Dear Dharma Friends, This is the last of our three-part discussion on the eight schools of Chinese Buddhism. So far we have covered the Hua-yen, Mantra, Vinaya, and Ch'an schools. Today we will discuss the remaining four schools: Yogachara, San-lun, Pure Land, and T'ien-t'ai. The Yogachara School and Its Practice The Yogachara school is also called the Mind-Only school. Its main teachings help us understand the mind, dissecting it into eight levels of consciousness. What is consciousness? It is the root of life. When we die, our body perishes, but our consciousness lives on as it courses through the cycles of rebirth. It may take on many forms, be it a celestial being, a human, or an animal. Regardless of the form, it is still the same consciousness. In order to obtain a human rebirth, we should have at least observed the precepts. If we practice meditative concentration, we may be reborn as a celestial being or reborn in Amitabha's Pure Land. Through a detailed analysis of the mind, the Yogachara school also teaches us how to transform consciousness into wisdom, thereby liberating ourselves from the cycle of rebirth. Our consciousness is such an integral part of who we are that it behooves us to understand it well.

A. The Founding Father of the Yogachara School

Many of us have heard of Hsuan-tsang, the great monk of the T'ang dynasty who journeyed to India to bring the Buddhist sutras back to China. He was born to a Chen family in C.E. 600 in Honan and became a monk when he was still an adolescent. He studied many Buddhist texts such as the Nirvana Sutra, Abhidharma, Mahayana-samparigragha Sastra, Satyasiddhi Sastra, and Abhidharma-kosa Sastra. While studying these Buddhist texts, Hsuan-tsang realized there were other sutras and sastras that were not available in China. Of those that they had, the Buddhist community could not agree on the interpretation. He vowed to journey to India to study the original texts and to bring back those that were missing.

He set out from Ch'ang-an, the capital, some time between 627 to 629. After many perils and life-threatening situations, he crossed the deserts and mountains of Central Asia and arrived in India in 633. He stayed in India for over ten years. During this time, he visited and studied in many parts of India including the famous monastic university at Nalanda. It was in Nalanda that he studied Yoga and became well versed in many of the Yogachara texts such as the Vibhasa Sastra. His insights into the Yogachara teachings were legendary and earned him the titles of Mahayanadeva and Moksadeva. Shortly before he was about to return to China, he wrote down his interpretation of the Yogachara teachings and hung them outside his door with a note that he would be much indebted to anyone who could point out any flaws in his understanding. No one came forward, for the Indians had tremendous respect for him. In 645, he arrived back home to Ch'ang-an with 657 works, many of which were key works of the Yogachara school such as the Vidyamatrasiddhi-tridasakarika Sastra, Vidyamatrasiddhi-vimsakakarika Sastra, Mahayana-samparigragha Sastra, Vidyamatrasiddhi Sastra, and Yogacaryabhumi Sastra. For the next twenty years, Hsuan-tsang dedicated his life to teaching and translating. He translated seventy-six texts, or a total of 1,347 sections. Because of his unwavering dedication, Hsuan-tsang wrote a new chapter in Chinese Buddhism, laying the cornerstone of the Yogachara school.

B. The Key teachings of the Yogachara School

The Yogachara school is also known as the Mind-Only school. It is so called because of its specific focus on the different forms, or levels, of consciousness and its tenet that the mind can change all things. The Yogachara school speaks of eight kinds of consciousness. Consciousness here refers to the functions of cognition, perception, and discrimination. The first five of the eight consciousnesses consist of the five senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touch. The sixth consciousness is called mano-vijnana, the mental sense or intellect. The seventh is called klista-mano-vijnana, the discriminating and constructive sense. The eighth is the alaya-vijnana, the storehouse of all "seeds" of consciousness.

It is easy to see the cognitive and discriminating aspects of the first five consciousnesses. Our eyes tell us the shape and color of a given object. They also enable us to see if a person is a man or a woman, old or young, tall or short. Our ears help us recognize different sounds or how a person's voice differs from another's. With our ears, we can tell if a sound is loud or soft, if a piece of music Western or Chinese. Similarly, our nose tells us how something smells, our tongue tells us about tastes, and our sense of touch lets us know if something is smooth or coarse. In short, our five senses are the results of our sensory organs taking in the external stimuli of form, sound, odor, taste, and texture.

