Lecture Notes on the Sūtra of the Collection of the Father and Son (175)

There is originally nothing in the world; mediocre people trouble themselves over it

Having awakened from a dream, one keeps recalling the dream and remains immersed in it. One should know that such a person merely wearies themselves in vain and gains nothing; it only lets the mind exhaust its energy in futile effort, serving no purpose. The mind consciousness covets illusory enjoyment and can only obtain a temporary psychological comfort, with no actual benefit whatsoever. To be infatuated with people and things that do not exist—such feelings of this conscious mind are far too illusory. Since beginningless kalpas, sentient beings have clung like this to people, affairs, objects, and principles that do not truly exist, tormenting themselves. Outside, there was originally nothing at all; it is only our mind consciousness fantasizing and daydreaming there. There is originally nothing in the world; mediocre people trouble themselves over it. We are all mediocre people: we take external affairs as real, and then the mind keeps churning and surging—none of it is real; we are simply creating suffering for ourselves.

When one truly realizes that all dharmas are empty and without marks, the mind no longer moves. When the mind does not move, it is pure and at ease; when the mind does not move, one attains the bliss of quiescence and cessation. This is the greatest happiness, and in that happiness there is no affliction whatsoever. The happiness of us worldly people all contains afflictions: the joy of a family gathering is an affliction; the happiness of marriage and having children is an affliction, and it will also give rise to suffering—none of it is pure or at ease. But when we cultivate to the point of the bliss of quiescence and cessation, an unmoving mind has not the slightest affliction or agitation. Right now we cannot imagine what state of mind it is when there is no surging of afflictions and emotions. Once one has truly tasted that blissful state, one would probably never again be willing to crave even a little of any worldly realm.

Our Ālayavijñāna has not a trace of affliction at all; it always abides in the bliss of quiescence and cessation. Why? Because He has no eyes yet sees, no ears yet hears, no nose yet smells, no tongue yet tastes, no body yet feels tangibles, no mind yet discerns dharmas—He has no state of mind whatsoever, yet He is no fool. For those who have not realized the Ālayavijñāna, this is very hard to fathom. It is utterly different in nature from the bliss we obtain from meditative concentration (samādhi), from the bliss of worldly family gatherings, or from the bliss of promotion and wealth. In the bliss of quiescence and cessation there is no happiness of any kind; none of the dharmas of the world is seen, there is no craving or attachment, no confusion, no turbulence. The happiness of the world all exists amid turbulence; it is not tranquil—it is afflicted and full of suffering.