanimity, what will happen then? It is said: "The wavering mind will become agitated." This means that when the mind is directed toward the object of joy, by the power of uplifting the mind that wavers and fluctuates toward objects, it will become agitated and conceited, and will not remain in its natural state of peace.
If one then asks, "But what if one relies on another method to pacify that very state?" it is said: "If, for the sake of pacifying joy, one generates weariness, then the mind will become powerless and despondent." This means that if, in order to pacify a mind intoxicated by joy, one focuses on objects that generate weariness—such as the aspects of suffering—and thereby generates weariness, then at that moment, due to the very cause of that weariness, the mind will become powerless and despondent; it will be unable to focus on the object of observation and its effort will become weak.
If one then asks, "When that has occurred, what fault arises if one uplifts the mind with enthusiasm?" it is said: "If, through diligence, one uplifts a mind that is inferior, it will fall into the domain of the enemy of pride," and so forth. This means that if one, possessing diligence and exertion, uplifts a mind that is despondent and inferior by any means that causes conceit to arise, it will also result in a fault. What is that fault? It is that one will fall under the power of pride.
Pride, overweening pride, and so forth, become the domain that destroys the wealth of virtue like an enemy, and one falls under their power; the meaning is that one becomes a servant to that enemy called pride. Having thus shown how focusing on the four immeasurables (brahmavihāras) becomes a fault of the mind, now, in order to show how it becomes a fault when relying on the antidote to pride, it is said: "As its antidote, meditate on the emptiness of all." This means that in order to eliminate the enemy called pride, one meditates on the emptiness that eliminates all mental engagements which serve as its antidote—the emptiness that utterly destroys all things, both animate and inanimate. Through such meditation on emptiness, all discordant factors such as pride and the like are reversed, characterized by mutual exclusion, like darkness and light.
The definition of "incompatible coexistence" is similar to that of physical substances, such as a vase and a cloth, which cannot occupy the same space. Here, however, one should exclude physical incompatibility and apply it to the meditation on the meaning of emptiness. If one asks what happens when one meditates on the meaning of emptiness in that way, it is said: "At that time, one will lack diligence for the sake of others." This means that at the stage of meditating on the emptiness of all things, because neither oneself nor sentient beings are perceived, one will lack diligence and effort in maturing other beings and acting for their benefit; the sense is that one will turn away from it. If one asks what is perceived when such a fault occurs, why is that?
"If, for its sake, one relies on the conventional," it is said. This means that in order to eliminate the fault of viewing [things] as empty, one relies upon and dwells in the phenomena of entities—the "conventional"—which are obscurations to seeing the ultimate reality. If one asks what fault arises from that, it is said: "There, the thought of wealth will arise." Thus, by applying the mind to entities, the thought of increasing and acquiring wealth through trade and so forth will arise; consequently, the mind becomes distressed and afflicted. This is because when one relies on the conventional and desires to practice generosity and so forth, the mind will develop the intention to accumulate various material things such as gold and jewels.
If one asks what fault there is even if such a thought of accumulating wealth is produced, it is said: "If the mind is applied to the accumulation of wealth..." If, having generated craving for wealth, one abandons the distinguished applications of concentration and so forth, and instead applies one's own mind to the accumulation and gathering of gold and other riches, generating craving, then at that time the mind has fallen under the power of perversion. Thus: "It will serve to pour the wine of all faults." When one is despised by others, one becomes heedless; physical afflictions and other faults arise. By those very faults, for a person who thinks wealth is protection, it serves as the cause of faults, pouring forth and generating [them] like wine. Furthermore, if one asks what other fault will occur:
"Intoxicated by the sleep of pride and delusion," it is said. By those very causes, the mind is rendered intoxicated because it fails to distinguish between what should and should not be done. If one asks by what it is intoxicated, it is "by the sleep of pride and delusion." Like a person who is drunk, one is intoxicated by the sleep of pride—which is arrogance and haughtiness—and by delusion, which impairs the intellect, as well as by the power of sleep and lethargy. Pride leads to delusion, and delusion leads to being intoxicated by sleep. If one asks what fault arises from these, it is said: "All desired goals are utterly destroyed." Whatever goals are to be accomplished by the noble ones in this life or in future births, or whatever desired objects serve as the causes for higher status and definitive excellence, all are destroyed and ruined. The word "utterly" (nyid) is used for emphasis. The summarized meaning here is this: the accumulation of wealth is craving, and that is the cause of faults such as total ruin. Furthermore, from the Lavaṇa-nadī-sūtra:
"This destroys all reverence and all virtues; it makes even that which is as heavy as Mount Meru as light as cotton wool. Through craving, even the snow of winter does not feel cold; even the blazing rays of the sun in the desert are not felt as heat. Through craving, even the ocean—bottomless and perilous with many harms—is reduced to the size of a cow's footprint."
"...one should consider it as being extremely small." Thus it was said. Having thus shown the manner in which the mind is uneven, in order to show the discordant mind regarding generosity—which is the very essence to be extracted from accumulated wealth—it says: "Whenever I wish to give, the powerful stinginess holds me fast," and so forth. At whatever time I wish to give and am eager to distribute the wealth accumulated through hardship to those who beg, the powerful stinginess—meaning the bond of stinginess that clings to and is attached to material things, which has existed since beginningless time and is endowed with strength—holds me fast and, by firmly grasping the mind, renders me powerless to let go.
If one asks, "What should be done then?" it says: "If, having removed it, I should give, at that time I will regret it for a long duration," and so forth. If, through the power of meditating on the side of the antidote, that stinginess is removed and abandoned, and I should give some object to some who have become a worthy field of merit, at that time, due to the mental torment arising from the craving of stinginess, I will regret having given the substance for a long period of time.
If one asks, "What happens if that mind is turned back again through firm resolve?" it says: "If, through faith, I should again act with faith," and so forth. Faith is the clarity of the mind.
Although one may clear away the stains of the mind through faith that trusts and yearns for qualities, making the mind serene and free of turbidity, the text states that one will still fall into the results of other worlds. This means that even the result of giving material things becomes a defect in the mind if it is characterized by attachment and the expectation of a return. When the mind is thus defiled, the text says: "If, through knowing impermanence, one makes [the mind] free of hope." This refers to recollecting the Teacher’s word that all conditioned phenomena (saṃskāra) are impermanent. By examining the impure in the manner of impermanence, one should understand that material things and so forth are not permanent but are of a momentary nature. Through that antidote, one becomes unattached to the wealth and so forth arising from the ripening of generosity or the hope for a return; when the turbidity of the mind is thus cleared away, one abides in accordance [with the path].
If one asks, "In what way?" the text says: "Without a reason, one is discouraged by laziness." This means that if one were to exert effort in the causes—generosity and so forth—in order to achieve such a result as the attainment of great wealth through the cause of having practiced generosity, then because one has made the mind free of hope for a result, one would have no desire to strive in the dharmas of generosity and so forth. Consequently, under the power of laziness, the mind becomes discouraged and weak; such is the meaning. Having explained the confession of failing in one's own welfare, in order to show the failure in the welfare of others, the text says: "O Protector, the world is intensely tormented by suffering."
"Alas! These worlds of sentient beings are intensely tormented and rendered utterly wretched by the three or eight well-known types of suffering, such as the formations (saṃskāra) and birth (jāti). Yet, having observed that even in the past they have been one's own kin—meaning that throughout the succession of births in this cyclic existence (saṃsāra), they have also been one's parents and other relatives, and have been connected to oneself—one should view them with the intellect and contemplate them with the mind. The word 'also' (yang) indicates that this is not only the case at present. Based on that cause, what should one do? If one wishes to act for the benefit of others, since there is not a single sentient person afflicted by suffering who has not been one's kin, one should act for the benefit of others through generosity and so forth in order to eliminate their harm. Furthermore, when one desires to engage in the conduct of a bodhisattva and undertakes that activity, what happens? It is said: 'Under the power of the perception of a self, one grasps involuntarily.' This means that through attachment to relatives and so forth, the perception of 'I' and 'mine' arising from habitual tendencies (vāsanā) causes one to grasp involuntarily and be dominated by them; thus, one falls into the error of viewing what is selfless as a self. What is the fault in such a view of a self? It is said: 'Following the view of a self, pride ensues.' The view of a self is the notion that 'the so-called self exists.'"
