Showing posts with label animal metaphors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animal metaphors. Show all posts

Monday, August 24, 2009

A New Clue


I can scarcely believe my own negligence. I must apologize for it. I somehow missed these two passages, one on the monkey and the other on the turtle, the second one right after the other. And the salt or lye or caustic soda (lan-tsha) here poses a danger to the turtle itself, and not, we must note, to the monkey paw it wants to eat.

The source is in the Zhijé Collection, vol. 2, the text entitled “Expressions of Speech Taught Symbolically.” This forms part of a trilogy called “Mahåmudrå Teachings: Three Cycles of Responses Employing Symbolic Actions of Body, Speech and Mind.”

Observe, as you will, that the monkey is once again connected with the unrelaxed mind. And the turtle? Well, you’ll see.

~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~

As a symbolic way of saying that if you haven’t turned your mind away from sangsara, there is no need to stay in a retreat [p.156]

— “If you can’t relax the monkey’s mind there is no way to make his hands and feet stay still.”[1]

As a symbolic way of saying that if you can’t get rid of desire, there is no need for doing the practices

— “Since turtles and moisture go together, what’s the use? It doesn’t recognize that the swirling water has lan-tsha in it. It has no more serious enemy than that.”

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Now possible interpretations seem to stack up on top of possible interpretations. If you’re going to ask me what it all means, I’ll just say, quoting something Padampa says in the exact same text, for my own purpose,

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Ask the turtle’s head.”[2]





Bibliography:
[B1] Phyag-rgya-chen-po Brda'i Skor Gsum, or, Brda'i Zhus-lan Skor Gsum. Vol. 2, pp. 138-178.
[B1a]Sku'i Rnam-dag Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 138-152.
[B1b]Gsung-gi Brjod-bya Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 153-164 (the pages are entirely out of order in the reprint edition, but they were put back in order on the basis of the microfilm of Trulzhik Rinpoche's manuscript).
[B1c]Thugs-kyi Dgongs-nyams Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 165-177.
I work from my own draft translation of these three texts, which form the first set of Responsa (zhu-lan) texts in the Zhijé Collection. It is very difficult to compare this to the content of Molk's translation (on his pp. 177-192), which appears to have been rearranged at will by the translator. (Of course it is possible, too, that he worked from an unpublished manuscript unknown to me.) B1c is at least partly included on his p. 188 ff., but its title seems to be missing.
The Tibetan passage starts on line 7 of p. 159, and continues on line 1 of p. 156 (trust me, it's true). I give the text in 'texto' style, with no orthographic emendations:
'khor ba las blo ma log na ri khrod du bsdad pa la dgos pa myed pa'i brda' ru / [156] spre'u 'i sems ma dal na rkang lag la bsdad dbang myi mchi' gsung //
'dod pa ma thongs na nyams su blangs pa la dgos pa myed pa'i brda' ru / ru rbal rlan dang 'grogs pas ci la phan lan tsha'i chu rgod ngo myi shes / dgra' ru de las gnad pa myed gsung //

Lion of Siddhas: The Life and Teachings of Padampa Sangye, translated by David Molk with Lama Tsering Wangdu Rinpoche, Snow Lion (Ithaca 2008).



[1] Molk, p. 186: “He said, ‘With the monkey mind not relaxed, the limbs have no capacity to remain still.’ To indicate that, if one does not turn the mind from samsara, there is no need for staying in retreat.” I searched out this translation (I couldn't find the one about the turtle & the lan-tsha) just so you will have another translation to compare. I made my own translation without being under any influence from this one.

[2] Molk, p. 185: “When asked the nature of the perfect ultimate mode of existence, he said, ‘I have no idea! Ask the head of the frogs.’ To indicate that transcendent wisdom of the mind is beyond expression.”

