It is said that when one dwells amidst signs but does not discriminate them, one can glimpse the adorned appearance of thusness. And if one falls into thought yet does not conceptualise through discrimination, one may realise the serene awakening of seed wisdom.[1] However, should one even momentarily fall into the defilement of duality, one will find that clarity sometimes follows what is seen but also becomes obscured. If one seeks to dispel the five shades,[2] doubts arise, gathering and scattering. For this reason, the path of emptiness was swiftly illuminated. Jetavana Monastery was the site of this retreat, and the people of that time were selected in order. Manjushri took on the heavy responsibility of proclaiming the teachings. In this way, even without seeing, one comes to venerate suddenly; even without hearing, one may awaken suddenly while eating. One thus accomplishes practice without cultivating it, and attains learning without studying. Hence, when one realises the differentiated forms of all things and gives shape to them, bodhi flows forth in ten thousand ways; when one cuts through the murkiness of phenomena, nirvāṇa reveals itself as that with one characteristic.
In that [nirvāṇa] with one characteristic, one no longer sees saṃsāra. When [bodhi] flows in myriad forms, there is nothing that is not the buddha-dharmas. Even if the densely entangled world of provisional names is not destroyed, the vast, open world of true reality is revealed. Now, it is clear that the dharmas of the Tathāgata are non-existent; how much more so, then, the dharmas of the bodhisattva? If there are no bodhisattva dharmas, how could there be the dharmas of the two vehicles? And if the dharmas of the two vehicles are non-existent, how could there be the dharmas of ordinary beings? Thus, dharmas are not something that “exists.” So how could there be bodhi? And if there is no bodhi, how can one say there is something to pursue? If there is nothing to pursue, how can one speak of realisation? And if there is no realisation, how can there be a realised one? Therefore, though there are diverse teachings, there is none that penetrates them all. When the path is open, one is elevated to great heights; when obstructed, one is confined and limited. One may be generous and unhurried, yet not idle; vigorous and diligent, yet not overly refined. The evil vapours of affliction and the cloud of compassion may both arise and branch out. The forest of swords[3] stands side by side with the urṇa[4] in its beauty—each is in its proper place. How could this be changed?
Upon reflection, borrowing the path of language clarifies one’s speech,[5] while revering true reality brings purity and absence of desire. Briskly and with spirit, like pearls rolling, and cool and clear, like the resonance of the jade chime,[6] this text raises and transmits the noble teaching. There is nothing more excellent; surely, aspiring to the realisation of the Dharma-King is only natural!
Hence, by exploring its profound meanings, one opens the secret treasury of mysterious awakening. By savouring these words profoundly, one embraces the traces of their secret speech. Thus, in making the language clear and the teachings explicit, this ancient Mañjuśrī Prajñā is presented. Though it is divided into two sections, its awakenings and admonitions are distinctly preserved. Even compared to the devotion of the sevenfold saṅgha, it is not far removed.
Notes
1. (種智) The Buddha’s omniscient wisdom that comprehends both the equality of all phenomena and their apparent distinctions.
2. (五翳) The five things that obscure: smoke, clouds, dust, mist, and the hand of an asura.
3. (劍林) A hell with a forest of swords, where hot iron swords hang like fruit from trees that are twenty-four yojanas tall.
4. (玉毫) The white hair between the Buddha’s eyebrows, one of the 32 Marks of a Great Being.
5. (便便) From the Analects of Confucius (10.1): “When Confucius was in his home village, he was sincere and respectful, as if he could not speak. But in the ancestral temple and the court, he spoke clearly, though with great caution.”
6. (玉振) From the Works of Mencius (10): “Confucius is called a master of all things, and a master of all things is like a performance that begins with the sound of a metal bell and ends with the sound of a jade chime. The sound of the metal bell signifies the beginning of the composition, while the sound of the jade chime signifies the end. To begin the composition belongs to the task of wisdom, and to end the composition belongs to the task of a sage.”