Mount Wutai

CONTENTS

Foreword

On the evening of 15 May 2026, I arrived at Mount Wutai. It was my first visit to China.

I came to Mount Wutai because of something my teacher Tokden Yeshe Rinchen had told me six years earlier. In 2020, at Bodhgaya in India, Tokden said that he often came to this mountain; in time, we would meet there.

Tokden is a Buddhist master from Amdo, a Tibetan cultural region of Qinghai province. Over many years, I have received from him several teachings of Dzogchen, the Great Completion — also called Atiyoga. My journey to Mount Wutai was originally undertaken to meet Tokden and visit this sacred mountain.

On 19 May, I met Tokden in front of the Great White Stūpa of Tayuan Si, in the town of Taihuai. He welcomed me, and invited me to walk with him around the stūpa. Afterwards, we sat down on a bench near the exit. There he told me that I should understand the deep scope of the pilgrimage to seven sites on this sacred mountain: the Great White Stūpa itself, the East Terrace, the North Terrace, the Central Terrace, the West Terrace, the South Terrace, and Shuxiang Si. I had been to Shuxiang Si on 16 May, a day of heavy rain. Many pilgrims stood before the hall of Mañjuśrī, and I could not see his image. I had not yet been to any of the five terraces.

Tokden then drew from his robe a sheet of paper on which a few Chinese characters were written — seven stanzas (gāthā). He read the stanzas aloud, and gave me their meaning orally, in English. What follows is the text of the seven stanzas, together with Tokden’s oral commentary.

Tokden recounted that he had received these seven stanzas during his first pilgrimage to Mount Wutai, in March 1979, a few years after the end of the Cultural Revolution. In front of the Cave of the Buddha-Mother (Fomu Dong), Tokden met an elderly Chan master who, with his own hand, wrote the stanzas on a sheet of paper and gave them to him.

Meditating in that cave, Tokden realized that Śrī Siṃha — one of the founding masters of the Dzogchen tradition — had himself meditated there. Śrī Siṃha was born in China, studied Dharma on Mount Wutai, and traveled to India, where he received further teachings and then taught Atiyoga for many years. Afterwards, Śrī Siṃha returned to this mountain, where he continued to teach until the end of his life.

Tokden explained that even the Indian master Padmasambhava had meditated in the Cave of the Buddha-Mother, and that there Padmasambhava had received several visionary teachings from Śrī Siṃha.

I met Tokden again in front of the Cave of the Buddha-Mother. At our last meeting there — the eve of my departure — the master said to me: “This is the place I come to whenever I can, for it is here that I truly understood the meaning of Dzogchen.”

This online edition of the seven stanzas and of Tokden’s commentary is offered to all those who come on pilgrimage to Mount Wutai. May the great wisdom of Mañjuśrī illuminate their way of pilgrimage!

— Pema Jigdrel

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1 · OṂ

Tayuan Si · the Great White Stūpa

Rào tǎ guān zhēn xìng
dān shēng ǎn zì kāi
cháo tái cóng cǐ shǐ
wèi dòng yǐ guī lái

Around the stūpa,
contemplate the true nature.
A single sound,
the syllable oṃ:
an opening.
The pilgrimage
to the terraces
begins from here.
Not yet moved —
already come home.

Tokden said:

I welcome you to Mount Wutai. This is a sacred place — one of the few that remain. Here the gods are still visiting. They move in the sky as lights brighter than the stars, and they guard the earth, inspiring the human pilgrims. Yet they too are pilgrims, aspiring to realize the wisdom of Mañjuśrī.

Let us pay homage to Mañjuśrī by walking around the stūpa and repeating his mantra: Oṃ Arapacana Dhīḥ. For now, follow me. Afterwards, I will tell you about the stūpa and about the mantra.

We have walked around the stūpa. For most pilgrims, this is a devotional tradition. But there is a reason that goes beyond devotion. It is bound to the syllable oṃ.

Understand the original meaning of the syllable oṃ. It lies in the word yes. Mañjuśrī says yes, and you say yes too. Yes to what follows: Arapacana — the five syllables of his wisdom.

Oṃ is an ‘opening’. The day you said yes and decided to come to Mount Wutai, that sound of oṃ had already rung. You did not recite it, nor did anyone else produce it — it rang by itself, as an opening to Mañjuśrī’s wisdom. Oṃ is your inner opening to your own true nature.

‘True nature’ is also called ‘original nature’, and also ‘original face’. It is the same awareness aware of itself, that is, pure self-awareness.