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Monkey Paw, Salty River




If you don't swim, don't play in the water.
skyal myed-pas chu-la rtse-bar myi bya'o ||

— Padampa Sanggyé

Hello all of you, or both of you, or however many of you might still have internet connections at your air-conditioned beach resorts on the Riviera! Or the Canary Islands! After several days at it I really badly need a break from touching up my Zhang-zhung dictionary. I'm rewriting the introduction right now, and I think I've made some headway in convincing a sometimes too skeptical world that this thousand-some-year-old language does indeed possess some of the essential features of language that people have unjustly claimed are missing in it. That means verbs, personal pronouns and grammar.* I do so much more enjoy the freedom of blog writing to other kinds that I'm all too familiar with.
*(Well, in fact it doesn't have the personal pronouns, but then the only lengthy bilingual text we have for Zhang-zhung doesn't have any kind of dialog in it, so why would it need to speak of you and me and her?)
I know I should have gone on to say more already about the back scratchers, but let's let go of them for now and look at what might seem a remotely related, but, well, maybe, anyway, related, topic. I mean, the most popular shape for back scratchers is the rake or 'claw' shape, correct? That's because it's meant to take the place of your own claw-shaped hands when they can no longer reach the center of your back where that irritating sensation is most likely to be found. And that probably means you are getting old and haven't been keeping up with your yoga practice. Give me a minute to go pop a few more aspirin for my arthritis and we'll begin.

Remember the animal metaphors of Padampa, the Telugu Mahasiddha? There was one metaphor that, despite the explanation of the commentarial text, really didn't convey much of any meaningful message. Let me cut-and-paste my old translation attempts right here. First, the line from the root text with the words of Padampa:

spre'u-yi sder-mo rnyed-pa'i rus-sbal lan-tshwa'i chu-la lto 'gal med //

spre'u-yi: C spre'u. rus-sbal: C rul-rbal. lan-tshwa'i: C ba-tsha'i.


56. The turtle has gotten a monkey claw, no reason not to eat it in borax water.



And now the commentary on the same, probably written by a 12th-century Tibetan follower. Take special note of my shriek of frustration enclosed in square brackets at the end:

Zhijé Collection, vol. 1, p. 438, line 3 ———

56. {{All the animals that go into the borax ocean rot and disappear, they say. A turtle that appears on the surface of the water later on doesn't appear at all. In the case of the monkey paw, it doesn't rot. It [the turtle?] goes with the hamstring. Then, in the forest cleans the paw, and it is no contradiction that it eats it in borax water. Sensual qualities are like the borax, in turning into virtue through skilful means.}} [This is clearly not a workable translation; the text uses some very rare vocabulary items.]


I may take another shot at translating this before long. And here's the Tibetan text of the commentary, since I'm sure that English didn't make sense to anyone [it's in 'texto' style, with none of those tacit corrections you often get, no dashes, etc.]:

dper na rgya mtsho' ba tsha can de la srog chags phyin pa thams cad rul nas 'gro skad /

de la ru rbal chu'i teng du bsdad nas phyir de rtsam myi 'byung ste / de la spre'u rder mo snyed na myi 'drul bas kho ting chu dang 'grogs nas nags gseb du sder mo tsal nas ba tsha'i chu la ltos 'gal myed par 'gro'o //

de bzhin du 'dod yon ba tsha dang 'dra ste / thabs la mkhas pas yon tan du 'gyur ro gsung //

I think this is going to make a little more sense to you, and to me, too, very probably, by the time I finish writing for the day. I won't promise miracles. I think I can explain to you in at least a general way, for the first time here in this blog, the Indian background that would shed light on how or why a turtle might get its teeth into a monkey paw to begin with. I also think I can say something meaningful about the chu ba-tshwa-can phrase (notice there's a variant) that I translated as 'borax water.' More on that in a minute.

My new understandings took off like a space-station launcher after reading a blog by Tenpa at Tibetan Buddhist Digital Altar that covers the delicate topic of homosexuals going to hell. Wait a minute, don't kill the messengers. Hear us out. Condemnation is not my purpose today. Maybe tomorrow. I would say that some of my best friends are gay, but then you'd start reading things into it, now, wouldn't you? I'll be witness to the fact that sometimes it's hard to state the simplest of facts without getting yourself into trouble. In matters of sex, as in religion, people are always divining hidden meanings in between the words or hovering above them. Mom, if you're reading this, the answer is no, never was.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Tenpa, in his blog, supplied a passage from Śāntideva's Śikāsamuccaya that is in turn a quotation from the Saddharmopasthana Sutra (I guess that means Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna, which is a huge 3-volume scripture, so please, my dear reader, don't expect me to trace the original context... find it yourself if you must):

Likewise, endless varieties of punishments in a future life are described for the wrong deed of sexual intercourse between two men. The one who commits misconduct with boys sees boys being swept away in the Acid River who cry out to him, and owing to the suffering and pain born of his deep affection for them, plunges in after them.

