On New Year’s Day, Ding Yiming had three days off. He had declined his friends’ invitation to travel together. After breakfast, he went into his study, wanting to use these three days to read Wu Aizhen’s cultivation journals. Zheng Meiqin had been paging through them the night before and said they had moved her. Ding Yiming opened the first volume, Record of the Forty-Nine-Day Retreat at Dalingyan Temple, and began to read in earnest.
March 12
At nine o’clock sharp, the guest hall master lit sandalwood powder in the incense burner, and everyone withdrew beyond the gate of the retreat compound. The temple abbot placed the lit incense burner before the main gate, then took a piece of sandalwood and held it to his forehead. After pausing a few seconds, he inserted the sandalwood into the burner. I took three pieces of sandalwood as well, held them to my forehead in imitation, and inserted them one by one in front of that piece, then knelt and made three prostrations. The simple retreat entry ceremony was complete. I nodded to everyone and stepped into the meditation room. The door clicked shut; it was locked, sealed with paper strips. The retreat had begun.
Around eight in the morning, several magpies had arrived in succession, calling. In the north, magpies herald good news, so they were a kind of congratulation on my entering retreat. During sitting meditation, I saw Skanda Bodhisattva clearing the space in midair, wielding his vajra staff. Auspicious light appeared for eight hundred li around, and many animals departed. I said, laughing, “Surely they don’t need to move?” Skanda said, “Some animals cannot bear the radiance of your samadhi.” Then two dancing multicolored phoenixes appeared in the sky before me, and between the two phoenixes a jeweled stupa manifested. Amitabha Buddha and Great Strength Bodhisattva appeared in the sky at the same time. I stepped forward to bow. Amitabha gave me a necklace adorned with the eight auspicious symbols. Great Strength Bodhisattva placed his ruyi scepter on the table before my meditation bed, then vanished together with Amitabha. Heavenly maidens scattered flowers.
I sat in meditation in the morning and read my teacher’s books after rising. During the retreat, I ate only one meal a day, at noon. The temple served lunch at eleven. After the meal, I cleared away the bowls and chopsticks and read until two o’clock. I rested for an hour, then read and meditated again until eight-thirty in the evening. In samadhi, I saw Master Lang—Lang was a disciple of Fotucheng and the founding patriarch of Dalingyan Temple on Mount Tai; Fotucheng was an eminent monk from the Western Regions during the Jin and Later Zhao period, famed for his supranormal powers—transform into a golden qilin and enter through the door. He said, “I will guard your retreat for forty-nine days.” I expressed my gratitude. He said, “I once manifested this temple and know well how difficult sentient beings are to liberate now and how hard the Buddhadharma is to propagate. That a Bodhisattva has come here for retreat is a blessing for all the monks of this temple. May the Bodhisattva soon perfect the holy fruit and shelter sentient beings with blessings.” He spoke further of the temple’s past history, then took his leave through the door. A faint glow lingered on his form; his dragon horns and tail were especially distinct.
March 13
Rose at six in the morning. Forty minutes of movement practice. The weather was very cold; the water pipes were frozen and no water flowed.
In the morning sitting meditation, I performed deliverance rites for an ice silkworm and a turtle in samadhi.
At nine-forty, I began reading sutras.
At three in the afternoon, I began practicing vase breathing, nine rounds.
First round: I heard wind rushing inside the abdominal furnace, or vase; with inner vision, fire rose with the wind. Second round: heat energy rose from the lower elixir field; the tummo fire ignited while water descended—fire and water achieved balance, heart and kidneys met. Third round: the fire gradually turned pure azure; no more sound of rushing wind; fire and water in balance. Fourth round: fire transformed into energy that rose, circled both ears, traveled to the forehead, and was expelled through the nose; both ears burned hot. Fifth round: energy transformed into light; the entire abdominal cavity held a crystalline, lapis-like light, with occasional flames. Sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth rounds: the light abided in unmoving suchness, pure as ice and clean as jade—though inwardly there was a mild warmth.
Several times in between I could not fill the vase with energy, all because discursive thoughts arose and the mind could not remain empty, luminous, and still. After the fourth round, I even rested a while out of exhaustion.
At three-forty, I finished the vase breathing and moved around briefly.