The conceit that there is a self where there is no self is pride, and that pride follows from the view of a self; the meaning is that one becomes attached to the views of the non-Buddhists, such as [the belief in] permanence, stability, and the existence of a self. If one asks what fault is produced by that, it is said: "It causes one to grasp at 'mine'." This means that the downfall arising from pride causes a firm grasping to arise, thinking "this is mine" or "this is my self," and by that one is bound. If one asks what collection of faults is produced by that state, it is said: "There, by pride, arrogance, desire, and so forth." "There" refers to the occasion when the grasping at "mine" arises; at that time, faults such as pride and so forth occur. Pride refers to the faults of pride, overweening pride, and so on. Arrogance is an inflated and haughty mind. Desire is longing, which produces craving for objects of attachment. By the word "and so forth," other afflictions such as hatred and delusion are included. If one asks what they do, it is said: "They utterly destroy one, like an enraged enemy." Just as enemies who have become hostile, when extremely enraged, produce many harms such as depriving one of life, so too do those collections of afflictions rob one of the life-force of virtue and produce various sufferings of change.
The view of a self is the basis of all faults. As it is said: "When there is a self, there is the perception of an other; from the division of self and other, grasping and aversion arise. Through being thoroughly connected with these two, all faults are fully produced." Thus spoke the master Dharmakīrti. To demonstrate an example of how those very faults, such as pride and so forth, produce their opposing factors, it is said: "When the net of afflictions, as terrifying as the host of Māra, is fully swollen," and so on. At what time? The "host of Māra" refers to Māra, the lord of the desire realm (kāmadhātu); his "host" is his army. Because they display various weapons, engage in combat, and enter into battle, they are extremely terrifying. The word "like" (lta bur) indicates similarity; for the collections of afflictions are also terrifying because they produce various harms. "Afflictions" (kleśa) refers to desire (rāga) and so forth. "Net" refers to the vast collection of those [afflictions], or how they completely entangle, bind, and fetter one. When such afflictions are fully swollen and the latent tendencies (anuśaya) toward objects are awakened, and when the entanglements of the afflictions blaze in every way, the collection of afflictions itself is the host of Māra. When the force of such unbearable afflictions blazes, it is said: "At that time, like the unbearable signs of the end of an eon..."
Regarding the term "time": there are messengers of Yama. The specific night on which they bind a person’s neck with a noose and intend to carry them away is called the "time-sign." The phrase "like that" means similar; the net of afflictions is similar to that in the sense that they share the common characteristic of producing extremely unbearable fear.
The phrase "in such a way" means that the darkness of the dark side increases. This refers to the darkness of delusion, which is incompatible with the white dharmas of the side of Māra, and which increases and expands. Alternatively, "the dark side" refers to the waning moon; just as it is extremely terrifying when a shower of various weapons from an enemy falls within its pitch-black darkness, so too, when one is obscured by the darkness of the side of afflictions and separated from the light of the white dharmas, various harms and sufferings will increase. This is the meaning.
By teaching through these various analogies, it is shown that the collection of afflictions arising from the view of a self is utterly terrifying. Precisely for that reason, in order to pacify them, and because one wishes to confess by way of reviling one's misdeeds, it says: "I shall speak of my misdeeds, which are difficult to endure in regret." O Bhagavān, in your presence, I shall speak of and proclaim whatever misdeeds I have committed and accumulated for the sake of the pleasant and the unpleasant.
What is it like? It is said: "That which is difficult to regret and hard to endure." This is because that which, once committed, causes a mental continuum to be filled with regret—a state that is difficult to bear and hard to endure—is by nature sinful. Furthermore, what is it like? It is stated: "Birth is suffering, and its transformation is unbearable." Here, "birth" refers to taking up a body within the five realms of existence. "Suffering" is the nature of the five aggregates. "Birth is suffering" means that when one repeatedly takes up and grasps at birth, it produces and causes one to experience the suffering of transformation arising from karma and afflictions; this is "unbearable," meaning it generates many physical and mental sufferings that are extremely difficult to endure. This is the meaning.
Thus: "What greater harm than that could there be?" By way of this question—asking what entity could cause greater harm than the suffering arising from afflictions—it is definitively established that there is nothing more harmful than that. Having understood it to be the cause of unbearable suffering, it is logical to abandon it; yet, despite this, one continues to engage in it oneself.
Although this is indeed the cause of suffering, the fact that I personally engage in the non-virtue that serves as its cause and do not turn away from it is to be under the power of the afflictions (kleśa); thus, one confesses by way of expressing one's own faults. If that is the case, then it is appropriate to turn the mind away from it and abandon it; however, to demonstrate that one is unable to do so, it is said: "If [anger] is the cause of various sufferings..." In this way, patience is the source of all happiness, whereas anger is the basis of all suffering. Thus, "if [anger] is the cause of various sufferings" refers to the fact that hatred is the basis and cause of the various types of physical and mental suffering that arise in this and other worlds. This is because from it arises the harming of sentient beings. "If one turns away from harming others" means that, by way of recollecting the faults of anger, one turns the mind away from harming and causing suffering to others through the causes arising from resentment, and relies upon patience through the recollection of its remedies. If one asks what happens when one abides in that state, it is said: "The base person, who has become an enemy without fault, agitates that [mind] with a malice like the edge of a sword." This means that the mind, unable to endure [the provocation], becomes agitated and the continuum of the mind is made turbid. By what means? By the "base person who has become an enemy without fault."
"Like the edge of a sword, their malice agitates me." This refers to those masses of people who, being devoid of the noble conduct of discipline, acceptance, and so forth, have become naturally wicked. Even though I have committed no fault against them, they have become causeless enemies and have become hostile toward me. Their conduct, as malicious and heart-rending as the edge of a sword, agitates my mind.
If one asks, "Should I not then practice acceptance toward those of wicked nature and show them compassion?" it is said: "Whenever I wish to practice acceptance, at that time I am bound by the fetters of their misconduct." This means that at whatever time or moment I wish to turn away from that which agitates my mind and, through the application of an antidote, make the mind clear and abide in the manner of acceptance, at that time the various activities of that wicked-natured enemy—those various conducts that are harmful and constitute fetters for the mind—bind and tightly constrain the mind once again, such that it falls under the power of hatred.
If one then asks, "Even so, should I not remain in equanimity toward their conduct and simply suppress the mind?" it is said: "By the fierce fire of hatred, which is blocked and completely restrained, one is utterly parched and devoid of compassion," and so forth.
When the bonds of hatred arising from that improper conduct are forcibly suppressed and completely restrained, the continuum of the mind does not remain stable due to the very intensity of that suppression, and it falls under the power of anger. Consequently, that fierce hatred arising from it is like fire, for it torments both oneself and others. Because that fire separates the mind from the moisture of the ārya-dharmas, it dries up the continuum of the mind. Thus, the mind becomes devoid of affection and compassion, and, lacking mercy, it becomes bereft of the sublime conduct of patience and clarity. This is the meaning.
If one asks how a mind devoid of affection remains, it is said: "Just as those with the poison of a terrible gaze..." and so forth. The word "just as" introduces an analogy: "those with the poison of a terrible gaze" refers to snakes that cannot kill merely by being looked at, but are capable of causing fainting through their poisonous breath. "Dwelling within a tree, the wise avoid it" means that a tree in the hollow of which such a venomous snake has taken up residence is avoided from afar by the wise and intelligent.
"Likewise, concealing the conduct of anger, it abandons my virtuous intentions" explains the meaning of the analogy. This indicates that just as the wise avoid a tree harboring a snake, so too does anger, when hidden within, cause one to abandon one's own virtuous thoughts.
In that same manner, the so-called "anger" is a mental state of the self that conceals and hides the conduct arising from the aspect of hatred—which is like a venomous snake—that harms others and is like poison. This mental state is like a tree; it is that which abandons and discards the collections of virtuous actions, such as the three trainings, which are the causes of higher rebirth and definite excellence. This is what is being shown: if the conduct of hatred, characterized by malice and like a snake, dwells within my mind, it is like a vessel containing poison; therefore, virtuous dharmas cannot remain and are abandoned. This is the meaning.
Furthermore, to demonstrate how the mind, being defiled, does not become a vessel for the Dharma, it says, "By the rays of the sun," and so forth. This should be connected to the thought: "The rain of the sublime Dharma falling upon my mental disposition is pointless." How so? It says, "Like a stone scorched by the rays of the sun." This means it is like rain falling upon a flat stone slab scorched and heated by the extremely hot and sharp rays of the summer sun. The word "like" indicates a similarity in nature. Just as when a stream of rain falls upon the surface of a stone, although it falls, no growth, sprouting, or the like is seen, and it does not become moistened within; it merely becomes damp on the outside, and even that vanishes in an instant.