Although I suppose you may find this difficult to believe, I was a lot more interested in the "Acid River" than in the same-sex sex. I looked the quote up just to be sure about the wording. Over time I finally located it in the crusty old Bendall & Rouse translation, at page 80. Here's a slightly longer quote, although I, too, will leave off the subsequent paragraph about the despicable form of animal abuse known as bestiality, since it isn't especially relevant, is it? I'll take that as a No.

Likewise the hell called Mahā-paduma is said to come into existence if by the prayer of a heavenly nymph one brings one's chaste life to an end. There flows the river called Kshāranadītaraginī, the Stream of Brine. All the stones of this river are bones, its weeds are hair, its mud is flesh, its water is molten copper, and its fishes are prisoners in hell, etc. Likewise, endless varieties of punishments are described for the sin of sodomy. Likewise as the result of misconduct with children he beholds boys floating about in the River of Brine. They cry out to him, and he plunges into the river through the impulse of grief and pain arising from his keen affection and attachment to them.

Here's the Tibetan from the copy of the text I had close at hand (p. 105), not because I think it's the best textual witness:

de de ltar lha'i bu mo 'dod pa'i phyir tshangs par spyod pa yongs su bsngo bas na / pad ma chen po zhes bya ba'i sems can dmyal bar gsungs te / de na tsha sgo can gyi 'bab chu dpa' rlabs can zhes bya ba 'bab ste / 'bab chu de la nya gang yin pa de dag ni sems can dmyal ba pa de dag go // rus pa gang yin pa de dag ni rdo ba'o // 'jim pa gang yin pa de dag ni skra'o // 'dam rdzab gang yin pa de dag ni sha'o // chu gang yin pa de dag ni ro nye bskol ba'o zhes bya ba la sogs pa'o // de bzhin du skyes pas skyes pa la 'khrig pa log par bcug pa'i chad pa'i bye brag dpag tu med par brjod do // de bzhin du byis pa rnams la log par 'jug pa yang cha sgo can gyi chus khyer ba'i khye'u dag mthong nas de dag gis de la bos pa dang / de byis pa de dag la shin tu sdug par sems pa dang ldan zhing mya ngan dang sdug bsngal gyi shugs kyis chu der 'jug go //

The 'sin of sodomy' isn't very literal. What it says here is 'Men wrongly engaging in sexual intercourse with other men.' That's in case you had any doubts. Buddhists never shrink back from talking about every possibility. They never had a Victorian phase. That's why they're not quite sure what 'repression' is. Well, at least as far as talking about things is concerned.

And here's the original Sanskrit for those who insist on having it. It could really help solve some arguments that might arise about the meaning.

evamapsarasaḥ prārthanayā brahmacaryapariṇāmanān mahāpadumo nāma naraka uktaḥ / tatra kṣāranadī taraṅgiṇī nāma pravahati / tasyāṃ nadyāṃ yāny asthīni te pāṣāṇāḥ / yacchaivālaṃ te keśāḥ / yaḥ paṅkastanmāṃsam / yā āpaḥ tat kathitaṃ tāmram / ye matsyās te nārakā ityādi //

evaṃ puruṣasya puruṣeṇa saha maithunavipratipatteḥ aprameyāḥ kāraṇāviśeṣāḥ paṭhyante / evaṃ śiśubhiḥ saha vipratipatteḥ kṣāranadyām uhyamānān dārakān paśyati / te taṃ vilapanti / sa tāṃ nadīm avagāhate / teṣu bālakeṣu tīvrasnehapratibandhaśokaduḥkhavegāt /

Right away we ought to observe, at the very least, that 'River of Brine' is not a very accurate translation of the Sanskrit, certainly, where it's kṣāra-nadī, with nadī meaning 'river.' Although kṣāra can mean 'salty,' the first meanings in the Monier-Williams dictionary are: caustic, biting, corrosive, acrid, pungent, saline.

