Series on the History of Chinese Philosophy, Pt. 22
Buddhism’s Journey East
Indra’s Net and the Hundred Foot Bamboo
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Hello and welcome! This is the final installment in this series! The whole series can be viewed here:
In this entry we’ll explore the only classical Chinese philosophy to not spring forth from its own soil — viz. Buddhism, or fójiā [佛家].
Although nobody really knows exactly when or where Buddhism first landed in the East, most scholars agree that it probably happened gradually during the Han dynasty, as trade increased along the ancient Silk Road. By the 2nd century CE, a few Buddhist monks from central Asia had begun translating Buddhist sutras from Sanskrit to Chinese.
We’ll pick it up from there and talk about how and why Buddhism thrived once it arrived on the scene.
Sutras along the Silk Road
The British popularizer Alan Watts once famously called Buddhism: “Hinduism stripped for export.”
Although such a statement may be philosophically suspect, it at least reflects the success Buddhism found along the trade routes of central Asia. Some have even claimed that the Greek philosopher Pyrrho brought Buddhist ideas back with him after accompanying the war party of Alexander the Great.
It’s difficult to know how accurate that story is, but one thing is certain, Buddhist ideas definitely found a home at the eastern terminus of the Silk Road — in the philosophical landscape of China. Part of the reason for this can be found in the history of way-station cities along the Silk Road — cities like Kucha.
As Peter Frankopan wrote in his 2015 bestseller The Silk Roads,
“Before long, western China was studded with places that were transformed into sacred spaces, at Kashgar, Kucha and Turfan for example.”
And, Valerie Hansen explains Kucha’s unique advantage:
“As a meeting place for peoples of multiple nationalities, the Silk Road was a site of sustained language exchange in an era long before the development of modern learning aids like dictionaries and textbooks… The residents of the prosperous oasis of Kucha on the northern route around the Taklamakan enjoyed an advantage over other language learners along the Silk Road, since their native language of Kuchean belonged to the same Indo-European language family as Sanskrit… Kucha provided a natural gateway for the entry into China of Buddhist teachings.”
It was in Kucha that many Buddhist writings were translated from Sanskrit into Chinese by Kumarajiva (344 to 413 CE) who oversaw the translation of about 300 Buddhist texts, the most famous of which was the Lotus Sutra — the foundation of several Eat Asian Buddhist sects.
Buddhism in China
With its incredibly rich philosophical history, a full synopsis of Buddhism would be impossible to offer here. But, since we want to explore some of the later developments of Buddhism in China, a thumbnail sketch is probably in order…
The name Buddhism derives from the Sanskrit word budh, which means “to awaken,” so the Buddha is considered to be “the awakened one.” This title was first used to refer to Siddhartha Gautama, who — as the story goes — discovered the “middle path” between his luxurious, hedonistic upbringing and the austere ascetic pursuits he had adopted in his adult life.
The realization that came to Gautama was that although every being has precisely what it needs to achieve liberation from the wheel of samsara, or cyclic rebirth, each one continues blindly and desperately to pursue such liberation. Others who have achieved similar realizations are likewise considered Buddhas. You’ve probably seen depictions of the laughing Buddha, known as Budai, who was a Chinese monk from the 11th century who is believed by Chan Buddhists to have achieved Buddhahood. Each sect has its own canon of Buddhas and bodhisattvas — i.e., those who have achieved enlightenment, but stay in this world to teach others.
Over 2500 years of development, three main branches have emerged within Buddhism. Each has its own take on the teachings of the Buddha and daily practices. Theravada means the way of the elders. They recognize only the Pali (one of the ancient languages of India) canon. Mahayana means great vehicle. They follow canons written in many languages that can be traced back to the Sanskrit (another ancient Indian language) canon. Vajrayana means the diamond vehicle. It is the result of syncretism between Buddhism and Tantric Yoga which came from Hinduism.
The Four Noble Truths
Any general description of Buddhism should probably start with the Four Noble Truths, as they represent the cornerstone of all Buddhist philosophies.
It is said that the Buddha once proclaimed: “I teach suffering, its origin, cessation, and the path. That is all.” A full statement of the Four Noble Truths appears in the Dharmacakrapravartana [“Setting the Wheel of Dharma in Motion”] Sūtra, which traditionally is held to be the teaching of the Buddha immediately after his awakening under the bodhi tree.
Briefly stated they are:
“The noble truth of suffering: birth is suffering, aging is suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering; union with what is displeasing is suffering; separation from what is pleasing is suffering; not to get what one wants is suffering.