Likewise, for a mind tormented by hundreds of intense afflictions (kleśa) like the rays of the sun, the rain of the Dharma (dharma) is of no use. Furthermore, how is this so? It is said: "It is like dust that has become ash through total desiccation." Just as a mass of ash, completely scorched and dried out by the sun's rays, becomes dust and remains extremely coarse—just like ash—so too, even if rain falls upon a heap of ash that has become dry and coarse, no distinct entity is produced, and thus it is of no use. However, if it falls heavily, it merely becomes moist and remains as it was at another time. In that same manner, for my mind, which has been bound by a mass of negative conceptualizations (vikalpa) since beginningless time and has become like dust, the rain of the Dharma is of no use. Furthermore, how is this so? It is said: "It is like a path covered by a mass of sand." A "mass of sand" refers to a heap of sand, meaning a great quantity. To be "covered" by it means to be completely enveloped and obscured. In such a stretch of road, the falling of rain is of no use. The phrase "like" serves as an illustration: just as a path covered by a mass of sand will not serve any purpose even if a great stream of rain falls upon it, but will remain as it was before before long, in that same way, the rain of the Dharma is of no use to my disposition.
Thus, it is said: "To cause the rain of the authentic Dharma to fall upon a basis pervaded by the sands of my own mind—such as ignorance, craving, and so forth—is pointless." These examples demonstrate the following: just as rain falling upon fertile fields is purposeful because it causes the growth and expansion of various crops and harvests, it is not so on the surface of stones, heaps of ash, or paths of sand. This is shown by way of a dissimilar example.
The mention of three examples corresponds to the three types of Dharma—scripture, realization, and the ultimate—and indicates that relying [on such a mind] is pointless. Alternatively, they correspond respectively to those who have not become suitable vessels for the teachings of the three vehicles.
This is the intention of the Master: even those adorned with a multitude of qualities and endowed with noble conduct should, for a time, engage in self-reproach. If, through a lack of close examination or under the influence of non-virtuous friends, one has committed sinful and unwholesome acts, the method for purifying them is self-reproach. Or, by teaching others in that manner, one causes them to refine their faults. Through the power of repudiation, one becomes free from sin. As it is said: "Even if one has committed extremely unbearable sins, they will be exhausted by thoroughly reproaching oneself." This principle should be applied in this context and others as well. Other ways of reproaching oneself are also taught:
The passage beginning with "my own suffering" and so forth is stated. Its meaning is as follows: "O Protector of the World," thus addressing the Blessed One, "I am unable to endure even that; not only do I lack devotion to the path you have taught and find it meaningless, but I am also unable to understand or rely upon you." This is the sense of the word "also" (yang).
Why is this so? It is stated: "Because I have not analyzed my own unbearable suffering." The mass of intense, harsh, and unbearable suffering that I myself experience is the ripening of negative actions; because I have not analyzed or reflected upon it with my intellect, for that reason:
"One who is like a friend striving for my benefit..." This refers to someone like you who strives for my benefit and acts as a friend to turn me away from harm. Alternatively, rather than taking "like" (lta bu) as a mere comparison, it may be taken as a definitive restriction: "one who is indeed striving for my benefit." Thus, it refers to one who has become someone striving for my benefit.
By what means? It is stated: "Even that Protector of the World, who benefits me through patience and generosity, I am unable to endure." Here, "patience" refers to the perfection of patience, and "generosity" refers to the perfection of generosity. Since these two are the supreme methods for benefiting others, they are mentioned as the primary ones; they are of a nature that supremely benefits and accomplishes the necessary purpose, and thus, when you teach them—
The meaning is: "I am unable to endure or rely [upon him]." If one asks, "What does the self do that it is unable to endure?" it is said: "Hating, or fleeing and avoiding." "Hating" means perceiving [the teacher] as an enemy. Furthermore, what does it do? It flees and avoids; when beneficial instructions are given, it cannot endure them and goes elsewhere. "Or becoming distracted, or turning back," means that without accepting the instructions, it wanders about and directs its mind toward other places; or "turning back" means that even while remaining in the very place [of instruction], it turns back and reviles [the teacher] with words. The word "also" (yang) indicates an extremely difficult situation: even for such a person who is difficult to tame, unruly, whose mental continuum has wrong inclinations, and who has become devoid of fortune, the Teacher still teaches and bestows the rain of the sublime Dharma. Thus, even for one like me who is devoid of fortune and of a base nature, he teaches without interruption.
"I do not think that even such a one is a guru," means that although he teaches without interruption, introduces one to knowledge, and makes one fortunate, I do not think that even such a person as that is a guru who has shown beneficial instructions. The meaning is that because the eye of the intellect is blinded by ignorance, one will come to hold [the teacher] in a wrong way. This is what is being shown:
Just as those born blind do not know the appearance of the sun and the moon, so too sentient beings whose mental and physical continuums have not been cultivated are unable to realize the meaning of the profound Dharma or receive beneficial instructions. Having thus described the various transformations of the mind’s defects, the manner in which the Blessed One is now petitioned with an authentic mind is shown:
"Even if one goes and makes a request, it is difficult to find," and so forth. "Going" means that if there is some cause for benefit, one who seeks it goes before that person, pleases them with service and the like, and makes a request; yet, even so, it is as if it is difficult to find and difficult to obtain. "At the time of patience, the supreme great medicine—if one who has the nature of patience is not patient," means that when the mind is wounded by the enemy of anger, it must be healed through methods such as accepting suffering. Therefore, at that time, the medicine relied upon to heal the disease of the mind is patience, which is superior to other methods and supreme. If one must rely on patience, but one does not have the nature or disposition of patience—if one is not patient and does not rely upon it—then what other cause or method for patience do I have? This means: "What other method for the cause of patience is there for me? There is none." Now, in order to show that the afflictions have become devoid of independence:
"When I see the world—its minds agitated by being seized by the rākṣasas of the afflictions, and lacking even the diligence to strive for their own gradual benefit—I feel only hatred for them, O Lord, and not compassion." Thus it is said. By addressing the Lord, he shows: "In my mind, only hatred arises; compassion never arises."
Toward whom does compassion not arise? Toward the world. In what way? It is said: "Its minds agitated by being seized by the rākṣasas of the afflictions." The afflictions, such as desire and hatred, are like rākṣasas because they produce terror and harm. Being seized and dominated by them, the continuum of the mind is agitated and rendered without autonomy. For that very reason, they are "possessed by fever"; their minds are impaired and intoxicated by discordant factors. Because of that cause, they lack diligence in engaging in the activities of this or other worlds that would bring them benefit or eliminate their suffering. Alternatively, because they are agitated by the afflictions, worldly beings harm themselves through practices such as leaping into abysses or consuming poison. Such people are said to be "worthy of being seen." For seeing those who become objects of compassion and give rise to a mind of affection is the cause that accords with the conduct of a bodhisattva; therefore, it is appropriate to look upon them.
Even when seeing such things, because the power of the afflictions is so great, it is hatred itself that arises, and not compassion. Now, in order to demonstrate how one remains under the sway of the afflictions even while abiding in the manner of reasoning, it is said:
"Know that beings experience the results of their own actions,
And that all are powerless and fearful;
Even though others are judged to be without fault..."
Regarding the term "beings," these are the wanderers produced by karma and afflictions. As for the phrase "experiencing the results of their own actions," this means that they experience the ripening results—whether pleasant or unpleasant—of actions performed by their own body, speech, and mind. Therefore, even if they undergo suffering arising from external conditions, because that is the result of the actions they themselves have performed, it is not the fault of others. Furthermore, since all sentient beings lack autonomy and are subject to destruction, and because they are characterized by momentariness, one should know that all things are impermanent. Thus, the experience of one's own pleasure and pain arises from one's own karma; there is no fault in others.
Even though one has intellectually analyzed and understood that it is one's own fault, the inability to be patient is because one's own mind is obscured by the darkness of delusion and ignorance. Therefore, to be utterly deceived by the cataracts of non-knowing and to be thus deluded is truly a great wonder. This is why it is said:
"Behold the delusion of those blinded by ignorance."
To further demonstrate that very delusion, it is said:
"Though I am an ocean of faults,
I cannot tolerate even a fraction of another's fault."
Regarding this: although I myself possess an ocean-like abundance and vastness of faults—namely, the afflictions such as desire that corrupt the continuum of body and mind, and the non-virtuous actions arising from them—I am unable to tolerate or endure even the slightest fraction or a mere drop of the faults of any other person. This state of my mind is truly a great marvel!