At six-thirty in the evening, my solar plexus suddenly felt intensely hot and agitated. I didn’t want to read or meditate. I practiced calligraphy for half an hour to adjust my mood and mind.
Body upright, mind upright, speech upright—only then can the energy enter the central channel. The mind-demon is the hardest to subdue. I boiled some water in the electric rice cooker; the moisture rose, and the burning agitation in my solar plexus eased considerably. It turned out the room was simply too dry, and I couldn’t adjust right away.
If we do not transform the physical body, how strong can the mind’s capacity to endure really be? We collapse, we fall, we are irritable, brief pleasures. The Buddha’s teachings and theories have nothing to do with us—unless we ourselves have sensation and experience, the mind cannot truly dissolve into the ocean of the Buddhadharma’s wisdom, cannot turn all that karmic force brings us. And only after turning it do we know that everything is emptiness nature.
How we need Dharma doors suited to the cultivation of sentient beings in this age.
March 14
Rose at six in the morning, practiced movement exercises. Then washed up and cleaned. The radiator in the room was far too hot; it was very dry, so I had to mop the floor repeatedly. Began sitting meditation at seven. This morning I started practicing the women’s elixir technique.
Reflections:
One: When first learning sitting meditation, mantra recitation can purify karma of speech and cleanse the energy channels. Memorize several mantras well and recite them with vajra recitation.
Two: In daily life, keep body upright, speech upright, mind upright. Only then can the energy, when it transforms, flow smoothly into the central channel. The cultivation done off the cushion is crucial.
Three: No matter which Dharma door you practice, the emptiness, luminosity, and stillness of mind are what matter most. Otherwise, the benefit is not apparent.
At four in the afternoon, I began walking in the courtyard. The courtyard was small, so I could only trace a small circle. Suddenly a voice came from midair: “Keep your mind on the middle elixir field. Let both arms swing open; don’t hold them before your chest. Walk slowly. Set your feet straight; don’t walk with toes turned out.” On hearing this, I corrected my walking posture. But the voice came again: “The mind is too hurried. Before the legs and feet have extended, the mind has already rushed ahead.” I was astonished—I hadn’t noticed this at all, and it was exactly true. I quickly adjusted my state of mind, making mind and legs move as one. The voice said: “If the mind were on your own body, the body’s joints would be very soft. It’s just that the mind is often not in the body.” I turned my mindful awareness inward, and it was indeed so. After walking several rounds this way, my body suddenly grew soft and warm. I felt only that a physical body was walking, not me; I existed joyfully in a field of brightness. The voice said: “This is called the Pratyutpanna Samadhi, Chan samadhi.”
Sometimes a teacher’s instruction is not about telling his disciple to do something. The deep stillness and luminous emptiness he embodies give the disciple even more blessing. The disciple need only be able to grow quiet by his side. That is enough.
At dusk, in samadhi, my teacher said, “Vairocana Tathagata will perform the wisdom empowerment for you.”
March 15
Rose at six in the morning and practiced Pratyutpanna walking in the courtyard. Pratyutpanna walking is not like running incense; you must walk slowly. Let one foot fully touch the ground before lifting the other. At first, it’s fine to place the mind on the legs and feet, uniting mind and foot. Once the legs and feet grow warm, draw the mind back and rest it gently on the heart center, with luminous empty awareness, the mind single-pointed. After walking like this for a while, the legs and feet, the whole body, seem no longer to belong to you. In fact, walking into samadhi is also very quick and comfortable.
After walking about two hundred or so circles in the courtyard, I began washing up and tidying the room.
