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Meditation in Fa-hsiang Buddhism

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I. Some Introductory Reflections

Buddhism and meditation have become virtually synonymous in the Western mind, so much so that contemporary efforts to discuss Buddhism in contrast to other world religions usually include some reference to the centrality of meditative practice along with the older characterization of Buddhism as "the world's only atheistic religion." Although such generalizations probably tell us more about Western religious conceptions and presuppositions than about Buddhism, there is no question that meditation does hold a central place in the history of Buddhist practice. But to what specific activities within the range of Buddhist religious practice are we referring when we use this term "meditation"?

In asking that question we raise an underlying problem that runs throughout this chapter, and indeed throughout all the chapters of this volume. My assignment was to provide a discussion of the meditation traditions of the Fa-hsiang school of early,T'ang Buddhism-an exercise that would seem at first glance to be fairly straightforward. In practice, however, it turns out to be rather more complicated. I might begin by asking the most obvious questions: W hat w.ere the meditational practices of the Chinese Yogacara masters, and how did their meditation differ from that of the other schools of Chinese Buddhism? Yet the very clarity of these questions obscures the fact that they already presuppose a common concept of meditation, an understanding of meditation as a category of religious experience that would have to be shared not only among us, the Western interpreters, but also by the sixth-century Buddhists of China, a tradition from which we are doubly distanced, both temporally and culturally. But is such an assumption warranted in this case? Do we have, among ourselves, a reasonably clear consensus regarding the meaning of "meditation," that is, regarding what activities are "meditative"

and what activities are not? And can our understanding of meditation be mapped directly onto the range of practices we find in early China? Can it accommodate and illuminate the distinctiveness of what those Buddhist practitioners considered meditation, and what they did not? I am not so sure. Before I attempt to present some material that will, I think, tell us something of great interest about meditative practice among the Fa-hsiang monks of the seventh century, let us pause a moment to consider the precariousness of such an assumption. First, we should reflect on what we, as contemporary Westerners, are likely to include under the rubric "meditation" or "meditative practice" -and, perhaps of even more significance, on what we are likely not to include, consciously or otherwise. Meditation, as a Western category of religious practice, suffers from a twofold confusion: it is at once too vague and too specific. It is too vague in the sense of being extremely open-ended, and too specific in the sense of being too narrowly represented or instantiated in the minds of those who use it. We all feel quite comfortable using the term loosely, assuming some commonly understood but never clearly defined referent. Yet, at the same time, even in our apparent agreement, each of us is likely to be taking some overly narrow and specific instance or example of meditation as normative for the category as a whole. Indeed, I suspect that our conception of meditation is thus often framed in overly narrow terms because of its very lack of more explicit definition as a category of religious experience. In fact, in the hi,story of religions, meditation h_<!_s_bet:I1 g notpriously vague and multivalent concept-a circumstance that stems, no doubt, ' from its relative lack of elaiJoration and systematization in the Western religious tniditions, especially in their post-Enlightenment forms. That the concept Tacks any. dearly defined and generally accepted referent in our own general cultural experience does not restrict its attractivenessindeed, it actually enhances it. Meditation is a very useful category precisely because it can be understood in so many ways. Consider how much our various personal conceptions are likely to vary. For some of us, meditation is exemplified by the contemplative exercises of St. Ignatius, or perhaps by the seven mansions of St. Teresa of Avila. For others, meditation may suggest some more contemporary practice, a new biofeedback technique for "total relaxation and lower blood pressure," or perhaps the Transcendental Meditation®_, taught by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Or again, in the case of Westerners interested in Buddhism, meditation may refer to the formal seated meditation (zazen) of the Ch'an and Zen lineages, or perhaps to the modern insight meditation of Southeast Asian Theravada. Certainly these various examples bear a family resemblance to one another; they are clearly instances of meditation understood in a very broad sense. My point here is not to argue that we need some normative

definition of meditation to carry on our scholarship, if not our lives. The problem I do wish to address is that a conception of meditation shaped exclusively by my one of these instances would be inappropriately restrictive. We must be sure that we are understanding the term in a suitably comprehensive sense before we begin looking for meditation in another culture. We must recognize the extent to which our respective individual conceptions of meditation do in fact vary; and I am not at all convinced that what meditation means to each of us is as clear as it might seem. As scholars attempting a phenomenological study of "meditation" in Buddhism, we must not allow our particular conception of the term to constrict our view of the alien tradition we are seeking to interpret and understand. Meditatio_n is unquestionably a useful and necessary category to bring tO(>l!r_ study _of Buddhism, but only if we are careful to determine how it is understood within Buddhism. We must consider what range of practices are included under that category, and we must try to reveal how those practices are understood to be interrelated within the tradition itself.

Consider for a moment what technical term in the traditional Buddhist vocabulary corresponds to this concept. If the Western technical vocabulary for psychophysical spiritual cultivation is clumsy because it is too vague and too limited, the corresponding South Asian vocabulary tends to be intractable for just the opposite reason: it is characterized by a historical proliferation of refinements and differentiations that has led to a surprising range and variety of terms, a wealth of distinctions that are highly standardized in some traditions and more free-floating in others. Several scholars of Indian Buddhism have already pointed out that the Sanskrit technical vocabulary is far richer in terms that describe techniques and aspects of psychophysical conditioning or cultivation than the corresponding vocabulary in European languages.' Let me draw attention to just a few of the problems that are relevant to the present discussion. Even the most limited group of Sanskrit terms encountered in technical discussions of Buddhist meditation practice would include dhyana, samadhi, samatha, vipasyana, samapatti, anusmrti, yoga, and bhavana. Although some of these terms are occasionally used synonymously in Sanskrit, they are usually carefully distinguished in the technical literature, each having its own specific referent. The problem with introducing our own concept of meditation is that we may tend to use it interchangeably for all of these, usually without recognizing that "meditation" does not adequately express any of them in their technical specificity. When more of an effort is made to retain the distinctions of this technical vocabulary, "meditation" is usually used to render one (or more) of the three most common terms: dhyana, samadhi, and bhavana. Since each of these has been proposed at some point as the best and most appropriate

