Many men have been rich, many men glorious: what became of them, with all their riches, with all their glory, none can tell.
Why should I rejoice in praise? I know that others blame me. Why should I grieve at blame, since others praise me?
Men are fickle and diverse: even the Buddhas cannot satisfy them; how much less can an ignorant man such as I? Why concern oneself with men?
If [a monk] is destitute, he is blamed [: what sins must he have committed!]. If he possesses [robes, bowl, and the rest,] he is despised even more [: by what tricks or baseness has he won the goodwill of alms-givers?]. Such is the nature of men, that they are hard to please: what pleasure is there in living among them?
“The man of the world is no one’s friend,” the Buddhas have declared, for he shows affection only for his own self-interest.
Now affection for the sake of self-interest is but a form of selfishness: even so, grief at the loss of riches comes from the thought of pleasure lost.
Trees are neither malicious nor contemptuous: it is no great effort to befriend them. Oh! when shall I be able to dwell among the trees, with whom it is so pleasant to dwell!
Why should I rejoice in praise? I know that others blame me. Why should I grieve at blame, since others praise me?
Men are fickle and diverse: even the Buddhas cannot satisfy them; how much less can an ignorant man such as I? Why concern oneself with men?
If [a monk] is destitute, he is blamed [: what sins must he have committed!]. If he possesses [robes, bowl, and the rest,] he is despised even more [: by what tricks or baseness has he won the goodwill of alms-givers?]. Such is the nature of men, that they are hard to please: what pleasure is there in living among them?
“The man of the world is no one’s friend,” the Buddhas have declared, for he shows affection only for his own self-interest.
Now affection for the sake of self-interest is but a form of selfishness: even so, grief at the loss of riches comes from the thought of pleasure lost.
Trees are neither malicious nor contemptuous: it is no great effort to befriend them. Oh! when shall I be able to dwell among the trees, with whom it is so pleasant to dwell!
My dwelling shall be some deserted temple, the foot of a tree, or some cave. Oh! when shall I go forth alone, clinging to nothing, looking not behind me!
To dwell in these retreats that belong to no one, vast and untouched, in perfect freedom, without attachment and without a home; with, for all my possessions, an earthen bowl and the monastic robe that will not tempt thieves; free from fear, with no concern for my body or my life!
When shall I go to the cemetery, the true home of my body, to compare this body, which is but corruption, with the skeletons of other men?
For this body, my body! shall become so foul a thing that even jackals will not dare brave its stench.
The bones of this body, which were joined to it from the beginning and form part of its [apparent] unity, shall be scattered: all the more surely will my friend leave me.
[But do not my wife, my sons, my friends share in my joys and my sorrows?] — Man is born alone and dies alone: each bears his own share of suffering. Of what use are those we love, if not to hinder merit?
As a traveller stops at some inn [meets other travellers, departs the next day]; so the traveller who follows the path of existence stops at a birth, [meets those called parents and continues, alone, on his way].
To dwell in these retreats that belong to no one, vast and untouched, in perfect freedom, without attachment and without a home; with, for all my possessions, an earthen bowl and the monastic robe that will not tempt thieves; free from fear, with no concern for my body or my life!
When shall I go to the cemetery, the true home of my body, to compare this body, which is but corruption, with the skeletons of other men?
For this body, my body! shall become so foul a thing that even jackals will not dare brave its stench.
The bones of this body, which were joined to it from the beginning and form part of its [apparent] unity, shall be scattered: all the more surely will my friend leave me.
[But do not my wife, my sons, my friends share in my joys and my sorrows?] — Man is born alone and dies alone: each bears his own share of suffering. Of what use are those we love, if not to hinder merit?
As a traveller stops at some inn [meets other travellers, departs the next day]; so the traveller who follows the path of existence stops at a birth, [meets those called parents and continues, alone, on his way].
Set thyself in the forest, without waiting for the four bearers to carry thee away [to the cemetery!] amid the lamentations of thy kin.
He is free from hatred and attachment who lives in the forest; he possesses only this wretched body; long since he has died to the world: he dies without sorrow.
He shall have about him no kin whose despair afflicts him; no one, at the hour of death, shall disturb his recollection of the Buddha and the Law.
Thou art lovely [for thou aboundest in delights], free from sorrow [, being the antidote to suffering], blissful [, for thou art the source of temporal and supernatural felicities]! O Solitude [, mother of meditation and] preventer of every distraction of body, speech, and thought, I would cleave to thee for ever!
Detached from every extraneous concern, my whole attention absorbed in my thought, I shall strive to fix the thought [by staying its edge upon its object] and to tame it [by bringing it back to its object when it strays, by withdrawing it from outward distractions].
Desires, loves, sources of cruel evils in this life as in the next: here below, imprisonment, death, mutilations; thereafter, the torments of hell.
For thy loves, how many basenesses before go-betweens, men and women! No heed for sin, reputation, life put in danger, or wealth squandered! Well then, here are the loves whose embrace was for thee the highest delight: here are bones, the very same as before; but now they have no master: embrace them, then, as long as thou wilt, and enjoy this highest delight!
He is free from hatred and attachment who lives in the forest; he possesses only this wretched body; long since he has died to the world: he dies without sorrow.
He shall have about him no kin whose despair afflicts him; no one, at the hour of death, shall disturb his recollection of the Buddha and the Law.