Furthermore, regarding the line: "Though there are other perfect qualities of patience," patience is not only the antidote to anger, but also possesses infinite perfect qualities such as the attainment of a beautiful form and so forth. Alternatively, it may be explained as: "Even though others possess the perfect qualities of patience." This refers to the fact that other virtuous individuals possess the perfect qualities of patience and discipline.
The line: "Why do I not tolerate them? This is a great marvel here," means that for what reason, despite the infinite qualities of patience, I am unable to rely upon or tolerate even a fraction of them? This nature of my deluded mind is a marvel; it is a wonder. This is the meaning.
The word "also" (kyang) indicates a manner of apparent contradiction: although I am an ocean of faults, I do not tolerate faults; and although there are infinite qualities, I do not rely upon them. This is why it is a contradiction.
In order to demonstrate the manner in which those very faults arise, it is said:
"Just as clouds arise in the sky during the summer,
The masses of afflictions in my mind
Come and go again and again.
Shameless and lazy, I am wretched."
This is stated because, just as masses of rain clouds gather and arise in the sky during the summer season to bring down rain, so too do the masses of afflictions such as desire suddenly arise in the sky of my mind. Because they share the same characteristics as clouds, they are a "cloud-like mass," meaning a great multitude.
How do they arise? It means "coming and going again and again." They constantly move back and forth repeatedly. Just as clouds arise and move in the sky, causing a stream of water to fall, likewise, afflictions constantly arise and emerge in my mind, producing and raining down a shower of non-virtue. Therefore, while knowing that I possess and experience such afflictions, to completely abandon the quality of shame and fail to rely on diligence to abandon those afflictions, falling instead under the power of laziness, is to be extremely wretched and truly contemptible.
Now, in order to demonstrate the lack of compatibility with the meditative absorption (samādhi) that is the method for clearing away afflictions, it is said:
"Even if the afflictions should arise like a cold wind,
I shall strive to conquer them with the blazing absorption," and so forth.
In this context, "afflictions" refers to desire and the rest.
That very [cold] becomes a cause of harm, such as the corruption of ethical discipline, in the manner of a severe, freezing wind that afflicts the body and mind. Just as when the body is stiffened by a freezing wind one is unable to exert effort, so too, when afflicted by the cold of the afflictions, one is unable to enter the path of the noble ones; thus it is like cold. Since that arises from the cause of ignorance, if it is to be removed from the continuum of the mind, by what means is it removed? It is by absorption (samādhi), through the cultivation of the antidote that brings the mind to one-pointedness.
By what specific quality? It is said, "by blazing, one overcomes." This means that the blazing fire of primordial wisdom (jñāna), produced from the friction-stick of meditative concentration (dhyāna), overwhelms and overcomes the freezing wind of the afflictions. This is because it shares the same nature as fire, which is the antidote to cold. Even if one is thus enthusiastic and exerts effort to act in that way, what fault arises when one so exerts oneself? It is said:
"Because the cataracts of sleep and lethargy have increased,
The desire for bedding also grows."
Sleep is that which causes the mind to withdraw involuntarily. Lethargy is that which makes the mind dull and unable to properly apprehend objects. Since these two are the causes of non-knowing, they are "cataracts." Their "increase" means they arise with such force that they are able to overwhelm mental clarity. For that reason, it is said: "The desire for bedding also grows."
Thus, through the force of sleep and lethargy, one is unable to direct the mind toward the object of absorption; instead, a desire to lie upon a comfortable bed arises, and laziness increases. If one asks what happens when one is thus unable to rely on the antidotes to the afflictions, it is said: "My mind has been rendered powerless by the noose of desire." Because my mind is devoid of absorption, it has fallen under the sway of the afflictions; thus, "rendered powerless by the noose of desire." In this context, "desire" refers to the intense attachment and clinging to objects. Since that itself is a tight bond, it is like a noose. Because it binds the continuum of the mind without autonomy and renders it incapable of liberation, it is said to be "rendered powerless," meaning it has been made weak.
"Scorched by the fire of hatred and destroyed by pride," means that the fire of the mind’s malice has scorched and exhausted the virtues within one’s own continuum that accord with the noble path. "Destroyed by pride" means that by means of pride, the pride of superiority, and so forth, the continuum of the mind is inflated and deprived of the noble riches.
If one asks whether these are the only [afflictions], it is not so. It continues: "Completely filled with the arrows, spears, and weapons of every fault, I have been rendered powerless and have fainted." Because they are both faults and all-encompassing, they are "the faults of all."
These are the collections of afflictions and secondary afflictions other than those already mentioned. Because those very afflictions are sharp and pierce the subtle continuum of the mind, they are like arrows; and because they pierce in a coarse manner and produce severe harm, they are like spears. By whatever such weapons completely fill the continuum of the mind—just as a weapon that strikes the body leaves a piercing sting, or as the latent tendencies and the entanglements of the afflictions pervade the mind—for that reason, one lacks the power to exert oneself in the remedial dharmas and becomes utterly disheartened, unable to strive on the path of the Noble Ones, or becomes like one who is arrogant and intoxicated. This is the meaning.
To demonstrate other faults of the mind being brought under the power of the afflictions, it is said:
"Having regained mindfulness, they are bound and quickly terrified;
Completely overwhelmed, they become utterly disheartened;
Deceived even by guile and deceit,
They wander in the inferior domain of Māra."
Thus, while remaining in a state of being overwhelmed by the afflictions as if unconscious, even when they regain the mindfulness of a mind that is in its natural state, they are once again bound by the afflictions and fall under their power. Because of that, they quickly become terrified.
When the mind is in a state of composure, it does not remain there for long; rather, it is agitated and terrified by the weapons of the host of afflictions (kleśa), utterly crushed and overwhelmed. Consequently, it becomes discouraged and powerless, unable to exert effort toward the object of meditative absorption (samādhi). Because the mind has thus fallen under the sway of its own discordant factors, afflictions such as deceit and guile arise, and the mind is thereby deceived, losing the Noble Path (āryamārga). Thus, being devoid of the power of the remedies and weakened by its own inferiority, the mind remains within the domain of Māra—the realm of the host of afflictions—and wanders pointlessly for a long time. This is the meaning.
To demonstrate that one is unable to focus the mind in order to eliminate such afflictions through the cultivation of calm abiding (śamatha) and special insight (vipaśyanā), it is said:
"Just as, however, one focuses on calm abiding,
And repeatedly directs the mind toward those objects,
From each of those, the noose of the afflictions
Is helplessly dragged away by the rope of attachment to objects."
This means that in whatever manner one abides in the state of concentration (dhyāna), focusing the mind one-pointedly on the object of calm abiding, and in order to attain that one-pointedness, repeatedly directs the mind toward any suitable object of absorption and trains in one-pointedness—even then, one will not remain in that state.
From each of those respective objects of observation, the mind is drawn outward and distracted without autonomy by a rope-like cord: the tight noose of the afflictions that have become a habitual state, consisting of intense attachment and clinging to the five objects of desire, which causes the mind to look outward. This is what is being shown: even when the mind is withdrawn inward by the power of calm abiding (śamatha) in order to eliminate the collection of conceptual thoughts, and is then directed toward an object that is naturally secluded and free from conceptualization by means of insight (prajñā), it is still moved by the collection of afflictions and, under the influence of previously experienced objects, becomes distracted.
If one asks: "Even if that happens, if one applies the effort of drawing the mind back to the object, will the mind not then be placed in meditative equipoise?" In order to show that it is difficult to remain in such a state, it is said: "If one relies on exertion, agitation will arise." Here, "exertion" refers to engaging with diligence and enthusiasm for the side of virtue; it does not refer to the kind of effort motivated by desire or hatred, such as the efforts made in the stories of Rāmaṇa and Varatā to recover Sītā and Gṛhīta. Therefore, when one relies on the application of diligence as the antidote to laziness and remains in that state, because the mind falls away from its tranquility due to that exertion, agitation and restlessness arise as the mind is drawn outward. If one then asks: "If that happens, should one not abandon the exertion as well?"
"If one abandons that, discouragement will arise. Since it is difficult to find the proper engagement of this [mind], how shall I act when my mind is so disturbed?" Thus it is said. If, having seen the fault of agitation, one abandons that diligence and lets go of effort, the mind will become discouraged within and the application to the object of observation will not arise. Therefore, since the proper engagement of the mind—which is to abide in equilibrium, free from both the states of agitation and discouragement regarding this mind possessed of afflictions—is extremely difficult to find and attain, the question is: "How shall I act when my mind is unstable and disturbed by the host of afflictions?" The meaning is that in either case a fault arises, and being devoid of stability, what can one possibly practice?