equivalent for "meditation," it will be helpful for our purposes to review the meaning of each in turn and to consider why we should be careful about too readily assigning any one of them to the concept "meditation." The Sanskrit te_ rm that most often comes to mind when one speaks of Buddhist meditation is "dhyana," the term transcribed by the early Chinese as ch 'an(-na) and by the)apanese as zen. In his major study of the Buddhist meditation literature, Mahathera Paravahera Vajiraiial)a, the eminent Sri Lankan monk and Pali scholar, has argued that this is the Buddhist term that should be rendered as "meditation." He says we must understand "dhyana" in its broadest etymological sense (Pali: jhiina, from the verb )hliyati: "to think closely [upon an object]"), pointing out that this sense comes closest to the literal meaning of the English term.' Etymologically this is appropriate, though on looking more closely we find that "dhyana" seems to be used in two ways within the tradition: in the broader sense Paravahera emphasizes, but also in a more restricted sense, which is thoroughly documented as well. In its narrower sense "dhyana" is frequently used to refer specifically to the various states or levels that make up an early system of successive stages of mental absorption or trance, each level having a corresponding plane in Buddhist cosmology. 3 As the tradition develops, the term comes to be used more frequently in its broader sense, referring to psychophysical practices in general. In this broader sense, dhyana is said to consist of both s11matha and vipasyana, of both psychophysiological calming or centerjn_g_an_ 9 _insight into or discernment of the nature of existence. This insistence on the importance of the latter component, discernment or insight, distinguished the early Buddhists from other, parallel South Asian traditions that recognized the same system of successive levels of dhyanic absorption-states that for the Buddhists still fell within the cultivation of centering (samatha) rather than that of discernment (vipasyana). Thus, used in its older, pre-Buddhist sense, "dhyana" may refer to certain specific states or levels of attainment (samlipatti); used in a broader or more inclusive sense, it could also refer to mental cultivation that included the distinctive Buddhist notion of vipasyana as well. This broader sense appears to be the one most often implied when we encounter "dhyana" in its Chinese transcription, though certainly the more specific system of the four, eight, or nine dhyanic attainments was also well known.

Another term that occurs quite often in the technical literature is "samadhi," which is found in the Eightfold Path taught in Gautama's first sermon. Samadhi is a more general concept than dhyana in its narrower sense, which has led some to favor "samadhi" as the proper equivalent for "meditation." If we look more closely at how the term "samadhi" is actually employed, however, we will quickly see that it is still too restricted to correspond to our usual notion of meditation. With the etymological sense of "bringing or putting together," this term most

often refers to a state of mental concentration, usually the result of some particular technique or practice. A verbal noun, it tends more often to be used for the resultant state than for the activity itself, for the one-pointed concentration of mind (cittasya ekagrata) that results from meditative practice rather than for meditative practice in general. At times, "samadhi" is also used in place of "samatha" in contrast to "vipasyana;• thus representing only one of the dual aspects of meditative practice in Buddhism. The closest parallel in the Buddhist tradition to our notion of meditation thus does appear to be dhyana, as long as we are careful to take it in its generic sense, in which it comprises both samatha and vipasyana. There is, however, still another term that we must note. Of all the terms mentioned thus far, certainly the broadest in its semantic range is "bhavana." Here we have another verbal noun, derived from the root bhii, "to be, become; to cultivate, develop, increase; to produce; to prac­ tice." In Buddhism "bhavana" can refer to any form of spiritual cultivation or practice, "dhyanic" or not, and it is by far :he most inclusive of all the terms mentioned thus far. Recently Walpola Rahula has argued that "Buddhist meditation" must be understood in the broader sense of bhavana rather than dhyana, so that Western audiences will realize that there is more to mental cultivation in Buddhism than "sitting quietly like a statue, with legs crossed and eyes cast down."• But to assert "bhavana," by virtue of its inclusiveness, as a more suitable analog for "meditation" still does not resolve our problem. Were we to insist on "bhavana" as the proper Sanskrit equivalent for "meditation," we would simply have a new problem: a term that is more inclusive than what we usually understand by "meditation" and also one that I think answers rather different questions as a categorizing tool.

Even so, Rahula's point is an important one. In Buddhist practice, there is a crucial connection between the concepts of dhyana and bhavana. The sense in which dhyana, the exercise of meditation, is considered to be bhavana, a soteriologically productive practice, can tell us a great deal about how meditation is understood in Buddhism. To apply our notion of meditation to Buddhism in the most effective way then, we must look to the notion of dhyana, being particularly careful to understand dhyana in the still broader context of bhavana, even though many aspects of bhavana might fall outside of our notion of meditation. To focus, in our examination of Buddhist meditation, on only those aspects of bhavana that fit neatly into our concept of meditation would obscure much of what is unique about the Buddhist understanding of religious practice. W hat is most distinctive about bhavana as a category is its lack of any restrictive specificity: virtually any activity can be considered bhavana, as long as it is conducive to enlightenment and liberation in the Buddhist sense. W hat makes a given activity bhavana is not the presence of any particular quality-whether it is individual or corporate, devo-

tiona) or "meditative," mental or physical, active or passive, etc. The focus of bhavana as a category is not on distinguishing a particular type of activity in that way, but rather on indicating the "productive" nature of various activities undertaken in the distinctive context of Buddhist soteriology. Any activity done in such a way as to be productive of nirval)a is deemed bhavana; the important point is how a given practice is integrated into a comprehensive soteriology, not whether it has certain predetermined definitive qualities. Thus a given activity might well be bhavana for one person but not for another; similarly, a given practice might be appropriate as bhavana at one point in time but not at another.

Although Rahula raises a valid concern, we must be careful not to reduce bhavana to our more specific notion of meditation. A whole dimension of bhavana would be lost if we were to understand it as meditation in any narrow or reductive sense. That bhavana was not by definition more rigidly restricted to a limited range of specific techniques is one of the circumstances that has contributed to a high degree of toleration within the tradition and, in turn, to Buddhism's unique ability to adapt itself historically and culturally. Through a process of creative assimilation and revalorization, indigenous forms of religious practice in many Asian cultures have been brought within the realm of orthopraxis, a process whereby a given practice is reoriented to become "productive" within a Buddhist framework. We must not lose sight of this distinctive feature of the Buddhist concept of bhavana. It should be clear by now that determining which of these Buddhist concepts corresponds to our notion of meditation is no simple task-and for good reason: to attempt such a correlation is wrongheaded in a fundamental way. To ask which Buddhist technical term should be rendered by the word "meditation" is to map Buddhist data onto our own conception of meditation. A more fruitful approach would start in the opposite direction: rather than trying to determine which Buddhist term best fits our concept of meditation, we should consider what modification our concept requires in light of Buddhist experience. As interpreters of an alien culture, we cannot be content simply to assign aspects of Buddhist experience to the best available category from our own culture. Rather, we need to expand and elaborate our categories to better encompass what we find in the alien culture: in this case, we must modify our understanding of meditation as a category of human religious experience in whatever ways are required to make sense of the Buddhist experience as it emerges from our study. In doing this, we must look for "Buddhist meditation" in its broadest sense-that is, in the sense of dhyana understood as bhavana-and we must take into consideration the full range of activities designated by these two Sanskrit terms, seeking to discover how and why the Buddhist tradition sees as interrelated a variety of practical techniques. To do this with sensitivity and respect, and in a way that broadens