The weather turned warmer, but the radiator still made the room very dry. I drank a great deal of water, yet my lips cracked and peeled every day. My mind began to grow clear and still. At noon, I rested half an hour, then washed clothes. Only at two o’clock did I begin sitting meditation. Reciting the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra felt very good. Suddenly I saw a monk from the Western Regions enter through the door. He had a small amount of hair, bound at the crown with a vajra ring. He carried a cloth sack over his shoulder and shook a bell in his hand, like a Dharma instrument of the Esoteric School. He introduced himself: “I am Fotucheng, entrusted by Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva to help you open the crown.” Then I saw White-Robed Guanyin and a group of people appear in the sky. Fotucheng examined my energy channels carefully and said, “The central channel, the governing and conception vessels—all are obstructed. The blood vessels are too weak. It will require…” At that moment, I saw Universal Worthy Tathagata appear riding a white elephant, transforming into a beautiful, radiant man wearing a silver neck ring… I kept my mind on the heart center and felt a surge of heat energy rise from the perineum cakra, though the energy was not great. My solar plexus grew warm. I visualized white light emanating from both breasts. Fotucheng said, “Good.” Then he recited—whether Om or Hum, I can’t remember clearly—several times in succession. I saw twenty-seven columns of light shoot up from my crown like a fountain. Then this patch of the crown arched upward as if a mat of grass were being lifted away, while both temples expanded outward. The bones and energy channels of the skull were changing; the crown was no longer level. At this, Fotucheng said, “The crown opening is complete,” and took his leave. At the same time, I saw Guanyin Bodhisattva, Universal Worthy Bodhisattva, and the rest in the sky depart as well.
At midnight, Skanda Bodhisattva suddenly said, “Vairocana Tathagata is arriving. You must rise to receive him.” I had just lain down; I threw on a robe, sat up, and entered samadhi. I saw an enormous sun rise from the hollow between the facing mountains, gradually drawing near and dissolving into my body—Vairocana Tathagata is the dharma body Buddha. And at the place where the sun rose, two people were blowing horns like ox horns. In the sky, jeweled canopies spread in rows, moving slowly closer, vast beyond measure, like a mandala built by the Esoteric School. Vairocana Tathagata did not assume any name or form. I only heard a voice issue from my own heart center: “I will perform the wisdom empowerment for you.” Then in the sky appeared an enormous pair of male and female organs in union. The male organ emitted red light…
March 16
This was the fifth day of the retreat. I woke a little past three-forty in the morning. At four, a lightbulb burst and the cotton quilt caught fire. I sat for a while, feeling somewhat tired, then lay down again in the outer room and stayed there until the retreat attendant came to collect the meal box. Perhaps because I hadn’t rested well, my head ached slightly and I couldn’t rouse my spirits. After walking Pratyutpanna outside the door for a while, my spirits lifted considerably. Then I washed up, meditated, and practiced vase breathing.
After lunch, Dullness set in, so I slept. After sleeping a while, my head began to ache, my nose ran, and my whole body felt limp and weak, as if I had a low fever.
The mind still had attachments, cares, things I couldn’t let go of. That night my dreams were scattered and chaotic.
Are words useful? They are. But when real events come, no sutra, teaching, or theory is any use. The mind’s line of defense is very easily breached.
With a mind full of attachments and cares, the whole world is karmic seeds, a net filling all of empty space. The body is in the meditation room—where does the mind want to flee? There are axes and ropes in the meditation room, too.
March 17
I woke before four today, but felt lazy. I thought, let me sleep a little longer—and I slept straight through to eight-thirty. When I got up, my whole body felt unwell. I had no energy at all. I tried drinking a small bottle of yogurt, but it didn’t help. I went to the courtyard and walked, but after concluding the practice I still felt unwell, as if all my tendons had been pulled out.
I slept a while in the morning and washed my hair, hoping I might feel more alert, but it was no use. I painted a few pictures; did not meditate.
In the evening, I ate an apple and practiced the women’s elixir technique.
Suddenly I heard someone talking loudly outside the gate, thick with the smell of the worldly life. I thought: am I really a monk? (The awakened one is the Buddha; what is correct is the Dharma; what is pure is the Sangha. Awake and not deluded, correct and not deviant, pure and not defiled.)
March 18
Today marked the end of the first seven days. Time had passed far too quickly. Looking back on this week, the gains were not great. In samadhi, two teachers gave me empowerments. But I still couldn’t abide in samadhi whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. Sometimes I lost mindfulness. Occasional discursive thoughts and cares still arose. My mind felt serene and light. My body had grown noticeably thinner, and my skin was peeling.
Rose at six in the morning, did exercises, sat in meditation, and read Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand. Near ten o’clock, a wave of drowsiness hit me. I ate a few soybeans, but the drowsiness only grew worse; I badly wanted to lie down and sleep. But I thought, this won’t do. I did twenty sit-ups, then went out to the courtyard and ran incense for half an hour. I came back and drank water, but when I saw an apple, I started eating it without a second thought. Halfway through, I suddenly realized: what exactly am I trying to do? How did I end up standing here eating an apple again? These past two days, my memory lapses have been very severe, as if I’d lost my soul. A knife cut a small gash in my hand and I didn’t even notice.