If one asks, "Since the aspects of abandonment and adoption are accomplished through insight, one should rely upon that," it is said in response: "If one practices insight, agitation occurs; if one relies on grasping, discouragement arises. Since this union is difficult to find..." Thus it is said. Insight is the thorough analysis of the general and specific characteristics of phenomena exactly as they are. If one practices in such a way, agitation will occur; for the mind, having wandered among various objects, will be unable to become calm. If, having abandoned that, one relies solely on grasping and withdrawing the mind inward by the method of directing it toward any suitable object of calm abiding, then...
Because one is devoid of insight and has withdrawn from objects, being lacking the clarity of the insight portion, the mind will become inwardly discouraged. In that case, the "union" of these two defects is the so-called union of calm abiding and special insight abiding in equal measure. Just as two oxen yoked by a yoke that is balanced in weight are able to effectively plow even very hard soil, when the mind abides in the equal measure of calm abiding and special insight—remaining like a lamp unmoved by the wind—at that time, the wisdom that has abandoned the collection of afflictions arises. However, for the mind of a beginner, that union is extremely difficult to find, and one is unable to abide in that way. For that very reason, because the mind has fallen under the power of the afflictions, it is said: "How shall I act when my mind is agitated?" This means that because my mind is devoid of calm abiding and special insight, I am unable to abide in the state of engagement; thus, the meaning is: "How should I conduct myself, and what should I accomplish, now that I have become agitated and distracted?"
If one asks, "Does one not engage in that very purpose through effort alone?" it is said: "If one engages with exertion, agitation will arise; if one relaxes that, discouragement will be born." This means that in order for the mind to abide in the manner of union and so forth, if one engages and exerts oneself with extreme effort and tension, the mind will become agitated and distracted. Thus, because it is overwhelmed, one does not find the abiding of the mind even through exertion.
Since that [distraction] is itself a fault, if one relaxes the mind that was engaged with effort in order to reverse it and abandons exertion, the mind will become inwardly withdrawn and the fault of laxity will arise due to forgetting the object of observation and so forth. Consequently, even by remaining in such a state, the mind of one-pointed absorption will not arise. Therefore, it is said: "If even the middle way is difficult to find for this [mind]," meaning that for a mind possessing the faults of agitation and laxity, to establish it in the middle way—meaning to abide in equanimity free from both extremes of laxity and agitation—is extremely difficult to find. This is because the mind is by nature difficult to tame and is under the sole influence of discordant factors.
For that reason, it is said: "How can I agitate my own mind?" Although the mind is naturally pure and luminous (ābhāsvara), it has become agitated and turbid by the collection of adventitious afflictions (kleśa). If it is thus unable to produce or see the reflection of the authentic reality, how can it be established and maintained? This is a confession by way of describing the faults of the mind itself.
Now, in order to show that the root of these faults is the grasping at a self (ātman-grāha) arising from ignorance (avidyā), it is said: "Again and again by the forest fire of concentration (dhyāna)," where "concentration" refers to the mind being placed in meditative equipoise, such as the four concentrations (dhyāna) and so forth.
Because it burns and exhausts the dense thickets of the afflictions, it is like a great fire spreading through a forest. Regarding such a fire, the phrase "again and again" refers to each and every moment. If one asks what it does, it is said: "Even if the forest of faults has been burned." This refers to the faults of desire and so forth; because they are numerous and serve as the basis for what is to be burned, they are like a forest. Even if they have been burned and cleared away by the fire of meditative concentration (dhyāna), because the root of the view of self has not been exhausted—meaning the view of "I" and "mine," which serves as the basis for the arising of afflictions and has existed since beginningless time like a root, being extremely firm—if it has not been exhausted by authentic insight (prajñā) and uprooted, it will arise once more. In what manner? It is said: "It arises before one, moistened by the rain." Just as in the summer, even if grass and trees have been burned, those whose roots have not been scorched and extracted will grow again when they encounter moisture, so too, the view of self is the root of all faults. If it is not abandoned, then when meeting with the conditions of objects, the movement of the afflictions will manifest and arise before one. If one asks: "Since the root of the afflictions is also cleared away by seeing the selflessness of the person, is that portion of insight sufficient?" [The text replies:] "Even by seeing the mere continuity of the afflictions and their results, that [view] will be reversed."
Thus it is said: "Afflictions" refers to attachment, aversion, and so forth. "Action" refers to that which is virtuous, non-virtuous, or neutral in nature. "Result" refers to the ripening [of karma]. The word "only" excludes [the notion of] Īśvara and so forth; it means that there is only the result of afflictions and actions, and apart from those, there is no creator. Their cause is the continuous succession of moments. When a yogi who perceives and analyzes this sees it with the wisdom endowed with mindfulness and introspection, the view of a self is reversed. For when one investigates, the stream of cyclic existence arises solely from actions and afflictions; apart from those, a so-called "self" is not established. Not only is that [self] abandoned, but the stream of mind is also relinquished. If one asks: "Does the noble hearer, by means of the truth of the path that takes as its object the truth of cessation called the 'emptiness of consciousness'—the antidote to the substantially imputed aggregate of consciousness which is the nature of the truth of suffering—abandon it in the manner of the discordant and the antidote?" [The answer is:] Having become the nature of emptiness, because there is no apprehension of self or other, one is said to be "very far from striving for the welfare of beings."
Because they lack the sublime insight that views things as neither exclusively empty nor exclusively non-empty, they remain in saṃsāra and, being discouraged by suffering, are unable to fully accomplish the welfare of others; this is the meaning. If one asks how they are distant from the welfare of beings, it is said: "The Protectors, being free from even the slightest attachment." Here, "Protectors" refers to those who protect their own mental continuums through the Dharma endowed with the four noble truths, or those worthy of veneration—namely, the noble arhats. They are "free from even the slightest attachment" because they have abandoned and are devoid of the mere craving that clings to wandering in saṃsāra. Furthermore, regarding the phrase "having become indifferent toward all beings": "all beings" refers to everyone included within the three realms. To be "indifferent toward them" means they have abandoned the effort of concern for engaging in order to deliver them from saṃsāra and liberate them from suffering; they are those who are solely intent upon their own welfare. To show that their mental continuum is nirvāṇa, it is said: "The mental continuum is like a lamp when the fuel is exhausted; it is nirvāṇa with the exhaustion of the aggregates." In this context, "mind" is of the nature of consciousness. Its "continuum" is the collection of moments transmitted one after another.
When that continuum is purified and transformed by wisdom, it is said to be "like a lamp whose fuel is exhausted." Just as a lamp ceases to burn when its fuel, the oil, is spent, so too, when the wisdom arising from the vajra-like absorption (vajropamasamādhi) abandons the afflictions (kleśa) along with their habitual tendencies (vāsanā), one passes into nirvāṇa. This is the nirvāṇa without remainder; for even the mere aggregates produced by prior karma and afflictions that remain are incinerated by the fire of wisdom, exhausted, and rendered non-existent, whereby one abides in the expanse of nirvāṇa. Thus, the meaning is that one is very far from performing the welfare of beings.
Now, to show that such welfare for beings arises from bodhicitta and is inconsistent with one's own [mere] continuum, it is said: "That which dispels the suffering of all wandering beings," and so forth. "That which" refers to bodhicitta. If one asks what kind of qualities it possesses, it is said: "It dispels the suffering of all wandering beings without exception." This means it dispels and eliminates without exception the three types of suffering that afflict all sentient beings included within the four modes of birth, up to the peak of existence (bhavāgra).
If one asks who possesses such [a quality], it is said: "Bodhicitta is the elixir of nectar." This refers to bodhicitta characterized by both the aspiration and the engagement for awakening. If one asks what its specific distinction is, it is said: "The elixir of nectar." This means:
Just as consuming amṛta makes one immune to death, the bodhicitta sustains the life-force of the noble path and brings about the attainment of all states of realization; thus, it is like amṛta. Just as relying on medicinal elixirs removes gray hair and wrinkles and brings about health, the bodhicitta destroys the suffering and afflictions belonging to the continuums of both oneself and others. Because it possesses such qualities, it must be put into practice. Therefore, it is said: "When meditating on non-conceptuality as the cause of awakening..."
"Awakening" refers to the wisdom of omniscience. When one meditates on non-conceptuality as the cause and basis for attaining that, it means training in the mental engagement with the meaning of the non-proliferated, in the manner of having completely abandoned subject and object.