our own understanding, we must be careful to adapt our own conception of meditation to accommodate the range of Buddhist dhyana, and not vice versa. In my conclusion, I shall return to these hermeneutical reflections on the theme of cross-cultural interpretation. First, however, we should proceed with the task at hand. So far I have argued that we must recognize the interpretative concept or category of meditation as a product of our own contemporary culture. I have attempted to illuminate some of the ways in which that concept is understood in our culture. And I have briefly reviewed the technical vocabulary of traditional Buddhist praxis, pointing out that any discussion of Buddhist meditation must take into account the full range of practices indicated by the terms "dhyana" and "bhavana." With this framework in mind, we can turn now to a consideration of meditation understood as dhyana-bhavana among the Fahsiang monks of sixth-century China.

II. Two Examples of Fa-hsiang Praxis

To assay the range of meditative practice in Fa-hsiang Buddhism, I will discuss two different and quite distinctive exercises, both of which were designated by the same Chinese term k: -;'to view" or "to contemplate". The first involves a technique o(eidetic visualization whereby one enters into a different level of existence. In contrast to that highly specific technique, the second practice involves a set of "discernments" or "contemplations" presenting the successive steps by which one gains insight into the nature of existence as understood by the Yogacarins. Although each of these exercises warrants a more extended discussion in its own right, here I hope only to show how each represents a different aspect of Buddhist practice in this particular school. To do this we must examine the context, the content, and the respective objectives of each technique.

Of course, other meditative practices were current among the early Fa-hsiang monks. I will limit the present discussion to these two, however, because they appear particularly representative, both being relatively well-documented in contemporary works pertaining to important Fa-hsiang figures, and because they demonstrate how different in content and technique meditative practices can be. The activities we will consider here are quite different from zazen-type techniques, not just in detail, but in conception as well. These are not just different ways of doing zazen; they are fundamentally different types of praxis. Even so, they must be included in any discussion of meditation in its broadest sense, and they certainly fall within the Buddhist category of dhyana as bhavana.

I. MAITREYA VISUALIZATION

The first type of practice is one of a class of visualization exercises in which the practitioner mentally constructs an eidetic image of some specific object or scene, in this case Maiteya Bodhisattva as he resides in Tuita Heaven or, more specifically, an image of the meditator himself in the presence of Maitreya io Tuita. 5 Various types of visualization practice appear relatively early in Buddhist texts, both Mahayana and H!nayana, and one finds visualization employed in a number of different ways to achieve a variety of ends. Sometimes visualization serves simply as an aid to establishing one-pointed concentration (ekagratli). At other times, it is part of a more elaborate praxis directed toward identification and appropriation. Within this range of visualization practices, we can find numerous instances in which the technique involves a devotion_ al atitude directed toward some specific cult figure, though again, even within this particular subset of visualization techniques, the specific objective or goal of the exercises appears to have varied significantly from case to case.

In China there is substantial evidence of a prominent tradition of cult visualization involving devotional reverence, a tradition documented from as early as the first half of the fifth century. 6 A number of different cult figures served as the object of visualization in this tradition: the earliest Chinese texts talk of visualizing the Buddhas of the Ten Directions, and in later works we find Maitreya, Baiajyaraja, Mafljusrl, and eventually Amitabha coming to the fore. At the end of the sixth century, just prior to the ascendance of Pure Land devotionalism, Maitreya appears to have become to be quite prominent as a focus of much of Chinese Buddhist cult activity, especially in association with praxis that involved visualization techniques. Given these antecedents and the special place of Maitreya in the Yogacara tradition, it is hardly surprising to find that the Maitreya cult and Maitreya visualization had a special place in the religious life of the early Fa-hsiang masters.

T he place of the Maitreya cult in Fa-hsiang circles is not difficult to establish. An analysis of references to cult figures in H,siian-tsang's travelog and in his principal biography' shows that the central objects of devotion in his religious life were Sakyamuni Buddha and the three bodhisattvas Maitreya, Avalokitesvara, and MafljusrL' Although Hsiian-tsang regarded all four of these figures with great veneration, Maitreya was especially important, it seems, both because of the bodhisattva's association with the Yogacara literature and because of Hsiiantsang's fervent desire to be reborn in Tuita Heaven. We can see this in the record of his pilgrimage, for example, where he reports at several points going out of his way to visit Maitreya statues in Central Asia and

India! Later, his contemporary and biographer, Hui-li, reports that after Hsiian-tsang returned to China, he compiled a record of the religious activities performed during his lifetime, a catalog of good works that prominently included, in addition to his translation activities, the production of one thousand images of both Sakyamuni and Maitreya.10 At the end of his life, moreover, we are told that Hsiian-tsang dedicated the merit of all his efforts to ensuring that all present at his death bed would be born among the inner circle around Maitreya in Tuita Heaven. He went on to express the further aspiration that when Maitreya is reborn as the next Buddha, they should all descend with him to continue doing Dharma works until finally attaining supreme perfect enlightenment (anuttarasamyaksaf!lbodhi). His final words came a few moments later in response to a disciple's question. Asked whether it was certain that he would be reborn in Tuita Heaven, he replied: "Quite certain!" 11 T hese references should suffice to establish the general importance of Maitreya in Hsiian-tsang's religious life. For our purposes here, another incident from Hsiian-tsang's travels is especially informative. T he details are reported in the biography cited earlier as part of an account of the master's encounter with river pirates on the Ganges River, an incident that very nearly cost him his life. In this passage we find some of the best evidence in Fa-hsiang materials for a specific visualization technique with Maitreya and his heaven as its object. T he story has already been briefly summarized by Demieville, Lamotte, and others.12 Still, it warrants further analysis here, along with a full translation, because I would like to draw attention to the fact that it presents us with something more than an instance of simple Maitreya devotionalism.