Every person, their whole life long, circles around a center. Around money, around fame, around love, around fear — around whatever it may be. Never stopping. This is what we could call the saṃsāra of everyday life.

The stūpa is a symbol of life’s true axis, and also a reflection of our inner axis. Oṃ symbolizes the recognition of this axis. Our life should turn around the awareness of our inner axis — the source of the light.

Our true nature should be the axis of our life. It is not a reflection, as the outer stūpa is: it is the light itself. If we see the stūpa, it is because our light shines upon it.

Do not keep looking at the stūpa. The light does not come from the stūpa. See where the light comes from — the source of the light. That is your original face. Recognize the one who illumines — who shines from the very beginning. The pilgrimage to Mount Wutai is not a ‘going to find’. It is a ‘going to recognize’ one’s inner light, one’s true nature.

The feet have not yet moved, and the destination is already reached. You do not need to set foot on all five terraces. Where the feet do not reach, recognition does. Still, if you can go to one terrace, go to the East Terrace.

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2 · A

East Terrace · Wanghai Si

Mañjuśrī of Bright Intelligence

Xù rì dōng tái shàng
hóng guāng běn yǒng míng
zhū xíng jiē bù qǐ
běn xìng bù céng shēng

On the East Terrace,
the morning sun;
the red light
is originally ever-luminous.
All appearances
are non-arising;
original nature
has never been born.

Tokden said:

On the summit there is a temple called Wanghai Si — the Temple that Looks at the Sea. Inside is the statue of Mañjuśrī known as ‘Congming Wenshu’ — Mañjuśrī of Bright Intelligence.

East is the quarter of dawn — the direction from which the sun comes. A little before you reach the summit, step off the road onto the eastern slope of the mountain, and you will find the place meant for you, to sit and contemplate the dawn.

If the sky is clear, a red sun appears and slowly grows larger. One would think the sun had just risen. But consider: has the sun really only just risen now? Where was it yesterday? Where was it the day before? It is only that the sun has made its turn, yet the sun is always luminous.

All things are illuminated by the sun’s light. They are appearances. The mountains reflect its light, the trees reflect its light, the people around you reflect its light, your own body also reflects its light.

The reflected images, all appearances, seem to be born. People and things in a dream seem to be born, but none of them was ever truly born. They are non-arising. They are reflections manifested by the light of the dreamer. The light of the dreamer is not born within the dream. At the moment you wake up, you understand this.

That which is always luminous is your original nature. Every sunrise tells you this one thing. Your inner light has never been born, for it is always luminous. This understanding is truly Mañjuśrī’s Bright Intelligence.

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3 · RA

North Terrace · Lingying Si

Mañjuśrī Without Stain

Běi dǐng hán fēng qǐ
kuáng fēng sǎo jìn chén
xū kōng yuán bù rǎn
běn xìng yì wú hén

Cold wind rises
on the North Peak;
a wild wind
sweeps away all dust.
Empty space
is originally unstained;
original nature
is also without trace.

Tokden said:

From the East Terrace you can see the North Terrace. On the summit there is a temple called Lingying Si — the Temple of Spiritual Response. Inside is the form of Mañjuśrī known as ‘Wugou Wenshu’ — Mañjuśrī Without Stain.

The North Terrace is the highest of the five terraces. The wind on the summit is strong, and the cold lasts all year round. You may feel the wind’s force on the East Terrace too.

The wind sweeps the clouds, it sweeps the grass, it sweeps the dust on the ground. But look up: the sky through which the wind blows — that empty space has no dust to begin with. Even the sun above has never gathered any dust upon itself.

Our original nature is the same. Within its own space, it is originally pure, originally unstained. The experiences of sorrow and joy in life leave no trace at all in it.

Practitioners often feel their mind is dirty and needs to be cleansed. They fear a bad thought has arisen and rush to wipe it away. A whole life is spent on this effort. Within the space of original nature, there is a strong blowing wind. It works most powerfully when we fall asleep and when we die. It sweeps away all the dust of delusion from our minds into empty space.

Apart from the moments of sleep and death, we can also rest in the space of original nature, letting that strong wind blow upon our mind. There is no need to polish the mirror of our mind with effort.

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4 · PA

Central Terrace · Yanjiao Si

Mañjuśrī the Youth

Zhōng tái tái shí jì
yù miàn yìng yáng guāng
tóng zì jiàn zhēn dì
běn lái miàn mù cháng

On Central Terrace,
mossy stones
lie motionless;
jade faces
reflect
the sunlight’s glow.
The child
naturally sees
the ultimate truth;
the original face
is constant.

