Turtle in a Bronze Basin

 

... the thoughts of a turtle are turtles ...

If you never kept a turtle as a pet, I don’t recommend it. First and most seriously they are difficult to care for unless you know what you are doing, and largely for this very reason are prone to die a young and untimely death. Another problem is that they often get sick and tired of that terrarium you’ve locked them up in and start scratching nonstop on the walls trying to get out. You wonder if they are just bored or nervous, or in need of a larger living room. The constant scraping noise can be so irritating you could scream and throw a lamp across the room.

But this blog is more about us humans than it is about the challenges of turtle care. Do you ever even imagine that effort itself could, in some circumstances, prove to be an insurmountable impediment to progress? Counterintuitive insight at its best! 

I’m convinced the metaphoric image of the turtle in the bronze basin will be subject of this blog. At least I will try. Wait for the future, as I suppose we have all been doing, and we’ll get there. My primary aim is to persuade you how crucial it is for us to better know in practical terms what futile efforts entail. If I can convince you of this my struggles will not have been in vain. At long last I will be able to give it a rest.*

(*I suppose my further subterranean aim would be to show that there are connections such as this to be seen in the pre-Mongol era between the Bon, Zhijé and Nyingma schools.)

In a selection from one of the primary texts of the early Zhijé tradition containing words of Padampa we once translated as Padampa’s Animal Kingdom, we find these words:

17.  Unable to go anywhere, the turtle in the bronze basin tires itself out.

འགྲོ་བར་མྱི་ནུས་མཁར་ཞོང་ནང་གི་རུལ་རྦལ་ཚི་ཆད་འགྱུར་།། — ZC vol. 1, p. 219.4.

 

The metaphor of the turtle in the bronze basin occurs at least twice in the Padampa Tanjur texts, but curiously in them the emphasis seems to be on how much the turtle in the bronze basin enjoys basking in the sun, and not on how thoroughly trapped it is.  The commentarial text explains Padampa’s precept and, as it often does, gives it an unexpected spin:

17.  “Unable to go...” — If you place a turtle in a bronze basin, it tries to climb out, but at the very first step it loses its footing. Likewise, no matter how high or low something may appear, the mind never moves from its empty nature.  It falls back on it.

འགྲོ་མྱི་ནུས་ཞེས་པ་ནི་། འཁར་གཞོང་དུ་རུ་རྦལ་བཅུག་ན་ཕྱིར་འཛེགས་ཀྱང་ཡང་དང་པོའི་ཤུལ་དུ་འདྲེད་ནས་འོང་། དེ་བཞིན་དུ་འཐོའ་དམན་ཇི་ལྟར་སྣང་ཡང་སེམས་ངོ་བོ་སྟོང་པ་ལས་འགྱུར་བ་མྱེད་དེ་། དེ་ཐོག་ཏུ་འབབས་གསུང་།  — ZC, vol. 1, p. 426.

 

Our concern at the moment, and the very thing that made me return again to this subject, is the single-folio Khyunglung fragment at pp. 142-145 (marked as fol. 3) in the published volume.*

(*For the bibliographical details, refer to the recent blogs on the Four Caches). 

 

At first glance I had thought it might be a Zhijé text, seeing the words meaning ‘From the mouth of Dampa’ (dam pa’i zhal nas) that seemed to suggest it, although it soon turned out to be an illusion. I tried searching in BDRC, and found no matches to the phrases I was trying to check. However, I tried again and found this parallel to the Khyunglung fragment in vol. 121 of The Much Expanded Version of the Oral Scriptures of the Earlier Translations (Snga-’gyur Bka’-ma Shin-tu Rgyas-pa, W1PD100944). In this instance BDRC e-text provides us with no page correspondences (and this is my good excuse for not providing page numbers), although this volume does seem to be a commentary on the Eighty Precepts (Zhal-gdams Brgyad-cu-pa) of Zurchung: 

le'u bdun pa / gdams pa bcu gsum gyi gdams ngag lag len gdams pa ni / gdams pa bcu gsum la / bsgrub pa'i brtson 'grus kyi lcag tu bdag gzhan gyi 'chi ba la brtag / nam mchi nges pa med pas tshe 'di yi bya bzhag thams cad bor thongs / gus pa khyad par can skye bar 'dod pas bla ma'i phyi nang gi yon tan la brtag / skyon rtog spongs / skyon du snang ba de rang snang ma dag pas lan / spyod pa kun dang mthun par 'dod pas gzhan gyi rtsol ba mi dgag / theg pa thams cad rang sa bden pas chos dang grub mtha'i kha 'dzin che / bla ma'i thugs zin pa mi 'gyur bar bya ba'i phyir nyams su len pa drag tu bya / yon tan ma lus pa rang la 'ong / dngos grub myur du thob par 'dod na sdom pa dam tshig ma nyams par bsrung / bsrung mtshams mtha' dag mi dge bcu dang dug lnga rang mtshan la slong bar 'du / chu bo bzhin bcad par.*