I sat in meditation from ten-thirty until past eleven. My mind was clear and my spirit refreshed. I felt a sense of the nature abiding, as if something long lost had returned to my body.
In the afternoon, I read continuously. From four to five-thirty, I practiced Pratyutpanna samadhi walking in the courtyard until my whole body grew warm.
Reading Liberation in the Palm of Your Hand, I had the following reflection: In the past, I didn’t thoroughly understand what my teachers had said; I didn’t treasure it and casually repeated it to sentient beings. That was not, in fact, an act of compassion. It was only that I myself hadn’t deeply realized it, and when I spoke of it in such a breezy, offhand way, no one took it seriously, and I myself lacked the blessing power I should have had.
Only when a person truly recognizes that she herself is a Buddha, no different from the Buddha, will she know that all sentient beings possess Buddha-nature. Only then will she feel gratitude for the kindness of sentient beings in every meal, in every grain of rice. Only then will she truly give rise to the vow-power to repay the four great kindnesses above and relieve the suffering of the three lower realms below.
Therefore, this world is fundamentally a world of karmic retribution, and karmic seeds are everywhere. So if a person’s emotional desires are not cut off, if the heart still clings to and yearns for emotion, then the seeds of emotion that fill empty space and pervade the Dharma Realm will blaze up everywhere, bloom, bear fruit, and create karma without end.
March 19
Last night I couldn’t sleep. The inside of my head was lit as if a lamp were burning. I sat in meditation until two o’clock before falling asleep. I woke at six in the morning; my energy was all right. After going outside, doing exercises, and washing up, I began sitting meditation again.
In the afternoon, the weather turned cold again. I barely meditated; I painted a few pictures, read a little, and the time was gone.
Last night while practicing vase breathing, a dakini descended from the sky. She looked at me and said, “Very good.” Then the transformation body of White-Robed Guanyin suddenly appeared in the sky. The dakini, seeing Guanyin Bodhisattva, said, “No wonder her practice is so fine!” And at the same time she shot away into the sky like a pellet, vanishing into the distance.
March 20
Rose at seven in the morning, walked Pratyutpanna outside, tidied the room, and sat in meditation.
These last few days, while practicing the pratyutpanna, something seemed truly to have returned to my body. Yet certain energy pathways had dried up, and I could not abide stably. Body and mind are one substance — when the nature rests, the energy returns of its own accord. This was an experience of my mind beginning to abide.
An excerpt from Teacher Chen’s practice notes:
To realize the Secret School’s fruition stage of the great bliss wisdom body, one must first open the five cakras, which together encompass the merits of the Five Direction Buddhas. To open the five cakras, one must open the central channel, in order to realize the Buddha’s dharma body — the goal shared by both Exoteric and Esoteric Schools. To open the central channel, one must first work with the navel cakra (secret cakra) section of the central channel. To open the navel cakra, one must practice vase breathing and tummo. To practice vase breathing, one must first practice the yidam body. To practice the yidam body, one must first practice the generation stage and must practice the four preliminary practices, along with the Mahayana calming-and-insight power grounded in emptiness and dependent origination. To possess this calming-and-insight power and the four preliminary practices, one must first practice the outer four preliminaries. For example: fear the suffering of cyclic existence, know the law of cause and effect, leave behind the clamorous world, and keenly contemplate impermanence. Do not say, “I already have a mind of impermanence.” One cannot consider it sufficient based on a momentary feeling at the sight of life’s vicissitudes. One must remain unstained by worldly affairs, unattached to the five desires, and in the face of any splendor of the red dust, thoroughly perceive its formation, abiding, decay, and emptiness without giving rise to greed or clinging — only then is the mind of impermanence truly keen.
In the evening I practiced vase breathing, combining it with the Daoist method of refining the inner elixir. The Master said it was very good.