Tokden said:

From the East Terrace you can see the Central Terrace, which lies at the center of Mount Wutai. Its summit is broad and flat, slightly lower than the North Terrace.

On the summit there is a temple called Yanjiao Si — the Temple of Expounding the Teaching. Inside is the form of Mañjuśrī known as ‘Rutong Wenshu’ — Mañjuśrī the Youth.

Great stones lie scattered across the ground. They are overgrown with moss. When the sun strikes them, the whole summit shimmers like jade.

Great stones are like the mountain you sit on, and like all the mountains around you. Look at them as a child would — seeing them as they originally are, without thinking of moving them.

They do not move. They have not moved for a very, very long time. They lie there, having never moved their mouths to speak. Their teaching is the way they themselves are — constant.

Wind comes — they do not move. Rain comes — they do not move. Snow comes — they do not move. People come and go — they do not move. They stay right there, as they originally are. Do great stones have a face? Yes. Look carefully: every great stone has its face — its original nature — constant. That face is the face of the mountains.

Our original face is our original nature — constant. Although it seems to come and go, it is always unmoving — constant. Abide in your original nature, abide in the space of your original face.

The face of each mountain is a true sūtra, pointing directly to our original face, original nature — constant. The ultimate truth is just this.

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5 · CA

West Terrace · Falei Si

Mañjuśrī of the Lion’s Roar

Xī tái rì xī luò
dōng tiān yè sè shēng
shī zi yī shēng hǒu
shēng sǐ běn wú xíng

On West Terrace,
the sun sets in the west;
in the eastern sky,
night’s color rises.
The lion gives
a single roar:
originally,
no image
of death and rebirth.

Tokden said:

From the East Terrace you can see the West Terrace. West is the quarter of sunset — the direction into which the sun descends.

Toward evening, wherever you are on Mount Wutai, look west. The setting sun sinks among the distant mountains, slowly descending. Turning around, in the eastern sky the color of night is already rising.

Sunset on one side, darkness on the other. The light goes, the darkness comes. One day is ending, another night beginning. So it is with human beings: when someone departs, the pain of loss and the sorrow of absence arise — this is the darkness that people endure.

On the West Terrace there is a temple called Falei Si — the Temple of the Dharma Thunder. Inside is an image of the Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī, riding a lion, his mouth open as if to roar. This is ‘Shizi Hou Wenshu’ — Mañjuśrī of the Lion’s Roar. The lion is about to roar.

Most people want to believe that they will continue to exist as ‘separate persons’. Some hope for a better future life; some cling to memories of past lives they hold to have personally experienced, and wait for the next life.

These convictions are born from the images we form of our human life. They are built on the assumption that ‘there is one who goes, there is one who comes’. But this is Māra’s trick: seeming truth only. When the separate person is seen through as originally illusory, Māra’s trick is simultaneously seen through.

The sun does not die in the evening. Behind the appearance of sunset, the sun has never changed. Our original face is like that sun. Every life is a reflection of the same sun. The reflections seem to vanish and seem to reappear, but the source of the light is inexhaustible. It does not disappear, nor does it reappear. Originally, it is devoid of any image of death and rebirth. A single life, a single death, a single roar.

Mañjuśrī’s lion has roared. Do not fear death. Do not hope for the next life. One who understands this is riding that lion. Then, looking upon a loved one’s departure, it is no longer the same. Looking upon your own aging, it is no longer the same. It is not that you ‘endure’ it, but that you ‘understand’ the lion’s roar.

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6 · NA

South Terrace · Brocade Peak (Puji Si)

Mañjuśrī of Wisdom

Nán tái huā sì jǐn
làn màn běn wú míng
jiù lǐng niān huā chù
qiān jīng yī mò míng

On South Terrace,
flowers like brocade;
radiant and free,
originally
beyond names.
On Vulture Peak,
where a flower was held up —
beyond a thousand sūtras,
one silence resounds.

Tokden said:

From the East Terrace you can also see the South Terrace, but it is more difficult to recognize. The next time we meet, it will be on the south-eastern slope of that mountain. The Cave of the Buddha-Mother is there.

The Chinese master Śrī Siṃha meditated and taught in that cave. In India, he transmitted Dzogchen to the great Indian master Padmasambhava, who also meditated in that cave. It was there that Padmasambhava met in vision Śrī Siṃha for the last time, receiving from him his final teachings.