According to his biographer, the incident occurred not long after Hsiian-tsang had first reached the Ganges River Valley; he had already spent some time in both Gandhara and Kashmir but had not yet reached Nalanda. Most recently, he had come from the thriving Buddhist community of Ayodhya, a city visited by Gautama and also the site of one of Asoka's stiipas. While in the vicinity of Ayodhya, Hsiian-tsang had stayed at the nearby monastery where Asanga had resided, the site where, according to legend, the great Yogacara master had ascended by night to Tuita Heaven to learn the Yogacara treatises and then returned by day to teach. Hui-li provides us with the following account: Having worshipped the holy places in Ayodhya, the master sailed eastwards down the Ganges in a boat along with more than eighty other people intending to go to the country of Hayamukha. They had sailed for some thirty-five miles, reaching a place where the forest of asoka trees on both banks was unusually dense. A ll at once, out of the trees on each bank came more than ten boats of pirates flailing their oars as they entered the current. There was panic and confusion on the boat, and several people threw themselves into

the river. The pirates forced the boat to the shore and ordered all the passengers to take off their clothes so that they could be searched for valuables. Now these pirates were by custom devotees of the goddess Durga, and every fall they would search for a man of fine character and handsome features whose flesh and blood they could sacrifice to the goddess in prayer for her blessings. They saw that the master's physical form suited their needs, his deportment being quite impressive. They looked at each other, saying happily, "The time for our sacrifice to the goddess is almost past, and we haven't yet been able to find anyone. Now this monk is pure and handsome in appearance. Wouldn't it be auspicious to use him for our sacrifice to her?" In response the master said, "Truly I could not begrudge it if this despicable body of mine would serve for your sacrifice. However, my pur­ pose in coming from afar was to worship the Bodhi Tree and Buddhist images, to visit Vulture Peak, and to inquire about the Dharma of the Buddhist scriptures. Since I have not yet fulfilled my intention, I fear it might not be so auspicious if you, generous sirs, were to sacrifice me to your goddess." The other people from the boat all pleaded for him, and some even wanted to take his place, but the pirates would not allow it. The leader of the pirates sent some men for water to build an altar of smoothed mud on a spot they cleared in the vegetation. He then ordered two men with drawn swords to lead the master to the altar. As they were about to wield their swords, the Master's face showed no fear, and the pirates were quite astonished. Knowing that he would not be spared, the master said to the pirates, "I wish only that you would grant me a little time without disruption so that I might die with a quiet mind (an-hsin)." The master then concentrated his mind (chuan hsin) on the palace in Tuita Heaven and reflected (nien) on Maitreya, vowing to be reborn there where he could pay homage to the bodhisattva and learn from him the

Yogtictirabhumi while listening to the fine Dharma. After having gained complete wisdom, he would then be reborn to this world again where he would teach these same men, bringing them to practice good deeds and to abandon all evil acts and where he would propagate the Dharma widely for the benefit of all beings. Next the master paid homage to the Buddhas of the Ten Directions, and then he sat mindfully (cheng-nien erh tso), fixing his thoughts on Maitreya, free of any other [[[mental]]] object (wu fu i yuan). It seemed that in his mind (yil hsin-hsiang chung) he ascended Mount Sumeru, passed through the first, second, and third heavens, and then saw the palace in Tuita Heaven with Maitreya Bodhisattva sitting on a dais made of marvelous gems and surrounded by heavenly beings. With that he became so enraptured, both

mentally and physically, that he was no longer aware of being on the sacrifi­cial altar and had forgotten all about the pirates." In his discussion of this same incident, Demieville has quite aptly stressed its significance, pointing to it as one example illustrating the importance of the role of Maitreya l'inspirateur. 14 In the present context,

however, there is more to be said about Hsi.ian-tsang's actions, more to be gleaned from this intriguing bit of text. In addition to Demieville's observations, we should note that the incident reported here also reveals an elaborate and structured visualization procedure, a soteric technique that was apparently of crucial iiT1PQfl<ti1Ce_ to Hsi.ian-tsang. A close reading of the trarislation-wiTfreveal how structured this procedure was. Note carefully the sequence of events. Once Hsi.ian-tsang determines that the pirates are not to be dissuaded and that his death is at hand, he requests that the pirates delay the sacrifice long enough for him to under­

take his preparations for death. What he wishes to do is not simply to have Maitreya in mind at the moment of death. There is more to be done, and for that he needs an uninterrupted period of time before the knife falls. With his request granted, Hsi.ian-tsang first fixes his thoughts (chuan-hsin) on Tuita Heaven and calls Maitreya to mind (nien Tz'ushih P'u-sa). In doing this he also reaffirms his vow to be reborn in the bodhisattva's paradise. Once that is done, Hsi.ian-tsang appears to have completed his preparations and is ready to proceed with the visualization. Next, we read, he offers obeisance to the Buddhas of the Ten Directions, proceeding, we can imagine, to perform prostrations to each of the respective cardinal points in turn. Then, seating himself meditatively in a state of proper mindfulness (cheng-nien > samyaksmrti), he turns his mind once again to Maitreya, making an effort to remove any other mental object ([so]-yiian > ii/ambana).'6 Next, having begun the visualization proper, he imagines or visualizes a progress in which he proceeds first to Mt. Sumeru, highest point of the terrestrial world and axis mundi of this world system. He then continues ascending through the first, the second, and third heavens of this realm of desire, the kiimadhiitu. Finally he sees (chien) his ultimate goal, the Tuita Heaven of Maitreya. Note the introduction of eidetic detail at this point. In the preliminary preparations for this exercise, Hsi.ian-tsang had already called Maitreya to mind; now he "sees" or visualizes Tuita in all of its overwhelming splendor. Consistent with other texts describing Maitreya visualization, the exercise described here enables Hsi.ian-tsang to envision the scene in the most minute detail, from the gems covering Maitreya's dais to the heavenly beings arrayed in attendance. Finally, we are told, he becomes so enraptured with the splendor of the vision that he is no longer aware of what is happening back on the river bank, not aware even of the imminence of his own death.