If one asks, "Does the mind remain in that state at that time?" the answer is no. It is said: "At that time, I run only toward conceptual thoughts." This means that while training to accomplish the great wisdom of bodhicitta, at that time, "I run only toward conceptual thoughts." Because one is a beginner, one's mind runs only toward conceptual thoughts. The meaning is that one runs toward and is directed by numerous improper conceptualizations produced by unreal, false imagination. The word "only" (kho na) indicates that this is the case even when one is otherwise inclined toward other modes of conduct.
Therefore, because it is not the object of others, conceptualization alone is the basis for the ground of the mind, and not anything else. This is just as it is said, "Srid-sgrub (Arjuna) alone is the wielder of the bow, and others are not." If it is asked, "That [objection] is unreasonable; since it is stated, 'Rivers, oceans, and mountains—these are the magical displays of the mind,' there is nothing other than the mind, and thus it is improper to designate a basis and that which is based upon it," [the response is:] although that is so, there is no contradiction because the Sautrāntika system asserts that both object and mind are established.
In order to show other ways in which one may remain in meditation yet be unable to eliminate conceptualization, it is said: "All beings are like the manner of a dream." "Dream" refers to that which is capable of appearing even without a prior cause of experience, and is thus deceptive. Just as in a dream, although there are no objects of attachment such as a beautiful woman, or objects of aversion such as an enemy, they nevertheless appear. "Like the manner" means similar to that. What is similar? It is the entities that exist here in this essence-less state of cyclic existence, the "beings." How are they similar? It is said: "By no one at all, without grasping at anything whatsoever." In this way, among beings, no conceptualizers or graspers whatsoever grasp or take up any entity, whether subtle or coarse, as an object or something to be apprehended.
For example, it is like seeing various pleasant and unpleasant objects in a dream; although they become objects of attachment, because they are of the nature of delusion, in reality nothing exists at all.
"Even though one meditates, one still wanders within the domain of the enemy of conceptualization—the conceptualizer and the conceptualized." This means that not only has one heard and understood that all phenomena are like a dream, but even though one has meditated and familiarized oneself with that meaning again and again, one remains under the power of conceptualization; this is the meaning of the word "even" (kyang).
If one asks what that conceptualization is like, it is stated: "the conceptualizer," and so forth. Because it conceptualizes, it is the "conceptualizer," which is the grasping mind. Because it is to be realized and understood, it is the "conceptualized," which refers to the objects to be grasped. The conceptualization that perceives these as truly existent is the "conceptualization of the conceptualizer and the conceptualized," meaning those possessing the conceptualization of subject and object.
Since this is the discordant side to selflessness and non-conceptuality, it is the "enemy." To say that one "always wanders within the domain of such an enemy of conceptualization" means that one is constantly under its power or is defeated by it. The meaning is that even if one knows things are false like a dream and focuses the mind on the object in meditation, one will be defeated by the mass of conceptualizations from beginningless time.
Having thus recognized that conceptualization is difficult to reverse and that one’s own antidotes are weak, in order to demonstrate the need to supplicate the Blessed One himself, it is said:
"O Lord, behold this most unbearable affliction! Grant me the stainless view."
The term "Lord" (gzhon nu) is an address; he is the "Lord" because he has attained mastery over all phenomena or because he heals the diseases of the afflictions. "This most unbearable affliction" refers to the immediate and long-term harm arising from the continuum of afflictions such as desire within one's own mental stream, which intensely torments the continuum of body and mind. "Behold this and grant me the stainless view" means: grant me the authentic view that serves as the medicine for those who are afflicted—a view untainted by the stains of discordant factors and faults.
If one asks, "Are these not produced by the power of one's own effort?" it is said:
"Whatever cherished thing and whatever conceptualization there may be, each and every one of them first perishes."
This teaches that whenever one dwells in the investigation and analysis of any cherished and essential object, or any path of antidotes concordant with the perfections, each and every such path will first of all perish and be destroyed.
In truth, the meaning is that whatever antidote one relies upon to destroy the collection of afflictions, because that [antidote] is weak, one will be overwhelmed by the discordant factors. Now, in order to show that these faults are the fault of the self itself, it is said: "Or rather, this is the fault of the self committed in former times; what has the Blessed One done in this regard?" This should be connected as: "Or rather, since this is a fault arising from oneself, what could possibly be done?"
If one asks when the fault was committed: it was "committed in former times," meaning throughout the succession of previous lifetimes since beginningless time, because it was produced by incorrect conceptualization and accumulated as the habitual tendencies of perversion. What is it? It is this fault of the self, such as the defect of being under the influence of error and so forth, even while seeking and relying upon the antidote as the essence.
The "Blessed One" (Bhagavān) is the Buddha, who has conquered the four Māras or possesses the six qualities such as sovereignty and so forth. The phrase "what have you, such a Blessed One, done?" means that it is difficult to remedy. To be under the power of the afflictions and to wander in the domain of Māra is one's own fault. Since beings are the owners of their own actions, they experience the very results of the actions they themselves have performed. The Blessed One is not the creator of happiness and suffering. Therefore, it is also said in the Sūtras: "I am the field, but I am not the seed."
In order to illustrate that very point through an example, it is said: "Even the sun, which dispels the darkness of the entire world..." The term "entire world" ('jig rten kun) refers to that which is both the world and "entire," meaning the whole world. Because it functions in a uniform manner to illuminate everything, it applies to both the animate and inanimate worlds. The "darkness" of these is the gloom of the absence of light; that which dispels and overcomes this is what is meant by that expression. If one asks who [dispels it], it is the sun, which possesses a thousand rays. Even the sun, endowed with such qualities, "does not dispel the darkness for those born blind." This means that although those called "born blind"—those who have been blind from birth—do not dispel or overcome the darkness, this is not the fault of the sun, but arises from the fault of the blind person themselves. Likewise, although the Buddha, the Blessed One, acts to overcome the darkness of ignorance residing in the hearts of beings with the rays of the sublime Dharma—the three baskets (piṭaka)—those who are attached to wrong views and lack the eye of insight do not have their faults cleared away. This is the fault of the beings themselves, not of the Teacher. Having thus described the nature of their own faults, to further demonstrate how difficult it is to heal through the Noble Path, it is said: "For one who has relied on a chronic illness for a long time, and whose mind is constantly deluded, what can a single dose of medicine do for a leper whose hands and feet have fallen off?"
Thus it is said: "What can medicine do for one seized by an incurable case of leprosy?" This is how it should be applied. What is a leper like? It says, "who has relied upon the underlying cause for a long time." This refers to the underlying cause of the disease—such as the destruction of representations of the Three Jewels and so forth, or incompatible food and conduct—which gives rise to leprosy. Even while relying upon and remaining in that underlying cause for a long period, the mind is constantly and perpetually deluded. Furthermore, the word "also" implies that it is not only a matter of relying upon the underlying cause, but the mind also becomes attached to it. Furthermore, what is it like? It says, "with hands and feet severed." Thus, by remaining in the underlying cause and failing to seek treatment, the leprosy spreads throughout the entire body, and eventually even the hands and feet are severed and fall off. Even if such a leper were to occasionally use and consume medicine beneficial for leprosy, it would not serve the purpose of healing; therefore, it is said, "what can be done?" The meaning is that one will not become free of the disease.
Similarly, the continuum of the disease of the afflictions (kleśa) belonging to one's own mental continuum is the view of a self (ātman). Because one remains in that view for a long time and becomes attached to it, and because one does not seek the Noble Path as its antidote, one becomes incurable. For such individuals, the authentic path does not perform the function of a path; this is the intended meaning.
Furthermore, in order to demonstrate this through other examples arising from the nature of one's own faults, it is said: "The tree of the mind, which has existed since beginningless time," and so forth. "Mind" refers to the collection of consciousnesses; because it is similar to a tree, it is called a "tree." If one asks from what time it has arisen, it is said to be "possessing a beginningless time." It is "beginningless" and it is also "time," thus it is "possessing a beginningless time." "Time" refers to that which is demarcated by the sun, the moon, the planets, the stars, and so forth; since saṃsāra has no beginning, it is described in that way. If one asks what produces such a tree at such a time, it is said: "Moistened by the bitter sap of the afflictions." The "afflictions" are desire and so forth. Because they are not noble and are harsh and unpleasant when tasted, they are "bitter sap," similar to the sap of the neem tree and the like. Being moistened by such sap, it is produced and made to grow. For that very reason, it is said: "It cannot be made into something of sweet flavor." Just as a tree with bitter sap, moistened and produced by bitter water, cannot be made to have a nature such as sweetness, so too the nature of the mind, produced by the afflictions, is difficult to transform by the noble path. If one asks to what extent [this is so], it is said: "What will a drop of the water of qualities do?" If a single drop of water possessing the eight qualities, such as sweetness, is poured onto such a tree, what will happen? It will not become sweet in its entirety.
