菩薩本生鬘論

Non-acting, identical with suchness.

My mind is still, free of contention,

Forgetting praise and giving,
Because the fundamental greatness is the root,

Born pure and unchanging.

In ages past, within the human realm,

He ever cultivated the practice of quiescence,

Taking the Kusuma flower,
Joining his palms, scattering it as an offering.

Far removed from all evils,

Liberated from all afflictions,

Beloved of devas and humans,

He expounds the Unsurpassed Path.

Because his mind and thought are tranquil,

He attains the pure Dharma,

The marks of the world ever-abiding,

Inexhaustible, without contrivance.

Severing the karmic activity of transmigration,

Through the power of perfected giving,

Among a hundred thousand myriad things,

Departing from the joy and bliss of birth,
Because of inverted grasping,

One therefore cannot attain realization.

Again, that buried quiescence,
Its merit and virtue ever more excellent,

That Great Bodhisattva,

Replete with great wisdom,

Therefore takes up and bears the burden.
In ages past,

He ever cultivated the six perfections,

Having severed disturbance and obstruction,
Departed and freed from samsara,

The mind of great loving-kindness and compassion

Ever pitying and wishing to aid beings,

And came to test his practice—
That mind did not waver or stir.

Therefore he uttered words of praise:

Now this good man
Appears within the world,

He is the Most Supremely Excellent One.

Amid impermanence and shifting change,

His mind abides at peace like this.

Bringing pure and sublime food,

Reverently he presents it as an offering.

The devas and people of the world,
All alike obtain wholesome benefit.

Recalling his past cultivation of pure causes,

In accord with true wisdom that is markless,
The practitioner who cultivates thus

Heals and extinguishes the sickness of affliction.

He ascends straightway to the real realm,

Ever honoring, revering, and trusting
The secret treasury of the Tathagata.

Departing from deluded grasping and discrimination,
Severing anger and affliction,

The Bodhisattva's power of compassionate vows
Pities and wishes to aid all beings,

*

Origin 1: CASTING ONESELF DOWN TO OFFER THE BODY TO THE TIGRESS

At that time, the World-Honored One, together with the great assembly, journeyed all the way to a forest belonging to a large village named Pancala. He said to the Venerable Ananda:

—Venerable One, prepare a seat for the Tathagata here!

When the task was done, the Buddha ascended the seat and said to the bhikshus:

—Do you wish to see the relics of the Tathagata from a past life, while he was cultivating ascetic practices?

The great assembly replied:

—World-Honored One, we vow that we wish to behold them.

The World-Honored One then pressed his hand upon the earth, producing six kinds of quaking, and suddenly from beneath the earth there sprang up a stupa made of the seven treasures, appearing before the great assembly. The World-Honored One rose from his seat, paid homage to the stupa, circumambulated it to the right, and then said to the Venerable Ananda:

—Venerable One, go and open the door of this stupa. You will see a box made of the seven treasures, inlaid with precious jewels; opening the lid of that box, you will see relics white as snow-white jade. Bring me the sacred remains of that Great Being.

When the World-Honored One had taken the sacred remains, he told the great assembly to look closely, and he recited a verse:

The Bodhisattva's merit surpasses all; Diligently he cultivated the practice of the six perfections; Valiantly he sought bodhi; Casting off his body, his mind without regret.

The Buddha said:

—Bhikshus, you must all show reverence and homage, for these relics arise from the perfuming and cultivation of wisdom through the immeasurable fragrance of Discipline, Concentration, and Wisdom.

The entire great assembly paid homage and praised it as something never before seen.

At that time, the Venerable Ananda addressed the Buddha:

—World-Honored One, the Tathagata is the Great Teacher who has transcended the three realms. For what cause and condition does he pay homage to this handful of bones?