As one might expect, this edifying tale reaches a dramatic climax and concludes on a highly inspirational note. With Hsi.ian-tsang still in the midst of his rapture, a fierce storm suddenly blows up, tearing down trees and overturning all the boats. The pirates, thinking at this point that perhaps they have made a mistake, inquire among the other passen-

gers about this peculiar foreign monk. Learning of the master's fame, they become convinced that the gods are angered with their sacrifice and quickly reconsider. Meanwhile, oblivious to what has been going on, Hsiian-tsang returns to awareness, asking if his time has come. The pirates, by then quite contrite, plead to be forgiven, vow to give up their evil ways, throw their weapons in the river, and receive the five precepts from Hsiian-tsang. All present are greatly impressed with the master's virtue, so amply revealed by this display of supernatural power, and he is free once again to continue on his journey. Under close examination the activities reported in this passage present us with an instance of Maitreya visualization having clear parallels to the visualization exercises discussed in the other Chinese visualization (kuan) texts. Several further observations remain to be made about the nature of this Maitreya visualization as a meditation technique. In this exercise we find Hsiian-tsang progressing through successively higher levels of existence according to generally accepted notions of Buddhist cosmography. This procedure recalls the well-established tradition associating these various levels of existence with the attainment of specific meditative states, the dhyanas or samlipattis. '8 There is, however, a significant difference between that older tradition and what we see here. In this exercise Hsiian-tsang never attempts to go beyond the fourth of the six heavens still within the desire realm (klimadhlitu), lowest of the three realms of this world system. No effort is made to reach the Nirmal)arati or Paranirmitavasavartl heavens, or to attain the still higher abodes of the form realm (rilpadhlitu) and the formless realm (arilpadhlitu).

The older traditions of Buddhist meditation, by contrast, considered it soteriologically beneficial to cultivate the ability to enter these higher realms by means of meditative absorption or trance. Hsiian-tsang certainly had knowledge of those traditions of meditation and, indeed, as a Yogacarin might be expected to have had some competence in their techniques. Nonetheless, his objective in this exercise had nothing to do with any pursuit of the more traditional attainments of meditative practice. In fact, what he accomplishes by this exercise would have to be considered quite negligible in terms of traditional Buddhist meditation. To gain the Tusita Heaven does not involve going beyond the desire realm; one is still left well short of even the first dhyana, the lowest of the eight or nine traditional attainments. The goal here has nothing to do with cultivating meditative states per se. Clearly Hsiian-tsang's aspiration is to gain a vision of Maitreya now, the best guarantee of being reborn later with him in Tusita after one's death. Nevertheless, this visualization technique does share with the older dhyana tradition a characteristic that distinguishes it sharply from the prevailing Ch'an understanding of dhyana meditation. In the narrative we are told that Hsiian-tsang becomes so enraptured with his vision of

Maitreya in Tuita Heaven that he loses all awareness of what is going on around him. He forgets about the sacrifice and the pirates, and then later, when the pirates arouse him after the storm, he is quite unaware of what happened, asking if they are ready to proceed with the slaughter. In other words, the type of visualization meditation depicted here does involve an absorptive trance state requiring sensory withdrawal from any awareness of one's immediate environment. 19 Sensory withdrawal is, of course, a common feature of many South Asian meditation techniques, including the older dhyana tradition in early Buddhism. On the other hand, the single most distinctive feature of the techniques that came to dominate East Asian Ch'an practice was, of course, the emphatic rejection of any trance-like sensory withdrawal in favor of total mindfulness of one's surroundings. The contrast is intriguing; but we must still look more closely at the use of sensory withdrawal in this case.

Even though an affinity in this respect might help relate Hsiiantsang's visualization technique more closely to South Asian meditation traditions, we must be careful to remember that sensory withdrawal can be employed in a variety of ways. Although this visualization technique and the older dhyana tradition both require a significant degree of sensory withdrawal, the latter seeks ultimately to eliminate sensation altogether. Hsiian-tsang's visualization technique, in contrast, seeks to block external stimulation only to enhance the meditator's involvement in the eidetic imagery of an alternative sensorium, one meant to be fully experienced in all of its sensual and affective detail. With regard to sensory withdrawal, it thus becomes very useful to distinguish an enstqtic; form of introversion from a more ecstatic form. The older dhyana traditions can be thought of as enstatic in that they seek a state of stasis, the complete cessation of sensory processing. The visualization technique we find here, however, is clearly ecstatic: the practitioner seeks a state of enhanced sensation by throwing himself into an alternative reality rich in aesthetic and emotional detail.'" Indeed, the apparent distinction between "visualizing" and actually "seeing" Maitreya probably becomes meaningless as one's skill in the technique is perfected.

The older dhyana tradition did, of course, employ some visualiza­tion of mental objects. The mental re-creation of meditational objects (kasil;a) was used for preliminary training in concentration, as an exercise for cultivating "one-pointed" attentiveness (ekligratli). In the case of Hsiian-tsang's visualization, however, the creation of an eidetic image was not a preparatory exercise; it was the consummation of the exercise. 21 And that, in turn, brings us back to the important question of what Hsiian-tsang sought to achieve by this practice. What exactly, in Buddhist terms, did one accomplish by perfecting this visualization practice? We have already seen that Maitreya played a central role in the religious life of the Fa-hsiang master. The same sources also show that took his aspiration to be reborn in Tuita Heaven very seriously. Now we can also see, from this incident with the pirates, that the master felt that this visualization technique was very important to achieving that goal of rebirth in Tuita Heaven. The trouble that he went to in gaining the consent of the pirates to undertake the visualization exercise suggests that the Maitreya visualization had a specific objective. Hsiian-tsang practiced this technique not just to achieve inspiration from the future Buddha and not just to see Maitreya while still in this life. More than anything else he sought thereby to assure his own rebirth in the bodhisattva's heaven.

Was rebirth in Tuita seen as an end in itself? Or was it understood more as an intermediate goal, the next step to some more ultimate objective? W ith regard to that question, we can glean a bit more from this passage and also from the passage referred to earlier that recounts the scene at Hsiian-tsang's death bed." In both cases Hsiian-tsang makes it clear that rebirth in Tuita Heaven was an intermediate goal that would allow one the opportunity to study Yogacara Buddhism with Maitreya before returning to be reborn in this world to continue working for the salvation of all beings while achieving perfect enlightenment under the guidance of the future Buddha. Like all Buddhist practice, this particular exercise contributed ultimately to the realization of enlightenment, but it also had the more immediate objective of ensuring rebirth in Tuita, the place where one can most beneficially pass the time until Maitreya's advent.

