46
“Seyyathāpi, bhikkhave, udakarahado accho vippasanno anāvilo tattha cakkhumā puriso tīre ṭhito passeyya sippisambukampi sakkharakaṭhalampi macchagumbampi carantampi tiṭṭhantampi. Taṁ kissa hetu? Anāvilattā, bhikkhave, udakassa. Evamevaṁ kho, bhikkhave, so vata bhikkhu anāvilena cittena attatthaṁ vā ñassati paratthaṁ vā ñassati ubhayatthaṁ vā ñassati uttariṁ vā manussadhammā alamariyañāṇadassanavisesaṁ sacchikarissatīti ṭhānametaṁ vijjati. Taṁ kissa hetu? Anāvilattā, bhikkhave, cittassā”ti.
46
“Suppose, mendicants, there was a lake that was transparent, clear, and unclouded. A person with clear eyes standing on the bank would see the clams and mussels, pebbles and gravel, and schools of fish swimming about or staying still. Why is that? Because the water is unclouded. In the same way, that a mendicant whose mind is not clouded would know what’s for their own good, the good of another, or the good of both; or that they would realize any superhuman distinction in knowledge and vision worthy of the noble ones: this is quite possible. Why is that? Because their mind is unclouded.”