How Should One Practice Contemplation to See the Path? (Manas Training Section)

Original text of the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, Volume Five: (Cūḍāpanthaka)佛愍我愚。教我安居。调出入息。我时观息。微细穷尽。生住异灭。诸行刹那。其心豁然。得大无碍。乃至漏尽。成阿罗汉。住佛座下。印成无学。佛问圆通。如我所证。返息循空。斯为第一。

Explanation: The Buddha taught Cūḍāpanthaka to dwell in one place and regulate the outgoing and incoming breath; the very act of regulating it was itself the observation of the outgoing and incoming breath. When Cūḍāpanthaka contemplated the outgoing and incoming breath, he observed, in the end, that his breath was extremely subtle—so subtle that it was on the verge of ceasing. He also observed the subtle process of the breath's arising, brief abiding, alteration, and passing away, and could even discern that both the outgoing and incoming breath operated moment by moment—that is, the incoming and outgoing breath was a process occurring instant by instant, not a continuous, unbroken whole; it was a divisible, mechanized process and procedure, something pieced together and assembled.

At this point, he suddenly realized that the outgoing and incoming breath was empty and illusory, not real. Thereupon Cūḍāpanthaka's mind suddenly opened up in clarity, and he awakened to the fact that his own five aggregates were empty and without self, no longer obstructed by these arising-and-ceasing dharmas. His afflictions were instantly severed, and he attained the fruit of the great arhat of the fourth fruit. Cūḍāpanthaka's contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) insight was to reflect back on the coming and going of the breath, until he discovered that the place it came from was empty and the place it went to was also empty—that the entire process of the breath's arising, abiding, alteration, and ceasing was empty, utterly unobtainable.

Contemplating the outgoing and incoming breath is the latter part of contemplating the breathing process. The earliest part of contemplating the breath is observing the air entering and exiting through the nostrils; this part is relatively coarse and easy to observe. Once the air enters the body, it gradually becomes breath connected with the channels and vessels, and this part is more subtle—indeed, extremely subtle breath may no longer be related to the breathing air at the nostrils. It is the breath and channels of the body itself operating automatically; even if breathing stops, with no external air entering the body through the nostrils, this breath-channel will still slowly and faintly circulate. This is the state of the fourth dhyāna where breathing ceases, yet the person does not die. So how is this breath initiated? The human body has pores, and external air enters the body through the pores, then becomes breath, propelling the circulation of blood to sustain the basic needs of life activity.

If one is not in the fourth dhyāna, such a minute amount of breath cannot propel the blood to flow rapidly; the supply of blood and nourishment the body needs would be insufficient, and one would feel stifled and unable to bear it. The fourth dhyāna is the concentration of purity through abandoning thought (upekṣā-viśuddha-samādhi); with no mental activity, one does not consume so much vital energy and blood, and the nourishment provided by pore-breathing is sufficient.

The headquarters of the breath is at the dantian; from the dantian it circulates throughout the whole body. Contemplating the outgoing and incoming breath mainly means contemplating the breath at the dantian—one rise and fall of the dantian is one breath. When one's energy is abundant and the mind is subtler, one will follow the breath as it circulates through the whole body and observe the breath of the entire body. The breath is sometimes coarse and sometimes fine, sometimes rapid and sometimes slow. When observing, one should only calmly, detachedly, and objectively feel the movement of the breath, without adding any mental effort or thoughts. As meditative concentration deepens and the mind becomes very refined, one will observe that the breath's movement is extremely faint and slow, moving segment by segment, with the connections between segments not so tight—as if pieced together—and it feels less and less real.

This is like observing a ring of fire. Ordinarily, when we look at a fire ring, we see a fire ring, not knowing that it is formed by a torch being rapidly swung around—there is no fire ring at all; it is an illusion, a misperception. Once the mind becomes refined and one observes carefully, one discovers that there is no such thing as a fire ring—it is just a torch moving point by point along a fixed circular track. Thereupon one suddenly sees clearly and greatly awakens: there is no fire ring at all, and the torch is also empty. The mind instantly becomes empty and liberated, and from then on one is no longer bound by the fire ring, no longer having to circle around the fire ring day after day without a moment's peace.

Contemplating the outgoing and incoming breath, as well as contemplating all dharmas, follows this same principle. When one contemplates to the end, one will discover that there are fundamentally no such things, objects, persons, or dharmas—all are empty, and in this way one sees the Path. As long as one observes truthfully the arising, abiding, alteration, and ceasing of a dharma, one can see the Path in an instant. Once one understands the direction that contemplative practice points to, masters the correct method of contemplative practice, and brings one's cultivation to the proper level, seeing the Path is not difficult. The difficulty lies in the mind not being on the Path of cultivation—still valuing and clinging to worldly dharmas, unwilling to let go; one's mental attitudes play the decisive role.

Because sentient beings are foolish and deluded, their minds are coarse and lack the power of meditative concentration; everything they see is an illusion. They see all worldly dharmas as just those dharmas—utterly real, without the slightest doubt—and so they desperately and ceaselessly grasp at all dharmas, ending up battered and covered with wounds, even paying with their lives, yet still stubbornly fighting on, euphemistically calling it striving hard, having great ambitions, being proactive and enterprising, having a career-minded spirit, having ideals, responsibility, and commitment. For those empty dharmas in which there are fundamentally no such persons or things, they pay every price—truly foolish beyond words.