The Heart Sutra

I’ve got a daughter. Her name is Kanoko.

Actually, I don’t just have one daughter. I’ve got three. Sometimes when I’m writing about “Kanoko,” I’m writing about just one of my daughters. Sometimes it’s like I’ve added all my daughters together then divided by three. Sometimes even I’m not entirely sure who I mean.

In any case, I’ve got a daughter named Kanoko.

Long ago, when she was a little girl, I wrote lots of books about her. I even wrote a poem in which I imagined what it might be like to kill her. But don’t worry. Kanoko is alive. She’s all grown up and out on her own. She works in a facility for autism and schizophrenia patients. At night, she moonlights as a musician, performing in different places. She’s an improvisational musician, talented at creating music right there on the spot. About a year ago, she started talking about wanting to become a nun. She told me she’d started going to a Christian church.

Why a nun?

In Japanese, the question sounds funny. Nan de nan? Practically a palindrome.

As her mother, I had to ask. I didn’t get upset or fly off the handle though. That’s one way of living, I suppose. Not much time passed though before she gave up on that dream.

Why not a nun? I never got a real answer.

Kanoko calls pretty often. On one occasion, we got to talking about the Heart Sutra. It’s super interesting, she said. I like the part about the five skandhas, she said.

Back in the day, she used to have a hard time speaking. I suppose that really hasn’t changed all that much, even after growing up. Her voice is still high-pitched like a little girl’s. She’s been surrounded by English for decades, but there’s still something faltering about how she uses the language. Her Japanese abilities have regressed too. Still, she sometimes asks me to send her Japanese books or to buy her something specific. She is able to read. Maybe it’s just verbal expression that gives her a hard time. However, writing is definitely her weak point. I’m not totally sure if she can even write katakana.

In any case, let’s put that aside.

(Say, Kanoko, next time we talk, would you be willing to explain to me what you think the Heart Sutra means?)

Sure, Mom, she said.

So, one night, she called me and we had a long conversation, mostly in Japanese but with lots of English words sprinkled throughout.

What follows is the way I remember it.

---

All right. Here we go, Mom.

I don’t have the full Japanese translation right in front of me. So, I’m looking at the Chinese. All written in kanji.

觀かん自じ在ざい菩ぼ薩さつ
行ぎょう深じん般はん若にゃ波は羅ら蜜み多た時じ

Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva:
When practicing deep Prajñāpāramitā

I imagine Kannon is talking here in the first person. He starts off by saying, when I was doing meditation, I saw something.

(Isn’t there any other way we can refer to him? When you use the Japanese name “Kannon” that brings in a muddle of all sorts of different associations for me.)

Okay, Mom, want to use the Sanskrit name instead of the Japanese translation? Avalokiteśvara then. The bodhisattva who was able to see all sorts of different things through his practice.

(I suppose there’s something cute about the word Kannon after all. On second thought, let’s go with that after all.)

Okay, Kannon then. Here’s what he says.

照しょう見けん五ご蘊おん皆かい空くう
度ど一いっ切さい苦く厄やく

I perceived all five aggregates to be empty
And at once was saved from all suffering and distress

He’s saying, “I’ve understood all the things I think to be true are formulations of the five skandhas or aggregates. And then, those five aggregates don’t have any substance.”

But that alone wasn’t enough to make himself understood. He had to explain what the aggregates are and what it means to say they’re empty, right? Like really who’d understand him if that’s all he said? He also emphasizes, “If we human beings are able to understand these things too, then we can escape from all our pains and suffering.”

By five aggregates, I think he’s talking about processes. In English, modes maybe.

(Processes? Formations? Like classifications of how mind and matter work?)

Oh, maybe. I’m not entirely sure.

