However, Nagarjuna contested the Yogacharin “mind-only” proposition and, in fact, questioned the very existence of “mind” altogether. He studied the twelve volumes of the Prajnaparamita scriptures, which came out of the second turning of the Wheel of Doctrine by the Buddha, the teaching of the middle portion of his life. Nagarjuna’s conclusions are summed up in the principle of “non-dwelling,” the main principle of the Madhyamika school. He said that any philosophical view could be refuted, that one must not dwell upon any answer or description of reality, whether extreme or moderate, including the notion of “one mind.” Even to say that non-dwelling is the answer is delusory, for one must not dwell upon non-dwelling. Nagarjuna’s way was one of non-philosophy, which was not simply another philosophy at all. He said, “The wise should not dwell in the middle either.”
Madhyamika philosophy is a critical view of the Yogacharin theory that everything is an aspect of mind. The Madhyamika argument runs: “In order to say that mind exists or that everything is the play of the one mind, there must be someone watching mind, the knower of mind who vouches for its existence.” Thus the whole of Yogachara is necessarily a theory on the part of this watcher. But according to the Yogacharyans’ own philosophy of self-luminous cognition, subjective thoughts about an object are delusive, there being no subject or object but only the one mind of which the watcher is a part. Therefore, it is impossible to state that the one mind exists. Like the physical eye, self-luminous cognition cannot see itself, just as a razor cannot cut itself. By the Yogacharyans’ own admission, there is no one to know that the one mind exists.
Then what can we say about mind or reality? Since there is no one to perceive a mind or reality, the notion of existence in terms of “things” and “form” is delusory; there is no reality, no perceiver of reality, and no thoughts derived from perception of reality. Once we have taken away this preconception of the existence of mind and reality, then situations emerge clearly, as they are. There is no one to watch, no one to know anything. Reality just is, and this is what is meant by the term “shunyata.” Through this insight the watcher which separates us from the world is removed.
How then does belief in an “I” and the whole neurotic process begin? Roughly, according to the Madhyamikas, whenever a perception of form occurs, there is an immediate reaction of fascination and uncertainty on the part of an implied perceiver of the form. This reaction is almost instantaneous. It takes only a fraction of a fraction of a second. And as soon as we have established recognition of what the thing is, our next response is to give it a name. With the name of course comes concept. We tend to conceptualize the object, which means that at this point we are no longer able to perceive things as they actually are. We have created a kind of padding, a filter or veil between ourselves and the object. This is what prevents the maintenance of continual awareness both during and after meditation practice. This veil removes us from panoramic awareness and the presence of the meditative state, because again and again we are unable to see things as they are. We feel compelled to name, to translate, to think discursively, and this activity takes us further away from direct and accurate perception. So shunyata is not merely awareness of what we are and how we are in relation to such and such an object, but rather it is clarity which transcends conceptual padding and unnecessary confusions. One is no longer fascinated by the object nor involved as a subject. It is freedom from this and that. What remains is open space, the absence of the this-and-that dichotomy. This is what is meant by the Middle Way or Madhyamika.
The experience of shunyata cannot be developed without first having worked through the narrow path of discipline and technique. Technique is necessary to start with, but it is also necessary at some stage for the technique to fall away. From the ultimate point of view the whole process of learning and practice is quite unnecessary. We could perceive the absence of ego at a single glance. But we would not accept such a simple truth. In other words, we have to learn in order to unlearn. The whole process is that of undoing the ego. We start by learning to deal with neurotic thoughts and emotions. Then false concepts are removed through the understanding of emptiness, of openness. This is the experience of shunyata. Shunyata in Sanskrit means literally “void” or “emptiness,” that is to say, “space,” the absence of all conceptualized attitudes. Thus Nagarjuna says in his Commentary on Madhyamika: “Just as the sun dispels darkness, the perfect sage has conquered the false habits of mind. He does not see the mind or thought derived from the mind.”
The Heart Sutra ends with “the great spell” or mantra. It says in the Tibetan version: “Therefore the mantra of transcendent knowledge, the mantra of deep insight, the unsurpassed mantra, the unequalled mantra, the mantra which calms all suffering, should be known as truth, for there is no deception.” The potency of this mantra comes not from some imagined mystical or magical power of the words but from their meaning. It is interesting that after discussing shunyata—form is empty, emptiness is form, form is no other than emptiness, emptiness is identical with form and so on—the sutra goes on to discuss mantra. At the beginning it speaks in terms of the meditative state, and finally it speaks of mantra or words. This is because in the beginning we must develop a confidence in our understanding, clearing out all preconceptions; nihilism, eternalism, all beliefs have to be cut through, transcended. And when a person is completely exposed, fully unclothed, fully unmasked, completely naked, completely opened—at that very moment he sees the power of the word. When the basic, absolute, ultimate hypocrisy has been unmasked, then one really begins to see the jewel shining in its brightness: the energetic, living quality of openness, the living quality of surrender, the living quality of renunciation.
Renunciation in this instance is not just throwing away but, having thrown everything away, we begin to feel the living quality of peace. And this particular peace is not feeble peace, feeble openness, but it has a strong character, an invincible quality, an unshakeable quality, because it admits no gaps of hypocrisy. It is complete peace in all directions, so that not even a speck of a dark corner exists for doubt and hypocrisy. Complete openness is complete victory because we do not fear, we do not try to defend ourselves at all. Therefore this is a great mantra. One would have thought that instead of saying, Om gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha, this mantra would say something about shunyata—Om shunyata mahashunyata—or something of the sort. Instead it says, Gate gate—“gone, gone, gone beyond, completely gone.” This is much stronger than saying “shunyata,” because the word “shunyata” might imply a philosophical interpretation. Instead of formulating something philosophical, this mantra exposes that which lies beyond philosophy. Therefore it is gate gate—“gone, given up, got rid of, opened.” The first gate is “rid of the veil of conflicting emotions.” The second gate represents the veil of primitive beliefs about reality. That is, the first gate represents the idea that “form is empty,” and the second gate refers to “emptiness is form.” Then the next word of the mantra is paragate—“gone beyond, completely exposed.” Now form is form—paragate—and it is not only that form is form but emptiness is emptiness, parasamgate—“completely gone beyond.” Bodhi. Bodhi here means “completely awake.” The meaning is “given up, completely unmasked, naked, completely open.” Svaha is a traditional ending for mantras which means, “Sobeit.” “Gone, gone, gone beyond, completely exposed, awake, sobeit.”