《無生訣經》

This scripture reveals the Chan principle of "the original emptiness of mind-nature" through the gathas of multiple Buddhist patriarchs. The Buddha Shakyamuni expounds that true Dharma (ultimate truth) has no fixed form, and what we call "no-dharma" is itself a kind of dharma. The Venerable Mahakasyapa continues: all dharmas are inherently empty and tranquil, neither substantial existence nor utter nothingness. The Venerable Sanavasin points out that what we call "mind" and "dharma" are merely provisional names - clinging to concepts actually distances us from truth.

The Venerable Upagupta further explains: the essence of mind is originally pure and unstained, while all phenomenal forms are but obscurations of this original mind. The Venerable Haklenayasas emphasizes that when truly realizing mind-nature, words and thoughts become superfluous. Bodhidharma uses bodily functions as metaphor: Buddha-nature (awakened essence) permeates everywhere - recognizing this is enlightenment, while missing it remains delusion. The awakened make no distinctions between good and evil, wise and foolish, transcending all dualities of sacred and profane - this is true liberation.

Finally, Master Sengcan employs the analogy of seeds and earth: enlightenment is like flowers blooming, requiring both fertile ground (foundation) and seeds (conditions). Pursuing the supreme Dao (ultimate truth) is actually not difficult; the true difficulty lies in relinquishing all discriminations and attachments. Clinging to "existence" or "emptiness" are both extremes - only maintaining ordinary mind naturally accords with truth. A momentary inward contemplation surpasses prolonged chasing after external concepts. All opposing notions ultimately dissolve, returning to original luminous emptiness.

This scripture integrates Chan (Zen) Buddhist and Daoist thought, presenting essential cultivation methods focused on relinquishing attachments and returning to one's original mind.

It begins by advising against deliberate pursuit of "truth"—what's needed is simply to release all delusional thoughts and attachments. The so-called "two" (dualistic distinctions) all originate from "one" (unified source), yet even this "one" need not be deliberately clung to. When mental activity ceases, all phenomena (万法) naturally become faultless. Without faults, there are no dharma characteristics; without dharma characteristics, no mental activity arises.

The text then uses the relationship between "objects" (external phenomena) and "perceiving capacity" to illustrate: external phenomena dissolve with the cessation of perceiving capacity, and perceiving capacity likewise subsides with the disappearance of objects. To understand that both ends of duality are essentially "one emptiness" (unified emptiness), this emptiness simultaneously encompasses both dualities and myriad phenomena. The wise naturally embody wuwei (non-action), while the foolish bind themselves.

All methods are fundamentally identical—it's people who arbitrarily create preferences and attachments. Using deluded mind to speculate about original mind is the fundamental error. Only in delusion do distinctions between stillness and chaos exist; upon awakening, no concepts of good/bad or opposition remain. All dualities must be thoroughly examined—why cling to dreamlike flowers in the sky? One should immediately release calculations of gain/loss and right/wrong. Just keep the eyes unclosed (metaphor for maintaining awareness), and all illusions naturally vanish; when mind stops making distinctions, all phenomena naturally unify.

Movement and stillness are relative: what appears still has no true stillness, what appears moving has no true motion. Since "two" (duality) cannot be established, how can we speak of "one"? One is all, all is one. Realizing this, what remains to worry about?

True precepts are mindless natural harmony with the Dao; true wisdom is unobstructed penetration. The unchanging nature is the indestructible vajra body; birth/death and coming/going are fundamentally samadhi (proper concentration) states.

Master Hongren's verse states: Sentient beings sow seeds (causes) and reap corresponding fruits; insentient things neither have seeds nor self-nature's arising/ceasing.

The famous verse by Master Huineng points out: Bodhi (awakening) is no tree, the bright mirror isn't a stand. Originally there's not a single thing—where could dust alight?

Finally, it emphasizes the crux of mind cultivation: When mind is lost, one gets turned by the Lotus Sutra's words; when awakened, one skillfully applies the scriptures. Reciting texts without understanding true meaning makes one the Dharma's adversary. Thoughtless thought is the right path, while thoughts with attachments become wrong views. Only by transcending existence/non-existence distinctions can one steer the white ox cart of awakening (symbolizing the One Vehicle teaching).

The relationship between concentration (定) and wisdom (慧) resembles lamp and light: Concentration is wisdom's substance, wisdom is concentration's function. With lamp comes light, without lamp is darkness. The lamp is light's substance, light is the lamp's function—though names differ, their essence doesn't.

To see the Buddha (awakening), first recognize sentient beings' nature. Only because beings lose their original nature—not because Buddha loses beings. When original nature awakens, beings are Buddha; when original nature is lost, Buddha becomes beings.

This passage expounds the core Zen Buddhist teaching of the mind's intrinsic purity, expressed in contemporary terms:

Every being's fundamental nature is originally pure and equal—there is no inherent difference between ordinary people and Buddhas. The key lies in one's state of mind: becoming attached to external phenomena and generating discriminating thoughts makes one an ordinary person, while letting go of attachments and awakening to one's original mind makes one a Buddha. Afflictions and enlightenment (Bodhi) are ultimately two sides of the same coin—the distinction between delusion and awakening rests on a single thought.

Chan Master Farong taught: External phenomena themselves have no inherent good or bad qualities—such distinctions are labels imposed by the human mind. When we cease deliberate discrimination, deluded thoughts naturally subside, revealing the true mind.

Chan Master Huizhong pointed out: All thoughts are illusory; only true nature is eternal. Understanding this principle, deluded thoughts eventually settle like waves on still water. Maintaining inner purity without clinging to distinctions between good and evil—this very moment becomes the sacred ground of awakening.

Chan Master Shenxiu emphasized: All Buddhist teachings exist within one's own mind. Seeking externally is like a runaway child abandoning home. Master Huisi of Nanyue similarly taught: Truth isn't found in distant places—turning inward reveals it, while outward seeking misses the genuine Dharma.

Chan Master Daowu of Tianhuang put it more plainly: Maintaining ordinary mind is itself the Dao—no special "holy understanding" need be pursued. Master Benjing added: Buddha means awakened mind. When one realizes the mind's original emptiness, even the concept of "Buddha" becomes unnecessary attachment.

A concluding metaphor illustrates: Like birds flying through sky leaving no trace, true practice involves neither grasping nor rejecting, without preferences. Clinging to notions of "cultivation" becomes like trying to catch the moon's reflection in water. Good and evil are products of mental fabrication—recognizing the mind's fundamental emptiness naturally liberates one from their bondage. When the puppet strings snap, the entire performance ceases.

