Araya Souren is dead, but it doesn't fundamentally change his situation. Never does.
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The Claim
In order to realise this district as it was from 1861 to 1864, we must conceive the Tai-pings coming down upon its peaceful villages and rich towns, moving flags, beating gongs, destroying images and temples, seizing valuables, occupying houses, dealing with all disobedience according to the exterminating decree of Heaven, and being a terror unto young women; but still not at first destroying the crops or many of the houses, or slaying many of the males. Then we have the Allies driving them back, firing into their masses of men with long-range rifles, and pounding at their stockades with heavy guns and shells. On the retirement of these we have the Rebels again advancing to the neighbourhood of Shanghai, but this time in an infuriated demoniac state, burning and destroying everything in order that there may be a waste round the starving city, and murdering or driving before them all the villagers. Lastly, the Ever-Victorious Army appears on the scene, not by any means always victorious, but very frequently so, and bringing European drill and officers, with heavy artillery, to bear on a settlement of the question. Let this be embellished (as the scene appeared to me in 1860) with views of rich fertile plains, where the crops are trampled down or consumed, a few narrow bridges of the willow-plate pattern, a dilapidated pagoda or two, broken blackened walls of village houses, the deserted streets of towns, innumerable swollen, blackened corpses lying on the slimy banks of the muddy streams, or rotting underneath the graceful bamboos, red flames at night flashing up against the deep dark sky... A History of the Chinese Campaign under Lt.-Col. C.G. Gordon and of the Suppression of the Tai-ping Rebellion (A. Wilson, 1868)
静
Here to imagine.
In the scenery of another day.
Not seen in dreams, nor recollected.
Arya-Alaya – could not recall this place.
Nor could he see dreams, any more.
(Notwithstanding.)Arya-Alaya is here, but not here.
But guns are quiet now.
Now quiet, steeped in thunder faraway.
Faraway the steel horizon.
Horizon cold-forges twilight.
The twilight falls, a hammer.
The anvil is desolated earth.
But rain is falling now.
Now falling, all across the eastern country.
The dusk darkens, the pyres go out.
Soil's unburnt shades decline.
The vagrant wind is watching.
But there is nothing that stirs in the dusk of this life.
Not the flare of a lamp, nor the great ungovernable clouds.
The forms of the world have fallen.
Eye finds no eye.
But this is now the coldness of mud.
And insects in the sodden pools, breeding, rainfed.
And the twilight is closing.
Closing quickly, quietly now.
Now quiet, steeped in thunder.
Thunder, very close.
止
(Not withstanding.)The mudstrewn path between two fields.
(A corpse stands up.)Arya-Alaya is “here.”
Now this, now here, this is worse.
Still worse than worst-ward thought erstwhile.
Worst what was and will be, is – what?
(Gangrene black. Weeping sores.)This is not the hill of the nameless.
Not the shaded path, the silence of birds.
The ruin in the tall grass.
This is worse.
(And others like it.)That he is here.
(Thousands of them.)
(A corpse stands up.)
(And it begins to walk.)
Arya-Alaya. Syamon Sohren.
Other names.
You would not think a corpse to stand, but it does.
(Every step, the mud resists.)He is caught in the way.
(Cloying, frictive. Dragging to a halt.)
(Just as long as the corpse walks.)
(It is always coming to rest.)
Rain disorders his appearance.
He stands in the mud. Caught still, distracted.
Imperfection of a stride.
(The corpse walks a long way.)But he was walking. No doubt.
(Much longer than it seemed at first.)
(The corpse crosses foulness.)
(Foulness searches in the mire.)
For long years, no thought to it.
Thus his impression. Eyes to his goal.
He did not see, as such, not even beneath his feet.
(The corpse tramples the bones of brother and sister dead.)His footing is sure. Now, still.
(That is how it walks.)
(To walk, no other way.)
(Every step crushes something like itself.)
But something tore him away.
Eternity passed in an instant. It was enough.
He cannot see it now.
(Deeper to the mud, clasping, stuck.)He had forgot this desolate road.
(Rendered still.)
(Deeper down it forces them into the rot from which it stood.)
(Indeed it stood.)
And when the rain began.
And what the thunder said.
He was concerned only with himself.
(It began to move.)No thought to it, but nothing otherwise.
(To further deface the faceless.)
(To further erase the unnamed.)
(That is its karma. Thus all the rest.)
No now living in the shallow mire.
No end of living, no end of death.
(But the dusk darkens.)Oh, but this is worse.
(But rain is falling now.)
輪
(This is what the thunder said.)