We can thus reasonably conclude that this passage presents a specific and distinctive meditation technique involving a visualization exercise organized as a sequential progression by which one moves from the familiar levels of this world to the more sublime realm of Maitreya's abode. While showing some features in common with more traditional dhyana meditation, this visualization practice differed significantly in that it did not seek to attain a state of non-perception., but sought rather an ecstatic participation in an elaborate and highly detailed realization of Maitreya's presence in Tuita Heaven. Proficiency in this technique apparently assured the practitioner of subsequent rebirth in Maitreya's realm, where one could best bide one's time until the advent of the new era to be presided over by the future Buddha. Because of its functi(mal spc_ifi<;ity and the intermediate nature of its purpose, Hsiian-tsang probably considered this exercise to be only one among a variety of practices. At the same time, this technique would have been of crucial importance with regard to one particular aspect of Buddhist religious life: one's confrontation with the inevitable end of this life and the necessary preparation for one's next rebirth. T his was not the only realm of practical concern, but, as Hsiian-tsang's biography indicates, it was certainly an important concern for a Buddhist of his time. Although this technique was thus associated with only one aspect of Hsiian-tsang's religious life,

he undoubtedly devoted a significant portion of his energies to it. Such a visualization exercise would almost certainly have required some extended practice to perfect, and especially to perfect to the degree that it could be performed even under the duress of imminent decapitation. The opportunity, moreover, to be reborn in Maitreya's heaven-and an effective technique for securing such a rebirth-would no doubt have been very attractive to anyone (and especially to a Yogacarin) who had lived through the apocalyptic times of the pre-T'ang period in China.

One further question needs to be addressed before we move on to look at the second type of Fa-hsiang meditation. We must ask whether the Maitreya visualization technique we find here was peculiar to Hsiiantsang or whether it was, in fact, a practice important in the religious life of other monks associated with the Fa-hsiang School. 23 Although the question is difficult to answer conclusively, it seems likely that such a powerful visualization technique would have been part of the practice of Hsiian-tsang's followers as well. As we have seen, textual evidence indicates that some form of Maitreya visualization was popular in various Chinese Buddhist circles prior to Hsiian-tsang's journey. I have not yet found other biographical sources that report Maitreya visualization in such detail, but there is ample evidence to verify the importance of Maitreya cult practice in the religious life of other Fa-hsiang masters. The best additional evidence for the place of Maitreya cult practice in Fa-hsiang circles can be drawn from biographical sources for Hsiiantsang's collaborator and successor, K'uei-chi (632-682), the scholarmonk later designated the firsl patriarch of the Fa-hsiang School. K'ueichi's funerary inscription informs us, for example, that as part of his practice the monk made a Maitreya statue every month. 24 His official

(though less reliable) biography, written later by Tsan-ning during the Sung, adds that his daily recitation of the Bodhisattva Vows was performed in front of a Maitreya statue. 25 K'uei-chi himself writes of Maitreya visualization in his commentary on the Maitreya sutras, where he tells us that Maitreya visualization was practiced by the great Yogacara masters of India, mentioning Asailga and Vasubandhu by name. 26 We should note also that in this same work he extols at some length the advantages of seeking rebirth in Maitreya's Tusita Heaven rather than in Amitabha's Pure Land, a fact that again suggests the functional specificity of this particular meditative exercise." In sum, then, we can safely conclude that Fa-hsiang practice placed special emphasis on the Maitreya cult and, further, that one of the specific exercises employed was a technique of eidetic visualization of the sort described in the story of Hsiian-tsang's encounter with the pirates.

Given the weight of Hsiian-tsang's example within the school, it seems reasonable to assume the presence of this specific technique in the practice of his colleagues, especially because of its functionally specific objec-

tive. We can find some further confirmation of this in the fact that there are indeed references to Maitreya visualization in various exegetical works associated with the school. Though not exclusive to Fa-hsiang circles, this practice was probably given a special place in the school, both because of the school's affiliation with Maitreya generally and because of the practice's obvious importance in Hsi.ian-tsang's religious life on his return from India.

2. THE fiVE-LEVEL DISCERNMENT OF VIJNAPTIMATRATA

The first exa'!lp!e of meditative practice, Maitreya visualization, was prominent in, butncif lirriifed to, the Fa-hsiang School. The second example, in contrast, appears to have beeri- a: distinctly__xogacara doctrine, one first discussed in the commentaries and essays of K'uei-chi (632-682). Though both examples are referred to as kuan, this second example reveals a rather different type of activity. We have seen that kuan is best rendered as "visualization" in the first case, perhaps ultimately going back to the Sanskrit anusmrti, "meditative mindfulness." Now we will take up a doctrine in which the same term kuan is used in way much closer to its more standard meaning of viRasyana, "discernment" or "insight" into the nature of existence. 28 In this case we will be dealing with the cultivation of a cognitive realization of specific philo­ sophical principles, an activity that is not limited to a certain occasion of practice and does not seem to have been directly associated with any specific or structured technique comparable to the visualization procedure we considered earlier. In spite of these differences between the two cases, the second still presents us with a soteriologically oriented activity-that is, with a pnictice of religious transformation.-Ariel it is certainly one that we would want to include in any discussion of meditation understood in the broadest sense.

The doctrine I have in mind as my second example is the five-level discernment of vijnaptimatrata (wu-ch 'ung wei-shih kuan), a theme K'uei-chi discusses in his Commentary on the Heart Siltra (Po-jo po-lomi-lo hsin ching yu-tsan) and also in his Essay on Vijnaptimatra (Weishih chang). 29 This teaching became one of the best-known Fa-hsiang doctrines in the subsequent history of the school and was central to K'uei-chi's exposition of the Yogacara path. Although it has important associations with a number of Fa-hsiang views, I will focus here on the way in which the five-level discernment presents a systematic and progressive understanding of the central doctrine of vijnaptimatrata, the teaching that there is "nothing but cognitive construction." 30 The derivation and origins of this five-level discernment are somewhat unclear. No specific mention of *evijiiaptimatrata-vipasyana or

  • evijiiaptimatrata-abhisamaya is to be found, to the best of my know!-

edge, in any of the surviving Sanskrit or Tibetan sources for the early Yogacara tradition. The Chinese expression "wei-shih-kuan" does occur in the early Chinese translations of the Mahtiytina-smrzgraha done by both Paramartha and Dharmagupta, though the kuan appears to be more of an interpolation than a translation of a Sanskrit term. 3' Some of the language K'uei-chi employs in his discussion of the five levels can be traced to the Ch 'eng-wei-shih-/un, but the five-level discernment as such is not mentioned in that work either, which leads me to assume that it was an innovation of K'uei-chi's or perhaps of his teacher, Hsiian-tsang. A doctrinal antecedent for the distinctive five-fold structure Qf and- for- the dslin-tion ofthe five divisions as '"gates'j th discern­(men > ment mukhtini) can be seen in the doctrine of the five contemplations for stilling the mind, the wu-t'ing-hsin-kuan, an early Buddhist doctrine found in a number of Chinese sources and one that had become an established part of the new Chinese Buddhism of K'uei-chi's period with its inclusion in the systematic works of both Chih-i and Chih-yen." K'uei-chi would, of course, have been quite familiar also with the Indian origins of this latter doctrine, particularly since it is found in the Yogtictirabhumi and the Abhidharmakosa.