Equipped with the Sanskrit and Tibetan words, I started searching out rivers of brine or whatever, along with words for salt and types of salts, all over the place. I'd bother you with all the details, but I guess you won't have patience for it. Anyway, my dull conclusion is that the various words for salts and salty waters are confused in the sources — even the two texts for animal metaphor no. 56 disagree whether it's lan-tshwa or ba-tshwa — so little wonder if we're confused about which is which. Ba-tshwa, to the best of my current guesses means, to some authors at least, 'borax' such as you find in lakes with internal drainage — the Northern Plains of Tibet are full of it — and as your mother knows very well an ingredient in some popular clothes-washing detergents. Sanskrit lavaṇa is in Tibetan lan-tshwa, the usual word for sodium chloride, or common table salt, NaCl.

Still, a Tibetan medical dictionary told me that lan-tsha has two meanings: [1] ordinary salt and [2] medicinal salts. According to this, when the latter meaning is intended the letter 'w' is added as a subscript, lan-tshwa. That is interesting... But who followed this spelling advice?

I went to such lengths to find out more about salt symbolism, I even wrote to Austria in quest of a mysterious scripture entitled Lan-tshwa'i Chu-bo'i Mdo. It was quoted by Atisha, but it has probably always been quite difficult to find in Tibet or anywhere else. It was translated at about the beginning of the 11th century, probably in fact at Tholing, where Dharmapāla, the Indian master named in the colophon, started the Highland Monastic Ordination Lineage.

That could help explain why it only exists in two Kanjurs located in the westernmost parts of the Plateau, the Gondhla and the Tholing Kanjurs (this information accepted with thanks from Helmut Tauscher, who kindly went out of his way to help me on this, far more than was necessary, really). Its Sanskrit title has been reconstructed in two different ways. It seems that Mark Tatz once Sanskritized it as Lavaṇa Nadī Sūtra, although Kṣāra Nadī Sūtra would also be possible. Even the Tibetan title is not always given consistently. Sometimes it's Lan-tsa'i Chu-bo'i Mdo, but we also find reference to it as Ba-tshwa'i Chu-klung zhes bya-ba'i Mdo.

I won't go into this scripture very much, since I think anyway someone will do a study of it before too long. I think we already learned something of significance, that even Tibetans might sometimes confuse or consider equivalent ba-tshwa and lan-tshwa. Not everyone is cut out to be a chemist. I'll just quote one brief passage and make a stab at understanding it. In this scripture the Buddha makes a kind of extended metaphor, and later on in the scripture it's interpreted in every last detail.

lan tsha'i chu bo'i ngogs sam 'gram dag las gang tsher ma can gyi chu skor yod la / der mun pa mun gnag smag tu 'thoms pa'i skye dgu' lus can kun kyang chu bo'i rgyun phyogs su khyer zhing ded de de las rgal myi nus so //

Let me try to get the gist of it without laboring over every word. It's meant to describe our situation here in sangsara, but you knew that.

On the banks or shores of the salt river there are lots of thorns. A waterwheel lies ahead. The myriad beings are disoriented in the pitch-black darkness. They are getting carried along by the constant stream of the river. There is no way they can turn back [from going under the water mill].

Now I jump ahead to the Buddha's own interpretation of what the salt means:

lan tsha ni sdig pa dang / myi dge' ba dang / de la rtog pa dang gsum po dag go zhes nga smra'o //

"I say to you, the salt means sin, non-virtues, and thoughts about them, all three."

Salt is a positive symbol in Christianity and Judaism. You even find salt along with oil used in significant ways in Roman Rite consecration ceremonies. Have you ever heard anyone called "salt of the earth"? That's a good thing. Salt preserves. Salt heals. Salt is good. Salt is something like life.

Salt is hardly ever positive, or at least unequivocally positive, in Buddhism. In general in Buddhist metaphors, salt doesn't preserve. It makes you more and more thirsty, and it corrodes things. Salt most often stands for desires, since fulfilling them is only temporary at best, and leads to addiction, just as drinking salt water only makes you want to drink more and more. It doesn't quench your thirst like you might have thought it would.