While the first five consciousnesses require the presence of a stimulus to function, the sixth consciousness does not. The sixth consciousness is the arising of mental objects and is also called mind-consciousness. The mano-vijnana can be triggered by something concrete or imaginary, visible or invisible. The sixth consciousness can pertain to a happening in the present, an event in the past, or even an imagination of a future event. It can even compare or draw conclusions about phantom phenomena such as horned rabbits or winged horses. As we can see from the above, the sphere of influence of the sixth consciousness is much larger than that of our senses. In fact, even the abilities to dream or to attain immovable concentration in meditation are functions of the mind consciousness.

The seventh consciousness, klista-mano-vijnana, is very subtle and hard to detect. Unlike the other six types of consciousness which operate intermittently, this consciousness functions continuously. While the sixth consciousness pertains to the arising of mental objects, the seventh consciousness pontificates, calculates, and discriminates. Because of discrimination, it mistakes the eighth consciousness as self, becoming attached to the ego and believing in the permanence of self. This delusion about selfhood causes us to act foolishly, creating unwholesome karma in the process. It is precisely this discrimination that ties us to the cycle of birth and death.

The eighth consciousness is also called the alaya-vijnana or storehouse consciousness. It is the foundation of all the other seven consciousnesses. When we say that all phenomena are creations of the mind, we are saying that all phenomena are manifestations of the seeds that have been collected in this consciousness since beginingless time. The alaya-vijnana holds both the potential for enlightenment and samsara. Through the discriminations and attachments of the seventh consciousness, the seeds within the alaya-vijnana are given the conditions to grow, giving rise to new karmic actions and planting new seeds in the alaya-vijnana. This cycle is repeated again and again for aeons, giving rise to a continual unfolding of phenomena. Not only is our body and emotional make-up the creation of our consciousness, even the continents, stars, suns, moons, and the universe are also products of the alaya-vijnana. If we can only realize that all phenomena are empty in nature and are manifestations of the storehouse consciousness, we would let go of all discrimination and attachment. When we are no longer swept away by external sense data, we are on our way out of the cycles of rebirth, back to the pure, serene realm of nirvana.

Many of us may find it hard to accept that something as concrete as the external world is the product of something that is as fluid as consciousness. This is not as inconceivable as it seems at first. Take the example of dreaming. While our dreams may seem ludicrous when we are awake, they are very real to us when we are in the dream state. Sometimes our dreams become so vivid that we even sleepwalk.

There is a very interesting story regarding how great the force of our consciousness can be. It involves the great translator, Kumarajiva. When he was a young boy, he often accompanied his mother to the temple. During one of these visits he saw a bronze bell shaped like a hat. Being young and mischievous, he decided to wear it on his head. Since he looked at the bell as a hat, he was not thinking how heavy it was, and he put the bell on his head without much effort. When his mother saw what he did, she reprimanded him, "Nonsense. This is a bronze bell. How can you wear it on your head." As soon as Kumarajiva heard it was made of bronze, he became aware of its weight and could hardly hold his head up.

The way we look at the world is dependent on our state of mind. Take the example of a fish swimming in a river. An artist may look at it as a source of inspiration. A botanist may look at it as a member of a species or as a cog in the wheel of the food cycle. A fisherman may look at a fish and sees his next dinner. A shrimp in the water may look at it as a predator. The same fish, yet it evokes different responses in different beings. The same is true of the environment. A full moon on a clear night may seem romantic to people in love, but it can be a source of nuisance to a burglar trying to break into someone's house. We say, "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder." The same person can look attractive to some but repulsive to others. Because of discrimination, we develop attachments or aversions, tying us to the cycle of rebirths. The Yogachara school teaches us that the dualities of the world are products of our consciousness, and when we can transform consciousness into wisdom, we are in the company of buddhas and bodhisattvas.