March 21
Last night’s dreams were chaotic, with some emotional entanglements appearing. I believe it is still a matter of my own attachments in the realm of feeling. All conditions are empty. Although there are no affairs that inherently need resolving, my own mind still ties itself to these illusory appearances of phenomena. To be without desire and without seeking — how is that easy? If I do not seek to resolve affairs but only seek purity and freedom from desire, then all affairs resolve themselves.
I got up around five-thirty in the morning. Practiced pratyutpanna samadhi, washed and rinsed, then sat in meditation. At noon the meal delivered was a little scant. I thought of asking them to bring another steamed bun from outside, but then I reflected: why does the mind make so many distinctions? If there is more, eat more; if less, eat less. Just follow conditions. So I ate an apple on my own, and it filled the stomach too. This body of mine is still treated as very important — I am always afraid of letting it go hungry or thirsty. “The four great elements are originally the seeds of Buddhahood,” yet if the mind harbors concern and attachment toward them, one is no longer on the Path. Better to regard it merely as a stinking skin bag.
At four in the afternoon, practicing pratyutpanna samadhi in the courtyard, I heard a voice say: “Guard the perineum cakra.” I tried guarding it, but the perineum cakra had no sensation at all. Then the voice spoke again: “Guard it like a dragonfly skimming the water.” I tried doing this, and suddenly it was as if a stone had been tossed into a placid water surface — a current of heat spread outward in all directions from the perineum cakra.
A little past five in the afternoon I sat in meditation. My mind grew still and silent, vast and utterly open. Just then, two streams of water suddenly flowed down from my governing vessel. I looked up and saw two celestial maidens above my head pouring from vessels in their hands. They said, “Shakyamuni Buddha is coming to see the Bodhisattva… This lotus flower is so beautiful!” I focused my mind and looked — it turned out this was in the Land of Ultimate Bliss, where two women were watering a nine-grade lotus. The lotus was white, very large, and that flower was me. At that moment, Great Strength Bodhisattva approached, holding a jade ruyi, and said, “The Bodhisattva’s transformation body is nearly accomplished.” He moved the jade ruyi close to that flower. Then a great many people crowded around as Shakyamuni Buddha approached. Shakyamuni looked at that flower and said, “I hope her reward body is accomplished soon.” Great Strength said, “The Saha World is too barren; it lacks nourishment.” Shakyamuni thought to himself, “She is at Dalingyan Temple — there were once Pratyekabuddhas who realized Buddhahood there.” He said, “I will go back and make arrangements,” and then vanished. A moment later, I saw a gigantic lotus bloom at the No-Birth Land, and I myself was sitting there in meditation. A kind of energy rose from beneath the ground, pure as ice and clean as jade, enveloping my body and mind like moonlight. In the mountain up ahead there was a precious pearl. A mountain god, gripping a giant axe, split open the mountain. The precious pearl shot forth into the sky and in a flash vanished into my divine eye — there was no sensation at all. The mountain closed back together.
In the evening the retreat guard brought in an album of Buddha images. The paintings were very beautiful, but they pursued only external form and market value. Still, they could stir a feeling of love for the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas — I rejoice in their merit. Yet if I were to paint a Buddha image, it ought to possess a power of blessing, or at least give the viewer a stirring of the heart. That requires my own cultivation to reach a certain stage; only then, when I paint, could my own still and empty mind-force pour into it.
These days during meditation, a bright, clear, and pure moon disc often appears naturally at my heart cakra, with the seed syllable “Hum” within it. Today, reading a book introducing Buddhism, I discovered a dharma door that closely resembles this state that has arisen naturally for me, so I excerpted the “Pure Bodhi Mind Contemplation” from the Sutra of Contemplating the Mind Ground of the Great Vehicle:
At the heart cakra there is a moon disc, neither defiled nor pure, clear inside and out, supremely cool. In the moon disc there is the seed syllable Hum.
March 22
Got up at six-thirty in the morning. Practiced pratyutpanna samadhi, moved and exercised the body, then swept and cleaned.