I found this in Access to Insight

And what is salt water? Salt water stands for defilement. The defilements of the mind are saltier than salt. When we try to eat salt — even just a little — we can't swallow it because we find it so salty, but the defilements are even saltier than that. They can crust us over so that we spoil and rot in all sorts of ways. When this is the case, what can we do? We have to filter or distill them.

Try this page, also, where you'll find another Salt Sutra.

This is not positive. Notice that this Buddhist salt is said to be corrosive. I see the same in many of my Tibetan texts, including scriptures (I'd quote more of them, but the day is slipping away), and this leads me to think that at least some of the time they aren't intending ordinary table salt, or ordinary ocean salt,* but rather some kind of borax or, perhaps even more likely to fit the symbolism, caustic soda.

*(Ocean salt can be called rgyam-tshwa in Tibet, where it was often used for medicinal purposes, which was a very good idea, given that iodine could avert all danger of goiter, and most Tibetans were using rock salt from the Northern Plains, unfortunately. If you still haven't seen Die Saltzmänner von Tibet, it's about time you rented the video. It's really worth it.)

Are you with me this far? That's amazing! Thank you for being so patient. Just remember that a monkey paw when placed in caustic soda or lye would soon dissolve into nothingness. This knowledge will come in useful next time when we try to figure out what the turtle is doing with it in the first place. I should learn to say what I want to say right away instead of wasting time getting around to it. Good advice for any ordinary day. Today is just too hot, and on days like this, it's best to have a little extra salt. We'll talk again before too long. You can drop me a line meanwhile.


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Read and Read and Read and Read

Śāntideva's Śikāsamuccaya. For the English, I used Cecil Bendall & W.H.D. Rouse, Śikāsamuccaya: A Compendium of Buddhist Doctrine, Motilal Banarsidass (Delhi 1971), reprint of 1922 edition. For The Sanskrit, I used p. 45 of the P.L. Vaidya edition reproduced by Sridhar Tripathi at the Mithila Institute (Darbhanga 1999), but you can also do as I did and compare this with the Jens Braarvig's edition of Chapter Four here. For the Tibetan I made use of the version in the Gangs-can Rig-brgya'i Sgo-'byed Lde-mig series vol. 23, published by Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1995), just because I happened to have it at hand, not because I particularly recommend it.

Tibetan Buddhist Digital Altar, blog dated March 20, 2009 entitled Acid River. This blog provoked a rhetorically heated and here & there mildly interesting and informative discussion at E-sangha. You may have to register to see this thread, I'm not sure of it, though.

Helmut Tauscher, Catalogue of the Gondhla Proto-Kanjur, Arbeitskreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien Universität Wien (Vienna 2008). This is by far the most fascinating Kanjur catalog ever made. I would never say such a thing lightly or in jest. If you can't see the beauty in it it's probably because you're not a Tibetologist yet. If you are a Tibetologist already, look here for more details. If not, don't.

There's a fairly nice discussion of worldwide salt symbolism here. Just ignore the Scientology video advertisements and whatnot.

I find it rather strange that Sakya Pandita, in the early 13th century, used ba-tshwa to refer to the saltiness of ocean water. He says (quoting Lozang Jamspal's fine translation, where ba-tshwa is translated as 'brine'):

When virtuous people associate with the wicked,

they become affected by vice.

When the sweet water of the Ganges reaches the oceans,

it turns into brine.


This is the illustration and text on ba-tshwa* from Jampal Dorjé's** materia medica work, which lists all-in-all 20 types of salts, 16 of them naturally occurring, including ba-tshwa, and 4 of them produced by special processes, or 'manufactured.' If I translate the first line of it, as best I can, you may get some idea what's going on in the illustration.

Ba-tshwa: It forms on old walls of houses. It's oily, soft, and has moisture. It has a biting taste on the tongue. It's the stuff ze-tsha*** is made from, but hot tasting. If you burn it in fire, like ze-tsha it does not boil.