C. The Yogachara Practice

In order to understand the Yogachara teachings of how everything in the universe is a creation of the mind, we have to practice non-discrimination, thereby transforming consciousness into wisdom. Consciousness is the root of life, while wisdom is the nature of buddhahood. The Yogachara school teaches us that the first five forms of consciousness can be transformed into the wisdom of excellence, the sixth consciousness into the wisdom of profound contemplation, the seventh consciousness into the wisdom of equanimity, and the eighth consciousness into the great reflective wisdom.

Our habitual tendency to discriminate has been with us so long that if we are to practice non-discrimination, we have to first cultivate these four nurturing factors: good causes, virtuous friends, reasoned faith, and devotion. Cause begets effect. For us to understand the Yogachara teachings of "mind-only," we have to plant good causes by listening to and practicing the Dharma. Additionally, we should surround ourselves with people who have the same aspirations as we do. Those who can teach us a thing or two, we should learn from them. Our friends have a lot of influence on us, and we can give each other mutual support in our spiritual journey. The journey is arduous, for Buddhism is not just a matter of understanding the teachings but also of putting them into practice. For this reason, Buddhism stresses that we should not blindly accept the teachings without first assessing their truthfulness. Only when our faith is built on right understanding can it withstands testing. The strength that reasoned faith engenders is enormous and helps us progress in our spiritual journey. The teachings of the Yogachara school are so counter-intuitive that reasoned faith is an important element of the practice, for we cannot succeed if we give up in the face of ridicule. Additionally, we should devote ourselves to the spreading of the Dharma. When we immerse ourselves in Dharma work, our conviction is strengthened and our understanding is enhanced. In this way, we benefit ourselves and provide others with the opportunity to learn the Dharma.

There are five stages in the Yogachara practice. First is the preparatory stage. When we prepare for a long trip, we have to plan ahead and make sure that we have the necessary provisions for the trip. Likewise, when we embark on a spiritual journey, we have to rely on our awakened bodhicitta for nourishment. To do this, we should accumulate merit by giving alms and helping others, and observe the bodhisattva way by practicing the four all-embracing virtues , the four universal vows , and the six paramitas . Second is the stage of continuing diligence. This is the stage of practicing endurance, patience, and tolerance. As we see in the saying "strike while the iron is hot," it is important that we do not slack off after the first stage but finish what we have started out to do. Third is the stage of the apprehension of truth when the practitioner sees the true nature of "suchness." The fourth stage is the stage of contemplation. With wisdom grown out of contemplation, the practitioner severs all discrimination and roots out all delusion. From the emptiness of self and all dharmas, one sees into the truth of "mind-only." The fifth and final stage is the complete comprehension of truth or the stage of buddhahood. This is the stage where suffering is "turned around" and becomes nirvana, where the hindrance of knowledge is "turned around" and becomes transcendental bodhi. This is the stage of complete liberation.

We have only scratched the surface of the Yogachara school teachings. The main emphasis of the Yogachara school is on understanding consciousness and transforming it into wisdom. Consciousness binds us to the wheel of rebirth, while wisdom sees the emptiness of consciousness, thereby freeing us from rebirth. To do this, we need the four nurturing factors to help us progress along the five stages of realization. Though the teachings of the Yogachara school are difficult to understand and may not appeal to all, if one follows its practice methodically, he or she may one day transform everyday consciousness into transcendental wisdom.

The San-lun School and Its Practice

San-lun is the English transliteration of two Chinese characters meaning "three sastras." As the name suggests, the school is founded on three sastras, namely, the Madhyamaka Sastra, Dvadasanikaya Sastra, and Sata Sastra. The main emphasis of the school is on seeing reality through an understanding of emptiness and conditionality.