Morning meditation: I visualized the moon disc entering through the Feishu point, but the fire in my chest channels blazed fiercely — the burning sensation was very intense. Guanyin Bodhisattva and the masters all said that the fire in the chest channels needed a treasure from the Dragon Palace to help subdue it. At that moment, I saw the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea suddenly approaching from the direction of the Crystal Palace, holding a golden sphere in both hands. He said, “This is the Purple Gold Mani Sphere of the Dragon Palace. I wish to offer it to the Bodhisattva for her cultivation.” Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva said, “The Dragon Palace has already offered treasures so many times — I am reluctant to accept more.” The Dragon King said, “Ah, Bodhisattva, you deliver all beings far and wide — how could I begrudge a single treasure? There are three of these spheres; they are the sea-guarding treasures of the Eastern Sea. One fewer will do no harm.” The sphere was about the size of a soccer ball and shone with a soft, subtle golden light. The Bodhisattva and the masters discussed where to insert it into me. Some said through the crown of the head, some said through the Feishu point. Just then, Amitabha Buddha suddenly appeared in the air and, with a finger-point, sealed several of my major energy channels. Everyone said, “Good!” The sphere entered through the chest, then dissolved into the heart cakra, and the energy that followed burst open the channels Amitabha had sealed. Everyone said this was very good — it could buffer the rushing force in my channels and strengthen my capacity to receive it. Amitabha disappeared. The Dragon King also took his leave and returned by the way he had come. In inner contemplation, I saw that in my heart channel there was now a huge pillar of golden light, not yet fully dissolved.
Ten to ten-thirty: activity, pratyutpanna samadhi.
At noon I ate a bit more and felt unwell in the afternoon. First, I was in a continuous state of wanting to sleep, and my eyes were dry and itchy. Urination increased, my whole body was fatigued. My mood was rather poor — everything felt a little gray.
The afternoon was mainly pratyutpanna samadhi in the courtyard, but the moment I returned to my room I wanted to sleep, yet I could not fall asleep. There was still an occasional burning sensation in my chest.
March 23
Many dreams at night, bizarre and strange. One little story after another, each with a beginning and an end. I would wake after each one finished. Sleep was not restful.
Got up at six-thirty in the morning. Swept and cleaned. Moving practice. Pratyutpanna samadhi.
Morning: meditation without interruption. After lunch I lay on the bed, half asleep and half awake, when suddenly the practice of bliss-emptiness union manifested in the air. I saw a pair of enormous male and female reproductive organs copulating in the sky. Those enormous organs seemed to correspond to any point in my own energy channels. In inner contemplation, my entire body’s energy channels resembled storm clouds before a downpour, rolling and churning without cease. Suddenly, a dazzling flash streaked across my brain, like a shooting star — the light was extremely bright, with the intensity of lightning. After that, my whole body grew unbearably hot. I scrambled up, stripped off all my outer clothes, and kept only a single layer of underclothes — and still I was very hot.
Afternoon: continued meditation. Today my eyes were itchy; I washed them with Great Compassion water. The weather turned cold in the afternoon, and the wind grew strong. A little past five, while practicing pratyutpanna samadhi outside, I suddenly thought of my parents and friends. I reflected: after so many years of cultivation, I have made very little progress in mind-nature, yet my family has sacrificed so much on my behalf. All I want is to live with utter clarity, to be able to understand the mind-essentials of all the Buddhas. Since the Buddhas do not speak falsely, if I can attain liberation in this life, then I must deliver the teeming mass of sentient beings. Since the path to Buddhahood exists, why sink into the five desires, why cling greedily to the pleasures of this dusty world? Besides, a human body is terribly hard to obtain, and life and death are not under our own control. One careless moment and it is lost.
March 24
The power went out in the morning. Before six, clutching a flashlight, I got up and practiced pratyutpanna in the courtyard. My mind cleared considerably, but my stomach was very uncomfortable.
Today, sitting on my meditation bed, I studied this small courtyard through the glass of the door and window. As time wears on, one always develops a feeling for the things around one. I suddenly felt that this small courtyard was very familiar, and I felt a certain attachment to it. To think: in this life, to have such a courtyard as this, tucked inside an ancient monastery backed by mountains, with two old trees standing before the gate, a few flowers planted in the back garden, and now and then one or two close friends who can come sit for a while, speak of ancient times and discuss the Way, and share what is in our hearts. The remaining time, one can quietly rest and cultivate in solitude, far from all the clamor of the red dust, far from all the scrambling for fame and profit — to pass a life in untroubled ease. That would be a life without regret. In truth, the life-wish in each person’s heart is not that big. It’s only that once we are swept into the vast ocean of the red dust, we are no longer masters of ourselves and cannot find purity or ease.