舍しゃ利り子し
色しき不ふ異い空くう
空くう不ふ異い色しき
色しき即そく是ぜ空くう
空くう即そく是ぜ色しき
受じゅ想そう行ぎょう識しき
亦やく復ぶ如にょ是ぜ

Śāriputra,
Form does not differ from emptiness
Emptiness does not differ from form
Form itself is emptiness
Emptiness itself is form
For sensations, thoughts, impulses, and consciousness
The same again holds true

He starts talking about the first of these five aggregates he’s been mentioning. It’s written 色, the same word meaning “color” in modern Japanese, but that’s not what it means here.

It means the form of things. When we talk about “forms,” it sounds like we’re talking about only visual things, like the way things present themselves.

It means what’s there, whether I’m trying to see it or not.

It means the thing in and of itself—the thing that’s there whether I’m there to perceive it or not. Something that doesn’t have anything to do with me at all.

Then he talks about “sensations,” written with the kanji 受, meaning “receive” or “take.” It means what happens when I make contact with form for the first time.

Wait, that’s not it. No, I’m the one making contact with form, not the other way around. Form isn’t doing anything at all.

When we use the word see in English, it means I’m just looking out, not focusing my eyes and just taking things in. When you say look in English, the meaning changes. For instance, if there’s a cake, I might say, “I’m looking at the cake.” There’s a kind of action involved.

The next thing is 想, sō, “thoughts” or “perceptions.” It’s like when I look at a cake, I think, “Oh, a cake.”

The next thing is 行, gyō, “impulses.” When I see a thing and think, “Oh, a cake,” that connects to lots of other sensory perceptions, like when I’m looking at the cake and the thought pops into my head, “Man, that looks tasty.” I make a connection to something I know, assigning meaning to the form.

All these things happen unconsciously, without me even thinking about them, but the last one is 識, shiki, “consciousness.”

That’s when a whole bunch of things come together. I realize the form of the cake means a cake. I recognize a cake is a thing I want to eat, like on my birthday or something. All the different associations with the cake come to mind.

So, why’re all these five aggregates empty? Okay. Let’s suppose there’s a hairpin or something lying on the table. We see the hairpin lying on the table and understand in our head that it’s a hairpin. All kinds of thoughts occur to us, like “What a pretty hairpin,” “What an ugly hairpin,” or “I want to put that hairpin in my hair.”

It’s because of the five aggregates we’re thinking these things.

We believe it’s a hairpin. That’s about the only way we have to describe it.

But say a cat comes and finds it. From the cat’s point of view, it isn’t a hairpin. It might be just something for it to play with. It doesn’t have any sense that it’s pretty or that it should put it in its hair. In the cat’s eyes, it’s a toy.

Then, say, a turtle shows up. It probably passes the hairpin right by, not even looking at it. All the turtle wants is to climb in some water, so even if there’s a hairpin there, it’s no different than if it wasn’t there at all.

So, the only reason we are so darn sure a hairpin is a hairpin is because we think it. From the turtle’s point of view, it’s the same as if it’s not there at all.

(So, what’s the thing about “Śāriputra”?)

It’s a name. Avalokiteśvara—no, sorry, Kannon—you wanted to use the Japanese name. Kannon is calling out to him. He’s schooling him about the nature of form, emptiness, and how we relate to those things.

Hold on, Mom. I just thought of a better example than the hairpin.

Let’s suppose there’s a cake sitting here on the table.

We see the form of the cake and call it a cake. The thing we call a cake right this instant is, a moment later, not a cake.

It’s easier to see on a bigger time scale. If I call something a cake then, say, four years pass, it has spoiled and turned into something else. Cakes don’t change in obvious ways all that quickly. They spoil gradually. It takes time for mold to grow all over them. They change little by little over time, but the point is the same. What we call a cake in one instant is, in fact, not necessarily the same thing in the next instant, so when you think about it, calling it a cake in the first place is totally weird.

Suppose more than four years pass. Ten maybe. The cake that was there at the beginning wouldn’t even be around anymore. Maybe it was blown away by the wind. Maybe bugs ate it. Maybe it grew moldy, spoiled, and turned to dust.