A. The Early Patriarchs of the San-lun School

The San-lun school is often associated with two names, Kumarajiva and Chia-hsiang. Since it was the great translator Kumarajiva who originally translated the key three sastras of the school, many think of him as the founding father of the school. Another key figure of the school was Venerable Chia-hsiang, its Sixth Patriarch. He lived during the later part of the Sui dynasty and became a monk under Venerable Fa-lang when he was only seven. During those chaotic years, he found sanctuary in the Chia-hsiang temple and people began to refer him as Venerable Chia-hsiang. He was instrumental in popularizing the teachings of San-lun, which is why the school is also referred to as the Chia-hsiang school. The recognition is well deserved, for he gave over one hundred discourses on the three sastras. He was also an authority on the Lotus Sutra and composed more than forty texts.

B. The Key Teachings of the San-lun School

The main object of the San-lun school is to shatter delusion and reveal reality. To do this, the school emphasizes a thorough understanding of emptiness and conditionality. The teachings of emptiness spoken of here do not deny the existence of the phenomenal world, only that all phenomena are empty of self nature. When most people hear the word emptiness, they think of nothingness. To them, emptiness and existence are as different as night and day, and they preclude each other. The teachings of San-lun dispel such mistaken notions. Actually, what we call existence is not as permanent and unchanging as it may seem, and emptiness is not the same as nothingness. According to the San-lun school, emptiness is the birthing ground of existence. Without emptiness, there cannot be existence, and there are many examples in our everyday living that attest to this. If we did not have the empty space of an auditorium, we would not be able to hold today's talk. The empty cavity of our nose makes breathing possible. Without the empty spaces in the mouth, ears, and pores, life will not be possible.

What we call existence is really the culmination of various causes and conditions. It is not the ultimate, but only apparent, reality. Let's say I have a shirt in my hand, and I ask you all if the shirt is real. You will no doubt say it is. Actually, what we call a shirt is only a name for a piece of cloth that is cut and sewn in a certain way. Some of you may then think that the true nature of the shirt is cloth. If we continue to dig further, we will see that the cloth is really cotton, which is nothing but the culmination of various elements including cotton seeds, soil, sunlight, air, water, and manpower. It is only when all the necessary elements are present that cotton seeds grow into cotton, which can be spun into cloth and sewn into a shirt. A shirt, therefore, does not have a substantial nature of its own because its existence is interdependent on myriad factors. A shirt does not become a shirt on its own accord, and it does not independently cease to exist. Because its arising and ceasing are dependent on other factors, we say that the shirt is empty of self nature. The same is true of all phenomena. The arising and ceasing of all phenomena is nothing but the temporary substitution of one phenomena for another-nothing is really created or destroyed. This is why it says in the Heart Sutra, "Such are the characteristics of the emptiness of all dharmas: neither arising nor ceasing, not defiled nor pure, nothing is added or taken away." While we say that all phenomena are empty of self nature, they do exist in reliance of various causes and conditions. Thus, when we look at the phenomenal world, we speak of conditionality, but when we investigate the reality of all things, we speak of emptiness. Conditionality and emptiness are the two sides of a coin. They are simultaneously present in all phenomena, without impeding each other.

It is one thing to see how existence arises from emptiness, it is another to put it into practice. Most people think that more is better than less. They may want a fancier car, more grandchildren, a nicer house, or simply a bigger bank account. How does one find happiness within emptiness? Most people look at us monastics and feel sorry for us. They feel that in renouncing the lay life, we have given up the possibility of owning a home or having a family of our own. True, we do not have a home of our own, yet we feel at home everywhere we go. We do not have children of our own, yet we have students and devotees who are like our sons and daughters. If we are not narrow in defining what constitutes happiness, then life is rich with possibilities.

C. How to Contemplate Emptiness

We can understand emptiness by contemplating the emptiness of self and the emptiness of all phenomenon. The best way to contemplate the emptiness of self is to contemplate the different aspects of self: the body, senses, mind, and its environment. Thus, there are four such contemplations. First is the contemplation of the body as impure and utterly filthy. After all, our body is simply a collection of processes, producing by-products and wastes like mucous, urine, or stool, which we deem unclean once they are passed out of the body. Second is the contemplation of [discriminative] sensation as the root cause of suffering. Third is the contemplation of the mind as impermanent, merely one thought after another. Fourth is the contemplation of all things as being interdependent and without a nature of their own. These contemplations can help us let go of our attachment to self and gradually realize the emptiness of self.