The Buddha replied:

—Ananda, it is from this handful of bones that the Tathagata has now become a Buddha. To repay the kindness of old, I therefore pay homage today. To dispel any remaining doubt in your minds, the Tathagata will speak of the causes and conditions of my past lives. The great assembly must listen with single-minded attention:

Ananda, in the past, immeasurable kalpas ago, there was a king named Maharatha. The king had three sons: the first prince was named Mahapranada, the second prince was named Mahadeva, and the third prince was named Mahasattva. At that time, the king arranged an excursion to view the scenery of the mountains, bringing the three princes along, and they rested for a while in a great bamboo grove. The next day, the three princes continued on their stroll and saw a tigress that had given birth to seven cubs seven days before. The first prince said:

—These seven cubs constantly cluster about the tigress, leaving her no leisure to go seek prey; I fear that, pressed by hunger and thirst, she may devour her own cubs. The second prince, hearing these words, lamented:

—Alas! This tigress and her cubs will all soon die. Is there any way we might save their lives?

The third prince silently thought: "This body of mine, through a hundred thousand lifetimes, has been cast off wastefully, withered and decayed, never having gained the slightest benefit. Why today can I not cast it off?" The princes spoke and thought thus, and then, their hearts stirred, they lingered a while beside the starving tigress and her cubs before returning.

Prince Sattva again thought: "My body must accomplish the great wholesome karma; in the sea of birth and death it can serve as a great ship. If I cast off this body, I sever the hundred thousand fears of immeasurable ulcers and grievous illnesses, for this body is but a vessel of impure things, merely sinews and bones joined and sustained—truly worthy of weariness. Therefore I should now forsake it, in order to seek the ultimate, unsurpassed path of liberation, forever departing from all grief, sorrow, suffering, affliction, and impermanence, attaining the adornment of a hundred blessings, accomplishing All-Knowing Wisdom, and bestowing immeasurable Dharma-bliss upon sentient beings."

At that time, the prince roused great and mighty valor, and with the power of compassionate vows he strengthened his mind. Fearing that his two elder brothers might obstruct his aspiration, he asked the two of them to return to the palace first, saying that he would follow afterward.

Thereupon, Prince Mahasattva hurried back into the bamboo grove, came to the starving tigress and her cubs, removed his garments and hung them upon a tree branch, and then laid his body down before the mouth of the starving tigress. With a mind of loving-kindness and compassion the Bodhisattva endured, ready to cast off his body. But the tigress could do nothing.

The Bodhisattva thought: "The tigress is now starving and too weak to seize my body." He then took a dry bamboo stalk and pierced his own neck so that blood flowed out, and climbing upon a high rock, he cast himself down to the ground. At that very moment, the great earth manifested the six kinds of quaking, like a furious gale stirring up the waves of the sea, rising and sinking without rest; the sun suddenly darkened as though its light were blotted out by an asura.

The heavens rained down all kinds of flowers and sublime powdered incense, layer upon layer falling to cover the bamboo grove; in the sky the devas all gave praise.

Then the starving tigress licked the blood from the Bodhisattva's neck and devoured all his flesh, leaving only the bones. At that time, the two elder brothers, their hearts giving rise to grief and sorrow, ran together to the place of the starving tigress; unable to contain their feelings, they cast themselves upon the remaining bones of their younger brother, swooned for a long while before reviving, and wept in mourning, lingering long before at last returning.

Now the queen consort was sleeping atop a high tower, and in her dream she suddenly saw inauspicious omens: her teeth fell out, her two breasts were cut off, and she saw three young doves, one of which was seized and carried off by a hawk. The consort awoke and found that her two breasts were still flowing with milk. A maidservant heard people outside saying, "The search for the prince has still found nothing!" and rushed into the palace to inform the consort. Hearing this, the consort, anxious and sorrowful, wept with eyes full of tears, and hastened to where the king was seated, declaring:

—Great King, we have lost our beloved youngest son!

When the king heard this, he sighed, choked with grief:

—Today I have lost my beloved son; how great is my suffering!

Then he comforted the consort with words:

—Do not grieve, my lady. I shall now order the ministers and the people to assemble, go out from the city together, and disperse to search.

A short while later, a minister returned and reported to the king: According to the news received, the two elder princes had just been found, but the youngest prince had still not been located.