I saw men struggling like fish in a pool that is running dry
and I was weighed down by the horror of it
I perceived a barb piercing as it were the heart of man
but if the barb be extracted he is calmed and knows peace
Man must wake up and put an end to apathy and laziness
he must cast aside conceit
He must renounce falsehood and sensual things
and seeing only folly in pride
he abstains from every form of violence
Let him put no value on what is old
nor be fascinated by what is new
nor grieve for what is lost
nor pine for the unattainable
(Notwithstanding.)
Araya
Where are you going
What are you looking for
What could there possibly be on the horizon
Having mentally surveyed the eight directions
the rest I assure you is much the same
Corpsed
all of it
There is nothing to find that is not here already
and whatever is not here is nowhere else
(He was a prince, once.)
(Remember that.)
But what is this
Araya
This "here"
Look around
Do not close your eyes
The way you walk is mudstrewn
and rain pours from the sky
The foul stench of decay wanders hither and thither
Insects burr and copulate
The thunder sounds afar
This body is wasted
full of sickness
and frail
This heap of corruption breaks to pieces
Life indeed ends in death
in white bones
like gourds thrown away in the autumn
Indeed this is “world” and nothing otherwise
But what is this
Araya
This perishing
suffering
hateful and impermanent
this phenomenon of “world”
What is this
What is its nature
It is perhaps thought
that “world” is just the external sphere of objects
External to what
External to “self”
But what is “self”
Surely not an object among objects
“World” does not contain it
for you have distinguished already that “world” is external
And if “world” is outside “self”
then reason demands that “self” is likewise outside “world”
What then is “self”
It cannot be known to be this or that
nor likened to them
It is perhaps thought
or indeed observed
that you “have” thoughts
or ideas
or memories
or impressions
and that all these are properly attributes of “self”
and that therefore “self” can be known by looking into them
But how can this be
To “have” an idea or a remembrance in this way
to look into it as it were
as if to know about one's “self” by so doing
presupposes having the idea or remembrance before one's “self”
as an object so to speak
But how can “self” in its attributes be before “self”
without being outside it
opposed to it
in other words no different from “world”
To have “self” before “self” is infinite regress
in which nothing definitively of “self” can be known whatever
And yet
only in this way
can the coherent distinction of “self” and “world” be sustained
Why this paradox
Araya
I will tell you
There is nothing definitively to be known of the “self”
because there is nothing in it
This thought of “self” is just a distinction
sheer
pure
distinction
It is to mark a line
drawn in void
drawn of void
and cut all in two
and call the one side “world” out of habit
and call the other side “self” out of habit
The words themselves are metaphors for this originary “cut”
But what is this
Araya
Upon what surface is this line drawn
this originary defilement
I will tell you
The various metaphorical usage of “self” and “world” is employed
solely
on the basis of the transformation of mind
All realities are innate in the mind
If one seeks realities elsewhere
it is like a person leaving his own father and seeking him elsewhere
But what is the mind
It is not to be thought that mind as you find it is originary mind
On the contrary
mind as you find it is defiled
among other things by all these “cuts”
The continuum of mental events is cut into pieces
into “self” and “world”
and thence subdivided into the six kinds of sense objects
seen objects
heard objects
smelt objects
tasted objects
felt objects
thought objects
and thus further subdivided
into the myriad things
and the myriad myriad names-and-forms
the rain
and the mud
and the dead
and the living
Now this is not originary mind
Originary mind is pure
clear
bright
luminous
all-pervading
awareness
It is neither moving nor still
neither produced nor extinguished
neither coming nor going
neither right nor wrong
neither dwelling nor departing
Its capacity is so great it is like the empty sky
And indeed
originary mind is like unto a great storehouse
for it contains karmic seeds in great number
the seeds or potential forms of all realities of any kind whatever
But originary mind is not “aware” of these
they repose within it like water in water
Originary mind is thus unmanifest
formless
inconceivable
and devoid of knowledge
It may be understood as the true self
the self in its suchness
prior to and altogether beyond any vulgarly understood “self”
In other words the original face
which you had before your mother and father were born
A question thus is posed
How
from the starting point of originary mind
does it come to be that mind is as you find it
We pose this question another way
how
painful and impermanent and insubstantial as it is
does the phenomenon of “world” arise
Araya
I will tell you
though the telling be metaphorical
These words of mine are an “expedient means”
necessarily
as the condition of originary mind cannot be straightforwardly communicated
in the terms which defiled mind takes for conventions
Provisionally
therefore
we may say that within originary mind something “happens”
Some among the seeds simply begin to “stir”