It ends with a brief quote from the Crystal Globe, a famous materia medica work, about its medicinal effects. It looks like, as with other salts, one of the main usages is in urinary disorders, although I'm not sure exactly what it's saying here.

*You can see that what appears to be there is "ba cha na," but you have to learn to read through the missing ligatures and see what's actually there, which is "ba-tshwa ni."

**It isn't well known among Tibetologists yet, but this Jampal Dorjé is identical to the Mongolian prince known in other sources as Tho-yon Ye-shes-don-grub-bstan-pa'i-rgyal-mtshan (1792‑1855).

***Ze-tshwa in Pasang Yontan Arya's materia medica is identified as Nitrum. For the whole entry, look here. Please let me know if that link doesn't work for you.


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'Gro-lung-pa's famous Bstan-rim text, dating from around 1100 CE, has this very interesting passage that almost unbelievably places side-by-side metaphors of salt water drinking and of scratching what itches: lan tshwa'i chu 'thung ba dang g.yan pa 'phrug pa la sogs pa ltar sred pa je 'phel je 'phel du 'gyur ba 'ba' zhig go | des na nam zhig nyes pa 'di lta bu shes nas spangs pa de'i tshe ngoms pa mthar phyin par zad do | | byang chub sems dpa'i sde snod las | sngon 'das dus ni shin tu rgyas pa nas | | lha rdzas dag dang mi nor bzang po dang | | 'dod pa'i yon tan lnga dag bsten gyur kyang | | de la nam yang ngoms pa ma rnyed do | |

Just to translate the first sentence quickly:

Drinking salt water, scratching itches and the like, are nothing but ways to increase the 'thirst' (or addiction) more and more.



“I was a hidden treasure and I wanted to be known, so I created the world, that I may be discovered.”

— A well-known Hadith Qudsl (Divine Saying)


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Men of Stone


I keep finding more to say and more and more sources about the Man of Wood.  That's why today I decided to blog about the Man of Stone (rdo'i mi) instead.  I'll begin by just giving the sources, since I'm not sure if I'll write any conclusion at all today.  To do that I would first have to get into some new... to me... and interesting... well, to myself at least... insights that cover both the Man of Wood and the Man of Stone as a 'natural' pair. And to do that I'd have to go into some new thinking on the Man of Wood, which I'll just have to save for another time, since the sources seem to keep rolling in. I'd hate to jinx this by writing about it too soon. 

Just a hint for those few who might be able to accept it with supernatural ease: wood and stone are images that Buddhists could and did use to talk about issues of insentience, which is the alternative to sentience (as in 'sentient beings' which we could just as well call 'sapient beings'). They are images that (in one area or another... this being an important point... as in illness, fear, anxiety, counterproductive thinking... Well, you get the idea), encourage imperviousness, immovability. Even non-thought or 'mindlessness' in a certain sense, at least, if you don't mind me using that scary term (and if you do, you just never mind for now). Without wasting any more of our precious time (only joking, actually I could just care less about our precious time and plan to use up a whole lot of it, Huh huh haw!), I'd like to give just about all the examples I could find in the Zhijé Collection.  The first ones I have translated in complete verses. The single lines work fine individually, but there is also a strong possibility that there may be, at times, an elusive conceptual continuity...

The first source, unlike the others, is found both in the Dergé Tanjur (no. 2440) and in the Zhijé Collection (vol. 1, pp. 383-404, at p. 387). It's called Secret Vajra Song: Great Sealing Precepts (Phyag-rgya-chen-po'i Man-ngag Rdo-rje Gsang-ba'i Glu). This is a Mahâmudrâ teaching from the Great Siddha by the name of Saraha, who ought to be the author, therefore. But I wonder if it resulted from a vision Padampa had of Saraha, which would mean we could with some reason call Padampa the author, too? (Just a question. Not like I have an answer or anything.)  

dud pas mi 'jigs rtsi med sbrang ma'i tshang ||
'chi bdag kha ru ma tshud skye 'gro gad ||
lus la 'byung ba ma 'khrugs rdo yi mi ||
ming nas bos pas shi ba ldog gam ci ||

gad > ZC gang. rdo yi mi > ZC rdo'i myi.