Next, a second minister, his bearing sorrowful and weeping, came before the king and reported to him the whole matter of the prince's casting off of his body.

The king and the consort were so grieved that they could not restrain themselves. They went together to the place where the Bodhisattva had cast off his body, and seeing only the heap of bones left behind, they fell prostrate upon it, writhing, and then both swooned, losing all awareness. The attendants hastily sprinkled water over their entire bodies, and after a long while they revived. At that time, the consort, her hair disheveled, rolled upon the ground like a fish stranded on dry land, like a mother cow that has lost its calf; together with the two princes she wept and wailed in grief. Then she had the king issue an order to perform the cremation rites, to gather the relics from the body of the Bodhisattva and enshrine them within a precious stupa, in order to make offerings.

The Buddha said:

—Venerable Ananda should know that the relics I am holding here are precisely the relics of Mahasattva. At that time, although I still had many afflictions of greed, anger, and delusion, and constantly dwelt in the evil realms such as the hells, hungry ghosts, and animals, I rescued sentient beings according to conditions, causing them to escape those paths. How much more so today, when all afflictions are utterly ended, and there remain no more habitual tendencies, when I am called the Teacher of devas and humans, replete with All-Knowing Wisdom—how could I not, for the sake of all sentient beings in every perilous circumstance, take their place and bear their sufferings?

The Buddha said to the Venerable Ananda:

—Prince Mahasattva of old was no stranger; he is none other than my own body, here in this assembly today. The king of that time is now my royal father, Suddhodana; the queen consort then is now Lady Maya. The eldest prince is now the Bodhisattva Maitreya; the second prince is now the Bodhisattva Manjushri. The starving tigress of old is now my aunt who raised me. The bag of tiger cubs are now: Mahamaudgalyayana, Shariputra, and the five bhikshus of Kaundinya's group.

When the World-Honored One had thus spoken of the causes and conditions of his past life, the immeasurable, incalculable great assembly of devas and humans were all filled with mingled grief and joy, and together gave rise to the aspiration to seek the fruit of Unsurpassed, Perfect, Complete Enlightenment.

The Buddha withdrew his spiritual power, and the marvelous stupa of the seven treasures that had appeared before now suddenly vanished.

– *

*

Origin 2:

KING SIBI SAVES THE LIFE OF THE DOVE

The Buddha said to the bhikshus:

—I recall, long ago, immeasurable, incalculable kalpas past, in the land of Jambudvipa there was a great king named Sibi, whose chosen capital was named Devati. The land of the country was fertile, and the people lived in abundance and joy. The great king ruled over eighty-four thousand small countries; his consorts and palace women numbered twenty thousand in all; he had five hundred princes and ten thousand ministers. The king was full of loving-kindness and compassion, and carried out a policy of benevolence, tolerance, and magnanimity, loving and wishing to aid the people as a kind mother loves her infant child.

At that time Indra, lord of the Thirty-Three Heavens, manifested the five clear signs of decline and was about to fall and degenerate. The heavenly lord had a close attendant named the deva-son Vishvakarman, who, seeing Indra's countenance thus, addressed him:

—For what reason does the heavenly lord's noble bearing seem so sorrowful?

Indra replied:

—My kalpa is about to end. Moreover, considering that in the world the Buddha-dharma has perished, and that no Great Bodhisattvas have appeared in response, my mind is anxious, not knowing on what to rely!

The deva-son Vishvakarman further addressed him:

—O heavenly lord, now in the land of Jambudvipa there is King Sibi, a man diligent and firm of resolve, seeking the Buddha-path. The heavenly lord should go there and take refuge; surely you will be delivered from calamity.

Indra, hearing this, was uncertain whether it was true or false: "If King Sibi is truly a Bodhisattva, I shall test him." He then said to Vishvakarman:

—You transform into a dove, and I shall become a hawk. The hawk will chase and seize the dove; the dove will flee into the royal palace and beg the king for protection. In this way it can be discerned whether the king is truly a Bodhisattva.