This scripture gathers the profound insights of multiple Chan masters, using natural imagery to illustrate spiritual cultivation. The essence is this: True practice is as natural as green pines soaring to the clouds or white clouds drifting freely. All phenomena are inherently pure—it is only the clinging mind that creates afflictions. When deluded, one's true nature becomes frozen like water turned to ice; when awakened, it flows freely like melting ice returning to water. Genuine Dharma transcends verbal description, akin to speaking of dreams within a dream—ultimately illusory. Just as fruits ripen and redden naturally, so too does cultivation unfold spontaneously, without need for contrived methods.

Master Panshan Jigong compares the mind to a solitary moon: perfectly round, reflecting all things without attachment. Master Dazhu Haigong observes: "When unswayed by sights and sounds, unbound by external forms, purity arises naturally." The Prajñāpāramitā Sutra teaches that all beings possess Buddha-nature—it is ignorance and afflictions that trap them in the six realms. Enlightenment is Buddha; attachment is sentient being. True liberation means realizing the emptiness of mind's nature, even relinquishing the concept of "liberating beings."

The verse of Great Master Shanhui declares: "The Dao (the Way) existed before heaven and earth—formless yet giving birth to all things." Master Jianzhen employs paradoxical statements to shatter attachments: "Holding a hoe with empty hands, riding an ox while walking"—revealing the true state beyond dualities. "Sleeping and rising with Buddha, inseparable as shadow and form"—Buddha-nature is ever-present. Master Jiashan Migong clarifies: "The mind is originally Buddha; it is wandering thoughts that drift. Like riverbanks remaining still while boats seem to move." Master Xuansha Beigong states: "A mirror reflects without staining its surface; birds fly through empty space without hindering it—so too should the mind remain pure and unattached." Finally, Great Master Fu Dashi illuminates: "Buddha-nature is like salt in water or glue in pigment—ever-present yet invisible in form."

This scripture expounds the principle of transcending delusions and returning to one's original mind in spiritual cultivation. The text employs numerous metaphors to illustrate the nature of true mind:

People often generate various illusions due to clinging to delusions, like mistaking a rope for a snake or conjuring phantoms from unfounded suspicions. Practitioners must understand that external phenomena inherently lack distinctions—it is the discriminating mind that creates cognitive distortions. True wisdom resembles steering the white ox cart (symbolizing the highest state of cultivation), capable of surpassing these false perceptions.

The text recounts insights from several practitioners: Monk Fayun observed that deliberate striving is like turbulent waves exhausting themselves in vain, while effortless awareness resembles holding a luminous pearl naturally; Chan Master Yongming Yanshou used metaphors of the mani jewel (a gem reflecting all colors) and mountain echoes to illustrate how the true mind remains unmoved while perfectly responding to all phenomena.

The original mind transcends verbal description. It is like boundless void or a pristine round mirror—indefinable by existence/non-existence, unlocatable by direction, and unconfined by conceptual thought. Just as grinding myriad fragrances creates incense where a single grain contains all aromas, or bathing in the ocean where one handful holds the essence of countless rivers.

When seeing one's nature (awakening to original essence), one realizes it was always free from delusions; when observing phenomena, understand they inherently lack fixed forms. Facing the world of sights and sounds, neither be entranced nor forcibly reject—clinging to sensory experience binds one to worldly existence, while denying it falls into the narrow path (referring to self-liberation practices). The Tathagata's (Buddha's) wisdom perceives all phenomena with unimpeded harmony.

Lay practitioner Pang Yun taught: One should relinquish all attachments yet not forcibly pursue emptiness. Water's nature is originally clear, and awakened awareness is fundamentally luminous. Only through that initial moment of unconsciousness arises discriminating cognition—like images reflected in a mirror that make beings forget their true nature, trapping them in endless rebirth.

These teachings uniformly reveal: The true mind is originally pure. Spiritual practice means releasing delusional discriminations to return to this fundamental state.

People often bind themselves, like silkworms spinning cocoons in spring or moths darting into flames in autumn. This bondage stems from two misconceptions: entangling oneself with the silken threads of delusion that weave karmic suffering, and fluttering with the wings of ignorance and clinging desire toward the fiery wheel of birth-and-death.

Some, blinded by heterodox views, pursue petty cleverness and manipulative schemes yet never grasp the fundamental matter of life and death. They fail to distinguish between the essential nature of "self" and "others," seeking only to escape clamor and reject change, clinging to the dismantling of appearances and analyzing dust motes. Though superficially chasing stillness and emptiness, they bury their true nature and reject awakening—like trying to distinguish red from green with impaired vision yet only wishing to extinguish the lamp's double shadows; like failing to recognize the illusory body within consciousness yet vainly avoiding the phantom cast by sunlight. Such futile efforts exhaust the body and drain the mind, no different from pouring water onto ice or adding fuel to fire.

In truth, once the diseased eye is healed, the double images vanish naturally; once the illusory body is stilled, the phantom disappears. If one can turn the light inward to illuminate oneself and reflect on the inner realm, the shadows of karma dissipate when the Buddha-eye brightens, and worldly traces cease when the Dharmakāya manifests. Use the sword of self-aware wisdom to cleave the pearl entangled within the heart, and with the sharp edge of single-thought insight, sever the net of worldly views. This is the essential method for thoroughly realizing mind and seeing true nature—the interpretation that leads to genuine wisdom.

Chan Master Ciyun Hui said: A single moonbeam soaks the cold pool; a few wisps of cloud mirror the azure sky—for those who awaken to the Dao, this is the truest message.

Master Huangshan Lun said: Plunge into the Crimson Waters seeking the jewel; enter Jing Mountain hunting for fine jade. What comes from outside your gate is never your family treasure—isn’t it a grave mistake to mistake a shadow for your head?

Master Tianyi Huai said: Wild geese cross the vast sky; their shadows sink into cold water. The geese intend not to leave traces, nor does the water mean to hold the shadows.

Master Guifeng said: In function, it is like the roaring waves of the sea—the whole of true nature moves freely. In essence, it is like a mirror’s stillness or water’s calm—settling into silence according to conditions. The mind is originally formless, arising with circumstances; circumstances are like water, manifesting through the mind.

Master Zhizhen said: The mind is originally unstained—why deliberately wash it? The body has no ailment—why seek medicine? Know that Buddha-nature dwells nowhere in the body, like a bright mirror hung high before reflecting anything.

Master Li Changgong said: Ten ages of past and present never leave this present thought; boundless worlds and self-other are not separated by a hair’s breadth. Wisdom and mundanity do not obstruct each other, just as one mirror holds many images; mutual non-obstruction is like a thousand lamps sharing one room.

Master Tiantai Guan (no specific Dharma words provided; honorific retained)

The Wusheng Jue Jing (Scripture of the Birthless Essence) compiles the insights of multiple Chan masters, focusing on the path of cultivating the heart to transcend worldly distinctions and return to one's original nature.

