Both the divine eye and what is seen in meditation are illusions

What is seen by the divine eye is also manifested by one's own tathāgatagarbha; if one takes what is seen as real, that too is an illusion. The form born of meditative concentration (samādhi) arises in the brain, arises at the supreme faculty (rūpa-prasāda); therefore the concentration-born form seen in samādhi is still an illusion. As long as there is a physical body and a brain, all dharmas will arise there. Mental sense-objects, form subsumed under the Dharmāyatana—all are manifested in the brain.

What, then, is the Buddha's light? When the conscious mind does not know or discriminate, there are still material sense-objects, and these sense-objects are still false, illusory, composed of the four great elements, arising and ceasing moment by moment, and empty. The Buddha's light is also composed of matter—it is material form made of the four great elements; it is false, illusory, subject to arising and ceasing, and not real. So when sitting in meditation and seeing the Buddha's light, taking it as real is an illusion. Therefore there is no need for any of us to be attached to the Buddha's light; Māra can also manifest such lights, and Māra can also conjure up the appearance of a Buddha.

Observe anatomical diagrams of the human body and you will know that bodily movements are muscular movements, mechanized; there is no real "I" doing the moving. The human body is merely a tool of the manas—highly precise, mechanized, fully automatic—not real, but choreographed by the tathāgatagarbha. Something that can be disassembled and reassembled like this—what is it, ultimately? Is it you? Can you take it as your self? Is it worth paying such a great price in attachment to it? You only get to use it for a few decades; if it doesn't work, just exchange it for a better one.

Look at this neural system: it is nothing but a bundle of positive and negative wires, a pile of tangled rope. It drags out the aggregate of formations (saṃskāra) and the aggregate of consciousness (vijñāna), and produces the aggregate of perception (saṃjñā) and the aggregate of feeling (vedanā). See through it, and in fact there is nothing there. Remove these burdens, and you are at ease, free, liberated, without affliction or distress.

Just use all of this and be done with it; there is no need to be attached to it—including the entire physical body, including the functions of the six consciousnesses. All of it operates on fixed programs, designed and choreographed by the tathāgatagarbha for the manas to use. If someone slaps you or punches you, let it go—don't take it to heart; they cannot hit you. If someone makes unreasonable trouble for you, let it go too; they cannot violate you or harm you. Let the world do whatever it likes; whether good or bad, it doesn't matter—none of it is real, so why take it seriously? You hold a grudge against me, I hold a grudge against him; you hate me, I despise him—affliction without reason, without meaning. From the struggles among microorganisms to wars between nations, to world wars, the fighting is utterly senseless, and no one can defeat anyone, no one can crush anyone. Born, then ceasing; ceasing, then born—there is no birth and no death. When millions die in the world, it is merely a huge pile of tangled rope disappearing.

Several hundred of Śākyamuni Buddha's relatives were killed by King Virūḍhaka, and Ānanda lost his composure in anguish, yet the Buddha's mind remained as calm as still water, as always—neither vexed nor resentful. Why could the Buddha take it all so lightly? Because nothing at all involves a real person or a real event—it is all illusory and empty. That is why the Buddha was liberated, while Ānanda, not being liberated, was plunged into misery.