How should we contemplate the emptiness of phenomena? First, we need the right understanding of what emptiness means. When we say all phenomena are empty, we do not mean there is nothing, only that phenomena are conditioned. In fact, the Sixth Patriarch of the Ch'an school once exclaimed that the intrinsic nature of all phenomena is neither created nor destroyed. After right understanding, we need to practice letting go of our attachments to the phenomena of this world. Only when we practice can we stay true to our beliefs and not become swayed by the sights and sounds of this world. Out of this serenity of the mind, wisdom grows and helps us to better see into the emptiness of all phenomena. Practice leads to serenity, which fosters wisdom. Wisdom, in turn, makes practice easier until it becomes instinctive. When our contemplation of emptiness reaches a certain stage, we will see that we even have to let go of our attachment to emptiness. This is the tranquility of nirvana.

The Pure Land School and Its Practice

The Pure Land school was first established by Hui-yuan of the Chin dynasty. Like the Ch'an school, its influence on the Chinese culture runs deep and wide. Its practice is simple and very suitable to the hectic lifestyles of the twenty-first century. This school is very popular among Chinese Buddhists.

A. Teachings of the Pure Land School 

The teachings of the Pure Land school are based on three sutras and one sastra: the Sukhavati-vyuha Sutra, Amitayus Sutra, Amitabha Sutra, and Pure Land Sastra. The teachings of this school differ from the other schools in one key aspect. Instead of directly seeking enlightenment, one seeks to be reborn in the Pure Land of Amitabha Buddha where one continues to practice until buddhahood is reached. As such, the Pure Land teachings place more emphasis on the borrowed strength of Amitabha Buddha than on self-reliance that is characteristic of the Ch'an and other schools. According to the sacred texts of the school, while Amitabha was practicing to become a buddha, he was sympathetic to how difficult it is for us in the saha world to gain enlightenment, and he made forty-eight great vows to help all sentient beings cross the sea of suffering. With the merit of his vows, Amitabha manifests the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, a land of meritorious beings and conditions that are most suited for seeing the Way. Amitabha also proclaims categorically that anyone who contemplates his name with one-pointedness of mind, be it for one day, two days, or even just ten times, will be reborn by transformation into a lotus flower in the land of Ultimate Bliss even though he or she may still be burdened with karma. Once one reaches the Pure Land, one does not regress back into the cycle of rebirth and continues to practice until full enlightenment.

B. The Pure Land Practice

While the Pure Land practice of reciting Amitabha's name is simple to understand, it is not so simple to perfect. The sutras tell us that to achieve one-pointedness of mind, we have to resonate with the compassion embedded in Amitabha's great vows through the three criteria of faith, will, and practice. To have faith is to have unwavering belief and total concentration when we recite his name. Will is total commitment to the cause of seeking rebirth in the Pure Land and not being swayed by the distractions of this world. Practice means conducting ourselves in concert with the great compassion of Amitabha Buddha. The Amitayus Sutra describes practice as follows:

1. Be filial to your parents, be respectful of your teachers and elders, be compassionate and abstain from killing, and be willing to practice benevolence.

2. Take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, observe the precepts, and maintain mental and physical well-being.

3. Develop our bodhicitta, believe in the law of cause and effect, take the Mahayana teachings to heart, and encourage others to do the same.

[On the surface, the practice of reciting Amitabha's name appears to be a superstitious practice, suitable only for the older generation. If we look deeper, however, we will understand the beauty of this seemingly simple practice. When we are mindful of Amitabha or recite his name with one-pointedness of mind, we are essentially practicing mindfulness of the three doors of karma-body, speech, and thought. When we hold the prayer beads in our hands, we make sure that our body is not engaging in unwholesome acts. When we recite the name of Amitabha, our speech is put to good use. When we recite with mindfulness, we calm the mind and practice meditative concentration.]