The passage by Master Yunmen Kan points out: Before practitioners break free from worldly afflictions, they generate countless discriminating thoughts when facing various circumstances. Only when the mind is as clear as a mirror, free from the slightest distraction, allowing the innate radiance of one's nature to manifest spontaneously, can one transcend the boundaries of time (past and present) and identity (sage and ordinary). This leads to a state of unimpeded freedom, enabling movement between celestial and human realms without obstruction.

Master Dajing teaches the method of nighttime meditation: When noticing scattered thoughts, one should not suppress them but instead observe their source. Tracing them to their root reveals that not only do these wandering thoughts lack an origin, but even the "mind that investigates" is illusory. True wisdom (nengzhao zhi, the illuminating awareness) is inherently empty, and the object of observation (suoyuan zhi jing, the perceived realm) is also tranquil. This "tranquility" is not deliberately sought, for there is no "person who attains stillness"; this "illumination" is not forced, for there is no "realm being illuminated." When both mind and environment return to stillness, it becomes the key to returning to the source.

The verse by Master Yongjia emphasizes: The true mind is omnipresent, yet conceptual understanding only creates distorted perceptions. Only by maintaining a state of no-mind (wuxin) when encountering external conditions can one perceive Bodhi wisdom. When the mind aligns with emptiness, neither slander nor praise can shake it; when the body aligns with emptiness, neither knives nor fragrant ointments affect it; when karma aligns with emptiness, gain and loss hold no difference.

The final section reveals the essential teaching of heart cultivation: The true mind transcends the duality of "existence" and "non-existence." Genuine practitioners neither deliberately eliminate delusions nor intentionally seek zhenru (true suchness), because the nature of afflictions (wuming, ignorance) is itself Buddha-nature, and the illusory body is the Dharmakaya. The awakened Dharmakaya is originally pure—the wuyin (five aggregates: form, sensation, perception, volition, consciousness) come and go like floating clouds, and the sandu (three poisons: greed, hatred, delusion) are as fleeting as bubbles.

Regarding the dialectic between jiji (stillness) and xingxing (alertness): Excessive stillness leads to dullness (wuji, mental torpor), while excessive alertness causes distraction. True practice transcends these two extremes. Ordinary people are often obstructed by concrete things, their minds disturbed by external conditions, always seeking to escape circumstances in pursuit of peace—this is fundamentally misguided.

To comprehend truth, one must relinquish attachments, yet people often remain trapped by their own thoughts and external distractions. In truth, when the mind is empty and clear, external phenomena naturally dissolve; when the principle is luminous, worldly affairs naturally subside. The key lies in not inverting one's effort—the method of cultivation is right within this very mind, with no other path outside it. Deliberately pursuing a state of "no-mind" only becomes another form of attachment.

Afflictions like greed, anger, and delusion are fundamentally illusory, which is why precepts, meditation, and wisdom are employed to counter them. Yet if afflictions never truly existed in the first place, why forcibly seek bodhi (awakening)? As the patriarchs said: All the teachings of the Buddha were meant to remedy deluded thoughts. If there were originally no deluded thoughts, what use would these teachings have?

Chan Master Dou Chi remarked: "Realizing the mind and seeing one's nature is easy, but stilling deluded thoughts is difficult." Only when thoughts cease can one be at ease everywhere. Observe how the stars shift and dawn approaches—white clouds still drape the green mountains as always. Master Ling Yu of Mount Yu offered another analogy: "Everyone possesses a jewel-like Buddha-nature, only obscured by worldly dust. Once the grime is cleared away, the radiance of one's true nature illuminates mountains and rivers."

Chan Master Guang Hui pointed out: "The clamor of the city and the silence of the mountains may seem different, yet movement and stillness are fundamentally one—life and death originally have no distinction." Like the natural turning of seasons: summer does not linger, autumn arrives of itself; the breeze does not intentionally bring coolness, yet people naturally feel refreshed.

Chan Master Yuanwu used this metaphor: "Does a bird's flight across the sky leave traces? Does a fish's passage through water preserve its tracks? The sage's mind responds to all things just as effortlessly, leaving no mark." Chan Master Shan Sheng further clarified: "Trying to use sound to dispel echoes, unaware that sound is the very source of echoes; attempting to flee from shadows, forgetting the body is their root. Seeking liberation through the Dharma yet overlooking that the Dharma is empty; transmitting mind with mind, yet not realizing mind's nature is originally pure."

Chan Master Long Ji warned: "Wind stirs trees, clouds raise dust—if one fixates only on these phenomena, the original face is lost." Chan Master Wu Zhe revealed the truth: "Green bamboo and yellow flowers are none other than manifestations of self-nature; white clouds and bright moonlight everywhere reveal the Dharma-body. All things are treasures of one's own household, picked up freely without a speck of dust."

The passage concludes with the metaphor of a boat moving through clouds: "A lone leaf of a boat drifts on vast waters. Rowing from shore, one casts off reflections of clouds, mountains, and moonlight—only to receive instead the eternal realm of Zhuangzi's butterfly dream. In truth, the clouds never moved, the shore never shifted; all is but deluded discrimination. The true reality has always been, unmoving and thus."

Has the moon ever moved? The boat clinging to external conditions drifts along the shore of awareness yet never leaves its place.

Master Yunyan said:

Like a speck of dust falling into the eye, it makes one see countless illusory flowers; a single deluded thought arising in the mind gives birth to endless thoughts rising and falling. When the dust in the eye is removed, the illusions vanish, and reality naturally appears—just as medicine becomes unnecessary after recovery, and clear water remains after ice and snow melt.

The howling wind in the mountain valley, the voices of praise and blame—all will eventually fade away. The moonlight reflected in the pond dissolves the distinction between self and other. Dwelling amidst desires yet remaining untouched by them, living in the world yet untainted by it—like walking through a field of flowers without a single petal clinging to one’s body.

Master Jingcen said:

Where there is obstruction, it is not truly a wall; where there is openness, it is not absolute emptiness. If one can understand this, mind and phenomena are originally one.

Master Huitang pointed out:

Fools seek to change their circumstances without cultivating the mind, while the wise cultivate the mind without clinging to circumstances. Little do they know that circumstances are inherently pure—simply maintaining awareness allows one to remain at ease in any situation.

The practice of the monk Nantai:

Sitting in stillness and burning incense all day, all thoughts subside and the mind becomes clear. This is not forcibly suppressing thoughts, but rather because there are no stray thoughts to begin with.

Master Zongyi taught:

Jade lies hidden within rough stone; the lotus grows from muddy waters. Know that affliction is the very place of awakening—a shift in perspective is the wisdom of bodhi.