The noble truth of the origin of suffering: it is craving which leads to re-becoming, accompanied by delight and lust, seeking delight here and there; that is, craving for sensual pleasures, craving for becoming, craving for disbecoming.
The noble truth of the cessation of suffering: it is the remainderless fading away and cessation of that same craving, the giving up and relinquishing of it, freedom from it, non-reliance on it.
The noble truth of the way leading to the cessation of suffering: it is this noble eightfold path; that is, right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration.” — Dharmacakrapravartana Sūtra
Early Buddhists along the Silk Road were keen to help others find entry into these ideas, so they endeavored both to simplify the four truths into mantras and also to translate key terms into other languages.
This happened in both directions along the Silk Road, influencing the philosophies of Hellenistic Greece in the West and Han dynasty China in the East. Han-era Daoists were particularly interested in the new arrival, as there appeared to be significant conceptual overlap between the two philosophies.
The first key term of the four truths is known as Duḥkha — or dukkha, in Pali — which is often translated as “suffering,” as we saw above. Really, though, it’s closer in meaning to “chronic frustration” or “continuous disquieting.”
When the Greek philosopher Pyrrho arrived in Taxila with Alexander the Great, he spent 18 months studying and practicing with Buddhist and Hindu “gymnosophists” (naked sages).
He translated duhkha into the Greek astathemeta (instability) and it gradually became associated with what the Greeks called ankhos, or “angst.”
The Buddhists believed chronic frustration was one of the three signs of being (which is another way of saying it was part and parcel of life itself). The other two were Anitya and Anatman, which refer to “impermanence” and “dependent origination,” respectively.
Daoists translated duhkha into kŭ and embraced anitya (Pali: annica) and anatman (Pali: anatta) as Buddhist restatements of their own wu-forms. (see Part 13)
The origin (or samudaya) of chronic frustration is Tṛ́ṣṇā (Pali: taṇhā), which is etymologically connected to our word ‘thirst.’ The Chinese translation is ài, which means love, and was a key component in the Mohist principle of jianai, or ‘universal love.’ The Buddhist believed such desire came from a lack of vision (Avidya) — as in not seeing clearly the impermanence of the world and the dependent origination of oneself.
The cessation (or nirodha) of such desire was seen as the means for alleviating chronic frustration and might result in complete releasement/exhalation/quenching of desire, known as Nirvāṇa (Pali: nibbāna). Some Buddhist schools thought there might be many vehicles (or yana) leading to nirodha and nirvana.
Each of those vehicles, however, must follow the Marga (Pail: magga) or path. For obvious reasons, the Daoists wholly embraced this notion, and translated it as dào. And, because Han-era Daoism had already been integrated with yin-yang naturalism, the 8 trigrams of the Bagua seemed to correspond naturally with the Āryāṣṭāṅgamārga (Noble Eight-fold Path)
Right consciousness (samyak samadhi) is connected to meditation in normative Buddhism. The Sanskrit word for meditation is dhyana, which became Chan in Chinese and Zen in Japanese.
Early Chinese Buddhist Traditions
Four early schools of Chinese Buddhism are Jingtuzong (Pure Land), Tiantai (named for a mountain in China, but aka “the Lotus School”), Chan, and Huayan (Flower Garland).
Jingtuzong — The Pure Land School (4th c. Jin Dynasty)
Tiantai — The Lotus School (6th c. Sui Dynasty)
Chan — The Meditation School (6th c. Liang Dynasty)
Huayen—The Flower Garland School (7th c. Tang Dynasty)
The Pure Land school placed a greater emphasis on soteriology (doctrine of salvation) and simple chanting. Those who chanted the mantras with sincerity could be reborn in the Pure Land.
The Lotus School, which still has significant influence in Hong Kong and Korea, takes a more metaphysical approach to its practice.
But, it’s the latter two — Chan and Huayan — that probably best represent Chinese Buddhist philosophy. Chan takes the more practical approach, while Huayan explores the metaphysical.
Although Chan Buddhism may be slightly older — depending on which historical account one accepts — let’s consider Huayan first.