The thing we called a cake ten years before doesn’t exist.

The thing that was a cake a decade ago is now nothing but dust. It’s now part of the world, part of the universe. It has taken on a completely different form. That’s what the sutra is talking about when it says forms are empty.

Everything little thing we perceive in our consciousness is merely a tiny part of the entire universe.

(So what does “empty” mean?)

Maybe a better way to phrase this might be “empty of meaning.” The things we think are things are nothing more than little, itty-bitty bits of the entire universe. From our position in the middle of this mixed-up, chaotic universe, we give things meaning in our own heads.

Having a cake right there is just the product of chance, but we see it and think it’s a cake.

All things are just chance happenings, but we see them and assign reasons and meaning.

Having a cake right there arises from a series of coincidences. By chance, we happen to have a custom of eating cakes on birthdays. By chance, it happens to be somebody’s birthday today. By chance, someone treats us to a cake today, but we see the cake and we think its existence is somehow absolute and true.

I think what the sutra is saying when it talks about emptiness is that things don’t have any special meanings or reasons.

(The kanji for “empty” 空 is the same character we use to mean “sky.” Do you think there’s some connection?)

Yeah, I think so. The sky represents the universe.

(What part of the universe?)

I think the connection is in the idea that all things are just one part of the universe.

I mean, here we are in the world. I’m here. You’re here, Mom. The cake is here, the cat is here. We’ve given all these things names, but everything is all confused and mixed up together. And all this is constantly changing. Even our own lives that are so precious to us are nothing more than one little part of the universe. We treat ourselves as the most important thing in the world, but really, we’re all just little things formed by chance.

(Are you saying nothing is really special at all?)

All the things we feel and that become part of our consciousness represent our reality, so I suppose we don’t have to deny them, but when we’re suffering, we should stop and put things in simple terms. It’s helpful to say, ah, all this is empty. These feelings are no more than an experience inside my head of one little part of the universe. Seen from another person’s perspective, our feelings don’t seem like anything at all. Like they’re no big deal, you know?

That’s what Kannon discovered while in meditation—a kind of meditation to find prajñāpāramitā.

(What’s that?)

The escape from suffering. The ultimate type of discernment that allows us to leave suffering behind.

舍しゃ利り子し
是ぜ諸しょ法ほう空くう相そう
不ふ生しょう不ふ滅めつ
不ふ垢く不ふ淨じょう
不ふ增ぞう不ふ減げん

Śāriputra,
All dharmas are marks of emptiness
They do not arise nor disappear
They are not tainted nor pure
They do not increase nor decrease

If you understand that all things are just little parts of the universe, then there’s no decreasing or increasing, and nothing will ever completely go away.

We believe in life and death, but in the big picture of the universe, if we zoom out really far then look in from outside at the things we believe to be ourselves, then yeah, it probably looks like we individuals die, but just as many things are born as things that die, so in the big picture, it’s like there’s no death at all.

It’s kind of like that with purity and filth too. We think poop is dirty, but why? Because there’s bacteria and stuff in it. Bacteria makes us sick, and if we get sick, we might die. But if we zoom in really far and look at individual bacteria, we’d see them living their own little lives. We might think they’re dirty and disgusting, but they’re not really. From the point of view of the bacteria, everything’s just fine.

If I drink some water, I might empty the glass, but the water is just transferred into my stomach. The amount of water doesn’t decrease. I read that somewhere.

So, basically, Kannon is saying, hey, Śāriputra, all the laws we’ve made up about good things and bad things are all empty. Everything is merely emptiness.

We shouldn’t believe in life in the way we do. Death is impossible.

Cleanliness and defilement don’t really exist. Neither do increase or decrease.