Master Zhongxuan explained:

Speaking of "emptiness" is to dispel "existence," and speaking of "existence" is to counter "emptiness." Even the thought of "using emptiness to dissolve emptiness" must be relinquished—until words and thoughts are exhausted, even "emptiness" cannot be clung to, let alone "existence."

Ordinary beings and sages are fundamentally no different; delusion and enlightenment originally share the same path. Neither craving nirvana nor despising samsara—if a single thought awakens, one realizes the unborn without rising from one’s seat. In the turning of the light inward, one traverses the ten directions without taking a single step.

The way of resonance:

Like moonlight naturally reflecting on water, in stillness it echoes like sound in an empty valley.

Master Shaowu on Buddha-nature:

Speaking of Buddha-nature, it is called emptiness; speaking of the Buddha-mind, it is called reality. Precisely because of this true mind, Buddha-nature does not fall into nihilistic emptiness; precisely because of this emptiness, the Buddha-mind does not cling to form.

Master Zhijian contemplating the mountains:

Gazing at one mountain after another, sitting alone atop the peak in quiet observation. The clouds disperse, the mountains grow still—vast Chu skies, a solitary cold moon.

The final key to practice:

The pure radiance of the autumn moon is seen only in places far from clamor; the clear sound of a cold spring is heard only in deep stillness. Thus, stirring thoughts obscures awareness, while settling thoughts aligns with true suchness. Plant the seeds of wisdom where you listen; let the flowers of awakening bloom in the field of the mind.

This passage brings together the essential teachings on practice from several Chan masters. Its central concern is how to realize “the unborn,” the ultimate truth beyond arising and passing away.

Deliberately striving in practice can lead one away from the Buddhist Way, while clinging to non-action can also cloud wisdom. As Elder Gufeng said, everything in daily life is the Way, and a settled mind is meditation. Chan Master Weikuan cautioned that genuine practice must avoid two extremes: too much effort turns into attachment, while too little leads to delusion.

Chan Master Zongyi used water to show that truth is always present. Bubbles in water arise and vanish, but water’s nature endures; a flame flickers, yet the nature of fire remains. Practice should be like hot water melting ice: cling neither to feelings nor to appearances, until ice and water are no different. In meeting the outer world, be like an echo in a valley, arising and fading without leaving a trace.

Chan Master Kaixianzhao said that thoughts continually arise in the human mind. If awareness is maintained amid this flow, one naturally accords with the principle of the unborn. It is like the moon reflected in countless rivers: though there seem to be myriad moon images, there is only one moon. Chan Master Yuquanyuan compared truth to a seal. Impressed upon empty space, it can reveal all things; impressed upon the surface of water, it shows the moon’s reflection; impressed in mud, it returns to its formless essence.

Chan Master Baoning observed that the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm—and all phenomena appear through consciousness. When faced with the beauty of clouds, rain, flowers, and birds, one should see through to their source in that very moment. Chan Master Fojian said that the Great Way is simple by nature; people themselves divide things into what they accept and reject. Peach blossoms are red and plum blossoms white, yet their essence is the same; the songs of swallows and orioles are both sounds of nature. A bright mirror reflects things without distinguishing movement from stillness, while clouds emerging from mountain caves have nothing to do with coming or going.

The passage concludes by addressing the relationship between the true and the illusory. Seek the true within the illusory, and find that the true has no form. The illusory arises from the true, yet its essence is empty. Chan Master Zhida summed it up: external things give rise to thoughts, and thoughts in turn create the external world.

This passage gathers enlightenment verses from multiple Chan masters, using natural imagery and everyday phenomena to reveal the true essence of spiritual practice. Master Bai Guizhao employs the metaphor of birds and fish to illustrate the naturalness of the Dao (the Way)—birds fly through the sky yet remain unaware that the sky is their home, while fish swim in water yet forget the very presence of water. This reminds practitioners to merge with the Dao just as they do, without attachment.

Master Lin Gong points out that the core of practice lies in transcending conceptual distinctions (freeing oneself from mental constructs) and breaking through temporal limitations (surpassing past, present, and future). When subjective discriminations are relinquished, all things reveal their inherent equality; when the constraints of time are overcome, the entire Dharma realm becomes seamlessly interconnected. True awakening occurs before thoughts arise, and wondrous function manifests precisely where no deliberate action is taken.

Master Zhao Jue Bai emphasizes the importance of balanced practice: adding even a sliver is like sand in the eye, while subtracting the slightest bit resembles cutting flesh to mend a wound. He proposes four principles for cultivation: follow the true Dharma rather than blindly revere famous teachers, grasp the essential meaning rather than cling to words, rely on wisdom rather than deluded cognition, and base oneself on ultimate truth rather than partial understanding. It should be as natural as warming oneself by a fire in winter or fanning in the summer heat.

Master Yun Feng Jun takes the example of Zhaozhou’s cypress and Xiangyan’s green pines to illustrate that practice is like planting trees to attract the wind—effortless and uncontrived. Everyday activities like eating and sleeping are all expressions of the Dao, while temple bells and sunset hues are nothing but Chan’s subtle teachings. The natural world—slender bamboo dripping with emerald hues, pine winds delivering coolness, moonlight bathing sandy shores, clouds encircling mountain forests—all silently convey the ineffable truth.

Venerable Bao Zhi uses the reflection in a mirror to shatter attachments: when the deluded body gazes into the mirror, the reflection and the body are fundamentally no different. If one clings to preserving the body while trying to erase the reflection, they fail to realize the body itself is illusory. Practice that seeks to grasp one thing while rejecting another will never align with truth. The discriminating mind that loves sages and despises ordinary beings is precisely what binds one to the sea of suffering in birth and death. Only by being free of thought and desire can one immediately perceive the Dao.

Master Long Ya employs the metaphor of dreams to awaken: lost in delusion, one fails to recognize life as a dream; only upon awakening does one realize everything in the dream was empty. The myriad phenomena experienced in delusion are like dreamscapes—only after enlightenment does one see their illusory nature. Just as searching for a lost ox requires following its tracks, the path of learning the Dao demands the opposite—letting go of the seeking mind, and the Dao will naturally reveal itself.

Finally, Master Wen Yi concludes with the familiar sight of lotuses and cypresses in the monastery: the lotus blooming in the courtyard, the cypress standing tall by the wall—why ask which monastery they belong to or what their nature might be? Their spontaneous, unadorned presence is itself the highest state of practice.

The verse by Master Tong'an speaks of obstacles on the path of cultivation: At the crossroads where withered trees and jagged rocks intertwine, most lose their way. Like an egret standing in snow—seeming to merge with it, or moonlight shining on reed catkins—appearing indistinguishable, these superficial resemblances are not true "awakening." When you truly comprehend "realization" (enlightenment), there is actually nothing deliberate to grasp; even if you penetrate the most profound truths, you must ultimately return to the ordinary. Try as I might to sing this mysterious tune for you, can you catch moonlight in the void?