Vishvakarman addressed him:

—Today, toward a Bodhisattva, we should reverently make offerings; we should not disturb him, nor bring calamity, distress, and torment to make a person suffer.

Then the deva Indra spoke a verse:

My mind is fundamentally without evil; As one uses fire to test gold,

I shall test this Bodhisattva—

Is he truly a real one?

Having spoken the verse, the deva-son Vishvakarman then transformed into a dove, and Indra became a hawk that chased it swiftly, nearly catching the dove. The dove, terrified, flew and hid beneath the armpit of King Sibi, begging for rescue and protection. The hawk alighted before the king and spoke in human speech:

—This dove is my food; I am now exceedingly hungry. I beg the king to return the dove to me.

The king replied:

—My fundamental vow is to rescue and deliver all sentient beings. This dove has crept into my robe; I absolutely cannot return it to you.

The hawk said:

—Great King, you say that today you ever pity, remember, and think of all sentient beings. Yet if you cut off my portion of food, then my life is endangered—why do you not save it?

The king replied:

—If I substitute other kinds of flesh for you, can you eat it?

The hawk said:

—Only flesh still warm with fresh blood can I eat.

The king silently thought: "If I kill one life to save another life, that is not in accord with principle. Only the flesh of my own body can substitute for that flesh; apart from this, all the many other lives must be preserved." Having thought thus, the king then took a sharp knife and cut the flesh from his own thigh, and gave that flesh to the hawk in exchange for the life of the dove.

The hawk said:

—The king is a benefactor; now offering the flesh of his own body to substitute for the flesh of the dove, your flesh must be equal in weight to the dove's flesh.

The king had a balance brought; the two ends of the beam held two scale-pans, and a hook was hung at the center, adjusted to be level. Then he placed the bird and the flesh each in a pan. The king had cut off all the flesh of his thigh, yet the beam of the balance still tipped toward the dove.

He went on to cut the flesh of his arms, the flesh of his flanks—until, at last, there was not the slightest bit of flesh remaining anywhere on the king's whole body, and still it did not balance against the small, light form of the dove. The king wished to place his entire body upon the scale-pan, but his strength was not as he wished, and so his legs gave way and he fell prostrate, swooning to the ground, losing all awareness; after a long while he revived.

The king summoned mighty strength, his mind reproaching himself: "From countless kalpas until now I have been burdened and afflicted by this body, transmigrating through the six paths and undergoing every kind of suffering, never once having brought blessing and benefit to sentient beings. Now is precisely the time to create blessing and benefit—why am I so slack and slothful?" The great king, having thought thus, forced himself to rise and climbed into the scale-pan, his mind exceedingly joyful, attaining what had never been before.

At that time, the great earth manifested the six kinds of quaking, and all the palaces of the devas were shaken. The devas of the Form realm, abiding in space, sang his praises; seeing the Bodhisattva cultivating ascetic practice and doing what is difficult to do, each was moved to grief and shed tears like rain, and then scattered all kinds of heavenly flowers to express their offering. At that time, the deva Indra and the deva-son Vishvakarman both revealed their true forms and, standing before the king, said:

—The merit of the great king's cultivation of ascetic practice is truly inconceivable! Within the three realms, does the great king devote this merit to seeking the fruit of a Wheel-Turning King, of Brahma, of Indra—or what does he wish to do?

The king replied:

—My fundamental vow is not to seek the blessed reward of worldly honor. I only vow to devote this merit to seeking the accomplishment of the Buddha-path.

Indra further asked:

—Now your body aches to the very marrow of the bones. Does any thought of regret arise?

The king replied:

—Not the slightest regret. I see upon your body a calamity exceedingly great.

Indra said:

—The king says he has no regret; then what shall serve as proof?

The king then made a vow:

—From the time I gave rise to the aspiration until now, there has not been the slightest trace of regret. If my sought-for, decisive accomplishment of Buddhahood is truly real and without falsehood, just as my fundamental vow, then may all the limbs and parts of my body now at once be restored as before.