是ぜ故こ空くう中ちゅう
無む色しき無む受じゅ想そう行ぎょう識しき
無む眼げん耳に鼻び舌ぜっ身しん意い
無む色しき聲しょう香こう味み觸そく法ほう

Therefore, in emptiness, there is no form
No sensations, thoughts, impulses, and consciousness
No eyes, ears, noses, tongues, bodies, or minds
No color, sound, smell, taste, touch, or binds on the mind

The last lines seem to be saying pretty similar things. Here, the word 色, “form,” seems to mean visual things. Colors and forms don’t exist. There are no visual appearances, like colors, forms, size, and so on.

無む眼げん界かい　乃ない至し無む意い識しき界かい

No realm of eyes and so forth until no realm of mind-consciousness

This part is a little hard to understand. I think it’s referring to everything from what we see to what we think in our consciousness—none of those processes really exist. They’re all illusions.

無む無む明みょう　亦やく無む無む明みょう盡じん

No no-light and no ending of no-light,

This one’s also a little hard to get.

(Aren’t these specific Buddhist terms?)

Yeah, “no no-light” is a weird way to put it, a kind of double negative. 無明 seems to mean “ignorance,” so this means there’s no ignorance. 無無明盡 is also a double negative. There’s no end to ignorance.

乃ない至し無む老ろう死し
亦やく無む老ろう死し盡じん
無む苦く集しゅう滅めつ道どう
無む智ち亦やく無む得とく

And so forth until no aging and death
And no ending of aging and death
No suffering, cause of suffering, cessation, or path
No wisdom and no attainment

I think what Kannon is suggesting is that we’re born dumb little babies, but then as we grow, we keep gradually growing a little wiser until we die, but in reality, the process of growing wiser and dying is also empty. It’s like we spend our lives believing in the progress that we are making as human beings, but none of that really exists. So, we can never really attain anything.

(I kind of feel like this passage is alluding to all kinds of things we human beings try to cut off but can’t rid ourselves of completely. Like birth, aging, sickness, and death. Like love, separation, and all the suffering they bring. Like the suffering that comes from resentment and hatred.)

I don’t have as much life experience as you, Mom, so it’s hard for me to say. We’re all different, so we’re going to read this at different levels, don’t you think?

(Absolutely.)

Yep. And then . . .

(Go on.)

Umm, well . . . the Chinese grammar here is hard.

以い無む所しょ得とく故こ

(It’s saying, “In other words, because there’s no attainment . . .”)

Yeah, that’s it.

菩ぼ提だい薩さっ埵た　依え般はん若にゃ波は
羅ら蜜み多た故こ
心しん無む罣け礙げ　無む罣け礙げ故こ
無む有う恐く怖ふ　遠おん離り顛てん倒とう夢む想そう　究く竟きょう涅ね槃はん
三さん世ぜ諸しょ佛ぶつ　依え般はん若にゃ波は羅ら蜜み多た故こ　得とく阿あ耨のく多た羅ら三さん藐みゃく三さん菩ぼ提だい
故こ知ち般はん若にゃ波は羅ら蜜み多た故こ
是ぜ大だい神じん咒しゅ　是ぜ大だい明みょう咒しゅ　
是ぜ無む上じょう咒しゅ　是ぜ無む等とう等<どう/rt>咒しゅ
能のう除じょ一いっ切さい苦く　真しん實じつ不ふ虛こ
故こ說せつ般はん若にゃ波は羅ら蜜み多た咒しゅ　即そく說せつ咒しゅ曰わっ

The bodhisattva, relying on prajñāpāramitā
Has no obstacles in the mind, and because of having no obstacles
There is no fear, and far from delusional thinking, one realizes nirvana
All buddhas of the past, present, and future rely on prajñāpāramitā
And thereby attain unsurpassed, complete enlightenment
Therefore, know that prajñāpāramitā
Is the great mantra, the bright mantra, the unsurpassed mantra, the supreme mantra
It removes all suffering and is true, not false
Therefore, speak the mantra of prajñāpāramitā

When a bodhisattva attains enlightenment, they obtain prajñāpāramitā, a form of understanding that takes away their delusions. Because of that, they don’t experience fear like ordinary people. They escape all the things leading us astray. All the buddhas that ever existed and ever will exist attain that form of perfect enlightenment. That’s why Kannon is telling us to discover it. It’s a really big magic spell, the most amazing spell that ever existed. Incomparable. “I’m telling you the truth! I’m not lying!” he says. Next he says, here it is—voilà!