(*Compare this to the Khyunglung fragment starting at its folio 3 recto, line 7, and you will see despite all the variant readings that they are the same text all the same.)

I see, too, that Khyunglung, p. 144, line 5 ff. (or fol. 3 verso, line 5) corresponds to section 13 in the English of Zurchungpa’s Testament (its pp. 94-95). The ordering of sections doesn’t seem to be the same in the Khyunglung when compared to later editions of the “same” text. This indicates that a close textual study would be in order. At the moment I cannot safely argue for dependence of one text on the other. A comparative text edition ought to be made, perhaps you would like to give it a try? 

In any case, as you may have suspected by now the Zurchung Eighty does contain the turtle in the bronze basin metaphor even if it may not look like it in the English:

“Cut the stream of the arising of dualistic thoughts and the following after them, taking the example of a tortoise placed on a silver platter.”  (no. 28 on p. 164, see also pp. 292, 346)

I find the Tibetan of it in my physical print volume of the text entitled

Zur-chung Shes-rab-grags-pa'i Gdams-pa Brgyad-cu-pa, Pema Thinley, Sikkim National Press (Gangtok 1999), a booklet in 64 pages not listed in BDRC, at p. 26:

རུས་སྦལ་མཁར་གཞོང་དུ་བཅུག་པའི་དཔེས་མཚོན་ནས། མཚན་མའི་འབྱུང་འཇུག་རྒྱུན་བཅད། 

I go to the trouble to give the Tibetan to convince Tibetan readers that it really does speak of the turtle stuck in a bronze basin, and that the published English translation, as wonderful as it is, is in my estimation slightly off on this particular point. I myself originally wanted to translate brass basin, liking the sound of it, but really, it’s a superior type of brass alloy, and that means some more expensive kind of bronze or bell metal.

To complicate matters necessarily, we find the turtle in the bronze basin in a Bon Dzogchen text of the pre-Mongol era that would need to be brought into a fuller and more adequate discussion. The Bon text I have in mind is Seeing Awareness in its Nakedness (Rig-pa Gcer Mthong), IsIAO Tucci text no. 528, section DA, folio 2 verso, line 6. I would give a quotation, but I no longer have a access to the Tucci manuscript and would need to search it out in one of the published editions of the massive cycle that contains it.

This section DA, according to the published catalog 

Elena De Rossi Filibeck, Catalogue of the Tucci Tibetan Fund in the Library of the IsIAO, Istituto Italiano per l'Africa e l'Oriente (Rome 2003), vol. 2, p. 296.

ought to be a 7-folio manuscript with the title Bsnyan-rgyud Gsal-bar Byed-pa'i Gsal-byed. I had thought I might have made a photo of the page, but no, to find it again I would have to fly back to Rome. That hardly seems likely to happen today. Anyway, I believe it ought to be locatable in a different published version of the cycle, so let me go over to BDRC and see what I can come up with. 

Well, I went there and came up with nothing, because the volume I’ll describe in a flash isn’t listed there:

Snyan-rgyud Gcer-Mthong, “Bonpo oral transmission precepts granted by Srid-pa-rgyal-mo to Bon-zhig Khyung-nag, reproduced from rare manuscript from Bsam-gling Monastery in Dol po,” Tibetan Bonpo Monastic Centre (Dolanji 1972).  

That’s a pity that BDRC didn’t scan it.* You might think I’m lucky to have a IASWR microfiche set that ought to include it, but then I don’t have any fiche reader available to me right now. 

(*Or didn’t scan it yet. Those 1960's-1980's Bon publications from India haven’t mostly been posted online, although they might be in the near future.)