Throughout the history of Chinese Buddhism, there are many testimonials of people who practiced the Pure Land School of Buddhism and were reborn into the Pure Land. One such example is a blacksmith by the name of Huang. He integrated his practice with his work. Every time he raised his heavy hammer to strike a piece of iron, he recited Amitabha's name. A few years went by, and he was never lax in his practice. One day, while forging iron he uttered out loud, "Ding-dong, ding-dong, iron is smelted into steel. The time has come, to the west I go." With his hammer still in one hand, he passed away and was reborn in the Western Paradise . 
The beauty of the Pure Land practice is its simplicity and the fact that it can be practiced everywhere and anytime. We can participate in group recitations in the temple and draw upon the combined strength of the whole group to help us focus. We can also recite individually. Which one we choose really depends on our own situation. We can recite while we are folding laundry or stirring a batch of batter for baking. When we ride the train, we can synchronize the roar of the engine with our recitation. When we have to wait for someone, recitation can help calm our nerves, pass the time, and be understanding of why the person is late.

C. How Should We Recite Amitabha's Name

There are many ways to recite Amitabha's name. If we think of the splendor of Amitabha's Pure Land and the bliss that is available to those reborn there, we will naturally recite with joyfulness in our heart. On the other hand, if we think of the many sorrows that we have had, or will have, in the cycles of rebirth, we will call out to Amitabha with the sorrow of a homeless orphan calling out for help. Throughout our many rebirths, we have bobbed up and down in the sea of suffering, sometimes in the form of humans, other times in the form of animals or hungry ghosts. The sense of helplessness in this long, dark journey is, indeed, frightening. It is only natural that we call out to the compassion of Amitabha.

We should recite Amitabha's name without attachment. After all, the world and the body are empty in nature and are only composites of the four great elements and five aggregates . Our recitation is our own private conversation with Amitabha. When we open ourselves to Amitabha without attachment, we will experience his presence everywhere. This may sound like poetic exaggeration, but I can attest to this from my own experience. It happened in 1954 when I was attending a week-long Dharma service in Ilan during which we recited Amitabha's name all seven days. When I brushed my teeth, my teeth seemingly clattered his name. When I ate, the food seemed to be calling out his name to me. Even in my sleep, I was very much aware of all that were happening. The week went by in no time. From that point on, I firmly believe that the practice of saying Amitabha's name without attachment can help us realize all phenomena and the Buddha are one. In this realm of oneness, the limitations of time and space lose their meaning, and I feel a complete sense of freedom. 
It is also important that we say Amitabha's name in earnest and with total dedication. Through the strength of his vow of compassion for all sentient beings, Amitabha manifested the Pure Land. When we say his name in earnest, we draw upon this strength. When I was fifteen and became a monk, part of the ordination ceremony was the burning of incense on the crown of the head. Because of my young age, the mark left an indentation on my crown and damaged part of the nerves in my brain. My memory really suffered, and I had trouble with my school work. Finally one of the teachers suggested that I ask Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva for help. Every night I would go into the temple to plead with the Bodhisattva for help. After half a month or so, my memory became almost photographic. When we are sincere in our recitations, we open ourselves up to the compassion of the buddhas and bodhisattvas, and we can become receptive to the realm of transcendental possibilities.

While most people associate the Pure Land practice with recitation of Amitabha's name, it should be emphasized that this Dharma method is built upon the awakening of our bodhi mind, together with faith, will, and the practice of compassion. When these elements are present, we will resonate with Amitabha's compassion and be reborn in his Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

The T'ien-t'ai School and Its Practice

The Buddha started his forty plus years of teaching with the Avatamsaka Sutra and closed it with the Lotus Sutra. We will end our series on the eight schools of Chinese Buddhism with the T'ien-t'ai school that is based on the Lotus Sutra.