So, when Kannon’s talking about the five aggregates, he’s analyzing the processes we believe to be our reality.

I’m still not sure about the best way to describe them in Japanese. “Procesess”? “Elements” maybe? In any case, Kannon is saying we’ve got to understand them properly. But if someone just tells you the things you believe aren’t really real, it’s probably not going to sit too well with you. That’s why it’s important to gain a proper understanding.

Something interesting happened to me at work. When I first read about these five aggregates, I understood something that made me think of one of our patients.

He can see, but he isn’t able to relate the things he sees to himself in any way. For instance, if I show him a picture of an apple, he’s able to match it with other pictures of apples, but he doesn’t recognize it as an apple. He’s only able to match the form to other forms, but he doesn’t consciously recognize what it is.

When we look at a picture of an apple, we immediately think, “An apple!” then “Oh, that looks tasty” or “Oh, I don’t want to eat that at all.” However, our patient doesn’t have that process at all.

The five aggregates—the five skandhas, in Sanskrit.

Totally amazing.

Without the five aggregates, it’s impossible to have language.

All the other people who work with me think the patient I’ve just mentioned can’t hear. I’m the only one who believes he can. It’s just that he doesn’t have the ability to recognize things.

Think about names for a second. Names don’t have any meaning in and of themselves. It makes sense he wouldn’t recognize them even if he hears them. It makes sense he wouldn’t answer.

We recognize things based on those random sounds, and we understand. As I said, we recognize the things we see have meaning, so they enter our consciousness, but for my patient they don’t have meaning, so he doesn’t really see them. Similarly, he isn’t able to make meaning from the sounds he hears, so things don’t enter his consciousness that way either. That’s all.

So, words don’t have meaning to him, neither do visual impressions. But even if he doesn’t recognize a picture of an apple, he recognizes a real apple through using his other senses. He understands through instinct that a real apple is food. It’s almost as if instinct is acting beyond the five aggregates somehow.

Anyway, what’s important is for us to stop and reflect: Maybe the things we take for granted aren’t that obvious at all.

That’s what the five aggregates are telling us.

The Heart Sutra isn’t telling us that all the things we believe in don’t exist per se. It’s telling us we should stop for a moment and analyze their true nature.

揭ぎゃ諦てい揭ぎゃ諦てい
波は羅ら揭ぎゃ諦てい
波は羅ら僧そう揭ぎゃ諦てい
菩ぼ提じ薩そ婆わ訶か
般若心経はんにゃしんぎょう

Gate gate
Pāragate
Pārasaṃgate
Bodhi svāhā
 —The Heart Sutra

Hmmmm. So, Kannon has been telling us all along that language and all these things don’t really exist, so this chant “gate gate” here at the end seems to be a little bit of a contradiction.

In the end, he’s telling us everything is going to be okay.

If everything wasn’t going to be okay, there’d be no value in living.

All of us are just caught up in the flow of the universe. There isn’t any need to force things.

Simply being alive, we are part of the great flow. We think that as people, we make our own decisions about life and death, but in reality, our life is simply part of the grand unfolding of the universe. Trying to stop it would be like going against the flow.

All of us have egos. We think we’re the ones deciding whether we move forward or change direction, but the very act of living means we’re moving forward, following the flow, no matter what. Our egos trick us into thinking we can change things.

I suppose if some people read the Heart Sutra, they might just think, oh man, everything’s empty, I might as well go kill myself, but that’s not right. That’s not the path. All the things we think are good, all the things we think are bad—none of them really exist in the ways we assume they do.