Thou art lovely [for thou aboundest in delights], free from sorrow [, being the antidote to suffering], blissful [, for thou art the source of temporal and supernatural felicities]! O Solitude [, mother of meditation and] preventer of every distraction of body, speech, and thought, I would cleave to thee for ever!
Detached from every extraneous concern, my whole attention absorbed in my thought, I shall strive to fix the thought [by staying its edge upon its object] and to tame it [by bringing it back to its object when it strays, by withdrawing it from outward distractions].
Desires, loves, sources of cruel evils in this life as in the next: here below, imprisonment, death, mutilations; thereafter, the torments of hell.
For thy loves, how many basenesses before go-betweens, men and women! No heed for sin, reputation, life put in danger, or wealth squandered! Well then, here are the loves whose embrace was for thee the highest delight: here are bones, the very same as before; but now they have no master: embrace them, then, as long as thou wilt, and enjoy this highest delight!
This figure would rise only with difficulty, for modesty lowered it; a veil concealed it from the gaze of those who had never seen it, as from that of those who had already contemplated it: and now the vultures uncover it, as if to indulge thy impatience. Look! … but why does it fill thee with horror?
Thou guarded this body jealously from the gaze of other men: beasts of prey devour it: what hast thou done with thy jealousy, that thou lettest them do so?
Now that thou hast seen the vultures and jackals feast upon this mass of flesh, thou knowest that it is their banquet that thou anointest with sandalwood and loadest with ornaments.
Thou shudderest when thy gaze falls upon a skeleton, motionless and little to be feared: thou fearest it not when some vampire or other sets it in motion!
When this skeleton was clothed in flesh, thou didst love it with love: now it is bare, and it fills thee with horror! If thou hast no use for it, why caress it when the flesh envelops it?
Saliva and excrement have a common origin, namely food; excrement disgusts thee, and thou drinkest with love from thy mistress’s mouth!
Lovers have no need of soft cushions, stuffed with cotton; for they do not sense in them the repugnant odour that charms them. Is love, then, naught but an unclean obsession?
Thou guarded this body jealously from the gaze of other men: beasts of prey devour it: what hast thou done with thy jealousy, that thou lettest them do so?
Now that thou hast seen the vultures and jackals feast upon this mass of flesh, thou knowest that it is their banquet that thou anointest with sandalwood and loadest with ornaments.
Thou shudderest when thy gaze falls upon a skeleton, motionless and little to be feared: thou fearest it not when some vampire or other sets it in motion!
When this skeleton was clothed in flesh, thou didst love it with love: now it is bare, and it fills thee with horror! If thou hast no use for it, why caress it when the flesh envelops it?
Saliva and excrement have a common origin, namely food; excrement disgusts thee, and thou drinkest with love from thy mistress’s mouth!
Lovers have no need of soft cushions, stuffed with cotton; for they do not sense in them the repugnant odour that charms them. Is love, then, naught but an unclean obsession?
But if it is the foul that one loves, why seek in embraces an interweaving of bones joined by muscles, wrapped and defiled by flesh?
Thine own body gives thee what thou seekest; be content with it, and seek not elsewhere, O eater of filth, another receptacle of refuse.
“But,” thou wilt say, “I love the flesh of this woman’s body; I love to see it, to touch it.” — What charm can flesh, essentially devoid of intelligence, possess?
If it is the thought dwelling in this body that thou lovest, thou canst neither see nor touch it. That which thou touchest is but insensible matter: why embrace it in vain?
That thou shouldst be ignorant of the essential impurity of the bodies of others is nothing surprising; but that thou shouldst not know that thine own body is impure is passing strange.
Despising the young lotus opened by the rays of a cloudless sun, what is this pleasure that one goes to seek, drunken with impurity, in a receptacle of refuse?
Thou art loath to touch any object defiled by contact with excrement: how findest thou pleasure in touching the body whence excrement comes forth?
Wilt thou claim that thou lovest not what is foul? Thou embracest a body formed and nourished of impurities in a receptacle of impurities.
Yet if thou confessest it, the objection remains: thou hast naught but disgust for worms, foul and born of filth: is it because of their small size? But thou lovest a body born of impurity, in which impurity forms a mass.
Thine own body gives thee what thou seekest; be content with it, and seek not elsewhere, O eater of filth, another receptacle of refuse.
“But,” thou wilt say, “I love the flesh of this woman’s body; I love to see it, to touch it.” — What charm can flesh, essentially devoid of intelligence, possess?
If it is the thought dwelling in this body that thou lovest, thou canst neither see nor touch it. That which thou touchest is but insensible matter: why embrace it in vain?
That thou shouldst be ignorant of the essential impurity of the bodies of others is nothing surprising; but that thou shouldst not know that thine own body is impure is passing strange.
Despising the young lotus opened by the rays of a cloudless sun, what is this pleasure that one goes to seek, drunken with impurity, in a receptacle of refuse?
Thou art loath to touch any object defiled by contact with excrement: how findest thou pleasure in touching the body whence excrement comes forth?
Wilt thou claim that thou lovest not what is foul? Thou embracest a body formed and nourished of impurities in a receptacle of impurities.
Yet if thou confessest it, the objection remains: thou hast naught but disgust for worms, foul and born of filth: is it because of their small size? But thou lovest a body born of impurity, in which impurity forms a mass.
“But, thou wilt say, if a woman’s body is impure, my body too is impure; it cannot be defiled by contact with it: ‘As the god, so the offering,’ as they say.” — Extreme folly: not only hast thou no horror of thine own impurity, but thou seekest yet other vessels of impurity!