On the summit of the South Terrace there is a temple called Puji Si — the Temple of Universal Salvation. Inside is the form of Mañjuśrī known as ‘Zhihui Wenshu’ — Mañjuśrī of Wisdom.

In late May and early June, the whole summit of the South Terrace is in bloom: flowers grow among the grass — yellow, purple, white, red, pale blue — patch upon patch, crowded together like woven brocade. In another season there may be only grass. Go into nature anywhere on Mount Wutai. Sit down, or just stand. Do nothing. Look at what the ground shows you — the flowers or the grass.

When there are flowers, one could wonder: ‘What flower is this? What flower is that?’ There are too many; each one is different. And every name places a flower into a category.

One who is accustomed to names looks at everything in this world in the same way. This thing belongs to ‘saṃsāra‘, that thing belongs to ‘nirvāṇa‘. This flower is ‘worldly’, that flower is ‘beyond the world’. Yet the flower itself does not know its name. Nor does it know whether it belongs to saṃsāra or to nirvāṇa. It blooms, radiant and free, of its own accord; it is simply like this.

Long ago, the World-Honored One was on Vulture Peak, presiding over a Dharma assembly. Those gathered sat before him, waiting for his teaching. He did not speak a single word. He lifted a flower. He simply held it up. Only the Venerable Mahākāśyapa understood, giving a single glance, and smiled.

In that moment, Mahākāśyapa was liberated. In his eyes, all beings were also liberated in that moment — a universal liberation. Not a liberation that would come later, but the liberation that was originally already there, before names divided saṃsāra and nirvāṇa. The World-Honored One did not lift that flower to say it was beautiful. He lifted it so that all could see: a flower is simply this. It does not belong to saṃsāra, nor to nirvāṇa. It is before all names. It is the flower of wisdom.

In that lifting, the transmission of the teaching beyond words had begun, through a flower held up in one hand. Mahākāśyapa saw it.

When you look at a flower, it is the same event as Mahākāśyapa looking at the flower of the World-Honored One. Every flower is the flower of the World-Honored One. And if there is no flower before you, then a blade of grass, looked at in the same way, is the flower he held up.

Look at a flower this way — giving it no name, placing it in no category — and see that there is no saṃsāra, no nirvāṇa. The silence of a single flower resounds, surpassing a thousand sūtras and ten thousand treatises.

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7 · DHĪḤ

Shuxiang Si

Mañjuśrī’s True Face

Wǔ tái cháo lǐ bì
fǎn wàng jiàn Wén Shū
dì zì huì huā zhǒng
běn lái miàn mù fū

The pilgrimage
to the five terraces
is complete;
turning back,
we see Mañjuśrī.
The syllable dhīḥ
is the seed
of wisdom’s flower;
the original face
unfolds.

Tokden said:

In the town of Taihuai there is Shuxiang Si — the Temple of the Image of Mañjuśrī. Within a hall stands an image of the Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī, riding a blue lion.

The image of the lion is very large. From outside the hall you will not see Mañjuśrī’s face, but you will see the great blue face of the lion. If you want to see Mañjuśrī’s face, you must come very close and lower yourself — kneel down.

Legend says that the craftsman could not model Mañjuśrī’s face. Then one day, in the temple kitchen, the face appeared of itself in the rising steam; the cook caught it in buckwheat dough before it faded. Mañjuśrī’s face came from the most ordinary place.

Mañjuśrī is not in the heavens, not in a distant place. Mañjuśrī is in our heart, and his reflections are everywhere. In the very instant we see things as they originally are, all we see is a reflection of Mañjuśrī. This is his non-dual wisdom.

The syllable dhīḥ in Sanskrit means ‘wisdom’. It is Mañjuśrī’s wisdom. This non-dual wisdom is the seed of our awakening. True enlightenment arises solely from recognizing the ultimate truth: our original face. Dhīḥ is our original face, the buddha-nature, originally thus. To recognize it, we must turn our gaze back toward our inner light.

The flowers that arise from Mañjuśrī’s truth unfold naturally. They manifest our original face. The moment we recognize the ultimate truth in our own heart, those flowers begin to blossom.

What flowers will blossom — no need to bother. Every thought that rises, every word spoken, every action taken, will naturally carry that single point of light. We do not need to cultivate their seed. We need only not forget it.