Okay, now I think I can find it. As you may know the catalog of the Bon Katen goes with an index volume, 

Samten G. Karmay and Yasuhiko Nagano, eds., A Catalogue of the New Collection of Bonpo Katen Texts (Bon Studies 4), Senri Ethnological Reports series no. 24, National Museum of Ethnology (Osaka 2001).

and it locates the cycle of Seeing Awareness in Its Nakedness in volume 133 of the 300 (plus) volume set. That set is locatable with the title “Bon-gyi Bka’-brten” in BDRC as no. W30498, and its volume 133 is indeed scanned and made available there. What we find when we view the scans of vol. 133 is what looks very much like a photocopy of the 1972 publication listed above (absent only the added title page, and the Table of Contents that could have come in useful). A telltale sign is the Old Delhi style of the added Arabic numerals.* So we go back to the 1,692-page Osaka catalog and run through the titles it lists for vol. 133. Even if it isn’t exactly Gsal-bar Byed-pa’i Gsal-byed, we do see that part 15 (pp. 265-278, or 7 folios in length) has the title Snyan-rgyud Gsal-byed, which seems promising enough to have a look.

(*How can I tell?  It kind of looks like the numbers were applied with a rubber stamp.)

Could you hear the scratching?  A few hours have passed, and I wish I  could tell you that all those efforts had no result whatsoever. That would have made my point for me. But no, there it is on p. 269, line 4: ru[s] sbal mkhar gzhong du, or, turtle in a bronze basin. Have a look:

Of course, now we have the difficult task of understanding it in its special context, as part of a system of Dzogchen precepts. We’ve barely scratched the surface... Or... Perhaps we’ve scratched enough for one day. It may be time to give it a rest.

Originally from Buzzfeed, I linked it from here:
As you see this is a plastic, and not a bronze basin,
or the outcome would be different.

•

A poem by Emily Dickinson

has more of the “well turtle” or turtle-in-a-well in it, even if the turtle is disguised as a mole. The piece as a whole is usually taken to be about 19th-century disenchantment or, to put it in different words, our declining perception of the sacred dimensions of our existence.

1228

So much of Heaven has gone from Earth

That there must be a Heaven

If only to enclose the Saints

To Affidavit given.

The Missionary to the Mole

Must prove there is a Sky

Location doubtless he would plead

But what excuse have I?

Too much of Proof affronts Belief

The Turtle will not try

Unless you leave him - then return

And he has hauled away.

I’m fascinated how in the verse on the mole in a hole we easily perceive the well known Indic metaphor of the well turtle (he finds difficulty believing what he is told about the wider world beyond his ken), while the very next verse seems to have our turtle escaping from an unspecified container. Could she have gotten something from Emerson? But for her, okay, it is quite a different idea, the turtle only tries to get away when you aren’t looking. Then just disappears.

•

In John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, a turtle appears to be a symbol of the family’s struggle for freedom, but here the turtle is in a shirt pocket (or is he crossing the highway?) and not in any basin.

•

From Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Natural History of Intellect:

What strength belongs to every plant and animal in nature. The tree or the brook has no duplicity, no pretentiousness, no show. It is, with all its might and main, what it is, and makes one and the same impression and effect at all times. All the thoughts of a turtle are turtles, and of a rabbit, rabbits. But a man is broken and dissipated by the giddiness of his will ; he does not throw himself into his judgments ; his genius leads him one way but ’t is likely his trade or politics in quite another. He rows with one hand and with the other backs water, and does not give to any manner of life the strength of his constitution. Hence the perpetual loss of power and waste of human life. [emphasis added]

I like Emerson’s rowing metaphor that has the boat spinning in circles instead of going ahead. This happens to me a lot, although I hope you are kind enough not to notice.

•

The turtle in the bronze basin enjoys the light of the sun. མཁར་གཞོང་ནང་གི་རུལ་སྦལ་ཉི་མའི་འོད་ལ་དགའ། mkhar gzhong nang gi rul rbal [~rus sbal] nyi ma’i ’od la dga’.

— Zhijé Collection, vol. 1, p. 268, line 7. The same text is in the Derge Tanjur, no. 2445, with the title Phyag-rgya-chen-po Rin-po-che Brda’i Man-ngag.

•

Note: Today’s blog was already promised in an earlier one: https://tibeto-logic.blogspot.com/2024/03/recovered-connections-1-four-caches.html.

If you have the time to spare, and need some Zen, search the internet for "the goose in the bottle." Use the quote marks in your search for better results, or not.

A New Clue

I can scarcely believe my own negligence. I must apologize for it. I somehow missed these two passages, one on the monkey and the other on the turtle, the second one right after the other. And the salt or lye or caustic soda (lan-tsha) here poses a danger to the turtle itself, and not, we must note, to the monkey paw it wants to eat.