Things naturally pure, camphor, for example, rice and condiments, are defiled by the body; the earth itself becomes impure through contact with morsels of food fallen from the mouth.
If thou dost not admit the impurity of the body, attested by evidence and acknowledged by custom, go and see in the cemeteries what a fearful thing the fairest bodies become.
When the skin is removed, the body is an object of horror. How, once its nature is known, canst thou place thy love in it?
The mind is drawn towards vile desires.
Doubtless the body is impure, but the perfume of sandalwood makes it lovable! — Does this perfume come from the sandalwood, or from the body that has been imbued with it? Why cling to an object because of a scent that is foreign to it?
If the body, foul-smelling in itself, does not excite desire, is that not all the better? Yet men love what harms them, and the body shall be perfumed!
Things naturally pure, camphor, for example, rice and condiments, are defiled by the body; the earth itself becomes impure through contact with morsels of food fallen from the mouth.
If thou dost not admit the impurity of the body, attested by evidence and acknowledged by custom, go and see in the cemeteries what a fearful thing the fairest bodies become.
When the skin is removed, the body is an object of horror. How, once its nature is known, canst thou place thy love in it?
The mind is drawn towards vile desires.
Doubtless the body is impure, but the perfume of sandalwood makes it lovable! — Does this perfume come from the sandalwood, or from the body that has been imbued with it? Why cling to an object because of a scent that is foreign to it?
If the body, foul-smelling in itself, does not excite desire, is that not all the better? Yet men love what harms them, and the body shall be perfumed!
Does sandalwood change the nature of the body by smelling sweet? Why cling to an object on account of a scent that remains foreign to it?
It is truly a fearful thing, the body in its natural state, in its nakedness, with uncut hair and nails, unclean teeth, and skin soiled with mud.
Why, then, weary oneself adorning it, as one would sharpen a knife to strike oneself with? The world is filled with fools who seek only to deceive and ruin themselves!
Thou canst not bear the sight of a few skeletons in the cemetery; yet thou delightest in the village, a cemetery teeming with walking skeletons!
And this body, thy beloved, impure though it be, is not obtained without money: what toil to earn money, what sufferings in hell if one earns it unjustly!
The child is unable to earn: what means will the young man have for pleasure? The flower of youth withers away in the labours of acquisition; and the old man, what will he do with pleasures?
Some, filled with carnal desires, toil all day at exhausting tasks; they return home at night and fall asleep in a sleep like death.
Others follow military or commercial expeditions; they suffer the pains of exile and, for years, are deprived of their wives and children, for whose sake alone they toil.
It is truly a fearful thing, the body in its natural state, in its nakedness, with uncut hair and nails, unclean teeth, and skin soiled with mud.
Why, then, weary oneself adorning it, as one would sharpen a knife to strike oneself with? The world is filled with fools who seek only to deceive and ruin themselves!
Thou canst not bear the sight of a few skeletons in the cemetery; yet thou delightest in the village, a cemetery teeming with walking skeletons!
And this body, thy beloved, impure though it be, is not obtained without money: what toil to earn money, what sufferings in hell if one earns it unjustly!
The child is unable to earn: what means will the young man have for pleasure? The flower of youth withers away in the labours of acquisition; and the old man, what will he do with pleasures?
Some, filled with carnal desires, toil all day at exhausting tasks; they return home at night and fall asleep in a sleep like death.
Others follow military or commercial expeditions; they suffer the pains of exile and, for years, are deprived of their wives and children, for whose sake alone they toil.
Blinded by desire, they sell themselves for pleasures that elude them: their lives flow by, wasted in the service of others.
Others have sold themselves to masters who employ them in continual journeys; their wives give birth along the roads, in woods, in caves, on the banks of rivers.
Others, to earn their livelihood, rush into battles at the peril of their lives; they seek glory and find slavery. O folly, O blindness of desire!
Those who steal another’s wife or goods are mutilated, impaled, burned, and put to death by the sword: such are the fruits of desire.
To acquire wealth, to guard it, to grieve at its loss: great misfortune is fortune. Wealth distracts the mind, wholly binds it to itself, and leaves no chance to think of deliverance.
O ye who are slaves to desire, great are your sufferings, most wretched your satisfactions!—Like the measured ration given to the beast that draws a cart.
And for this paltry and doubtful pleasure, denied not even to beasts of burden, man, blinded by fate, renders useless this human birth, so rare and so fruitful.
For the body, condemned to certain death, so paltry beside the spiritual body, doomed to infernal tortures, what painful efforts have been made since the beginning of time!
Others have sold themselves to masters who employ them in continual journeys; their wives give birth along the roads, in woods, in caves, on the banks of rivers.
Others, to earn their livelihood, rush into battles at the peril of their lives; they seek glory and find slavery. O folly, O blindness of desire!
Those who steal another’s wife or goods are mutilated, impaled, burned, and put to death by the sword: such are the fruits of desire.
To acquire wealth, to guard it, to grieve at its loss: great misfortune is fortune. Wealth distracts the mind, wholly binds it to itself, and leaves no chance to think of deliverance.
O ye who are slaves to desire, great are your sufferings, most wretched your satisfactions!—Like the measured ration given to the beast that draws a cart.
And for this paltry and doubtful pleasure, denied not even to beasts of burden, man, blinded by fate, renders useless this human birth, so rare and so fruitful.