Really, most of these schools have heavy overlap in their origins and each recognizes the founders of the others as “patriarchs” of their own tradition. Alan Watts called Huayan “the intellectual foundation of Zen (Chan).” His recounting of the 4 Dharmic Realms of Huayan in his lecture “The Religion of No Religion” helps give context:
The Dharmadhātu of ‘Things’ (Chinese: “shi fajie”). ‘Shì’ [事] is a word that appears in both the Laozi and Zhuangzi and is usually translated as “worldly affairs.” It’s used here in the sense of “matter”, “phenomenon”, or “event”. So, this first dharmic ‘realm’ (Sanskrit: dhātu) can be understood as that of all matters and phenomena.
As Watts explains:
“It is what you might call the commonsense world, the everyday world that our senses normally record… A person who is a master in Zen is called wu shi, which means ‘no business, no affectation, nothing special.’ A poem says, “On Mount Lu there is misty rain, and the River Zhe is at high tide. When you have not been there, your heart is filled with longing. But when you have been there and come back, it was nothing special. Misty rain on a mountain. A river at high tide.’
This ‘nothing special’ is wu shi. We feel that when something is nothing special it must be ordinary. But wu shi does not mean ordinary. It means, paradoxically — to our ears — that the mountain and river were nothing special in the same way that individuals with no religion can be the most truly religious of all.”
The Dharmadhātu of ‘Li’ (Chinese: “li fajie”). ‘Lǐ’ [理] is the same word we saw in Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian Lixue (or “Principle Learning”) and holds the same semantic field here, i.e. “principle”, “law”, or “noumenon”. So, this dharmic ‘realm’ may be understood as that of principles. It has been referred to as “the realm of the one principle”. The “one principle” being qualified as śūnyatā (Sanskrit).
Watts again:
“When you first see into the nature of the world, you start from shi. You begin by noticing all the particular things in the world and by being baffled by their multiplicity, and by dealing with the multiplicity of things. But as you progress in understanding, you become aware of the relationship each thing has to the other, and eventually you see the unity that lies behind them. The multiplicity of the world dissolves into unity.”
The Dharmadhātu of Non-obstruction of ‘Li’ against ‘Shi’ (Chinese: “lishi wuai fajie”). This dharmic ‘realm’ has been rendered into English as “the realm of non-obstruction between principle and phenomena.”
Here’s how Watts described it:
“The properly rounded person is an embodiment of the third dharma world, is both spiritual and material, is both otherworldly and worldly. This is the supreme attainment of a human being, to be fully both worldly and otherworldly, to avoid the extreme of one-sidedness.”
The Dharmadhātu of the Non-obstruction of ‘Shi’ and ‘Shi’ (Chinese: “shishi wuai fajie”). This dharmic ‘realm’ has been rendered into English as “the realm of non-obstruction between phenomena.”
And, in Watts’ words:
“there is still one more world beyond it, which is called shi shi wu ai. Suddenly li, the world of unity, has disappeared, but between shi and shi — particular and particular — there is still no obstruction. Between one event and any other event or events there is no mutual exclusiveness, nothing that need be united with an underlying unity. This is the highest doctrine of Mahayana Buddhism. It is the idea of the mutual interpenetration of all things, or the mutual interdependence of all things. Its symbol is Indra’s net, the principle of which is elaborated in the Avatamsaka sutra… this is the Mahayana vision of the world. No thing, no event, can exist without every other thing or event.”
The net of Indra is a recurring metaphor in Buddhist scripture. It consists of jewels at each of the net’s intersections, and each individual jewel is said to contain the reflection of the net in its entirety — but also the reflections of all those other reflections, ad infinitum.
Huineng and The Platform Sutra
In the Chan Buddhist document known as the Platform Sutra, the Chan Master Huineng expounded on the “Dharma of the Great Perfection of Wisdom.”
The Platform Sutra tells the story of how Huineng came to be named the Sixth Patriarch of the Chan school, despite being considered a “Southern barbarian” upon his arrival at the monastery.
The Fifth Patriarch deemed him unworthy of study and so assigned him to manual labor in the threshing room.
As the months went by, the Fifth Patriarch announced his plan to name his successor by having his disciples all write verses to demonstrate their worthiness. The top student, Shenxiu, scrawled the following on the wall of the monastery:
The body is the bodhi tree,
The mind is a mirror bright.
Always strive to wipe it clear,
And not let the dust alight.
The master praised the verse but admitted it did not go all the way to cardinal understanding. Later, when the illiterate Huineng overheard another disciple reciting Shenxiu’s verse, he responded with:
Originally there was no bodhi tree
There is no stand for mirror bright.
Originally there is void
How could any dust alight?
The other disciples marveled. The master did not wish to recognize the wisdom of someone who had been working in the threshing room for more than eight months, but Huineng’s insight was undeniable.