It won't be destroyed by smoke, the beehive with no honey.
The creature not thrown into the mouth of the death lord, [show me] one.
In his body are no disturbances of the elements,* the man of stone.
Its name called out, does the dead man turn around to see?
*Disturbance of the elements very simply means physical sickness.

... ... ...

ZC vol.1, p. 396
kye ho sgyu ma'i skyes bu'i 'du shes stor ||
don byed mi nus rmi lam nor gyi gzeb ||
rdo yi mi yi rig byed gang du song ||
glang po'i mgo la rwa med chag dogs bral ||
gzeb > ZC gseb. rdo yi mi yi > ZC rdo'i myi'i. rig > ZC rigs. chag > ZC chags.

chu shing snying po phyi nang gnyis kar med ||
dug sbrul ma bltas sgo nga blang mi rung ||
drang srong nad kyi grogs dang gnyen po soms ||
ded dpon bu ni yab la gling rgyus 'dri ||
sgo nga > ZC sgong nga.


Oh my! The person of illusion has lost his ideas about things.
No profit will come of it, a basket full of wealth in a dream.
The intelligence (Vedas?) of the man of stone, Where did it go?
The elephant with no tusks on its head has nothing to fear.

The banana tree has no essence, neither within nor without.
Taking the egg but not checking for the viper is not to be done.
Do the rishis* [need] nurses and antidotes, you think?
The ship captain's son, for familiarity with the islands, questions his father.

*The ancient sages (seven or eight rishis) of Indian lore are the real founders of medicine among humans. They are believed to live forever... well, very nearly so.

... ... ...

ZC vol. 1, p.  401
sgra nyan pa yi phag rgod gdams pa ston ||
ngan smras bstod tshig khyad med rdo yi mi ||
smig rgyu'i klung na chu thigs yod ma yin ||
skye dang 'chi ba mo gsham bus ma byas ||

sgra nyan pa yi > ZC sgra la nyan pa'i. rdo yi mi > ZC rdo'i myi. smig rgyu'i klung > ZC dmyig sgyu'i rlung. yod ma > ZC yod pa.

The wild pig* that listens to the sound is teaching the precepts.
Speaking ill or hymns of praise make no difference to the man of stone.
In a mirage river there are no water drops.
Being born and dying are things the barren woman's child doesn't do.
*For the wild pig, see no. 57 here.

ZC vol. 1, p. 417
rdo'i myi zhes pa ni / rdo'i myi srin mo'i gling du skyal kyang myi 'jigs pa bzhin du / sems nyid kyi rtsa ba chod pas phyi nang gi 'jigs pa gang la yang spang blang myed pa gcig dgos / de byung na gnyen po phyir 'phel [~phul] ces pa ste / khams na sgun [~rgun] 'brum skems pa la kra ka srung dgos pas / de la dang po kra ka gcig bsad de gsob phyar bas des thub skad // de dang 'dra bar dben pa'i gnas su dge' sbyor nyams su len rtsam na / bar chad 'jigs skam [skyems? rgam?] pa la sogs pa myi mthun phyogs kyi rdog [~rtog, ~dogs] pa byung na / de sems nyid kyi nang du ngo sprad de / rtog pa dbyings su gsad / phyis skyes kyi rtog pa de kun bsrings pas / go cha bzang ste gnyen po phyir 'phel ba'o.

If you were to take a man of stone to a rakshasi island it would have no fear. Even so, when you have gotten to the root of Mind Proper, what is required is an absence of acceptance/rejections toward any fearful thing, whether inner or outer. When that happens, send the antidotes back where they came from.

In Kham, they say, when drying grapes they have to guard them from the crows. So first they kill one crow and fly it as a scarecrow and that suffices. Similarly, when you start practicing the virtuous applications in an isolated place, you may become fearful of inimical forces, like fear of obstacles. In that case recognize it as belonging to Mind Proper and slay the mental reservations [troubling thoughts] in the Realm. That will completely close off access for all the mental reservations that would have arisen later on. Put on this excellent armor [of renunciation] and send the antidotes away.