For the body, condemned to certain death, so paltry beside the spiritual body, doomed to infernal tortures, what painful efforts have been made since the beginning of time!
Not one millionth part of these efforts and sufferings is needed to attain Buddhahood: the sufferings of those who desire are beyond measure compared with the sufferings of a future Buddha’s practice, yet they remain fruitless of Bodhi.
Neither sword, nor poison, nor iron, nor precipices, nor any invention of a torturer can be compared with desires: think only of the torments of the damned or the revenants.
Therefore fear desires; learn to love contemplation; dwell in peaceful forests, where quarrels and sorrows are unknown.
Happy are those who, upon natural terraces of rock, level and vast as palace terraces, charming and refreshed by the sandal-scented rays of the moon, greeted by the silent and gentle woodland breezes, go peacefully to and fro and meditate upon the salvation of others!
They dwell wherever they please, for as long as they wish, ever alone, at the foot of a tree or in a cave; freed from the toil of acquiring or keeping, they live without care, as they please.
When a man has left his home and lives as he pleases, free from attachment, what peace, what joy of heart! Even Indra envies him.
By meditating upon the advantages of solitude, the foregoing may serve as an example: one stills all imaginings and is then able to develop within oneself the thought of Bodhi.
Neither sword, nor poison, nor iron, nor precipices, nor any invention of a torturer can be compared with desires: think only of the torments of the damned or the revenants.
Therefore fear desires; learn to love contemplation; dwell in peaceful forests, where quarrels and sorrows are unknown.
Happy are those who, upon natural terraces of rock, level and vast as palace terraces, charming and refreshed by the sandal-scented rays of the moon, greeted by the silent and gentle woodland breezes, go peacefully to and fro and meditate upon the salvation of others!
They dwell wherever they please, for as long as they wish, ever alone, at the foot of a tree or in a cave; freed from the toil of acquiring or keeping, they live without care, as they please.
When a man has left his home and lives as he pleases, free from attachment, what peace, what joy of heart! Even Indra envies him.
By meditating upon the advantages of solitude, the foregoing may serve as an example: one stills all imaginings and is then able to develop within oneself the thought of Bodhi.
The Bodhisattva first applies himself, diligently and scrupulously, to making no distinction between self and others, which is the essence of the practice of the future Buddha.
What joy is to me, it is to another;
What pain is to me, it is to another.
I must do for another what I do for myself.
Is not the body composed of parts? Is it not regarded as “one,” and, as such, protected and served by all its members as though they were united? Likewise, in this world of living beings, which is manifold, pain and pleasure are common to all beings.
Though my pain has no effect upon the bodies of others, it is no less pain, hard to bear because of attachment to “self.”
Though the pain of another is not felt by me, it is no less painful to him, hard to bear because of attachment to “self.”
I must destroy another’s pain, because it is pain, just as my own pain is; I must serve another, because he is a living being, as I myself am.
Self and others alike aspire to happiness: what special quality does the self possess, that we should devote our efforts solely to its service?
What joy is to me, it is to another;
What pain is to me, it is to another.
I must do for another what I do for myself.
Is not the body composed of parts? Is it not regarded as “one,” and, as such, protected and served by all its members as though they were united? Likewise, in this world of living beings, which is manifold, pain and pleasure are common to all beings.
Though my pain has no effect upon the bodies of others, it is no less pain, hard to bear because of attachment to “self.”
Though the pain of another is not felt by me, it is no less painful to him, hard to bear because of attachment to “self.”
I must destroy another’s pain, because it is pain, just as my own pain is; I must serve another, because he is a living being, as I myself am.
Self and others alike aspire to happiness: what special quality does the self possess, that we should devote our efforts solely to its service?
The self and another alike abhor danger and suffering: what special quality has the self, that one should watch over it, and not over another?
“But, you will say, the suffering of another does not hurt me: why seek to protect him?” I answer: the pain of the body in a future life does not hurt thee; why guard thyself against it?
Will you say that the self passes from one existence to another? Imagination! The one who dies is other than the one who is reborn.
Moreover, if only he who can feel suffering ought to guard against it, the hand does not suffer from the pain of the foot; why does it defend the foot?
In vain will you say that these unselfish actions, though unjustified, proceed from the sense of personality: if altruism is unjustified, one must renounce it as far as possible, whether it concerns what is called the self, in its successive existences or in its body made up of diverse members, or whether it concerns another.
101a) This continuous and conscious series does not exist independently of the momentary phenomena that compose it, just as a file does not exist independently of the ants; this aggregate is like an army without true individuality.
101b) Therefore there is no being to whom pain can be attributed, of whom one can say, “his pain.”
“But, you will say, the suffering of another does not hurt me: why seek to protect him?” I answer: the pain of the body in a future life does not hurt thee; why guard thyself against it?
Will you say that the self passes from one existence to another? Imagination! The one who dies is other than the one who is reborn.
Moreover, if only he who can feel suffering ought to guard against it, the hand does not suffer from the pain of the foot; why does it defend the foot?
In vain will you say that these unselfish actions, though unjustified, proceed from the sense of personality: if altruism is unjustified, one must renounce it as far as possible, whether it concerns what is called the self, in its successive existences or in its body made up of diverse members, or whether it concerns another.
101a) This continuous and conscious series does not exist independently of the momentary phenomena that compose it, just as a file does not exist independently of the ants; this aggregate is like an army without true individuality.