The source is in the Zhijé Collection, vol. 2, the text entitled “Expressions of Speech Taught Symbolically.” This forms part of a trilogy called “Mahåmudrå Teachings: Three Cycles of Responses Employing Symbolic Actions of Body, Speech and Mind.”

Observe, as you will, that the monkey is once again connected with the unrelaxed mind. And the turtle? Well, you’ll see.

~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~

As a symbolic way of saying that if you haven’t turned your mind away from sangsara, there is no need to stay in a retreat [p.156]

— “If you can’t relax the monkey’s mind there is no way to make his hands and feet stay still.”[1]

As a symbolic way of saying that if you can’t get rid of desire, there is no need for doing the practices

— “Since turtles and moisture go together, what’s the use? It doesn’t recognize that the swirling water has lan-tsha in it. It has no more serious enemy than that.”

~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~# ~^~

Now possible interpretations seem to stack up on top of possible interpretations. If you’re going to ask me what it all means, I’ll just say, quoting something Padampa says in the exact same text, for my own purpose,

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Ask the turtle’s head.”[2]

Bibliography:

[B1] Phyag-rgya-chen-po Brda'i Skor Gsum, or, Brda'i Zhus-lan Skor Gsum. Vol. 2, pp. 138-178.

[B1a]Sku'i Rnam-dag Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 138-152.

[B1b]Gsung-gi Brjod-bya Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 153-164 (the pages are entirely out of order in the reprint edition, but they were put back in order on the basis of the microfilm of Trulzhik Rinpoche's manuscript).

[B1c]Thugs-kyi Dgongs-nyams Brdar Bstan-pa. Vol. 2, pp. 165-177.

I work from my own draft translation of these three texts, which form the first set of Responsa (zhu-lan) texts in the Zhijé Collection. It is very difficult to compare this to the content of Molk's translation (on his pp. 177-192), which appears to have been rearranged at will by the translator. (Of course it is possible, too, that he worked from an unpublished manuscript unknown to me.) B1c is at least partly included on his p. 188 ff., but its title seems to be missing.

The Tibetan passage starts on line 7 of p. 159, and continues on line 1 of p. 156 (trust me, it's true). I give the text in 'texto' style, with no orthographic emendations:

'khor ba las blo ma log na ri khrod du bsdad pa la dgos pa myed pa'i brda' ru / [156] spre'u 'i sems ma dal na rkang lag la bsdad dbang myi mchi' gsung //

'dod pa ma thongs na nyams su blangs pa la dgos pa myed pa'i brda' ru / ru rbal rlan dang 'grogs pas ci la phan lan tsha'i chu rgod ngo myi shes / dgra' ru de las gnad pa myed gsung //

Lion of Siddhas: The Life and Teachings of Padampa Sangye, translated by David Molk with Lama Tsering Wangdu Rinpoche, Snow Lion (Ithaca 2008).

---

[1] Molk, p. 186: “He said, ‘With the monkey mind not relaxed, the limbs have no capacity to remain still.’ To indicate that, if one does not turn the mind from samsara, there is no need for staying in retreat.” I searched out this translation (I couldn't find the one about the turtle & the lan-tsha) just so you will have another translation to compare. I made my own translation without being under any influence from this one.

[2] Molk, p. 185: “When asked the nature of the perfect ultimate mode of existence, he said, ‘I have no idea! Ask the head of the frogs.’ To indicate that transcendent wisdom of the mind is beyond expression.”

Monkey Paw, Salty River

If you don't swim, don't play in the water.

skyal myed-pas chu-la rtse-bar myi bya'o ||

— Padampa Sanggyé

Hello all of you, or both of you, or however many of you might still have internet connections at your air-conditioned beach resorts on the Riviera! Or the Canary Islands! After several days at it I really badly need a break from touching up my Zhang-zhung dictionary. I'm rewriting the introduction right now, and I think I've made some headway in convincing a sometimes too skeptical world that this thousand-some-year-old language does indeed possess some of the essential features of language that people have unjustly claimed are missing in it. That means verbs, personal pronouns and grammar.* I do so much more enjoy the freedom of blog writing to other kinds that I'm all too familiar with.

*(Well, in fact it doesn't have the personal pronouns, but then the only lengthy bilingual text we have for Zhang-zhung doesn't have any kind of dialog in it, so why would it need to speak of you and me and her?)