A. The Founding Father of T'ien-t'ai

T'ien-t'ai means heavenly terrace and is the name of a mountain in the Chekiang area, south-west of Ningpo. The founder of the school was Venerable Chih-che (C.E. 538-597). Studying under Hui-ssu of Hunan, he was greatly influenced by his teachings and found in the Lotus Sutra the real interpretation of the Mahayana teachings. One day when he was reciting the part in the Lotus Sutra which says, "Right diligence is the meaning of true offering," all his confusion disappeared. He was an articulate and eloquent speaker. During one of his teachings on the Lotus Sutra, he spent three month expounding on the Chinese word "miao," which means wondrous and profound. Concerned that people were focused on understanding but not practice, he first went to T'ien-t'ai in 575 and started a school that balanced both. The school flourished during the T'ang dynasty and became the foundation of the important Tendai Buddhist sect in Japan. His written works on the text of the Lotus Sutra, its interpretation, and the practice of meditation became the three principal texts of the school. In 597, he passed away at T'ien-t'ai, and the school he established became known as the T'ien-t'ai school.

B. Understanding and Practice

T'ien-t'ai prides itself as the school that balances both understanding and practice. It maintains that absolute reality and the phenomenal world are one and that the truth of all phenomena can be unlocked by means of meditation. Among the eight schools of Chinese Buddhism, the Yogachara, San-lun, and Hua-yen schools place heavy emphasis on understanding, while the Ch'an, Vinaya, Pure Land, and Mantra schools are weighted towards practice. T'ien-t'ai avoids either bias and likens both as the wings of a bird, equally indispensable.
T'ien-t'ai has a very methodical approach to understanding the Buddha's teachings. It classifies the teachings into five periods and eight skillful means. Chih-che's exposition on the text of the Lotus Sutra as well as his commentary on its meaning are excellent references for all Dharma teachers and scholars. In terms of practice, this school encourages its students to meditate on its two main teachings: embracing the three thousands worlds with all its forms of existence in one thought and seeing emptiness, existence, and absolute reality simultaneously in all phenomena. It is no wonder that many credit this school as most inclusive in its approach.

C. The Teachings of T'ien-t'ai

The main object of its teachings is to understand the profound truth of the Middle Way. Chih-che approached this issue from two very different angles-seeing existence in emptiness and seeing emptiness in existence. Emptiness and existence do not preclude each other. Existence is manifested because of emptiness, and emptiness is revealed in existence. This intertwining of existence and emptiness is what T'ien-t'ai referred to as absolute reality.

One of the main teachings of T'ien-t'ai is the seamless harmony of the three realms, namely, emptiness, existence, and absolute reality. Emptiness refers to the fact that all dharmas are empty in nature and cannot exist independent of others. While this is the case, dharmas arise given the right cause and conditions. This arising is what gives rise to existence. Absolute reality is the middle way that recognizes the interrelation of the two and avoids both extremes of emptiness and existence. These three realms co-exist in total harmony, each embracing the other two.

The other main teaching of this school says that the mind embodies all dharmas of the three thousand chiliocosms. Some of you may ask how is this possible? Well, when we are compassionate towards others' suffering and want to help, we are no different from the buddhas or bodhisattvas. When we are at ease with the world and see beauty in all existence, we experience the joys of celestial beings. When we succumb to sensual pleasures and become enslaved to them, we behave like hungry ghosts. When we are angry with others or bitter about our misfortunes, we are in hell. When we act foolishly, we are deluded like animals. The mind is capable of beholding any of these realms, and how we choose to act is entirely up to us.

D. The Practices of T'ien-t'ai

The main practice of T'ien-t'ai is the seeing of absolute reality through meditation. In T'ien-t'ai, the term meditation is made up of two Chinese characters "chih-kuan." Chih means to cease and kuan means to contemplate. Ceasing is silencing the active mind of all delusion, while contemplating is seeing with clarity. Ceasing is passive and is the same as meditative concentration. Contemplating is active and is the same as wisdom. Wisdom comes from stillness, and stillness precedes wisdom. Ceasing is like the calming of waves on the water's surface, while contemplating is seeing into it. Ceasing and contemplating, or concentration and wisdom, are the two wheels of a cart; they are equally important in our spiritual journey.