The poem by the monk of Yunding Mountain describes meditative states: The transcendent experience of silent sitting in samadhi is beyond words. Like a stone man clapping wooden clappers in the clouds, or a water maiden playing a flute beneath the waves—if you say you cannot hear it, you have yet to awaken; if you chase after the sound, you only sink deeper into doubt. Understand that true harmony lies not in musical scales (ancient tonal modes) but in the resonance of the heart.

Master Danxia's passage speaks of innate awakening: Every person carries a luminous pearl (Buddha-nature) within their robe, only to be intoxicated by ignorance (delusion). The flesh decays, but the spirit remains forever clear. Recognize that external phenomena are illusory—the divine pearl (true nature) has no fixed form. In awakening, one becomes a Buddha instantly; in delusion, reading ten thousand scriptures is futile. This truth can be felt with the heart but is hard to hear with the ear—it existed before heaven and earth, like a hidden spring emerging from chaos. True nature is like the morning sun, needing no forging, or the dawn star, radiant and translucent. Its auspicious light never fades, and vital Qi (energy) arises upon contact. It illuminates the stillness of Mount Kongtong (where the Yellow Emperor sought the Dao) and embraces the entire Dharma-realm. True realization is beyond words, just as seeing the moon does not require staring at the pointing finger, nor does returning home demand asking for directions. To know your own mind is to be a Buddha—why seek elsewhere?

Master Tongzhi pierces the nature of truth and illusion: The real "self" is inherently complete—it is only delusion that makes it seem lacking; the illusory "self" never existed—it is attachment that gives it apparent reality. To see your original mind clearly, there is actually no "mind" to seek—the very thought of relinquishing the search is the true mind. Where truth and illusion merge, ordinary mind perceives Buddha-nature; where phenomena and principle are cultivated together, innate wisdom attains Buddhahood.

Master Chonghua Yun employs metaphor: Like stamping a seal on void, mud, or water—seemingly calm, yet stirring cold waves. Even if you exhaust all effort, it remains like the spiritual turtle dragging its tail (a Zhuangzi reference to forced action losing spontaneity).

The monk Danjiao's poem on a portrait brims with Chan (Zen) insight: The portrait was meant to reveal the self, yet seeing clearly only adds vexation. Already a dreamer, you meet a "body beyond the body" (attachment to illusion). Flower-like reflections on water, ink-washed emptiness—laughable, you and I, still unawakened.

Master Dun'an Zhu's verse rings like a morning alarm: Jade dew lingers on grass tips, autumn wind stirs white duckweed. Suddenly, a cold wild goose cries—startling those still lost in dreams.

The Wusheng Jue Jing (Scripture of the Birthless Essence) elucidates the essence of cultivation states and mental refinement through the poetic verses of multiple Chan masters.

Master Shangu's verse employs metaphor: Just as dust particles in sunlight appear red yet aren't truly red, or light clouds reflected in water seem green yet aren't genuinely green, practitioners must perceive the reality behind phenomena. The true transmission of practice (the lifeblood of monastic lineage) resembles the moon illuminating a thousand rivers, while the sword of wisdom severs deluded thoughts. Extinguish the fire of desire through precepts, quell the flames of anger through meditation, and douse the blaze of ignorance with wisdom—letting the mind flow like clear springs as wisdom moistens the field of consciousness.

Master Shantang Fu's verse depicts transcendent freedom: A single finger can uproot nine oxen; Mount Hua and the Yellow River reside within one's chest. Wearing a blue bamboo hat, one sees through worldly affairs; clad in green raincoat, all attachments cease—manifesting the Chan practitioner's liberation beyond duality.

Master Juehai describes moonlit enlightenment: The azure sky's bright moon, the Yangtze like unrolled silk, gentle breeze wafting. Forest-dwelling cultivators gaze joyfully at each other, yet this remains within the realm of cultivation (affairs of the transformative gate). The true enlightened state (the domain of realized beings) resembles watching flowing water from a rock, with Chan robes untouched by dust—illustrating the innate purity of mind.

Master Linji warns against mental attachments: Doubt creates earthly obstructions, craving invites watery submersion, anger kindles fiery torment, and delight summons windy dispersion. Recognizing these transforms circumstances without being bound by them. Later verses reveal the limitations of language and thought—true awakening transcends concepts like eating daily without clinging to rice grains or wearing clothes without obsessing over threads, attaining the power to turn stone to gold or transform rivers into milk.

Master Fawei's concluding insight: The true Dharmakaya (Buddha-nature essence) is formless, surpassing words and letters. Even Buddha-realization remains incomplete if conceptualized as stages. Be like withered wood and cold cliffs leaving no traces, or phantom puppets and wooden horses arousing no delusions—only thus can one freely liberate beings. The closing lines suggest practitioners shouldn't covet Nirvana's realm (the leakless land), but return to the mundane world to guide others.

Collectively, these verses emphasize transcending superficial perception, abandoning attachments, realizing emptiness in daily activities, and ultimately attaining the liberated state of "unabiding mind arising."

This scripture collects sayings and verses from multiple Chan masters, using vivid metaphors to elucidate core Chan teachings. Master Congshen employs the analogy of a luminous pearl to illustrate how the mind's nature remains pure and reflective like a jewel, faithfully manifesting all phenomena regardless of external conditions ("whether barbarian or Han appears"). A single blade of grass can transform into a majestic golden Buddha-body, revealing how Buddha-nature permeates even the most ordinary things.

Master Zhiming paints a spring scene: delicate peach blossoms after rain, willow tendrils swaying in the breeze, strange rocks mirrored in drifting clouds, ancient trees reflected in clear waters. Suddenly he disrupts the idyllic vision with the question "Who are you?", exposing how attachment to natural beauty still constitutes discriminative thinking. Master Muzheng observes that blooming flowers and green willows, birdsong and grass growth are simply nature's course—one needn't forcibly "see forms to illuminate mind". Seeking the Dao through such contrivances, he warns, resembles chasing foam on water or dust in eyes, becoming obstacles themselves. His crucial insight: before awakening one relies on teachings (the Three Vehicles), but after realization, all dharmas are recognized as empty ("not a single word exists").

Master Duozao uses the metaphor of a distorting mirror to show how clinging to appearances is inferior to shattering delusions ("breaking the mirror") to return to one's original face. Master Duanji expounds the paradox of "forgetting dust and ceasing thought": deliberate forgetting perpetuates discrimination, while forced cessation becomes attachment itself. Truth and falsehood aren't opposites—the difference between folly and wisdom lies solely in delusion or awakening, as Master Guanshi states: "Deluded, truth becomes false; awakened, falsehood reveals truth."