When he had uttered this vow, in but a moment the king's body became as before. The devas and people of the world all praised it as something never before seen, and could not restrain their boundless joy.

The Buddha said to the great assembly:

—King Sibi of old was no stranger; he is none other than my own body today.

At that time, the assembly, hearing the Buddha's words, all with one voice asked:

—In ages past, the World-Honored One, in order to rescue and deliver sentient beings, cultivated the practices of casting off body and life to seek the great Dharma. When he attained the path, the sea of Dharma was perfectly fulfilled, the Dharma-banner was raised, the Dharma-drum was struck, the Dharma-torch was lit—it was precisely the time when the faculties of sentient beings had ripened and the causes and conditions were suitable.

Why then did the Tathagata wish to forsake all sentient beings and enter Nirvana without expounding the Dharma? It was only when the deva Brahma praised the Tathagata's former life—how, devoted to seeking the Dharma, he had cast off a thousand heads—that he then accepted, went to the Deer Park in the land of Varanasi, three times turned the Wheel of the True Dharma, and contemplated the Dharma of the Four Noble Truths.

From then on the Triple Gem first appeared in the world.

– *

*

Origin 3:

THE TATHAGATA GOES BEGGING FOR ALMS

At that time, the World-Honored One was dwelling in the multi-storied lecture hall within the Bamboo Grove monastery, in the land of Magadha. When the time for the meal was approaching, the Buddha, together with the Venerable Ananda, donned their robes, took up their begging bowls, and entered the city to beg for alms. They saw an old couple, frail and weak, both blind in the eyes and besides that poor and destitute, who had only a single son, just seven years of age. This son constantly went begging to support his parents; whenever he obtained fine food or fresh, good fruit, he offered it to his parents to eat first, while food that was not good and fruit that was bruised and withered he ate himself.

At that time, the Venerable Ananda silently thought: "This child is still of tender years, yet has the conduct of supreme filial piety; morning and evening he attends to them with earnest care, not letting his parents lack for anything."

When the Buddha had finished begging for alms, he returned to the monastery; having finished his meal, he washed his feet, spread his seat, and sat down, about to expound the scriptural Dharma for the great assembly.

The Venerable Ananda came before the Buddha, joined his palms, and said:

—World-Honored One, just now while I was attending the World-Honored One in entering the city to beg for alms, I saw a small child leading his blind parents to beg for food here and there, supporting his parents with the utmost filial devotion. To be able to do this every day is truly difficult.

The Buddha said:

—Ananda, it is not only the householder, but also those who have gone forth, who must all take filial conduct as the first thing. As for merit, the merit of filial devotion toward one's parents is beyond measure. Why is this?

I recall that in the past, immeasurable kalpas ago, I was a young boy, also seven years of age. Out of filial obedience, I once cut the flesh of my own body to save the lives of my parents in a moment of grave peril. From then until now, by this merit, I have constantly been Indra or a king of the human realm, and even to the present, my becoming a Buddha is all due to that merit and virtue.

The Venerable Ananda addressed the Buddha:

—World-Honored One, I wish to hear the cause of how, in a past life, you saved the lives of your parents. How did that come about?

The Buddha said:

—Ananda, listen carefully; for your sake I shall recount that story.

In ages past, in this land of Jambudvipa, there was a great country named Takshashila. The king was named Deva, and he had ten princes, each ruling a small country. The youngest prince was named Subhavasa. The king's land was prosperous and peaceful, and the people lived in tranquility. At that time, there was a cruel and evil king in a neighboring country named Rahu, who wished to invade and seize the land of King Subhavasa. King Rahu allied himself with violent men and raised troops and generals to attack. King Subhavasa's military strength was inferior, and so he had to flee back to the country of his father to take refuge.

King Subhavasa had a beloved prince named Subhajata, still of tender years and unable to be parted from him. So the king, leading his wife by one hand and supporting his son with the other, hastily fled from the country. The road back to his homeland had two routes: one route took only seven days to reach his native land, while the other route was narrow, remote, and winding, requiring fourteen days to arrive.