Likewise, regarding the nature of the mind—which has been produced by afflictions since beginningless time and is difficult to transform or reform even by the authentic path—the meaning is that the mass of afflictions will not be purified by a mere drop of the water of the qualities of the remedial dharmas, nor will the dharmas of the noble path arise.
Furthermore, in order to demonstrate the faults of the gateway of the mind, it is said: "My mind is the very nature of all faults." Because my mind is agitated by the mass of afflictions, it is devoid of the discernment of what is to be abandoned and what is to be adopted, and thus it becomes the nature or essence of all faults—desire, hatred, and so forth—that cause harm in this and other lives. Since the supreme remedy for eliminating those faults is bodhicitta, it is said: "Awakening is a marvelous alchemical elixir; when applied to those very qualities, the things that are faults themselves remain."
"Awakening" (bodhi) is unsurpassed primordial wisdom (jñāna). The mind that attains that is also called "awakening" by way of applying the name of the result to the cause. This is like an alchemical elixir. Just as an alchemical elixir causes mercury to appear as gold and thereby transforms iron into gold, so too does that bodhicitta purify the mind of the afflictions of saṃsāra and causes it to become authentic primordial wisdom. This is the meaning of the phrase: "The mind of omniscient primordial wisdom."
For that very reason, it is marvelous and extraordinary. Although there are many such collections of qualities of bodhicitta, and one applies oneself to them—beginning with the generation of the spirit of awakening and so forth—if the mental continuum does not engage in accordance with them, it becomes a state of fault. This is what is meant by "abiding." Even when applied to the bodhicitta adorned with both mundane and supramundane qualities, because one has fallen under the power of the afflictions, one takes up and maintains a nature that is essentially the fault of body, speech, and mind. Just like the mind of a drunken man, one is unable to grasp the qualities and instead abides as a mere source of faults; such is the meaning.
To summarize the point: just as iron and the like, if not thoroughly purified, do not relinquish their own nature even when coated with the elixir of alchemy, likewise, this unpurified mind does not relinquish its own faulty defects even when applied to the qualities of bodhicitta. To demonstrate the very logic of that "alchemical gold of awakening," it says: "Whatever is explained as the great medicine." Because it heals the disease of the afflictions, it is the "great medicine." Whatever has been explained and taught as the path of the remedies—the doors of the Dharma such as loving-kindness and so forth—such as the meditation on impurity as the remedy for desire, and so on.
The antidote to hatred is loving-kindness, and the antidote to delusion is dependent origination. Whatever paths such as these have been explained, they have become poison for me. This does not mean that they are poison for others; rather, it is because I am of poor fortune and under the power of the afflictions that these very supreme medicines have become poison for me. Just as a medicinal preparation may cause death or produce a disease leading to death due to improper preparation and so forth, so too, for me, the medicine of the Dharma has become poison because it has been misunderstood and has instead produced afflictions.
If one asks, "What can cure such a state?" it is said: "The elixir of reasoning itself is supreme." This means that seeking the path of the mind's reasoning, or abiding firmly in meditative concentration and absorption, or engaging with faith and investigating with insight—abandoning the afflictions through such means is "reasoning." It is explained that this reasoning is based upon the sublime Dharma spoken by the Blessed One. "If it is the supreme elixir" means that following and practicing the Teacher’s words is the cause for clearing away the disease of the afflictions and becoming free from the suffering of saṃsāra; because it is superior to ordinary elixirs, it is "supreme."
If one asks, "How is that attained?" it is said: "If there is no trust, it does not exist." This means that if one is under the power of the afflictions and lacks manifest faith in the path, [it will not be attained].
The meaning is that if there is no certainty and no reliability, then that reasoning also does not exist. When one engages in the practice for the sake of achieving buddhahood with manifest faith, one will be liberated. If one has manifest faith, one generates the mind of awakening (bodhicitta), and from that, one gradually becomes liberated; this is the reason of essential nature (svabhāva-hetu). Alternatively, "reliability" refers to mental well-being. The bliss and mental well-being of one-pointed absorption (samādhi) arising from meditative equipoise are produced. If the afflictions (kleśa) are able to be abandoned, that reasoning will also exist; however, if that mental well-being is absent and the mind is distracted, that reasoning does not exist, and one will be utterly defeated by the afflictions.
Now, in order to show what that reasoning itself is, it says: "That which [abandons] the afflictions," and so forth. In this context, reasoning is the abandonment of the afflictions. Thus: "That which dispels the flourishing afflictions and does not produce other faults—I consider that to be reasoning." If one possesses such reasoning, the flourishing afflictions such as desire, hatred, and delusion, which have arisen in a pervasive manner, are not abandoned by their antidotes through [mere] methods; rather, as shown above, it is the correct conceptualization (samyak-saṃkalpa) that pacifies the faulty conceptualization which is the cause of the afflictions. If one familiarizes oneself with the pith instructions of reflection through the mental engagement of interest on the path of preparation (prayoga-mārga) for that noble path, [liberation will occur].
The collection of afflictions is pacified by seeing reality before long. Furthermore, that path of the remedy which does not agitate or disturb the mind—other than the manifest movement of the faults of the collection of afflictions—is that which abides in the continuum of the mind in the manner of latent tendencies (anuśaya), as well as other incidental faults, such as the arising of hatred when meditating on the unattractive as a remedy for desire. Such a path of the remedy is called "reasoning" (yukti), because it is not in contradiction with valid cognition (pramāṇa) and possesses the logical arguments that generate authentic wisdom (jñāna). Thus, although I have reflected in my mind and understood with my intellect that such is reasoning, I have not yet ascertained "what it is like" by practicing the path of that reasoning which is the cause of liberation and thereby attaining wisdom. Because that has not been attained, the phrase "I have not yet ascertained what it is like" means that I have not familiarized myself with that path of reasoning. Although I have understood the authentic path taught by the Teacher through the wisdom of hearing and reflection, it has not been made manifest through the wisdom of meditation.
Having shown the result of the bodhicitta, now, in order to show the result of meditation, it is said:
"When applied to the remedies for the causes of faults—
Intention, latent tendencies, elements, and habitual patterns—
If one meditates on that instruction of intention,
Here, before long, it will be pacified."
"Intention" (āśaya) refers to the superior intention, which is the mind.
The latent tendencies (anuśaya) are the subtle propensities such as desire and so forth. The elements (dhātu) are the natural dispositions. The habitual tendencies (vāsanā) are those very things, such as the intentions, which reside in the mind. These are the defects in the mind that arise from the habitual tendencies of the intentions, the latent tendencies, and the elements; they are the causes, such as the view of a self, by which desire, hatred, and so forth are produced.
The antidote to these is to apply the mind to and cultivate the discordant factors, such as selflessness or impurity. Furthermore, regarding the "instruction on intention," the Teacher, with the stages of superior, middling, and inferior faculties in mind, taught the distinctions of the vehicles as they were spoken. Having heard the meaning of the specific antidotes for desire, hatred, and delusion as they were taught, one makes them certain through the insight of reflection. In order to actualize that instruction on intention, one meditates and familiarizes oneself with it. Through this one-pointed practice, the collection of afflictions (kleśa) will be pacified.
If one asks, "At what time will this occur?" it is said: "Here, it will be pacified before long." This means that by properly meditating upon and attending to this method of instruction in this state, the collection of afflictions existing in the mind will be cleared away and pacified before long. The meaning is that for those who have entered into and correctly abide in meditation, the afflictions are not difficult to abandon.
Now, in order to demonstrate that the speech of the Blessed One itself is indeed non-deceptive, it is said: "The Protector is completely free from all faults." The term "Protector" refers to one who protects sentient beings from suffering. "Faults" refers to the phenomena of cyclic existence, such as desire and so forth; he is one who has become free from and has abandoned all of these. Furthermore, how is he? It is said: "He perceives the ultimate meaning of all phenomena." "All phenomena" means those that are both phenomena and all-encompassing: whether with or without outflows, moving or non-moving, near or far. Because he possesses the nature of perceiving the ultimate meaning—the uncommon meaning—of those phenomena, he is called "He who perceives the ultimate meaning of all phenomena."