Later passages declare truth transcends language and conceptualization ("where speech paths end, where mental activity ceases"), echoing the Tiantai teaching that genuine realization dissolves both words and thoughts. All dharmas are inherently empty (void and merging), mind-nature fundamentally tranquil—distinctions like existence/nonexistence, movement/stillness, friend/foe are products of discriminative mind. Like hating shackles yet loving manacles, fleeing one cage only to enter another, such are the traps of dualistic clinging.

The text concludes with the "holding a scepter" metaphor: the very awareness of stillness is itself dependently arisen. Just as holding an object doesn't negate the object nor the hand's existence, neither should one reify an independent "knowing" at work. True silent illumination resembles a hand naturally forming a fist—free from "knowing vs. not-knowing" duality, neither insentient like wood nor clinging to subject-object divisions.

This scripture blends the core teachings of Chan (Zen) Buddhism and Daoist philosophy, using verses from multiple Chan masters to elucidate the path to liberation. The central message is that true awakening does not lie in deliberate pursuit but in relinquishing attachments.

Master Hui Ri employs vivid metaphors: a single thought can overturn the four great oceans, and one fist can topple Mount Sumeru (the sacred Buddhist mountain), yet genuine practitioners wouldn’t cling even to the Buddha’s throne. He advocates not seeking the original mind deliberately but simply abandoning wrong views. Like riding an ox backward into the Buddha hall, a single herdsman’s flute opens the vastness of heaven and earth—this state of natural freedom far surpasses the delusion of being trapped on a hook yet remaining unaware.

The verse of the Laughing Buddha (Budai) embodies an attitude of spontaneous ease: a single sack holds the entire void without obstruction, unfolding to pervade the ten directions. Eating from a thousand households, wandering alone across ten thousand miles, he gazes upon the world with pure eyes, as detached as drifting clouds.

Master Bai Yang Shun describes the realm of natural non-action (wuwei): good things come effortlessly, requiring no deliberate arrangement. Like fallen leaves following the stream or clouds scattered by the wind, when the cry of cold geese is heard, emotional ties dissolve naturally; when the temple bell rings, even mountains of stubbornness crumble. The highest skill lies in stirring dead ashes back to flame on a frigid night.

Master Seng Run points to the crux of awakening: seeing through illusion to return to truth, all burdens vanish of themselves. Ordinary people and sages are fundamentally no different—deluded, one is like a moth darting into flame; awakened, like a crane freed from its cage. Only by truly merging with the original mind can one realize that one’s entire life has been spent in a dream.

Finally, Master Huang Long distills the essence of practice: ancient sages opened the gate for later generations, but one must find one’s own path beyond it. Just as climbing a mountain demands reaching the summit and entering the sea requires touching the depths, spiritual cultivation must be thorough and complete.

These verses collectively emphasize that practice is not about seeking outwardly but letting go of attachments; not deliberate striving but flowing with spontaneity. One must honor traditional methods while transcending formal constraints. True liberation lies in penetrating insight into one’s own mind and direct communion with the nature of all things.

He who climbs a mountain yet fails to reach its peak cannot comprehend the vastness of heaven and earth; he who dives into the ocean yet never touches the bottom cannot fathom the unfathomable depths. Once truly understanding the principles of breadth and depth, a single leap can traverse the four great seas (in Buddhist cosmology, the world is surrounded by four oceans), and a single palm strike can topple Mount Sumeru (the legendary sacred mountain of Buddhism). When cultivation reaches its ultimate state, it becomes unrecognizable to ordinary perception—like the commonplace clamor of magpies and crows among cypress trees.

Master Anpi said: A solitary peak stands alone, untouched by creeping vines; the bright moon moves through empty skies as white clouds drift freely. When one fully realizes their true nature, they no longer cling to the image of Buddha; when one awakens to the great Dao, they are no longer bound by lineage or tradition. The sights of the mundane world before one's eyes should be regarded as illusions in a dream; the sounds heard by the ears should be treated as the wind's whispers or birdsong in the sky; the thoughts arising in the mind should dissolve naturally, like ice melting in hot water or iron vanishing in a furnace.

Master Zizai pointed out: To insist that "the mind is Buddha" is to create trouble for oneself; to emphasize "neither mind nor Buddha" is to prescribe the wrong medicine. True practice eliminates delusions without extinguishing awareness, maintains purity without falling into inert emptiness. Only through persistent practice can genuine insight be attained. Neither clinging to material forms nor fixating on emptiness, transcending the duality of existence and non-existence is the true path.

Master Wunian explained: Thoughts are inherently unreal, and there is no need to deliberately eliminate them. Understanding this principle is what is called "no-thought." Like a lost traveler mistaking east for west—the direction itself has not changed—delusion causes people to mistake wandering thoughts for the true mind, though the mind's nature remains unshaken. Freedom from attachment is liberation; the dissolution of afflictions brings natural coolness. Seeing through the emptiness of the five aggregates (form, sensation, perception, mental formations, and consciousness) is the highest wisdom, and the stillness of mind is ultimate nirvana.

Great Master Maorao taught: To recognize the nature of all Buddhas, observe the daily actions of sentient beings; to comprehend the undying truth, perceive it within the transformations of all things. Deliberately trying to quiet wandering thoughts only adds new attachments. If one realizes that "awareness" itself is also empty, this awareness becomes a wondrous gateway to the Dharma.

Master Congyue described: Ears and eyes purified, dwelling alone in secluded valleys—autumn wind passing through ancient pines, moonlight reflected in cold pools. Practitioners seeking truth here are like two monkeys dangling by their tails (a metaphor for unnecessary attachments). The original nature is inherently pure and untainted, yet because of chasing external perceptions and thoughts, present tranquility is lost. If one turns the light inward (introspection), the original face appears instantly, and the entanglements of the six senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and thought) dissolve in that very moment.

Abbess Xingkong concluded: True emptiness is not lifeless stagnation but vibrant awareness. Like space encompassing all things yet remaining unstained, the mind of wisdom illuminates everything without grasping.

The Wushengjue Jing (Scripture of the Unborn Insight) compiles the experiential realizations of multiple Chan masters, primarily elucidating the essential practice of transcending attachments and dualistic distinctions.

Master Shui'an states: When cultivation reaches the state where both body and mind are forgotten, lingering attachments to "illusory forms" (vain phenomena) may still remain. Even when recognizing the fundamental non-difference of all things, subtle traces of dust-like thoughts persist. It is like spring passing without the return of birds, yet still asking who the master of the hermitage is. True practice must dissolve both the absolute and the mundane (transcending the distinction between truth and convention), yet without negating the existence of the Two Truths (absolute and conventional). One must forget both emptiness and existence (non-attachment to void or form), while also realizing that which is eternally real.