Pilgrims coming to Mount Wutai should not come merely to make offerings to Mañjuśrī and to pray to him. They should come to recognize the one who, originally, is their own true face. In truth, the pilgrimage to the five terraces is already complete in the recognition of Mañjuśrī as our own original face. Oṃ Arapacana Dhīḥ.

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Afterword

Tokden chanted the mantra once, in a low voice, slowly, with the pronunciation of a paṇḍit, in the Indian manner. Then he closed his eyes and remained silent. Once more, I followed him.

On that restful bench we remained seated for several minutes, without speaking, facing the Great White Stūpa. The pilgrims went on walking, back and forth, yet in me there was no apprehension, no expectation. The true meaning of the words I had just listened to was entirely condensed in that luminous silence.

When I heard Tokden softly intoning the final syllable of the mantra, dhīḥ, I opened my eyes. He turned toward me in silence, with a seemingly serious look — and I smiled; then I bowed with joined hands, in gratitude.

— P. J.

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Appendix · The Name Arapacana

Mount Wutai has been recognized since the Tang dynasty as a physical maṇḍala — a sacred circle — that manifests in the natural landscape the spiritual maṇḍala of the five forms of Mañjuśrī. Its five peaks reproduce the maṇḍala‘s geometry: four cardinal terraces (East, North, West, South) and one central terrace.

According to the anonymous Chan master’s verses translated in this booklet, the pilgrim contemplates the meaning of Mañjuśrī’s name Arapacana through the teachings of Mount Wutai’s maṇḍala — East, North, Center, West, and South.

The five central stanzas are drawn from the five formulae of the Arapacana syllabary, expounded in several Prajñāpāramitā texts — known in China since the third century CE. The syllable Oṃ and the syllable Dhīḥ frame the five initial syllables of the syllabary, together forming the mantra Oṃ Arapacana Dhīḥ.

Each syllable of the name Arapacana is defined in Sanskrit as mukha — a word that means both initial letter and doorway. Every first letter of the syllabary is the initial of a Sanskrit word and, through that word, a doorway to the insight expressed in its formula.

The first five letters of the syllabary are A, RA, PA, CA, NA. They are taken as the initial letters of five Sanskrit words: anutpanna (non-arising), rajas (stain), paramārtha (ultimate truth), cyavanopapatti (death-and-rebirth), and nāma (name).

Four of these letters — A, RA, CA, NA — correspond to the four cardinal terraces; they are the doorways that give access to four states (tva), the true condition of all phenomena (sarvadharmāṇām):

To be precise, the first formula contains the expression ādyanutpannatva — ‘the state of original non-arising’. The prefix ādi means ‘originally’, ‘from the very beginning’. It is this ādi that recurs throughout the verses and the commentary.

The remaining letter, PA, corresponds to the central terrace: it is a doorway that gives access to the teaching (nirdeśa) — the pointing-out — of the ultimate truth (paramārtha) of all phenomena.

The pilgrimage on Mount Wutai is not only a journey across sacred geography. It is also a way through which the experiences of one’s whole life come to be illuminated, from beginning to end. Every human being experiences five phases:

When the five phases of life are illuminated by the knowledge of Mañjuśrī’s true name Arapacana, their confusion dissolves in the following way:

The true name Arapacana also points to a way without a path — the simple turning of attention from outward to inward, as the eyes close, and from inward to outward, as the eyes open again. It is the same natural event that takes place in falling asleep and in waking, now lived consciously in everyday life.

Whenever attention returns to itself — to one’s own original face — the confusion of the seeming truth dissolves of its own accord. Whenever attention turns toward appearance without losing self-awareness, the seeming truth is recognized as it is — illusory — and the inexhaustible light of the ultimate truth continues to illuminate all the myriad things.

The ancient sages who envisioned the Arapacana syllabary recognized the confusion that pervades the study of all topics, mundane and non-mundane. Thus, century after century, they have passed down to us their seed of wisdom.

From the seed of their wisdom blossoms the blue lotus that Mañjuśrī holds at his heart, on which rests the book of the Prajñāpāramitā. In his other hand, the flaming sword of wisdom cuts through the confusion of every life phase and lets the lotus open.

The blue lotus has a central receptacle and four petals. The receptacle is the pointing-out of the ultimate truth — the only real truth — and its four petals are four rays radiating from it: the state of original non-arising, the state of freedom from stain, the state of non-perception of death-and-rebirth, and the state of freedom from names. This blue lotus is the true form of the present guide to the sacred Mount Wutai.

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