they begin to move
No direction
just pure movement
They manifest an originary “swerve”
or “impulse”
or “palpitation”
or “decision”
or “will”
How can this be understoood
Perhaps it is best to think of it as a “choice”
which originary mind “makes”
a groundless
pure
“decision”
To ask after “why” this “decision” is “made” betrays a misunderstanding
such a question cannot be formulated
as it can apropos the conditioned and occasioned decisions
that defiled mind makes constantly
in the course of its involvements with “world”
We are discussing the arising of “world” itself
a “decision” such as it is that is unconditioned and unoccasioned
because what could possibly condition it
To ask after “why” originary mind makes this “choice”
is to ask after the “why” of “world”
the purpose or meaning or sense of “world”
and this question is simply
senseless
Defiled mind cannot pose this question rightly
and certainly cannot answer it
because it is by definition “self” within “world”
and the sense of “world” does not lie within “world”
To the extent that the “why” is “known” at all
it is known only by and knowable only to originary mind
Therefore it is useless to us
to you
here
now
As a man in a burning building has the least concern for “why” the fire started
defiled mind in general has more pressing concerns
As for me
I do not describe the “why” of “world”
I am concerned only with the “how” of “world”
and this
Araya
I will tell you
Only allow it
as I have said
that some among the karmic seeds within originary mind “stir”
and that in “stirring” they are diverted
and that in being diverted they collect
and that they congeal and clump together
according to the originary “stirring”
It is none other than this “stirring” which is the originary distinction
the originary defilement
A knot of distortion manifests
A moment of opacity within transparency
coalesces and becomes dense
That is to say
some among the seeds are no longer in originary mind like water in water
thus originary mind cannot help but become “aware” of them
It becomes “aware” of this opacity
this clumping-together
this distinction between what is opaque and what is not opaque
Now it is not the case that by dint of this opacity
the “awareness” of this opacity
that originary mind is coming to “know” more than it did
If a man develops a cataract on his eye
we do not say that he has come to see something new
but rather that his ability to see at all is impaired
Likewise
this “awareness” of the clumping-together is ignorance
primordial ignorance
It is originary mind becoming ignorant of what it is
clear
bright
all-pervading
Now the density of this stain or cataract upon originary mind
this clumping-together
the density deepens
its opacity redoubles
and distinguishes within itself a myriad subtle gradations
This is first of all the distinctions between “here” and “there”
“then” and “now”
in other words the manifold extension of time and space
Opacities within opacities in turn are further subdivided
into the myriad myriad sense objects that constitute the perceptual field
that are beheld as names and forms
that are sensed
that are craved
that are clung to
In a word
“world”
Meanwhile
or rather we should say
as part of one and the same movement
originary mind in becoming “aware” of this originary stain or distinction
and its subsequent developments and subdivisions
becomes defiled mind
In first distinguishing “world” out of the unmanifest storehouse of karmic seeds
originary mind distinguishes itself as something otherwise
namely as “self”
We may say that “self” arises precisely in proportion to the gradations of opacity
realised by the clumping-together of seeds
the formative force of which is of course the originary “stirring” or “will”
The deepening course of “self” as it arises
as it distinguishes itself into the six ordinary kinds of sense awareness
and thereby makes sensual contact
and begins to crave
and to cling
this deepening of “self” finds expression in the four vexing passions
delusions of “self”
perception of “self”
identity with “self”
and love of “self”
with which you
Araya
are no doubt familiar
Now this process
of mutually congealing “self” and “world”
is called the “drawing-together” of karma
By this the course of death and rebirth is determined prior
albeit timelessly prior
to any particular conditions of circumstances of life
A certain “impelled” foregathering of karmic seeds reaches fruition
and this produces the consciousness and experience of a particular life
It forms the basis for a particular personal existence
and likewise for “world” as it arises for that existence
whether as a human
a god
a hell-being
a particular birth and becoming and aging and death
The seeds of karma which are accrued by actions
meritorious and otherwise
fruit and determine the circumstances of your existence
the womb of your mother and the seed of your father
your character and health and favour and disfavour
But all this is supplementary
It is a secondary development of the drawing-together of karma
the originary defilement which produces “self” and “world” to begin with
And here I must emphasise
Araya
that all this takes place outside of time and space
Time and space as you understand them are affectations of “world”
It is not the case that karma drew together “self” at some point in the past
and set all this in motion long ago
The originary defilement of mind
the originary “stirring”