I know I should have gone on to say more already about the back scratchers, but let's let go of them for now and look at what might seem a remotely related, but, well, maybe, anyway, related, topic. I mean, the most popular shape for back scratchers is the rake or 'claw' shape, correct? That's because it's meant to take the place of your own claw-shaped hands when they can no longer reach the center of your back where that irritating sensation is most likely to be found. And that probably means you are getting old and haven't been keeping up with your yoga practice. Give me a minute to go pop a few more aspirin for my arthritis and we'll begin.

Remember the animal metaphors of Padampa, the Telugu Mahasiddha? There was one metaphor that, despite the explanation of the commentarial text, really didn't convey much of any meaningful message. Let me cut-and-paste my old translation attempts right here. First, the line from the root text with the words of Padampa:

spre'u-yi sder-mo rnyed-pa'i rus-sbal lan-tshwa'i chu-la lto 'gal med //

spre'u-yi: C spre'u. rus-sbal: C rul-rbal. lan-tshwa'i: C ba-tsha'i.

56. The turtle has gotten a monkey claw, no reason not to eat it in borax water.

And now the commentary on the same, probably written by a 12th-century Tibetan follower. Take special note of my shriek of frustration enclosed in square brackets at the end:

Zhijé Collection, vol. 1, p. 438, line 3 ———

56. {{All the animals that go into the borax ocean rot and disappear, they say. A turtle that appears on the surface of the water later on doesn't appear at all. In the case of the monkey paw, it doesn't rot. It [the turtle?] goes with the hamstring. Then, in the forest cleans the paw, and it is no contradiction that it eats it in borax water. Sensual qualities are like the borax, in turning into virtue through skilful means.}} [This is clearly not a workable translation; the text uses some very rare vocabulary items.]

I may take another shot at translating this before long. And here's the Tibetan text of the commentary, since I'm sure that English didn't make sense to anyone [it's in 'texto' style, with none of those tacit corrections you often get, no dashes, etc.]:

dper na rgya mtsho' ba tsha can de la srog chags phyin pa thams cad rul nas 'gro skad /

de la ru rbal chu'i teng du bsdad nas phyir de rtsam myi 'byung ste / de la spre'u rder mo snyed na myi 'drul bas kho ting chu dang 'grogs nas nags gseb du sder mo tsal nas ba tsha'i chu la ltos 'gal myed par 'gro'o //

de bzhin du 'dod yon ba tsha dang 'dra ste / thabs la mkhas pas yon tan du 'gyur ro gsung //

I think this is going to make a little more sense to you, and to me, too, very probably, by the time I finish writing for the day. I won't promise miracles. I think I can explain to you in at least a general way, for the first time here in this blog, the Indian background that would shed light on how or why a turtle might get its teeth into a monkey paw to begin with. I also think I can say something meaningful about the chu ba-tshwa-can phrase (notice there's a variant) that I translated as 'borax water.' More on that in a minute.

My new understandings took off like a space-station launcher after reading a blog by Tenpa at Tibetan Buddhist Digital Altar that covers the delicate topic of homosexuals going to hell. Wait a minute, don't kill the messengers. Hear us out. Condemnation is not my purpose today. Maybe tomorrow. I would say that some of my best friends are gay, but then you'd start reading things into it, now, wouldn't you? I'll be witness to the fact that sometimes it's hard to state the simplest of facts without getting yourself into trouble. In matters of sex, as in religion, people are always divining hidden meanings in between the words or hovering above them. Mom, if you're reading this, the answer is no, never was.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

Tenpa, in his blog, supplied a passage from Śāntideva's Śikṣāsamuccaya that is in turn a quotation from the Saddharmopasthana Sutra (I guess that means Saddharmasmṛtyupasthāna, which is a huge 3-volume scripture, so please, my dear reader, don't expect me to trace the original context... find it yourself if you must):

Likewise, endless varieties of punishments in a future life are described for the wrong deed of sexual intercourse between two men. The one who commits misconduct with boys sees boys being swept away in the Acid River who cry out to him, and owing to the suffering and pain born of his deep affection for them, plunges in after them.

Although I suppose you may find this difficult to believe, I was a lot more interested in the "Acid River" than in the same-sex sex. I looked the quote up just to be sure about the wording. Over time I finally located it in the crusty old Bendall & Rouse translation, at page 80. Here's a slightly longer quote, although I, too, will leave off the subsequent paragraph about the despicable form of animal abuse known as bestiality, since it isn't especially relevant, is it? I'll take that as a No.