101b) Therefore there is no being to whom pain can be attributed, of whom one can say, “his pain.”
102) Sufferings, without distinction, can be attributed to no one: because they are “suffering,” they must be opposed; therefore, no reservation is justified.
103) “But why oppose suffering [since, according to you, there is no being who suffers]?” — Because all schools [materialists included] agree on this. If it must be opposed, then oppose it, whatever it may be; if it must not be opposed, do not distinguish between self [and others].
104) “But [if all pain must be opposed,] why freely impose upon oneself the great sufferings of the charitable practice [of future Buddhas]?” — Considering the sufferings of every creature, can one say that the sufferings of the Compassionate Ones are so great?
105) [And besides,] if the suffering of one brings an end to the suffering of many, one must take it upon oneself, compassionate toward oneself and compassionate toward others.
106) [This is what we see in the Samādhirājasūtra:] the [Bodhisattva] Supuṣpacandra, to save a multitude of wretched beings, defied the king and spared not his own life.
107) Thus do the [future Buddhas], whose minds are strengthened [in the equality of self and others] and for whom personal pleasure is but pain when others suffer, plunge into the Avīci hell as swans into a lotus grove.
103) “But why oppose suffering [since, according to you, there is no being who suffers]?” — Because all schools [materialists included] agree on this. If it must be opposed, then oppose it, whatever it may be; if it must not be opposed, do not distinguish between self [and others].
104) “But [if all pain must be opposed,] why freely impose upon oneself the great sufferings of the charitable practice [of future Buddhas]?” — Considering the sufferings of every creature, can one say that the sufferings of the Compassionate Ones are so great?
105) [And besides,] if the suffering of one brings an end to the suffering of many, one must take it upon oneself, compassionate toward oneself and compassionate toward others.
106) [This is what we see in the Samādhirājasūtra:] the [Bodhisattva] Supuṣpacandra, to save a multitude of wretched beings, defied the king and spared not his own life.
107) Thus do the [future Buddhas], whose minds are strengthened [in the equality of self and others] and for whom personal pleasure is but pain when others suffer, plunge into the Avīci hell as swans into a lotus grove.
108) The deliverance of creatures causes the river of their thoughts to overflow into an ocean of joy; the measure [of felicity is full: deliverance itself, at such a price, is without savour.
109) If, therefore, you do good to another, do not grow proud, admire yourself, or reckon on a reward: the saint is naught but thirst for the good of others.
110) [To sum up:] as I defend myself from every evil, jealous even of my reputation, so shall I love and defend another.
111) Under the influence of false judgments, repeated throughout former lives, man attaches the illusory notion of self, apart from all reality, to the combination of foreign elements, the elements of generation.
112) Why, then, should we not rather regard another’s body as our “self”? — As for our own body, to recognise that it is foreign to us is truly too simple!
113) The [saint] observes the faults of his “self” and the qualities with which another abounds; he applies himself to stripping himself of self and clothing himself in another.
114) Man loves his feet and [his hands] because they are members of the body: living beings have a claim to the same affection because they are members of the world of the living.
115) Habit has led us to regard as our “self” this body, which does not even exist in itself. By habit we shall come to see in another our [true] “self”.
109) If, therefore, you do good to another, do not grow proud, admire yourself, or reckon on a reward: the saint is naught but thirst for the good of others.
110) [To sum up:] as I defend myself from every evil, jealous even of my reputation, so shall I love and defend another.
111) Under the influence of false judgments, repeated throughout former lives, man attaches the illusory notion of self, apart from all reality, to the combination of foreign elements, the elements of generation.
112) Why, then, should we not rather regard another’s body as our “self”? — As for our own body, to recognise that it is foreign to us is truly too simple!
113) The [saint] observes the faults of his “self” and the qualities with which another abounds; he applies himself to stripping himself of self and clothing himself in another.
114) Man loves his feet and [his hands] because they are members of the body: living beings have a claim to the same affection because they are members of the world of the living.
115) Habit has led us to regard as our “self” this body, which does not even exist in itself. By habit we shall come to see in another our [true] “self”.
116) Then we shall no longer take glory, pride, or hope of reward from the good we have done for our neighbour: to provide for our own needs is a great merit.
117) Just as I naturally protected my “self” from all pain and sorrow, so shall I accustom myself to this solicitude, to this tenderness for all living beings.
118) Thus the Lord Avalokita consecrated even His name, that this name might protect creatures from every fear, even the embarrassment one feels before an assembly.
119) Say not: “It is too difficult”; turn not back; so great is the virtue of habit that one comes to be unable to do without what one could not bear even to hear named.
120) Whosoever would swiftly attain to protecting self and neighbour must practise the supreme mystery:
“To act towards oneself as [worldlings] act towards others, and conversely.”
121) One has so violent a love for the “self” that its slightest peril terrifies: who would not hate this self that terrorises like an enemy?
122) This self which, to combat sickness, hunger, thirst, [cold], sacrifices birds, fish, and quadrupeds, and treats all nature as an enemy,
117) Just as I naturally protected my “self” from all pain and sorrow, so shall I accustom myself to this solicitude, to this tenderness for all living beings.
118) Thus the Lord Avalokita consecrated even His name, that this name might protect creatures from every fear, even the embarrassment one feels before an assembly.
119) Say not: “It is too difficult”; turn not back; so great is the virtue of habit that one comes to be unable to do without what one could not bear even to hear named.