Regarding the phrase, "Because you have also definitively taught in various ways," this means that you have definitively distinguished and taught many systems of vehicles according to the various faculties and inclinations of beings, or you have taught various methods of antidotes according to the infinite ways in which afflictions occur. Because this brings about the abandonment of the entire collection of afflictions, such as desire and so forth, along with their habitual tendencies, it is said: "It eliminates the seeds of affliction without exception." The meaning is that it eliminates all afflictions of the three realms without exception. Having thus explained the qualities of the teaching, now, in order to show how afflictions are abandoned by seeing the form body and hearing the speech:
"Your body, blazing with the marks of beauty, is seen dwelling right before one," and so forth. This means: O Blessed One, your form body (rūpakāya) is both beautiful and possesses the marks; thus, it is the "body of beautiful marks." It is characterized by the thirty-two major marks, such as the crown protuberance (uṣṇīṣa), and the eighty minor marks (anuvyañjana). Because of these, it blazes vividly, radiantly, and intensely. Its physical color is like the gold of the Jambu River, and it is exceedingly brilliant. Such a body is "dwelling right before one," meaning it is seen through the direct perception of the senses, or perceived and directly experienced by the intellect as if dwelling in mental direct perception. Furthermore:
"And the nectar to be drunk by the ears is also heard." This means that since it is to be "drunk" by the two ears of persons, it is "drunk by the ears," which has the sense of being apprehended by the ears. If one asks what that is, it is "the nectar that is also heard." The word "also" (api) is inclusive; it means that not only are the afflictions (kleśa) cleared away by seeing your body directly or by mentally focusing upon it, but the speech of you, the Protector, which is heard by any person, also becomes nectar for them. Just as those who drink nectar with their cupped hands are not overcome by death, so too:
The Nectar of the Protector’s Speech
Those who take up the manner of drinking the nectar of the Protector’s speech with the cupped hands of their two ears will not be harmed by the poison of the afflictions. Because the life-faculty of virtue is not severed, they will not go to the lower realms. Regarding the phrase, "The seeds of the afflictions are utterly destroyed without exception": this means that for a person who sees such a body and hears such speech, the afflictions—which cause one to wander in the three realms and produce suffering—along with their seeds, are all utterly destroyed without exception; they themselves vanish and are exhausted. This is the meaning.
Having thus explained the qualities of seeing the form body (rūpakāya), now, in order to show the qualities of seeing the truth body (dharmakāya), it says: "O Lord, you possess a body even more supreme than that," and so forth. "O Lord" is an address. "You possess a body even more supreme than that" should be connected to the idea that you possess a unique body that is far more excellent and supreme than that form body. If one asks what that is, it says: "The sun of the truth body, unsurpassed." The word "truth" (dharma) indicates that the Blessed One is the very nature of reality (dharmatā); it shows that he is the extremely subtle, inexpressible, and invisible state that is the exclusive domain of the Omniscient One alone. That itself is the "body" (kāya); because it is both the truth (dharma) and the body (kāya), it is the "truth body" (dharmakāya). This is the grammatical connection. That itself is like the sun, and is thus the "sun of the truth" (dharmāditya).
Just as the sun dispels the mass of external darkness, so too does the light of the wisdom of the expanse of reality (dharmadhātu) destroy the pitch-black darkness of ignorance; thus, it is analogous to the sun. For that very reason, it is "unsurpassed," because there is nothing superior to it, or because it is not shared with any of those on the lower levels. Therefore, it is said: "Even if contemplated, it does not become the sphere of experience for migratory beings." This means that even if one contemplates and meditates upon the essence of the dharmakāya, it does not become the sphere of experience for ordinary beings of the three realms who are fixated on things as real entities, because its nature cannot be realized or comprehended by the conceptual mind.
If one asks how it is known to exist in that way, it is said: "It is marvelous how it destroys the cataracts of faults." This means that the dharmakāya—which is the wisdom of emptiness—is like the sun in that it destroys and clears away the cataracts of the darkness of faults, the root of the afflictions known as ignorance. Although it is not perceived as a functional entity and is not within the range of the physical eye, the fact that it dispels the darkness of the minds of beings is marvelous; because it is an inconceivable object, it is truly wondrous.
Thus, having concluded the confession and the composition of the praise, in order to express the qualities of the Blessed One (bhagavān) and demonstrate the act of homage, it is said: "By whichever supreme mind..." and so forth.
"O Blessed One, I bow to you and pay homage," is how the phrase should be connected. Why pay homage? Because you act to pacify faults. By what means? By "whatever supreme mind," which refers to the supreme mind that has realized the non-dual wisdom that is not the domain of hearers (śrāvaka), pratyekabuddhas, and the like. What is the object of focus? It is stated: "Abiding in whatever calm abiding (śamatha)," meaning that one pays homage to the one who has reached the culmination of yoga by entering the union of calm abiding and special insight (vipaśyanā)—whether spontaneously accomplished or the vajra-like absorption (vajropamasamādhi)—the supreme concentration. Why is that? It is stated: "I pay homage to the Blessed One who has pacified all faults in every way." This means that you alone are the one who acts to pacify and eliminate all the faults that produce the suffering of saṃsāra; the meaning is that you reverse them. How so? "In every way" means that you eliminate them in all aspects along with their habitual tendencies (vāsanā), or else you pacify them in every manner. That is, you pacify them through various vehicles (yāna) or through various doors of skillful means, such as miraculous powers (ṛddhi) and transformations (prātihārya). Therefore, it says: "I pay homage to whichever Blessed One [that you may be]."
The meaning is: "I bow and pay homage with body, speech, and mind, and with a field of devotion, to that Blessed One who has pacified such a collection of faults." The phrase "to whomsoever" is used to indicate that there is no word that is not encompassed by your omniscience; for if that were not the case, it would be improper to speak in such a manner to the Sovereign. Thus, the meaning is: "To whomever you possess such qualities, I pay homage and go for refuge."
Now, in order to dedicate whatever merit arises from having offered this praise to sentient beings, and to act in accordance with the training of the Bodhisattvas, the text says: "Thus, having confessed to the One of Unsurpassed Qualities..." and so forth. "Thus" means "in this manner." "One of Unsurpassed Qualities" refers to the Teacher, who possesses a collection of extraordinary qualities. "Confessing to him" means to declare before his presence whatever sins and faults one has committed.
If one asks what was done by such a means, the text says: "The virtue of the well-composed, perfect praise..." This means that by way of declaring one's own faults, the words of perfect praise to the Blessed One increase and are well-composed, thereby becoming virtue—that is, merit. If one asks what kind [of merit], it says: "Whatever I have accumulated, white as the beautiful moon..." This means that the merit is as white and beautiful as the autumn moon—unmixed with the stains of faults and pleasing to the mind.
Regarding the phrase "whatever I have accumulated," it refers to that which I myself have accomplished and fully gathered as a collection. By mentioning "Moon," it also indicates that my own name is Candra. By mentioning "White," it also indicates that my own nature is pure.
If one asks where that merit is dedicated: it is stated, "May all beings go to Sukhāvatī." This means that by the merit I have thus accumulated, may all these beings go to the world-realm of Sukhāvatī and be reborn there. Alternatively, "unsurpassed bliss" refers to the state of Buddhahood; the meaning is, "May they attain the state endowed with that."
Based on the supplication of the great-minded and noble Lo-dro-zang-po, I, the Buddha Śānti, have composed this commentary on the Confession and Praise. Because the meaning of the words of the Moon is a vast expanse, this profound conduct of the Sugata, composed by relying on the manner of confession and praise, is for the sake of purifying cyclic existence. Through this commentary of mine, which is as delightful as moonlight, may the afflictions of beings be completely purified, and may they attain the faultless state of Buddhahood.
The commentary on the Confession and Praise composed by the master Buddhaśānti is complete. It was translated, edited, and finalized by the Indian abbot Buddhashrīśānti and the chief editor-translator, the monk Rinchen Zangpo.
Translation status: Not among 84000's published translations. A bibliography of the canon lists 1 English-language publication(s) on this text, e.g. Tatz, Mark, ″Deśanāstava-vrtti″ (1978). in Candragomin and'the Bodhisattva Vow Thesis (Ph.D.) Univ. of British Columbia — these may include a full or partial translation. (source: 84000 catalogue + registry; checked 2026-11-10).
Set in Newsreader and EB Garamond; Tibetan in Noto Serif Tibetan; Chinese in Noto Serif SC.