Meditation and Sudden Awakening in Chan (Zen) Buddhism
As I’ve noted, the Chan school is named for meditation — and meditation certainly plays a major role in its practice…
“Meditation is the substance of wisdom (the lamp is the substance of light); wisdom is the function of meditation (the light is the function of the lamp).” — the Platform Sutra
But, it would be a mistake to think of such meditation as focused on achieving some insight with the mind alone. Instead, as the Japanese master Dogen once stated: “Just sit zazen, and that’s the end of it… Sit in kekka-fuza [full-lotus position] with body, sit in kekka-fuza with mind, sit in kekka-fuza of body-mind falling off.”
If awakening is to occur in such a practice, it will come on all of a sudden… without mental striving:
“Do not sit with a mind fixed on emptiness.” — the Platform Sutra
“At once, suddenly, we regain our original mind.” — the Vimalakīrti Sūtra
“The Dharma has (always) been handed down in silence.” — the Platform Sutra
All of this has been summed up in a famous simile that appears in numerous sutras and commentaries, and has even made its way into popular culture. It’s known as moon-pointing finger:
“The teaching in the sutras is like a moon-pointing finger; on seeing the moon, one knows that what is marked as such (by the finger) is after all not the moon… seeing the moon requires the point of a finger; realizing the mind-heart counts on the teaching of the Buddha. One sees the moon by dint of the finger and forgets the finger on seeing the moon; one expresses the mind-heart by dint of the teaching and forgets the teaching on realizing the mind-heart. One misses the true moon by fixing on the finger and misses the original mind-heart with attachment to the teaching.” — Zongmi, A Concise Commentary on the Perfect Enlightenment Sutra
We’ve already seen this point made in other ways — viz. that adding words to an explanation can actually get in the way of understanding.
The Gong’an (Koan) Method of Sudden Enlightenment
Another component of Chan is the gong’an (koan in Japanese) — which literally means “public case,” in the sense of a legal/moral indictment of ignorance.
Typically, they depict a question-answer encounter between a young monk and a master. The monk poses a question from a particular perspective. The more experienced master offers an earnest response to the young initiate that explodes expectations.
It’s like the philosophical equivalent of grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge, taking a swig, and realizing you’ve actually grabbed the orange juice… that initial shock jolts your mind into finding a different frame of reference.
The practice dates at least as far back as the Tang dynasty, so there are numerous collections, containing dozens of such cases. Below I’ll share a few of my favorites, with a brief gloss on what I understand them to be saying.
The best gong’an are those which don’t permit of just one interpretation. I’ve even found that I’ve understood a few of them differently each time I return. These are insights that can move and grow with you!
Sekiso said: “A man sits on top of a hundred-foot pole. How can he go farther up?”
A master answered: “He should reach for enlightenment. Then he can stand up into all four corners of the sky at once. — The Gateless Barrier, Case 46
But…taking one step further from the top of the 100-foot bamboo would, of course, end with quite a thud! The goal of Chan practice is not only to ascend into the empyrean and commune with the eternal essences, but also to be washed upon the shores of concrete existence once more.
In this way, those four dharmic realms aren’t a hierarchy of steps, but instead are nested within one another. So, you don’t need to “break out” of narrow frames of reference — especially those that are self-regarding, like obsessing over poor health — so much as incorporate them INTO a broader understanding.
Great Master Ma was unwell. The temple superintendent asked him, “Teacher, how has your venerable health been in recent days?” The Great Master said, “Sun Face Buddha, Moon Face Buddha.” — The Blue Cliff Record, Case 3
Often it seems our queries consist of the wrong questions, poorly asked. We tend to think in binaries of either/or. To counterbalance this we need to consider the both/and perspective. After all, this world we inhabit is both extraordinary and mundane, breathtakingly beautiful and “nothing special.”
A master who lived as a hermit on a mountain was asked by a monk, “What is the Way?”
“What a fine mountain this is,” the master said in reply.
“I am not asking you about the mountain, but about the Way.”
“So long as you cannot go beyond the mountain, my son, you cannot reach the Way,” replied the master. — An Introduction to Zen with Parables and Stories and Koan Riddles
Well, that’s it. You’ve made it!
Thanks for sticking with me through this series!
Be sure to stay tuned for more series, including “The History of Ancient Western Philosophy,” “Medieval Philosophy and the Hindu Kush,” and “Chinese Proverbs for Self-improvement.”
Hope to see you there!