120) Whosoever would swiftly attain to protecting self and neighbour must practise the supreme mystery:
“To act towards oneself as [worldlings] act towards others, and conversely.”
121) One has so violent a love for the “self” that its slightest peril terrifies: who would not hate this self that terrorises like an enemy?
122) This self which, to combat sickness, hunger, thirst, [cold], sacrifices birds, fish, and quadrupeds, and treats all nature as an enemy,
123) This self of mine, which, through greed and vanity, goes so far as to kill its father and mother, so far as to commit sacrilegious theft—heedless of the hell whose flames it shall feed!
124) Such am I: truly a worthy object of love, solicitude, and worship for a sensible mind! Rather, hateful as an enemy and deserving of every contempt.
125) “If I give, what shall I eat?” Selfish one, thou shalt be reborn in the body of a piçâca. “If I eat, what shall I give?” Charitable one, thou shalt be reborn king of the gods!
126) Thou makest thy neighbour suffer for thine own sake: thou shalt burn in hell. Thou makest thyself suffer for thy neighbour’s sake: every blessing is assured thee.
127) Thou claimest to rise [above others]; thou shalt be reborn in evil destinies, and [if thou thereafter attainest human existence,] thou shalt be base and stupid. But if thou turnest thy vanity to the benefit of others, thou shalt attain a good destiny, honours, and intelligence.
128) Thou commandest thy neighbour and makest him work for thee; thou shalt be a slave. Thou puttest thyself at thy neighbour’s service; thou shalt attain power and [wealth].
129) All who are unhappy here below are unhappy because they have sought their own happiness; all who are happy here below are happy because they have sought the happiness of others.
124) Such am I: truly a worthy object of love, solicitude, and worship for a sensible mind! Rather, hateful as an enemy and deserving of every contempt.
125) “If I give, what shall I eat?” Selfish one, thou shalt be reborn in the body of a piçâca. “If I eat, what shall I give?” Charitable one, thou shalt be reborn king of the gods!
126) Thou makest thy neighbour suffer for thine own sake: thou shalt burn in hell. Thou makest thyself suffer for thy neighbour’s sake: every blessing is assured thee.
127) Thou claimest to rise [above others]; thou shalt be reborn in evil destinies, and [if thou thereafter attainest human existence,] thou shalt be base and stupid. But if thou turnest thy vanity to the benefit of others, thou shalt attain a good destiny, honours, and intelligence.
128) Thou commandest thy neighbour and makest him work for thee; thou shalt be a slave. Thou puttest thyself at thy neighbour’s service; thou shalt attain power and [wealth].
129) All who are unhappy here below are unhappy because they have sought their own happiness; all who are happy here below are happy because they have sought the happiness of others.
130) What more need be said? See only what a difference there is between the fool who desires his own happiness, and the Buddha, worker for the good of others.
131) Surely he attains not the state of Buddha, nor even the joys of this world, who does not exchange his happiness for the suffering of his neighbour.
132) And apart from the life to come, what would become of us here below if the servant refused to work and the master to pay his wages?
133) Men, instead of rendering one another service, which is the source of all good in both lives, seek instead to harm one another: their folly plunges them into extreme evils.
134) Of all calamities, all sufferings, all terrors here below, the sole cause is the sense or love of self: one must renounce it.
135) Suffering can be avoided only by going beyond the “self”: burning can be avoided only by leaving the fire.
136) If I give my “self” to my neighbour and adopt my neighbour as my “self”, it is therefore as much to assuage my suffering as to assuage my neighbour’s.
137) Let this, then, O my soul, be well understood: thou belongest to thy neighbour, and henceforth thou canst think only of the good of all creatures.
131) Surely he attains not the state of Buddha, nor even the joys of this world, who does not exchange his happiness for the suffering of his neighbour.
132) And apart from the life to come, what would become of us here below if the servant refused to work and the master to pay his wages?
133) Men, instead of rendering one another service, which is the source of all good in both lives, seek instead to harm one another: their folly plunges them into extreme evils.
134) Of all calamities, all sufferings, all terrors here below, the sole cause is the sense or love of self: one must renounce it.
135) Suffering can be avoided only by going beyond the “self”: burning can be avoided only by leaving the fire.
136) If I give my “self” to my neighbour and adopt my neighbour as my “self”, it is therefore as much to assuage my suffering as to assuage my neighbour’s.
137) Let this, then, O my soul, be well understood: thou belongest to thy neighbour, and henceforth thou canst think only of the good of all creatures.
138) These eyes, which are no longer mine, shall no longer see to “my” advantage; and so too with all the senses. These hands, which belong to another, should they work for me? And so too with all the organs of action.
139) Wholly given to sentient beings, I shall take all the resources of this body and put them at the service of another.
140) I shall regard myself as a stranger, and first of all recognize my “self” in the lowliest; then shall be the time to be envious and proud, without faltering or hesitation.
141) “How is it,” [I shall say,] “that this [self] is honored and I am not; it is rich and I am not; it is praised and I am blamed; it is happy and I suffer?
142) “I toil while it sits at ease with folded arms: it is apparently because it is great in this world, and I am small, lacking in qualities!
143) “But what use can a man devoid of qualities be? Everyone has qualities of his own! There are people better than I, and there are others worse.
144) “[Besides,] if I lack morality or learning, is it my fault or that of the passions? Let him therefore heal me as far as he is able: I accept the treatment, however harsh it may be.
139) Wholly given to sentient beings, I shall take all the resources of this body and put them at the service of another.