Likewise the hell called Mahā-paduma is said to come into existence if by the prayer of a heavenly nymph one brings one's chaste life to an end. There flows the river called Kshāranadītaraṅginī, the Stream of Brine. All the stones of this river are bones, its weeds are hair, its mud is flesh, its water is molten copper, and its fishes are prisoners in hell, etc. Likewise, endless varieties of punishments are described for the sin of sodomy. Likewise as the result of misconduct with children he beholds boys floating about in the River of Brine. They cry out to him, and he plunges into the river through the impulse of grief and pain arising from his keen affection and attachment to them.

Here's the Tibetan from the copy of the text I had close at hand (p. 105), not because I think it's the best textual witness:

de de ltar lha'i bu mo 'dod pa'i phyir tshangs par spyod pa yongs su bsngo bas na / pad ma chen po zhes bya ba'i sems can dmyal bar gsungs te / de na tsha sgo can gyi 'bab chu dpa' rlabs can zhes bya ba 'bab ste / 'bab chu de la nya gang yin pa de dag ni sems can dmyal ba pa de dag go // rus pa gang yin pa de dag ni rdo ba'o // 'jim pa gang yin pa de dag ni skra'o // 'dam rdzab gang yin pa de dag ni sha'o // chu gang yin pa de dag ni ro nye bskol ba'o zhes bya ba la sogs pa'o // de bzhin du skyes pas skyes pa la 'khrig pa log par bcug pa'i chad pa'i bye brag dpag tu med par brjod do // de bzhin du byis pa rnams la log par 'jug pa yang cha sgo can gyi chus khyer ba'i khye'u dag mthong nas de dag gis de la bos pa dang / de byis pa de dag la shin tu sdug par sems pa dang ldan zhing mya ngan dang sdug bsngal gyi shugs kyis chu der 'jug go //

The 'sin of sodomy' isn't very literal. What it says here is 'Men wrongly engaging in sexual intercourse with other men.' That's in case you had any doubts. Buddhists never shrink back from talking about every possibility. They never had a Victorian phase. That's why they're not quite sure what 'repression' is. Well, at least as far as talking about things is concerned.

And here's the original Sanskrit for those who insist on having it. It could really help solve some arguments that might arise about the meaning.

evamapsarasaḥ prārthanayā brahmacaryapariṇāmanān mahāpadumo nāma naraka uktaḥ / tatra kṣāranadī taraṅgiṇī nāma pravahati / tasyāṃ nadyāṃ yāny asthīni te pāṣāṇāḥ / yacchaivālaṃ te keśāḥ / yaḥ paṅkastanmāṃsam / yā āpaḥ tat kathitaṃ tāmram / ye matsyās te nārakā ityādi //

evaṃ puruṣasya puruṣeṇa saha maithunavipratipatteḥ aprameyāḥ kāraṇāviśeṣāḥ paṭhyante / evaṃ śiśubhiḥ saha vipratipatteḥ kṣāranadyām uhyamānān dārakān paśyati / te taṃ vilapanti / sa tāṃ nadīm avagāhate / teṣu bālakeṣu tīvrasnehapratibandhaśokaduḥkhavegāt /

Right away we ought to observe, at the very least, that 'River of Brine' is not a very accurate translation of the Sanskrit, certainly, where it's kṣāra-nadī, with nadī meaning 'river.' Although kṣāra can mean 'salty,' the first meanings in the Monier-Williams dictionary are: caustic, biting, corrosive, acrid, pungent, saline.

Equipped with the Sanskrit and Tibetan words, I started searching out rivers of brine or whatever, along with words for salt and types of salts, all over the place. I'd bother you with all the details, but I guess you won't have patience for it. Anyway, my dull conclusion is that the various words for salts and salty waters are confused in the sources — even the two texts for animal metaphor no. 56 disagree whether it's lan-tshwa or ba-tshwa — so little wonder if we're confused about which is which. Ba-tshwa, to the best of my current guesses means, to some authors at least, 'borax' such as you find in lakes with internal drainage — the Northern Plains of Tibet are full of it — and as your mother knows very well an ingredient in some popular clothes-washing detergents. Sanskrit lavaṇa is in Tibetan lan-tshwa, the usual word for sodium chloride, or common table salt, NaCl.

Still, a Tibetan medical dictionary told me that lan-tsha has two meanings: [1] ordinary salt and [2] medicinal salts. According to this, when the latter meaning is intended the letter 'w' is added as a subscript, lan-tshwa. That is interesting... But who followed this spelling advice?