How do we practice ceasing and contemplating? T'ien-t'ai proposes three approaches. First is a gradual practice, starting from the elementary to the advanced. It begins with taking refuge in the Triple Gem and observing the precepts, then moving onto meditative concentration, the path of no outflow , the bodhisattva path of compassion, and finally seeing absolute reality without any bias for either emptiness or existence. Second is a more fluid approach, without any fixed formulation of where to start or what should come next. The premise of this method is that we are all different in temperament and spiritual maturity. While there is no set course, the crux of this method is the counting of breaths to still the mind and then moving on to contemplation. The third one is referred to as the complete and immediate approach and represents the crowning achievement of Chih-che. In this practice, one stills the mind with one of the four samadhi practices , which we will soon discuss, and then contemplates absolute reality until the three realms of emptiness, existence, and absolute reality are seen at one and the same time. This method is so called because it is the path for attaining immediate enlightenment. It differs from the previous two because it emphasizes the importance of both the contemplation and direct experience of absolute reality.

Another important practice of the T'ien-t'ai school is the attainment of samadhi, of which there are four kinds. The first one is called continuous-sitting samadhi. In this practice, one goes into seclusion for a period of ninety days to sit continuously and contemplate absolute reality. The single-mindedness that can be achieved in this process is quite remarkable. At the end of the seclusion, one hopes to achieve equanimity and so realizes that the transcendental and the phenomenal are one and the same.

The second one is called continuous-walking samadhi. This is similar to the first one except that sitting is replaced with walking. One circumambulates a room or a buddha statue, and when tired, one holds onto a rope hanging from the ceiling for support. Sitting and reclining are not allowed. This practice is both physically and mentally demanding. One of the monastics in Fo Guang Shan, Taiwan, practiced this kind of samadhi twice. In his case, he walked three times a day, starting with three hours each time and gradually building it up to seven hours in one stretch. After half a month or so, he felt the room cold as an ice-box. Upon my suggestion, he burned incense to the buddhas and bodhisattvas so that he could be strong. After the incense was lit, the whole room felt warm and smelled wonderful. After a while, he felt as if he had been hammered and all his orifices and pores were clogged. The discomfort was hard to bear. This method is sometimes referred to as the pratyutpanna samadhi, named after the sutra in which this was discussed. If one can endure the demands of this practice, the spiritual progress made can be immense. Many have visions of buddhas, and for this reason, this practice is also called vision-of-the-buddhas samadhi.

The third kind of samadhi is called half-walking half-sitting samadhi. As the name suggests, this practice employs a mixture of walking and sitting. The duration can be either seven days or twenty-one days long and can be done individually or with others. The last kind of samadhi is called not-sitting not-walking samadhi. This kind of samadhi is practiced in the course of our daily lives and does not involve walking or sitting as the calming vehicle. As such, it can be practiced everywhere and anytime. Of the four kinds of samadhi practices, this one is most suited to the hectic pace of modern life.

In addition to these meditative techniques, one can also calm the mind with mindfulness of the Lotus Sutra. Some simply recite or copy the sutra; others venerate each word. Like the Pure Land practice of reciting Amitabha's name, T'ien-t'ai also has a practice that involves reciting the name of the sutra. There are many testimonials about transcendental experiences from such practices. When Hui-ssu, Chih-che's teacher, first started studying the sutra, he could not understand the teachings and was saddened by his lack of wisdom. He was, however, very resolute and began to venerate the sutra repeatedly. His sincerity moved heaven and earth. One night, he dreamed of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, the patron of the sutra, appearing before him riding an elephant. From that day on, his wisdom grew tremendously, and he was able to understand the sutra. 
When the Buddha first discoursed the Lotus Sutra, a million human and celestial beings came and assembled. This gathering is now referred to as the Vulture Peak Assembly. The teachings were profound, and five thousand people left mid-way because they could not understand the teachings. I am very moved that over the last three days of this talk on the eight schools of Chinese Buddhism, all of you stayed to the very end. I hope you all have gleaned some use out of these three days and found a school that appeals to you. Thank you.