this does not belong to the distant past
On the contrary
the originary “stirring” of the storehouse consciousness
the originary “direction” or “impulse” imparted
that is what this is
here
now
precisely this
this moment
this birth
and this becoming
and this aging
and this death
Araya
Thus have you heard
What you call “world” habitually
and what you call “self” habitually
are mind only
Mind and nothing otherwise
These things are not other than originary mind
which like clear water
impelled by a certain “stirring”
becomes opaque and turbid like a raging torrent
Can there be any wonder that “world” and “self” alike dissatisfy
that they are suffering
malignant
hateful and redundant
To reach out for “world” as if to grasp it
to change it
to judge it
or simply to gain knowledge of it
All this is like reaching into a raging torrent
trying to take in hand a droplet of water
with a hand that is water itself
Only frustration can result
Thus have you heard
Araya
there is nothing to know of “world” or of “self”
there is nothing to be grasped of these things
there is nothing to be changed
there is nothing to be judged
there is nothing to be discovered
there is in truth
not
one
single
thing
There is the “stirring” of originary mind
and that is all
However far out into “world” you venture
or however deep into “self” you discern
there is nothing to be found that is not just the “stirring”
or “impulse”
or “mark”
or “stain”
that appears on the surface of originary mind
ineffably and inconceivably
and which
were it to be wiped away
would erase “self” and “world” without the slightest remainder
Thus have you heard
Araya
You indeed received my teaching
You were not to be numbered among the ignorant
You took possession of this sermon
on various occasions
and understood well
that “true wisdom” such as it is
consists only in this
that “world” and “self” are alike empty of character
and represent the self-diremptive defilement of originary mind
That all names and forms
and all elements of “world”
and all presentations of “self”
and all the innumerable atoms of the thousandfold trichiliocosm
are mind only
That these compounded fabrications are marked by suffering
decay
and impermanence
That the body is a false name
drowning in the great ocean of birth
sickness
old age and death
How can one who is wise not be happy
when he gets rid of it
廻
That, indeed, is what the thunder said.
Noble words, world-honoured, imperishable.
And true. Certain and most true.
No doubt.
(Not withstanding.)Notwithstanding.
(These too were once surely alive.)Arya-Alaya asks.
(No word for it, but nothing otherwise.)
(The hill of the nameless. Still, worse. But they were alive.)
(If that was life.)
If this, here.
This is death.
No doubt.
(Down crooked here they'd plant the rice. Down crooked here they'd pick it.)No doubt.
(Grasping in bunches, husking, drying, storing, seeding.)
(Nothing seen. No head was raised. Life was bent double.)
(Crushed to the ground. Since long before. Now, still.)
The human being is just such a thing.
Death or life is all of a piece.
Makes no difference either way.
(Whenever the bailiff came they were forbidden to look at him.)Arya-Alaya looks at his arm.
(So they looked at the soil, and lived. If that was life.)
(Now these, these too were rainfed as the soil permitted.)
(They starved likewise.)
A fetid, rotting stump.
No matter.
Nothing to feel of it. Nothing held.
(Lesser and lowly life.)Notwithstanding.
(What was close to the soil is closer now, closer, still.)
(Whatever gave, the soil takes it all back.)
(The mud does.)The dusk darkens.
The last of the light has failed.
Softly rain falls.
Softly mud thickens.
Wherever the corpse walks, it is all much the same.
No doubt.
(No sight of it, but nothing otherwise.)Black decay.
Blindness.
Gangrene-scent.
And the sticking, cloying, coming-to-rest.
The friction.
The stillness which demands
(which demands)precisely because
(on the sheer surface)he is always moving.
No, he did not stop.
Never did he stop.
If ever it was.
An infinitesimal. Impossible.
No.
The stride was perfected.
He was always
(already)moving.
Always that motion.
Always.
All that.
All it is.
(One foot.)The other.
(One foot.)And the other.
The mud is blackrot.
Corpse-eater.
Sarcophagus.
Jealous of motion. Jealous of form.
Dark, unseen, unlight, unlived.
This slowing-down was all that he ever was.
The rest was history.
Was there but to make a home for it.
For the patient quiescence.
Thus: the maggot-eaten knowledge of a corpse.
Thus Arya-Alaya.
But.
(Notwithstanding.)Notwithstanding.
(That is what the thunder said.)But this is worse.
This is worse.
Worse than any noble word.
Worse than the dark, and the scent of earth,
(and the rain, the silence of birds,)and the nameless, the mound,
(the ruin, the tall grass,)is the remainder.
(Crushed. Strangled.)Not withstanding. Withstand – nothing.
(The vocal cord is torn.)
(The tongue is cut out.)
Nothing could. No doubt.
If he stopped even for a moment.
All this will surely be annihilated.
Without remainder.
(Notwithstanding.)No reason to it, but nothing otherwise.
No light to see. Mind finds no mind.
Thought cannot find it. Cannot word it.
No theory, nothing noble.
There is just
(not with strength)
this persistent
(not with standing)
irreducible
(on he walks)
claim.
(“I should have been happy.”)
Notwithstanding.
(“I was not.”)
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