The king strove to bring along a store of provisions sufficient for seven days, but on the road, fleeing the enemy, his mind was confused and panicked, and so he mistakenly took the winding, remote route. As a result, when he had gone but halfway, the provisions were already exhausted; in the following days all three were hungry, thirsty, weary, and exhausted, and looking all around they had almost nothing left to live on.

Because of the urgency, the only recourse was to sacrifice one person to preserve the lives of two. So the king told his wife to lead the child ahead, while he himself followed behind, drawing his sword, about to slay his wife to nourish the prince and his own life. At that moment, Prince Subhajata suddenly looked back and saw his father raising the sword, about to slay his royal mother, and so he hastily cried out:

—I beg my royal father not to kill my mother; rather cut the flesh of my body to use as provisions! I have never heard of any son who would eat the flesh of his own mother.

Subhajata earnestly and sincerely wept and pleaded that his mother's life might be preserved whole.

Subhajata further addressed his royal father:

—I vow to use the flesh of my body to save the lives of my parents. If you cut the flesh, please do not cut it all at once; you may cut and eat little by little, enough to last the number of days of the remaining journey. If you cut it all at once, then once my life ends the flesh will rot and spoil and surely have to be thrown away, and as a means of relieving hunger that would fail.

At that time, the royal father and royal mother together said to Subhajata:

—For us to commit this sinful deed today is truly not our original intent. But how could we two bear to take a knife and directly cut the flesh of our own child?

At that time, the prince, his mind already resolved, then took a sharp knife and cut the flesh of his own body, kneeling to offer it to his parents. The king and the consort, seeing such a thing, wept bitterly in grief, and after a long while at last brought themselves to eat their child's flesh. After several days, the flesh on the child's body was all gone, yet they had not arrived, and the pangs of hunger and thirst grew ever more pressing and unbearable. In the spaces between the joints of his bones there remained only a little flesh, just enough to sustain the faint, lingering life of the prince in his final moments. Subhavasa and the consort comforted their child with loving words, pressing their heads together in lingering attachment, and then had to bring themselves to depart.

Then the prince silently thought: "I have used the flesh of my own body to save the lives of my parents; may my parents reach their former homeland, their bodies at peace, and enjoy a life of tranquility. I vow that by this wholesome root I may swiftly realize bodhi, in order to rescue and deliver all sentient beings throughout the ten directions, that they may depart from all suffering and enjoy the true and constant bliss." When the prince made this vow, the Three-Thousand-Great-Thousandfold world manifested the six kinds of quaking; all the devas of the Desire realm and the Form realm were astonished, and at once used their heavenly eyes to observe the world, and only then knew that a Bodhisattva was cultivating filial conduct in this way.

The deva-sons in space joined their palms and praised his merit, their tears falling like rain.

At that time, the deva Indra transformed into a tiger and a wolf, wishing to come and devour the flesh in order to test the Bodhisattva's mind. The prince thought to himself: "These savage beasts wish to come and devour my flesh; I now have only this handful of remaining bones left—I shall, with a joyful mind, give it all away, without the slightest regret or grief."

Immediately, Indra revealed his true form and praised the prince:

—How rarely it is! That you could use the flesh of your own body to save the lives of your parents—such a filial mind, none can match! What do you seek? Pray tell us.

The prince replied:

—I seek only to attain the unsurpassed Buddha-path.

The heavenly lord further asked:

—I now see your body: for the filial support of your parents, the flesh and skin are all gone, and that suffering is truly hard to endure. Do you have any regret?

The prince replied:

—If it is truly so that my mind has not the slightest regret, and that I shall surely become a Buddha in a future life, then may the flesh upon my body be restored complete as before.

When he had spoken this vow, at once his body was restored as before. At that time, Indra and the devas all praised him without ceasing:

—Excellent! Excellent!

The Buddha said to the Venerable Ananda:

—King Subhavasa of old is now my royal father, Suddhodana; the royal consort of that time is now Lady Maya; and Prince Subhajata is my own body.