140) I shall regard myself as a stranger, and first of all recognize my “self” in the lowliest; then shall be the time to be envious and proud, without faltering or hesitation.
141) “How is it,” [I shall say,] “that this [self] is honored and I am not; it is rich and I am not; it is praised and I am blamed; it is happy and I suffer?
142) “I toil while it sits at ease with folded arms: it is apparently because it is great in this world, and I am small, lacking in qualities!
143) “But what use can a man devoid of qualities be? Everyone has qualities of his own! There are people better than I, and there are others worse.
144) “[Besides,] if I lack morality or learning, is it my fault or that of the passions? Let him therefore heal me as far as he is able: I accept the treatment, however harsh it may be.
145) “But he is unable to heal me: why, then, does he despise me?—Because of his excellent virtues?—What care I, if he is holy only for himself?
146) “Does he feel compassion for the wretched, whom evil destinies are about to devour? And yet, in the pride of his virtues, he claims to excel among the holy.
147) “When he sees himself as my equal, he will sometimes contend for first place, to satisfy his craving or his vanity.
“Ah! if my qualities were made manifest everywhere throughout the world; and if no one ever heard of his again, insofar as he has any!
“If my faults remained unknown, if men honoured me without paying any heed to him!—At last, behold, the riches and honours diverted from him are rightly mine.
“Let us rejoice—though it is true, a little late—at the sight of the ill-treatment, mockery, and reproaches with which everyone overwhelms him.
“It is truly amusing that this wretch should dare to measure himself against me! Is he learned in the holy books, wise, handsome, noble, wealthy?
“When all my qualities [which he falsely claimed as his own] are proclaimed, my hairs stand on end in a transport of joy, and I savour my happiness!
“If he possesses any goods, we shall take them from him by force; we shall give him only what he needs to live, and no more, and on condition that he serve us.
146) “Does he feel compassion for the wretched, whom evil destinies are about to devour? And yet, in the pride of his virtues, he claims to excel among the holy.
147) “When he sees himself as my equal, he will sometimes contend for first place, to satisfy his craving or his vanity.
“Ah! if my qualities were made manifest everywhere throughout the world; and if no one ever heard of his again, insofar as he has any!
“If my faults remained unknown, if men honoured me without paying any heed to him!—At last, behold, the riches and honours diverted from him are rightly mine.
“Let us rejoice—though it is true, a little late—at the sight of the ill-treatment, mockery, and reproaches with which everyone overwhelms him.
“It is truly amusing that this wretch should dare to measure himself against me! Is he learned in the holy books, wise, handsome, noble, wealthy?
“When all my qualities [which he falsely claimed as his own] are proclaimed, my hairs stand on end in a transport of joy, and I savour my happiness!
“If he possesses any goods, we shall take them from him by force; we shall give him only what he needs to live, and no more, and on condition that he serve us.
“For he must stumble from his prosperity; he must bear our sufferings: too often and too long has this wretch tortured us all.”
[Such are the sentiments thou shalt cherish, O my soul, against thyself and for the sake of creatures. Does this seem harsh to thee? But reflect: hast thou not, throughout innumerable ages, pursued thine own good? And what hast thou reaped from thy long endeavours, save suffering, suffering alone?
Apply thyself, then, without hesitation, to the good of another; I will it! Thou shalt see the benefits thereof hereafter, for the word of the Buddha deceiveth not.
[Wilt thou say that thou wast, indeed, charitable? A lie!] Hadst thou practised [charity and humility], thou wouldst not be in the wretched state wherein I see thee—let alone the supreme happiness of the Buddhas [which thou wouldst have attained].
Even as thou hast so long adopted as thine “I” this body formed of foreign matter, of seed and blood, so learn to regard another as thine [true] “I.”
Become a spy in the service of another, and whatever thou seest in thy body that may be of use, steal it for the sake of another.
“My ‘I’ is at ease,” thou wilt think; “another is suffering; I am honoured, another is humbled; I rest, another labours.” Be filled with jealousy against thyself.
[Such are the sentiments thou shalt cherish, O my soul, against thyself and for the sake of creatures. Does this seem harsh to thee? But reflect: hast thou not, throughout innumerable ages, pursued thine own good? And what hast thou reaped from thy long endeavours, save suffering, suffering alone?
Apply thyself, then, without hesitation, to the good of another; I will it! Thou shalt see the benefits thereof hereafter, for the word of the Buddha deceiveth not.
[Wilt thou say that thou wast, indeed, charitable? A lie!] Hadst thou practised [charity and humility], thou wouldst not be in the wretched state wherein I see thee—let alone the supreme happiness of the Buddhas [which thou wouldst have attained].
Even as thou hast so long adopted as thine “I” this body formed of foreign matter, of seed and blood, so learn to regard another as thine [true] “I.”
Become a spy in the service of another, and whatever thou seest in thy body that may be of use, steal it for the sake of another.
“My ‘I’ is at ease,” thou wilt think; “another is suffering; I am honoured, another is humbled; I rest, another labours.” Be filled with jealousy against thyself.
Strip thy “self” of all enjoyment, and let it bear the pains of others; by constant vigilance, examine all its faults and all its weaknesses.
Lay upon its head, upon its head alone, the very faults of others; and confess unto Buddha even its smallest faults.
Dim its reputation by proclaiming the greater reputation of another; set it to serve beings like a worthless slave.