I went to such lengths to find out more about salt symbolism, I even wrote to Austria in quest of a mysterious scripture entitled Lan-tshwa'i Chu-bo'i Mdo. It was quoted by Atisha, but it has probably always been quite difficult to find in Tibet or anywhere else. It was translated at about the beginning of the 11th century, probably in fact at Tholing, where Dharmapāla, the Indian master named in the colophon, started the Highland Monastic Ordination Lineage.

That could help explain why it only exists in two Kanjurs located in the westernmost parts of the Plateau, the Gondhla and the Tholing Kanjurs (this information accepted with thanks from Helmut Tauscher, who kindly went out of his way to help me on this, far more than was necessary, really). Its Sanskrit title has been reconstructed in two different ways. It seems that Mark Tatz once Sanskritized it as Lavaṇa Nadī Sūtra, although Kṣāra Nadī Sūtra would also be possible. Even the Tibetan title is not always given consistently. Sometimes it's Lan-tsa'i Chu-bo'i Mdo, but we also find reference to it as Ba-tshwa'i Chu-klung zhes bya-ba'i Mdo.

I won't go into this scripture very much, since I think anyway someone will do a study of it before too long. I think we already learned something of significance, that even Tibetans might sometimes confuse or consider equivalent ba-tshwa and lan-tshwa. Not everyone is cut out to be a chemist. I'll just quote one brief passage and make a stab at understanding it. In this scripture the Buddha makes a kind of extended metaphor, and later on in the scripture it's interpreted in every last detail.

lan tsha'i chu bo'i ngogs sam 'gram dag las gang tsher ma can gyi chu skor yod la / der mun pa mun gnag smag tu 'thoms pa'i skye dgu' lus can kun kyang chu bo'i rgyun phyogs su khyer zhing ded de de las rgal myi nus so //

Let me try to get the gist of it without laboring over every word. It's meant to describe our situation here in sangsara, but you knew that.

On the banks or shores of the salt river there are lots of thorns. A waterwheel lies ahead. The myriad beings are disoriented in the pitch-black darkness. They are getting carried along by the constant stream of the river. There is no way they can turn back [from going under the water mill].

Now I jump ahead to the Buddha's own interpretation of what the salt means:

lan tsha ni sdig pa dang / myi dge' ba dang / de la rtog pa dang gsum po dag go zhes nga smra'o //

"I say to you, the salt means sin, non-virtues, and thoughts about them, all three."

Salt is a positive symbol in Christianity and Judaism. You even find salt along with oil used in significant ways in Roman Rite consecration ceremonies. Have you ever heard anyone called "salt of the earth"? That's a good thing. Salt preserves. Salt heals. Salt is good. Salt is something like life.

Salt is hardly ever positive, or at least unequivocally positive, in Buddhism. In general in Buddhist metaphors, salt doesn't preserve. It makes you more and more thirsty, and it corrodes things. Salt most often stands for desires, since fulfilling them is only temporary at best, and leads to addiction, just as drinking salt water only makes you want to drink more and more. It doesn't quench your thirst like you might have thought it would.

I found this in Access to Insight —

And what is salt water? Salt water stands for defilement. The defilements of the mind are saltier than salt. When we try to eat salt — even just a little — we can't swallow it because we find it so salty, but the defilements are even saltier than that. They can crust us over so that we spoil and rot in all sorts of ways. When this is the case, what can we do? We have to filter or distill them.

Try this page, also, where you'll find another Salt Sutra.

This is not positive. Notice that this Buddhist salt is said to be corrosive. I see the same in many of my Tibetan texts, including scriptures (I'd quote more of them, but the day is slipping away), and this leads me to think that at least some of the time they aren't intending ordinary table salt, or ordinary ocean salt,* but rather some kind of borax or, perhaps even more likely to fit the symbolism, caustic soda.

*(Ocean salt can be called rgyam-tshwa in Tibet, where it was often used for medicinal purposes, which was a very good idea, given that iodine could avert all danger of goiter, and most Tibetans were using rock salt from the Northern Plains, unfortunately. If you still haven't seen Die Saltzmänner von Tibet, it's about time you rented the video. It's really worth it.)