Last night while meditating, I saw a bear spirit sitting at a place in the temple grounds called “No-Birth Land.” Skanda Bodhisattva gave a great shout. The bear spirit leaped up and fled. Skanda gave chase, but Guanyin Bodhisattva appeared in the air, stopped Skanda, and called the bear spirit over. The bear spirit walked forward. At the same moment, a red fox also came bounding over. They seemed to kneel before the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva used a willow branch to sprinkle water and gave them empowerment. She told them that Langgong had transformed into a golden qilin to guard this place, and she hoped the two of them would follow and serve as dharma protectors and accumulate some merit. Just then, a golden qilin roared once in the distance, its entire body radiating golden light, and suddenly arrived beside the Bodhisattva. The bear spirit seemed a little afraid of it. The Bodhisattva told the golden qilin what she had just proposed, and the golden qilin then led the two of them leaping away.
In the morning I read Master Xuyun’s Teachings. The old monk used no ornate language; every word was a pearl, every sentence struck precisely at the vital point. I thought: the great masters of old exhausted all their good words, even swore oaths and vowed, yet how many people ever boarded the dharma vessel? The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas led from the front — they set the example, and the road is clearly marked. It only waits for great heroes to step forward.
A person whose heart-mind is pure and soft can see affective charm burst forth from everything in this world. Even a cold stone feels so familiar, so dear. Because self-nature is interconnected, how could she ever feel lonely or lost? If one’s aspiration toward the Way could be like the feeling of love, one would have realized Buddhahood long ago.
This mind must still be settled by oneself. The Buddhas have pointed out the road, but the one who tied the bell must untie it. Eighty-four thousand dharma doors — every single door can settle this mind.
In the afternoon, practicing pratyutpanna samadhi in the courtyard, I suddenly wished to go to the Dragon Palace for a bath. At that moment, a group of water-dwelling women came carrying kettles and such and bathed me from head down. Among them was a purple-gold kettle carved from a thousand-year dragon horn. Its water flow would never run dry, and it removed toxins and cleared heat.
March 25
Got up at five-thirty in the morning. Practiced pratyutpanna samadhi. A slight pain in my upper back, behind the heart.
After lunch I rested briefly and then began yoga moving practice. After completing a few movements, the back pain eased somewhat.
At four in the afternoon I began meditating. I saw a nine-grade lotus radiating light. I also saw again the scene of my own birth. Outside the room, a seven-colored halo ringed the air, and a Bodhisattva was pouring water from a pure vase over me.
March 26
Got up at five-thirty in the morning. Did yoga moving practice and breathing exercises. My eyes were fatigued, my back ached, my mind was a little dull and foggy, and the room was very dry.
I meditated for a while in the morning when suddenly a wave of drowsiness washed over me. I took the opportunity to lie down and immediately slept all the way until ten-ten. Several times in the dream I tried to open my eyes but simply could not. I dreamed my mother told me to drink more water and not to run around recklessly.
In the afternoon I still could not sit for long. A boil was painful. I reflected: illness truly descends in the span of a single moment. Death may visit any one of us at any time. Can my mind keep from being turned by these states? One boil is enough to upset my mind, make me irritable, leave me wanting only to sleep, drained of all energy.