It is not for a few shreds of qualities, all accidental, that it may deserve praise; its very substance is vice. See that none know its qualities, [if it have any].
In a word, all the evil that thou hast not feared to do to thy neighbour for thine own sake, cause to fall upon thyself for thy neighbour’s sake.
Grant it not even the freedom to speak; be ashamed, fearful, and discreet as a new bride.
The “self” must obey thee: “Do this, stand thus, do not do that”; it must be punished when it disobeys.
“What then, O my mind, though I speak, thou dost not obey! I shall know how to punish and subdue thee, O thou receptacle of all evil.
“Dost thou hope to escape me? I have seen thee; I destroy all thy pride. — The time is past when I let myself be brought to ruin by thee.
Lay upon its head, upon its head alone, the very faults of others; and confess unto Buddha even its smallest faults.
Dim its reputation by proclaiming the greater reputation of another; set it to serve beings like a worthless slave.
It is not for a few shreds of qualities, all accidental, that it may deserve praise; its very substance is vice. See that none know its qualities, [if it have any].
In a word, all the evil that thou hast not feared to do to thy neighbour for thine own sake, cause to fall upon thyself for thy neighbour’s sake.
Grant it not even the freedom to speak; be ashamed, fearful, and discreet as a new bride.
The “self” must obey thee: “Do this, stand thus, do not do that”; it must be punished when it disobeys.
“What then, O my mind, though I speak, thou dost not obey! I shall know how to punish and subdue thee, O thou receptacle of all evil.
“Dost thou hope to escape me? I have seen thee; I destroy all thy pride. — The time is past when I let myself be brought to ruin by thee.
“Renounce all hope of there being any self-interest left for thee: I have sold thee to others, heedless of [thy] sufferings.
“For if I were so foolish as not to deliver thee to living beings, it is thou, I doubt not, who would deliver me to the demons, guardians of hell.
“How often hast thou already delivered me to these tormentors, and to what long tortures! I remember thy cruel enmity, and I crush thee, O me, slave to self-interest!”
If I truly love myself, I must not love myself! If I wish to safeguard myself, I must not safeguard myself!
The more thou dost to spare the body suffering, the more sensitive thou makest it, and the lower thou bringest it.
Yet, despite its fall [and its lowliness], the whole world could not quench its thirst for pleasures; — and who shall fulfil its desires?
Now the desire for the impossible brings disillusionment and hatred in its wake. He who is without hope possesses a felicity that cannot grow old.
Do not give free rein to the desires of the body. Only that is good which is not conceived as desirable.
[What is the body?] — In the end it will be no more than ashes; it is an inert mass set in motion by another; it is a heap of filth. Why, then, should I place my “self” in it?
“For if I were so foolish as not to deliver thee to living beings, it is thou, I doubt not, who would deliver me to the demons, guardians of hell.
“How often hast thou already delivered me to these tormentors, and to what long tortures! I remember thy cruel enmity, and I crush thee, O me, slave to self-interest!”
If I truly love myself, I must not love myself! If I wish to safeguard myself, I must not safeguard myself!
The more thou dost to spare the body suffering, the more sensitive thou makest it, and the lower thou bringest it.
Yet, despite its fall [and its lowliness], the whole world could not quench its thirst for pleasures; — and who shall fulfil its desires?
Now the desire for the impossible brings disillusionment and hatred in its wake. He who is without hope possesses a felicity that cannot grow old.
Do not give free rein to the desires of the body. Only that is good which is not conceived as desirable.
[What is the body?] — In the end it will be no more than ashes; it is an inert mass set in motion by another; it is a heap of filth. Why, then, should I place my “self” in it?
Whether alive or decomposed, this machine can be of no use to me. What difference is there between the body and a mass of earth or wood? Truly, the feeling of “I” must be hard to kill!
I have been the accomplice and friend of my body, to my misfortune and without any gain; whether this puppet be pleased or displeased—what great matter is that?
Does it love me when I defend it? Does it hate the vultures that devour it? It is therefore folly to love it.
I am enraged when it is ill-treated, joyful when it is honoured. Since it knows nothing of this itself, why should I trouble myself?
Those who love this body [said to be mine] I regard, do I not, as my friends: but all men love their bodies; it is therefore fitting that I love them.
I have therefore, without reserve, given up my body for the benefit of beings; and if I continue to bear it, despite its faults, it is as an instrument of action.
I renounce the practices of the world and walk in the path followed by the Saints: I remember the “Sermon on Mindfulness”; I shake off languor and sloth, and, that I may no longer fear them, I fix my thought; I withdraw it from evil paths and apply it steadfastly to that which must be its object.
I have been the accomplice and friend of my body, to my misfortune and without any gain; whether this puppet be pleased or displeased—what great matter is that?
Does it love me when I defend it? Does it hate the vultures that devour it? It is therefore folly to love it.
I am enraged when it is ill-treated, joyful when it is honoured. Since it knows nothing of this itself, why should I trouble myself?
Those who love this body [said to be mine] I regard, do I not, as my friends: but all men love their bodies; it is therefore fitting that I love them.
I have therefore, without reserve, given up my body for the benefit of beings; and if I continue to bear it, despite its faults, it is as an instrument of action.
I renounce the practices of the world and walk in the path followed by the Saints: I remember the “Sermon on Mindfulness”; I shake off languor and sloth, and, that I may no longer fear them, I fix my thought; I withdraw it from evil paths and apply it steadfastly to that which must be its object.