Are you with me this far? That's amazing! Thank you for being so patient. Just remember that a monkey paw when placed in caustic soda or lye would soon dissolve into nothingness. This knowledge will come in useful next time when we try to figure out what the turtle is doing with it in the first place. I should learn to say what I want to say right away instead of wasting time getting around to it. Good advice for any ordinary day. Today is just too hot, and on days like this, it's best to have a little extra salt. We'll talk again before too long. You can drop me a line meanwhile.

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Read and Read and Read and Read

Śāntideva's Śikṣāsamuccaya. For the English, I used Cecil Bendall & W.H.D. Rouse, Śikṣāsamuccaya: A Compendium of Buddhist Doctrine, Motilal Banarsidass (Delhi 1971), reprint of 1922 edition. For The Sanskrit, I used p. 45 of the P.L. Vaidya edition reproduced by Sridhar Tripathi at the Mithila Institute (Darbhanga 1999), but you can also do as I did and compare this with the Jens Braarvig's edition of Chapter Four here. For the Tibetan I made use of the version in the Gangs-can Rig-brgya'i Sgo-'byed Lde-mig series vol. 23, published by Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1995), just because I happened to have it at hand, not because I particularly recommend it.

Tibetan Buddhist Digital Altar, blog dated March 20, 2009 entitled Acid River. This blog provoked a rhetorically heated and here & there mildly interesting and informative discussion at E-sangha. You may have to register to see this thread, I'm not sure of it, though.

Helmut Tauscher, Catalogue of the Gondhla Proto-Kanjur, Arbeitskreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien Universität Wien (Vienna 2008). This is by far the most fascinating Kanjur catalog ever made. I would never say such a thing lightly or in jest. If you can't see the beauty in it it's probably because you're not a Tibetologist yet. If you are a Tibetologist already, look here for more details. If not, don't.

There's a fairly nice discussion of worldwide salt symbolism here. Just ignore the Scientology video advertisements and whatnot.

I find it rather strange that Sakya Pandita, in the early 13th century, used ba-tshwa to refer to the saltiness of ocean water. He says (quoting Lozang Jamspal's fine translation, where ba-tshwa is translated as 'brine'):

When virtuous people associate with the wicked,

they become affected by vice.

When the sweet water of the Ganges reaches the oceans,

it turns into brine.

This is the illustration and text on ba-tshwa* from Jampal Dorjé's** materia medica work, which lists all-in-all 20 types of salts, 16 of them naturally occurring, including ba-tshwa, and 4 of them produced by special processes, or 'manufactured.' If I translate the first line of it, as best I can, you may get some idea what's going on in the illustration.

Ba-tshwa: It forms on old walls of houses. It's oily, soft, and has moisture. It has a biting taste on the tongue. It's the stuff ze-tsha*** is made from, but hot tasting. If you burn it in fire, like ze-tsha it does not boil.

It ends with a brief quote from the Crystal Globe, a famous materia medica work, about its medicinal effects. It looks like, as with other salts, one of the main usages is in urinary disorders, although I'm not sure exactly what it's saying here.

*You can see that what appears to be there is "ba cha na," but you have to learn to read through the missing ligatures and see what's actually there, which is "ba-tshwa ni."

**It isn't well known among Tibetologists yet, but this Jampal Dorjé is identical to the Mongolian prince known in other sources as Tho-yon Ye-shes-don-grub-bstan-pa'i-rgyal-mtshan (1792‑1855).

***Ze-tshwa in Pasang Yontan Arya's materia medica is identified as Nitrum. For the whole entry, look here. Please let me know if that link doesn't work for you.

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'Gro-lung-pa's famous Bstan-rim text, dating from around 1100 CE, has this very interesting passage that almost unbelievably places side-by-side metaphors of salt water drinking and of scratching what itches: lan tshwa'i chu 'thung ba dang g.yan pa 'phrug pa la sogs pa ltar sred pa je 'phel je 'phel du 'gyur ba 'ba' zhig go | des na nam zhig nyes pa 'di lta bu shes nas spangs pa de'i tshe ngoms pa mthar phyin par zad do | | byang chub sems dpa'i sde snod las | sngon 'das dus ni shin tu rgyas pa nas | | lha rdzas dag dang mi nor bzang po dang | | 'dod pa'i yon tan lnga dag bsten gyur kyang | | de la nam yang ngoms pa ma rnyed do | |

Just to translate the first sentence quickly:

Drinking salt water, scratching itches and the like, are nothing but ways to increase the 'thirst' (or addiction) more and more.

“I was a hidden treasure and I wanted to be known, so I created the world, that I may be discovered.”

— A well-known Hadith Qudsl (Divine Saying)