Although structural antecedents for K'uei-chi's five-level discernment can be found in the wu-t'ing-hsin-kuan doctrine, these two teachings differ significantly. The five entrances of the older doctrine represent alternative practices, each appropriate as a corrective to specific psychological problems. That doctrine represents a typological paradigm of a sort frequently encountered in early Buddhist meditation manuals, which present therapeutically specific techniques to be employed as antidotes for specific forms of delusion. What we find in K'uei-chi's fivelevel discernment, however, are not five alternative points of entry to the path, but rather five interconnected gateways through which on passes progres_sively -in the cultivation of insight into the principle or truth of vijiiaptimtitratti. In this doctrine the five are still spoken of as "gates" or "entrances" (men), but they are meant to mark the stages by which one can penetrate progressively deeper into the basic soteric truth of Yogacara Buddhism: the view that the world, as we experience it, is nothing but cognitive construction (vijiiapti). This aspect of K'uei-chi's doctrine suggests another model for his notion of a structured, sequential discernment of reality, one that helps to show why the doctrine played such an important role in Fa-hsiang thought. A similar sequence of progressive steps is found in Tu-shun's threefold discernment of Dharmadhatu, a key Hua-yen doctrinal theme elucidated in the influential Hua-yen fa-chieh kuan-men. 34 K'uei-chi's more immediate model was most probably this indigenous Chinese doc­trine-a possibility suggested even more strongly by his incorporation of some of Tu-shun's technical vocabulary, most notably the categories of

Principle (li) and phenomena (shih). In fact, in K'uei-chi's five-level discernment can, Ithink;-·6eoesrl.mderstood as his attempt to summarize in distinctly Chinese terms the core vijiiaptimlitratli doctrine of scholastic Indian Yogacara. It was an attempt, moreover, in which he sought quite intentionally to use-indeed to co-opt or preempt-some of the distinctive analytical structures of the new Chinese Buddhism of the sixth century, seeking thereby to appropriate the vitality of these new developments while remaining true to his own, more conservative tradition. 35 In his attempt to revalorize preemptively the hermeneutical innovations of his Hua-yen and T'ien-t'ai critics, K'uei-chi uses his five-level discernment to reinterpret some of their key concepts in terms of more "orthodox" Yogacara doctrines, particularly the trisvabhliva theory explicating the three aspects of phenomenal existence. 36 According to the view presented in K'uei-chi's five-level discernment, one is to penetrate the true nature of reality by understanding the three aspects of existence in five successive steps or stages.

The firsUevel K'uei-chi calls "dismissing the false-preserving the real" (ch 'ien-hsii ts'un-shih). At this level one musirealize tnat what one ordinarily clings to as existing or real is, in actuality, purely imaginary (parika/pita). In the normal state of human delusion these misconstrued objects of attachment appear to have an abiding reality, but ultimately, we are told, they must be seen as having neither substance (t 'i) nor function (yung). Emotionally (ch 'ing), we are by nature inclined to cling to these imaginary delusions, taking them to be truly existent. In fact (li), however, they should be seen as nonexistent. At the same time, the lll ditator must make an effort to preserve as real the remaining two aspects of existence,- the. dependent (paratZmtra) and the consummate (parif:zispanna), for they are in fact (li) real, even thou-gh einotiona1ly (i:h'ing) one is inclined to overlook or even to deny their reality in order to continue clinging to imaginary delusions. At this first level K'uei-chi introduces the basic structure of reality in terms of the interrelation among its three aspects. This structure provides a common ground for the remaining four levels, which, according to K'uei-chi, culminate in a full realization of what is presented in essence in the first level.

At the second level or next gate, entitled "relinquishing the diffuse -retaining the pure" (she-/an liu-ch 'un), K'uei-chi initiates. a pheriomenologicarreauction of the cognitive process by which our experience of the world is constructed. The point at this level is to shift one's attention from what are naively assumed to be predeterminate objects in the external world and to focus instead on the fact that every perception, every consciousness of something in the world, comprises an "inner"

subjective awareness and also an "inner" intentional object. Projecting these intentional objects out onto what is taken to be a separate "external" world-allowing them to "overflow" or diffuse-one clings to them as intrinsically real, predeterminate objects, thus failing to recognize Meditation in Fa-hsiang Buddhism

their interdependent nature as cognitive constructs. At this stage we are enjoined to let loose of-to bracket-these "diffused" or projected objects, so that we might begin to recognize the more basic or "pure" interaction of intentional object and perceiving awareness. The third level is called "gathering in the extensions-returning to the source" (she-mo kuei-pen). Having recognized lhe-lnieraependent, correlative noema-noesis relationship between the intentional object and the perceiving awareness, between constituted object and constituting subject, one must, we are then told, go yet deeper. At this level K'uei-chi brings in a notion dating from the scholastic period of Yogacara thought, the doctrine of the svasaf!Jvittibhliga or self-verifying component of perception. The idea is that meditative discipline gives an experience of an underlying, unbifurcated mode of cognition that verifies the distinctive correlative relationship of what we take to be a separate subject and object in ordinary experience. The objective at the third gate is to return to the source of that subject-object division, to gain direct awareness of unbifurcated cognition by means of the svasaf!lvittibhliga.