Master Changqing points out: Entry into practice necessarily requires the application of two methods—zhi (cessation) and guan (contemplation). The hindrance of views (erroneous knowledge) obstructs correct understanding, while the hindrance of afflictions (deluded attachments) perpetuates the cycle of birth and death. Only great contemplation can shatter the hindrance of views; only great cessation can transcend the hindrance of afflictions.

Master Yuanjue emphasizes: It is through the mind that one awakens to the Dao, yet the Dao itself is not the mind—just as the eye perceives light, yet light itself is not the eye. Only by severing deluded thoughts and attachments can one behold the inherent De (Virtue). Using wisdom that attains nothing, one liberates all bonds; illuminating with innate radiance, one dispels ignorance—this is the true light of wisdom.

Master Huangyao illustrates with a metaphor: When the sun rises, light pervades everywhere, yet the nature of space itself does not brighten; when the sun sets, darkness envelops, yet the nature of space itself does not darken. Light and darkness alternate, but the intrinsic nature of space remains unmoving. The mind-nature of sentient beings and Buddhas is likewise—if one clings to the purity of Buddhahood or the defilement of beings, one will never realize Bodhi (awakening). Ordinary people are always swayed by external conditions; to transcend their influence, one must first forget the discriminating mind. When the mind is forgotten, external conditions naturally become empty and still; when conditions are still, deluded thoughts naturally extinguish. Even when auspicious states manifest, one does not give rise to joy.

These teachings all point to the same core: transcending all dualities, neither clinging to emptiness nor existence, neither pursuing awakening nor rejecting delusion—recognizing the originally complete, pure nature within the ordinary mind.

When encountering various ominous visions (unfavorable sights), one should not harbor any feelings of aversion in the heart. Simply forget self-awareness and merge completely with the entire Dharma Realm (cosmic truth) to attain true liberation.

"Zhao" (illumination) refers to the mind not clinging to anything yet understanding all things. "Wang" (forgetting) means the complete elimination of desires. Though "forgetting" and "illumination" appear as two distinct concepts, they are actually two sides of the same coin: when one reaches the state of "forgetting," the mind becomes as calm as a clear water surface yet still reflects all things; when the function of "illumination" manifests, not even the tiniest speck of dust remains, naturally achieving "forgetting." This is the true meaning of forgetting and illumination.

Scholar Zhang Zhuo once said: The luminous and tranquil wisdom pervades countless worlds like the sands of the Ganges. Ordinary people, sages, and all living beings share the same origin with me. Simply refrain from arising deluded thoughts, and the Buddha-nature will manifest in its entirety. If the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind) show the slightest agitation, it is like being obscured by dark clouds. Deliberately severing afflictions only deepens attachments, and pursuing Tathata (ultimate truth) can itself become a form of clinging. By following all conditions without being bound by them, one realizes that both Nirvana and Samsara are as illusory as flowers in the sky.

Master Nanhua Yu said: The pursuit of "birth" is fundamentally birthless; the fear of "extinction" has never truly been extinction. What the eyes see is less real than what the ears hear, and what the mouth speaks is less genuine than what the nose smells. It is like trying to scoop the moon from water, searching for one's head in a mirror, carving a mark on a boat to find a lost sword, or riding an ox while looking for an ox—all are futile efforts. All phenomena in the world are like illusions under sunlight or bubbles on water—they should be wiped away in a single stroke, let go the moment they are recognized. Where there seems to be no elegance, true elegance resides.

Buddhas and sentient beings are originally no different: the awakened turn objects back to the mind, and when all things return to the original mind, that is Buddha; the deluded let the mind chase after objects, and when they pursue external realms, they become sentient beings.

Master Wugouzi said: The Buddhas of past, present, and future all dwell within us. It is only because we are deluded by habits and external conditions that we lose our true nature. If one can achieve a mind free from attachments, that is the Buddha of the past; abiding in stillness, that is the Buddha of the future; responding to circumstances with ease, that is the Buddha of the present; purity without defilement is the Stainless Buddha; entering and exiting freely is the Buddha of Spiritual Powers; carefree and unobstructed is the Buddha of Liberation; a mind clear and bright is the Luminous Buddha; a steadfast heart of Dao is the Indestructible Buddha. Though their manifestations differ, their essence is the same truth.

Chan Master Fachang said: The Buddha comes from the realm of Wuwei (non-action) and returns to the realm of Wuwei. The Dharmakaya (true body of the Buddha) is like empty space, eternally abiding in a state of no-mind. Thoughts must return to no-thought, and attachments must return to non-abiding. The Buddha comes to liberate sentient beings and departs to benefit them. The pure ocean of Tathata and the ever-abiding Dharmakaya—wise ones should contemplate this deeply and no longer give rise to doubts. The essence of the Buddha is originally Wuwei; it is only deluded thinking that forcibly creates distinctions. The Dharmakaya is equal to empty space, never increasing or decreasing.

This passage elucidates the shared core wisdom of Buddhist and Daoist cultivation practices. It begins by pointing out that when sentient beings cling to attachments, the Buddha (the awakened one) manifests to guide them; when conditions dissipate, the Buddha withdraws. Such teachings are like the moon reflected in water—appearing real yet neither permanently existing nor completely vanishing. Birth and extinction are fundamentally illusory concepts: so-called "birth" never truly occurs, nor does "extinction" ever fully cease. Penetrating this truth reveals that the profoundest principle ultimately transcends verbal expression.

Master Bao'en Yi (a Tang Dynasty eminent monk) illustrates this with the parable of "Yanruo Duoduo mistaking his reflection for his lost head": like someone who sees his mirror image and frantically searches for the head that was never missing from his shoulders. In truth, the head was never lost during confusion, nor was anything gained upon awakening. What we call gain or loss merely reflects subjective judgments unrelated to reality itself.

National Teacher Qingliang (a Huayan school patriarch) further clarifies: supreme truth arises from the original mind, whose nature is inherently non-attached. This true mind transcends concepts of existence/non-existence and birth/extinction—it cannot be obtained through deliberate pursuit, yet can never be truly lost. Clinging to appearances creates suffering, while awakening to one's nature reveals luminous emptiness. Though "the mind itself is Buddha," only direct experience brings genuine understanding. Fixating on "enlightenment" as a concept confines wisdom, yet total neglect plunges one into ignorance.

The crucial point is attaining a thought-free state, thereby severing the stream of past-future delusions to reveal independent, luminous awareness. Here, boundaries between self and objects dissolve; distinctions between confusion and enlightenment vanish. Consciously pursuing true nature while rejecting delusions resembles exhausting oneself to escape one's shadow. Recognizing that delusions are themselves true nature is like resting in shade where shadows naturally fade. When artificial distinctions cease, all delusions melt away; by following innate awareness, every action spontaneously aligns with the Dao (the Way).

