The Foolish Can Attain Arhatship; the Clever Cannot Escape the Three Evil Destinies

Cūḍāpanthaka's consciousness was extremely dull; he could not memorize even a single sentence of Buddhist doctrine, and his power of deliberation was even weaker—he could not reason, organize, summarize, generalize, analyze, or compare. Yet merely by contemplating the breath at the nose, why was he able to realize the fourth fruit of arhatship? Literary scholars and men of letters, ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign, have exhaustively combed through the Tripiṭaka and produced numerous writings, with poetry, verses, and witty sayings flowing like pearls—why is there no trace of them attaining realization? The Buddha-dharma does not lie in speaking, nor in interpreting, nor in how beautiful and moving the words are; what truly matters is being able to derive real benefit from it. It is like an apple: eating it in the mouth, swallowing it into the stomach, and filling the belly is the greatest benefit—far more practical than studying apples and writing award-winning papers about them. 

Cūḍāpanthaka was so dull-witted and ignorant of theory that when contemplating the breath at the nose, the various faculties of his mind consciousness were basically of no use, and there was no possibility of taking shortcuts in his contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā). Unable to analyze the arising and ceasing of the breath and other conditioned things, their suffering, emptiness, impermanence, and non-self, and unable to infer the non-self of all conditioned things and the non-self of the five aggregates (pañca-skandha), this happened to spare him the mind consciousness's sentimental musings and intellectual interpretations, allowing the functions of the manas to be brought into full play. As a result, he not only eradicated the view of self (satkāya-dṛṣṭi) but directly realized the fourth fruit of arhatship. This shows that the final cultivation and realization of the Buddha-dharma does not lie in making effort on the mind consciousness. Not understanding theory does not matter; as long as the method and direction of practice are correct, and one can cultivate diligently, one can still attain enlightenment.

Meanwhile, those theorists and researchers who have exhaustively combed through the Tripiṭaka and are steeped in learning can only make effort on the mind consciousness. Despite their eloquent rhetoric, ornate language, the admiration they receive, their boundless glory, and illustrious reputations, they ultimately gain nothing—the very place where they gain advantage is precisely where they lose advantage. For instance, no matter how well Su Dongpo could interpret the Buddha-dharma or how many insights he had, he achieved nothing in actual cultivation and realization. The habits of a literatus are serious obstructing conditions for the Path, not easily overcome. The zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—all worldly arts and skills—are obstructing conditions for the Path, yet people of the world take pride in them; this is truly inverted. Shouldn't those learners who are fond of theory and like to have something to gain reflect on this?