When I say things like this, my friends tell me this is dangerous thinking. I suppose it is.

War. Murder. Living. Dying. Heading off into the next world.

All those things are empty.

At the end, the book I’m looking at has an English translation that gives the meaning of the gate gate part.

(It’s saying, all of you who are trying to get to the far shore, be gone, gone, gone—enlightenment carry you. Something like that, right?)

That’s right. I think we’re not supposed to really translate it. It’s okay not to understand it literally. It’s probably okay to leave it as is, sort of like a magical spell. Finally, in the last line, the text announces, “This has been Heart Sutra,” sort of like a TV personality announcing his sponsor. And that’s how it ends.

* * *

So, after talking the Heart Sutra over with my daughter and reading a bunch of books, here is my own attempt to render it in the language of contemporary poetry.

While looking out upon the world, leisurely and carefree
While walking with people, searching for the path
In his spiritual quest to discern based on deep wisdom
Avalokiteśvara arrived at a certain thought:
The self is—all sorts of things are
We sense them
We recognize them
We think about them
And it is the case that
Through discernment
We become ourselves—
However, that means
Those things do not exist—
By grasping this clearly
I have escaped
All suffering and misfortune

Listen to this, Śāriputra

“Being” is not any different than “nonbeing”
“Nonbeing” is not any different than “being”
Things we think “are” really “are not”
If we think of something as “nonbeing” that leads to “being”

“Sensing”
“Perceiving”
“Thinking”
“Discriminating”
The same goes for all of these

Listen to this, Śāriputra

All things that are, “are not”
There’s no “living” nor “dying”
There’s no “dirty” nor “clean”
There’s no “increasing” nor “decreasing”

In other words
In “nonbeing”
There’s no “being”
There’s also no “sensing,” no “perceiving”
Also no “thinking,” no “discriminating”
There are no “eyes,” no “ears,” no “noses,” no “tongues”
No “bodies,” no “hearts”
There are also no “bodies,” no “hearts”
There are no “colors,” no “shapes,” no “voices,” no “scents,” no “flavors”
No “tangible” things, no “thought-provoking” things
There’s no “world that can be seen with the eyes”
There’s no “world that can be sensed by the heart”
There are various things that arise from the workings of the mind,
Ranging from the world that can be seen with the eyes
To the world that can be sensed by the mind
But none of those really exist
But neither do their workings go away

There’s no “suffering of not knowing”
Nor does the “suffering of not knowing” go away
There’s no “aging,” no “dying,” no “suffering”
Nor do “aging,” “dying,” or “suffering” go away
Because people do not understand these things
There are various types of suffering as we grow old and die
But none of those really exist
Nor do they go away

There’s no suffering for the sake of living
There’s no confusion that creates suffering
Yet there’s no hope our suffering and confusion
Will one day go away
Nor is there any effort that can rid ourselves entirely
Of the suffering and confusion that comes with living

There’s no “knowing”
There’s no “gaining”

We cannot gain a thing
Therefore
Those who search for the way
Follow this wisdom
And then
The things our minds dwell upon fade away
All things we dwell upon fade away
Therefore
Fear will fade away
All confusion will fade
And the mind will grow clear, free of suffering
Present, past, future
All awakened ones always follow this wisdom
They have lived by it and will continue to live by it
That means
It is possible to awaken
Therefore
Know this wisdom will carry you to the far shore
This is a powerful incantation
This is a powerful incantation you should clearly hear
This is the ultimate incantation
This is an incantation that knows no equal
This is an incantation that will take away all suffering right away
This is the truth
This is no false claim
Therefore
I will share with you these wise words
I will tell you
This is how it goes:

Gate
Gate
Pāragate
Pārasaṃgate
Bodhi svāhā

This wisdom has been brought to you by the Heart Sutra