Genuine awakening is quiescent yet without quiescence's marks, truly knowing yet without knowledge's traces. The non-dual mind (transcending opposites) merges with the wondrous principle where emptiness and form are one—neither grasping nor rejecting, beyond right/wrong distinctions and subject/object duality. Even the notion of "transcendence" is relinquished as prajna wisdom naturally manifests. Here every thought becomes the Buddha-mind, every place a pure land; truth and illusion, self and objects all interpenetrate without obstruction.

In summary: when confused, one is bound by laws perceiving infinite distinctions; when awakened, laws follow the person as unified wisdom harmonizes all phenomena. Where words and thoughts exhaust, what causality remains to trace? The original substance is inherently serene—what similarities or differences exist? Only by releasing attachments can the mind become clear as moonlit water—the moon's reflection, though illusory, manifests vividly; the mirror, though mindless, reflects without stain.

Master Fazhen's passage depicts the Zen realm of spring mountain scenery: Willow hues like mist, spring light swirling, a solitary peak stands alone amidst a riot of blossoms. White clouds drift leisurely, inherently free from clinging thoughts; the emerald mountains fill the gaze, immovable as ever. A fisherman angles by the stream where winter's chill lingers; at the deserted ferry crossing, the ancient jade-green pool mirrors the sky with crystalline clarity. Here natural imagery illustrates Zen principles—shadows follow forms as echoes follow sounds. To eliminate afflictions and reach nirvana (liberation), one must relinquish attachments as completely as casting off physical constraints.

Master Ximing uses autumn leaves to impart wisdom: Fluttering forest leaves proclaim heaven and earth's turn toward early autumn. To comprehend the Patriarch's true intent from the West, why seek externally? Those who genuinely understand this truth and penetrate the source realize all movement and stillness, every daily action, accords with the Dao, each thought returning to the origin. The Patriarch said: Only when deluded does one distinguish silence from chaos; upon awakening, there's no separation of good/bad, gain/loss, right/wrong. At this stage, who could discern correctness or delusion? People create their own biases, clinging to distinctions like big/small or existence/nonexistence. In truth, luminous spirituality is innate—yet people refuse to acknowledge it; the mind's nature is complete as a solitary moon, yet people contradict themselves. This resembles abandoning one's father at home or forgetting a jewel sewn in one's robe, making the Bodhi (awakening) path overgrown with thorns and liberation's realm shrouded in mist.

Master Doushuai describes the cultivation state beneath Long'an Mountain: Countless paths crisscross the foothills, while celestial towers stack high in the Tusita Heaven (Maitreya's Pure Land). This realm belongs neither to heaven nor earth—those who arrive find natural peace, all distracting thoughts forgotten. Skilled practitioners needn't move their feet; those adept at awakening require no opened doors, laughing freely at the mortal world as years flow by. Yet even so, might there be further realms? After long silence comes the reply: Don't let cliffside falling stones shatter the cauldron-lid clouds below.

Master Daoying reveals the ineffability of true Dao: Speaking of the Dao, neither speech nor silence is correct—even attaining the state beyond both still misses the mark. Why? Because ancient Buddhas' radiance and sages' grace all manifest spontaneously from desireless, unattached spontaneity. Sometimes towering and unshakable, other times hidden and traceless, it never fixes in one place nor clings to extremes, devoid of right/wrong or gain/loss. Never the slightest separation, never the tiniest alteration—this is the plainly evident ancient Way, neither mysterious nor subtle. Presented directly before you, seen in an instant.

This scripture expounds the transcendent state attained through cultivation when reaching the "unborn" realm. Its core message reveals that the true Dao resides in no fixed position, transcends dichotomies of right and wrong, and surpasses distinctions of great and small. When you look back, you find no trace; when you gaze forward, there's nothing to correspond with. In this state, the entire mind becomes empty and luminous in stillness—a fundamental truth even sages throughout the ages couldn't transmit through words.

At the pinnacle of cultivation, the clearly manifest state becomes easily comprehensible, while seemingly distinct appearances prove most difficult to penetrate. For genuine adepts, acting freely encounters no obstructions—release and withdrawal occur naturally. Every movement spontaneously radiates auspicious signs yet leaves no traces. In dharma combat, they dwell not in words, thoroughly penetrating all without disturbance, their entire being an indestructible unity—what realm is this?

O practitioners, seek not to recognize its form, impose names upon it, nor search for its location. Why? Because it fundamentally has no fixed abode, no name, no form. The moment thought arises to pursue it, separation spans eighty-four thousand miles. Better to let things be natural—emerging when inclined, ceasing when desired. At this stage: call it natural yet it's not natural; call it true suchness yet it's not suchness; call it stillness yet it's not stillness; call it decay yet it's not decay.

Having reached this state: one craves not life nor fears death; seeks not Buddhahood nor dreads demonic obstacles; neither accompanies enlightenment nor coexists with afflictions; clings to no methods yet rejects none; exists everywhere yet nowhere; neither separated nor non-separated. Realizing thus, Shakyamuni remains Shakyamuni, Bodhidharma stays Bodhidharma (each abiding in their proper place without external seeking).

The text mentions all eighty-four thousand dharma gates standing open, with every dust-mote of the trichiliocosm containing Buddhas preaching dharma—yet they speak neither of "existence" nor "non-existence"; neither "both existence and non-existence" nor "neither existence nor non-existence." Why? Because ultimate truth transcends all conceptual distinctions. Alas, those understanding this are few as yesterday's wintry message: plum blossoms still quietly bloom on frost-laden branches.

The final verse illuminates: this realm is neither external object nor internal mind; calling it "Buddha" leads astray. Originally there are no steps or levels, yet never deliberately seek where "no steps exist." Non-seeking deepens realization, like breaking Yunmen school's (a Chan lineage) rice-bag (metaphor for formal attachment) to discover ordinary clay is gold.

(Colophon: This concludes the Scripture of the Unborn Formula, block-printed under the auspices of the 48th-generation Zhengyi Celestial Master Zhang on the 15th day of the first lunar month, Wanli 35 [1607 CE])

The three-character inscription "旨校梓" in the Wusheng Jue Jing (Scripture of the Unborn Formula) carries profound significance. The term "旨" refers to the essential doctrine at the heart of this Daoist scripture, while "校梓" denotes the process of textual collation and woodblock printing. Together, they indicate that this is the authorized edition of the Wusheng Jue Jing, meticulously proofread and prepared for printing. Within Daoist tradition, scriptures must undergo rigorous verification by senior masters before publication to ensure textual accuracy, as even a single erroneous character could compromise cultivation efficacy. This concise colophon confirms the version's authoritative status as a standardized text that has passed stringent doctrinal review.