What are the forces of the mind? Suppose I see a girl and become deeply attracted to her. I would go to see her every single day. I even carry her photograph around to look at it over and over again, and think of her day and night. Such repeated mental activity gradually develops into a powerful momentum. This force may cause me to dream about her at night, or even become so intense that I even seem to see her during the daytime as well—at which point I would practically lose my mind.
Let us take another example: playing mahjong. If you play mahjong every day, constantly drawing tiles—two bamboos, two circles, three wan, eight wan, red dragon, green dragon, white dragon—for three days and nights straight, then this repeated activity will also build up a force. As a result, even in your sleep you will dream of drawing mahjong tiles. In fact, it does not even take three days. Whenever I used to play mahjong for seven or eight hours straight, I would later dream about drawing the exact tile I needed, even laughing myself awake from the dream. This is what is meant by a “force.”
We cannot directly perceive what these forces are, yet they become deeply embedded within the mind. Of course, people commonly refer to this as “memory,” but the term “memory” is far too superficial. It only refers to past actions and thoughts that we can still consciously recall. The “memory” of the ālayavijñāna, however, is vastly profound: karmic imprints from countless lifetimes are stored within it. Though we cannot see or touch them, they continue to exert influence. This very function is what is called “force.”
When such a force becomes extraordinarily immense, it is called “Mahāsthāmaprāpta”—literally, “arrival of the great strength,” signifying an overwhelming or irresistible momentum. Thus, “Mahāsthāmaprāpta Bodhisattva” actually symbolizes the greatest force within our mental continuum (the continuity of the ālayavijñāna is called the continuum). The most compassionate force within our continuum is Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva; the force of supreme wisdom is Mañjuśrī Bodhisattva; and the very essence of the continuum itself is Śākyamuni Buddha. Buddha is none other than intrinsic nature itself.
The ālayavijñāna stores all experiences and impressions, forming various forces. Yet while these forces remain unmanifest within the state of ālayavijñāna, they exist in an undifferentiated equilibrium, without all the chaotic distinctions and appearances coming forth. However, we cannot remain forever in the state of ālayavijñāna. The latent forces hidden within it inevitably arise, and once they emerge, they give rise to what we call the world and the individual self.
We believe there exists an individual entity called “I”; this is known as grasping at the self of a person (pudgalātmagrāha). At the same time, we also possess a strong attachment to the apparent existence of phenomena outside ourselves. For example, we feel that this table exists, that the person sitting across from us exists. Even though through logical analysis we may conclude that all these things are empty and without inherent substance, if someone were to cut off your ear and stir-fry it in a pan, you would immediately realize: “Although the ear has no true substance, the pain is still vividly experienced!” That intense sense of the existence of phenomena is called grasping at phenomena (dharmātmagrāha).
Attachment is not reasonable. Although conceptually we may understand that all phenomena lack inherent existence, the mind itself cannot genuinely experience that reality, nor can it thereby eliminate attachment.
—Excerpted and compiled from The Relationship Between Buddhist Theory and Practice
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
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