ZC vol. 1, p. 439
If an attractive young woman were to have her head catch on fire she would put everything else aside and kill the fire. Likewise, perseverance in all the Dharma practices is essential. For example, if you were to strike a man of stone with whip or club, it would not produce in him the least displeasure. Similarly you ought to weather the inimical winds of bodily injuries and mental injuries.

ZC vol. 1, p. 446
For example, it is said that in India, a homeless person with no possessions might go to a cremation ground and eat the food offerings left there for the dead, and dress himself in shrouds. But even he has fear of wild carnivores. A stone man is free from fear and ruin. Emulate him when you do the spiritual practices (sâdhana). Give up attachment to life and limb.

ZC vol. 2, p. 167
As a symbolic way of saying that this understanding is a conceptual one, that there is nothing that could make one understand the real meaning, no master who could make one understand
— “There was this yogi who was explaining Dharma to men of stone.”


As a symbolic way of saying that the explainer of the secret precepts is like an echo, and that they haven't yet made the ear that could make it understandable to the hearer
— “It was heard with turtle ears.”



ZC vol. 2, p. 205
When a yogi taught dharma to a man made of stone, it was heard in the turtle's ear.*

*For a weird exchange about turtle ears, see this Early Tibet blog. The idea here is that the turtle doesn't have any ear (actually, it has two so-called tympana, but anyway), and therefore nothing to hear with, but nevertheless hears. This is one of the 'wonders of the world' that Padampa tells his Tingrian students he has seen. He's having fun with them. In a way.
... ... ...

This next one is a citation from a still unidentified work called Ornament of Shining Precious Substances (Rin-po-che Snang-ba'i Rgyan). From citations elsewhere in the Zhijé Collection, we know that this is a Vajra Song (ZC vol. 5, p. 386):

rdo'i myi yis rma bya'i mdongs ||
kha dog ci 'dra shes myi 'gyur ||
sems la ma brten yul myi snang ||
phyi rol don du bden gyurd na ||
ngo bo chu'i dngos po la ||
lha dang yi dags nya sbal gyis ||
bdud rtsi rnag khrag yul khyim du ||
mthong bar rigs pa ma yin no zhes pa'o ||


The man of stone is not going to recognize
what colors the feathers of the peacock might be.
Without being based in mind, no external realms appear.
If external objects were true in any essential way,
in consequence the thing made of the substance water,
you will have to agree,
would not be seen by gods, pretas* and fish or tadpoles
as nectar, bloody pus and homeland.
*See Fenner's article (p. 260), where he translates this verse from the Mahayana philosopher Candrakirti:  
"6.71 Like (a person who) has a diseased (sense) faculty, a spirit (yi-dwags, preta) at a flowing river also experiences pus. In summary, as there are no objects of knowledge so also there is no mind. Understand this meaning thus."
I much prefer Huntington's (p 165) translation:
"[The mechanism involved when] hungry ghosts experience cognition of a river flowing with pus is identical to that of the visual organ afflicted with ophthalmia.  Our meaning here must be understood as follows: Just as there is no object of knowledge, so there is no cognition."
... ... ...

ZC vol. 5, p. 478
rnal 'byord pa cig rdo'i myi la chos bshad pas ru[s] sbal gyi rna bar thos |

A yogi taught Dharma to a man of stone and it was heard in the ear of the turtle.* 
*This is also one of those 'wonders of the world' passages. It is repeated more than once or twice in the collection.
... ... ...
PS:  I really want to write something about the monkey paw that gets washed in the 'borax' (?) water, but so much to write and so little time. We'll see. Did anybody see those puppets? They were here a few minutes ago. Where did I leave them? Never mind.





Reading on:

Todd Fenner, Candrakîrti's Refutation of Buddhist Idealism, Philosophy East & West, vol. 33, no. 3 (July 1983), pp. 251-61. Full text available here.

C.W. Huntington Jr., with Geshe Namgyal Wangchen, The Emptiness of Emptiness: An Introduction to Early Indian Madhyamika, Motilal Banarsidass (Delhi 1989).

Kurtis R. Schaeffer, Dreaming the Great Brahmin: Tibetan Traditions of the Buddhist Poet-Saint Saraha, Oxford University Press (Oxford 2005).





 
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