Next comes "suppressing the subor9inate-manift:ting_the superior" (yin-liieh hsien-sheng). At this point K'uei-chi takes up the relationship between citta and caittli/:z, between "thought" in its most basic sense and the various subordinate mental states or attitudes that it assumesor, in K'uei-chi's metaphor, that it governs. Thought is not only bifurcated into subject and object, noesis and noema; it is also differentiated into a variety of dispositional attitudes, the apparently discrete components (caittli/:z) making up the process of thought (citta). These mental coefficients had been the subject of extensive phenomenological analysis in Buddhist psychology, giving rise to various speculations regarding their experiential and ontological status. The scholastic Yogacara doctrine advocated by K'uei-chi sought to salvage the phenomenological analysis of the old Abhidharma tradition, but in so doing it had to avoid the same mistake that precipitated the Madhyamika critique of the Hfnayana Abhidharma masters. The Yogacara Abhdharmikas could remain true to their notion of the emptiness doctrine, they felt, as long as they avoided reifying the product of any phenomenological analysis. This would have tobe iiue inthe case of all elements of our experience, of course, the "external" dharmas we take to be objects as well as the "internal" states that apparently characterize our subjective individuality. K'uei-chi' pjgnt b_re at the fqurth level is that we must recognize

__ that the most immediate and subjective mental states are noC to -be perceived as discrete or independent. We must not cling to them, for they, too, are--simply functions or constructs of the unbifurcated process of thought. As such, we must see them as subordinate or derivative in order to realize the true nature of "thought," the dynamic activity of reality construction that cannot be reduced to either its apparently "objective" or "subjective' components.

Finally we come to the fifth entrance, the gateway entitled "dis_missing the phenomenal aspects-realizing the true nature" (ch 'ien-hsiang cheng-hsing), which marks the culmination of the phenomenological reduction that has brought the meditator to an understanding of his "own" mind, understood now as the process of unbifurcated thought. At this last stage K'uei-chi would have us turn outward once again to realize the basic nature of all phenomenal existence, what in Yogacara terms is called its "thusness" or "suchness" (tathata). He would have us find within the phenomenality of existence the underlying universal Principle (li) or nature that all things share: the condition of being simply as they are, all interdependently related in one constructive process. To effect this realization the meditator must turn from the differentiated, phenomenal appearance of existence in order to realize the true nature of that phenomenality. He must turn from "things" in their apparent independent objectivity before he can recognize the underlying interdepen­ dence and relatedness that characterizes those "things." Only then can that same phenomenality, which does make up reality, be perceived free of delusion. In terms of the threefold nature of existence, one must realize the consummate (parif;ispanna) before one can see the dependent (paratantra) as it truly is, free of the imaginary (parikalpita). To see the dependent free of the imaginary is, in fact, to see it as the consummate; for in delusion the dependent aspect of existence is inseparable from the imaginary, but with the realization of "thusness" it is inseparable from the consum­mate. 3

We must understand K'uei-chi's five discernments as progressive levels of "seeing" or "viewing" (kuan) the world, as ways of seeing and understanding the nature of our experience of existence. Each of these successive views is undertaken or put into practice as one progresses on the path to enlightenment, yet it would be inappropriate to think of these five levels or "gateways" as meditations, in the narrow sense-that is, as specific procedures for which the practitioner might set aside a certain time each day. T he cultivation of this fivefold discernment was meant to be an ongoing process, unlike the Maitreya visualization which was a single, discrete activity with a distinct, functionally specific objective.

3. VISUALIZATION AND DISCERNMENT

Now we can see more clearly just how much the two types of meditation presented here do indeed differ. The Chinese term "kuan," used to refer to both, seems to have a rather different meaning in each case. In the exercise performed by Hstian-tsang, "kuan" refers to the visualization of a particular scene, to an activity undertaken at a particular time to achieve a particular intermediate goal. In K'uei-chi's five-level discern-

ment, by contrast, "kuan" does not refer to a specific exercise or technical procedure, something one would sit down to do on a certain occasion. Rather it refers to a longer-term activity, to the overall manner in which one views the world. In this doctrine K'uei-chi presents a paradigm of the gradual transformation of the practitioner's normal, deluded experience of existence, a paradigm of the successive development of insight into the ultimate emptiness of "self" and "things" conceived as predeterminate entities-insight, that is, into the impossibility of ontologically grounding the apparent dualism that characterizes ordinary awareness. K'uei-chi's concern is unquestionably practical, in that he is attempting to chart the direction in which the practitioner must move. Yet his concern is not with the specific, tactical exercises appropriate for a particular person at a particular time. The five-level discernment or "viewing" of existence is a more generalized model of Buddhist practice, a strategic overview of what everyone is to do, each employing the tactics most appropriate to his or her personality and circumstances. W hile we can think of the formulation of such a strategic overview as falling within the category of "praxis" in the sense of vipasyana-bhavana, we do not have here a specific "practice" undertaken to attain some particular meditative state or level of dhyana. Nor do we find any single structured procedure or technique as we do with the visualization exercise and with certain samadhi practices.

The picture that emerges, then, from this brief exploration of Fahsiang praxis reveals a range of activities as well as a distinction in levels of practical concern. We see evidence of a complex and disparate group of different "meditative techniques," as well as a more abstract discussion of the development of insight into the nature of existence that should come with proper practice. This picture suggests a rich and complex religious life encompassing a variety of practices, a repertoire of meditative techniques and procedures variously applied at different times in the composite practice of a given individual and directed toward specific, and often distinct, intermediate goals. At the same time, all of this practice was directed, in a more ultimate sense, toward the realization of a distinctively Buddhist view of the world, toward a particular insight into the nature of existence. It is the Fa-hsiang formulation of that Buddhist insight into existence, along with an analysis of the successive stages of its realization, that we find expressed in K'uei-chi's five-level discernment of vijiiaptimlitratli, whereas the Maitreya visualization technique represents one of a number of different exercises that could be employed to progress along the path. The particular technique employed at any given time would depend on the temperament and situation of the practitioner, certain exercises being more appropriate for certain circumstances. In the context of concern over one's future rebirth, for example, the practice of Maitreya visualization would undoubtedly take on special significance and utility.

The range of different techniques employed by various Buddhists in different cultural and historical settings is strikingly diverse. Certainly many of those functionally specific practices had non-Buddhist analogs and origins-hence, no doubt, the necessity felt by the more reflective Buddhist thinkers to articulate what made these various activities "Buddhist." We can, I think, best understand K'uei-chi's formulation of the five-level discernment as an attempt to connect the more abstract principles of Buddhist philosophy with the immediate and real concerns of religious practice. The strategic paradigm presented in the five-level discernment is meant to provide, in other words, a practical link between principle and practice, a guide to indicate how the latter must be oriented to realize successfully the former.



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