At four-thirty I sat in meditation. Langgong suddenly appeared and asked whether I was ill. I said a boil was hurting me. Langgong said that Mount Tai abounded in herbal medicines and that he would gather some for the Bodhisattva. With a white cloth bag slung over his shoulder, he transformed into a beam of white light that shot into the distance. A short while later, he returned bearing a cloth bag full of herbs. Among them was an enormous wild mountain ginseng. He ordered a boy to place it inside two bowls fitted top and bottom and cook it over a fire. Soon the boy reported it was ready. Langgong took a bowl, poured the ginseng decoction into it, and had me drink it. The mountain ginseng water was a dark red color and tasted slightly sweet — not at all like the bitter, astringent flavor of ordinary ginseng. Langgong said, “This mountain ginseng is so large — a little more cultivation and it would have attained the Way.” He ground the herbs into a paste, intending to apply it as a poultice to my boil. Just then a female voice suddenly said, “Let me.” I saw a nun with a bamboo hat on her back descend from the sky, holding a blue sword. Langgong introduced her: “The Divine Nun of Wushan — she once cultivated on the Zhongnan Mountains and later came to Mount Tai.” The divine nun used the sword to cut open the boil, cleaned out all the pus, and said it was nothing to worry about. She then applied Langgong’s poultice. While cutting the boil with the sword, she breathed samadhi fire from her mouth to sterilize the blade. I asked her what practice she used. She said, “Nüwa Refining Stone practice.” I asked to learn it, and she taught it to me. Nüwa Refining Stone practice: sit in the center, circle yourself with fire or flames (I asked whether one absolutely had to light an actual fire; she said lighting a fire or candles can strengthen one’s confidence). Visualize yourself as an unyielding stone, with fire all around refining and burning you. Your whole body is burned until it glows red, then becomes transparent through and through, and from the center of the stone — the heart cakra — a stone lotus blooms into being. Upon the stone lotus sits Guanyin Bodhisattva or Shakyamuni Buddha. The lotus gradually transforms into the Buddha body. Realize that you and the Buddha are not two and not different, and thereby realize and enter into Bodhi. I bowed in thanks, but the nun would not accept the bow. She said, “Langgong is an old friend of mine. He was willing to transform into a qilin to guard this mountain, and so I too have come to offer a marvelous prescription. Let the Bodhisattva practice this for three days, and there will surely be wondrous results.” With that, she took her leave and soared away into the sky.
Sometime before this, my back hurt when an old Daoist with white hair and a fly whisk suddenly appeared. I asked him to heal me. He said, “You impertinent child — what kindness have you shown me that I should heal you?” I said, “Because our Buddha-natures are mutually connected. There should be the compassion that shares the same substance and the loving-kindness without condition.” He said, “I have no compassion or loving-kindness. If it hurts, that’s your own affair; what does it have to do with me?” I said, “Originally I have no pain. It is only an obstruction that hinders the Path. In order to benefit sentient beings, I must clear away this obstruction.” He said, “For the sake of benefiting sentient beings, then let me give you some treatment. I am the Immortal Taiyi.” Then he inserted a silver needle deep into the Feishu acupoint on my back. Impurities welled out — so filthy that the immortal had no choice but to actually suck them out with his mouth. Streaks of black light entered his mouth, and what he spat out turned to stones. I was embarrassed — it was too dirty. The immortal said, “You still make so many distinctions.” When the treatment was done, he gave a sweep of his white fly whisk and disappeared into the distance.
In a second sitting, Duke Lang placed many minerals into a frying pan to stir and boil, and ordered a young attendant to catch two earthworms. When the earthworms were put into the pan and dried, I hurriedly performed deliverance rites for them. Duke Lang said, “There’s really no helping such great compassion. Just sit and treat it as if you saw nothing.” Inwardly I smiled at myself — with Duke Lang’s Dharma power, he could perfectly well perform deliverance himself. After a while, something like quicksilver seeped out from the pan, which Duke Lang called mercury, though not the kind of mercury we have today, which is poisonous. I swallowed it and saw the mercury flow down along all the bones of my body. It was nearly not enough; Duke Lang pressed the pan again and managed to pour out a little extra, and after drinking it the amount was just right. With inner contemplation I saw that all the bones in my body had turned into pillars of white light, not dazzling — Duke Lang said this was to clear the poison from the bones, merely washing the marrow. Then he brewed a soup of many flowers and had me drink it. He called it “hundred-flower,” but actually it used only some forty kinds. As it simmered, a rare fragrance filled the room. Duke Lang said, “Taken over a long period, it brings ease to the organs… (I forget the rest).” The hundred-flower soup was very sweet and fragrant. I asked, “Could a person of this world prepare it in the same way?” Duke Lang said that people likely could not find flowers of such quality, so the effect would be poor. He himself had taken this soup for a long time and had no need of it now. Then Duke Lang said he had other business and departed with the attendant.
Duke Lang’s appearance: three long strands of beard, three eyes, a topknot on his head (like a Daoist priest), yet he wore a gray monk’s robe.
March 27
I got up at six, did moving exercises, and then practiced the “Nüwa Refining Stone” method. These days my eyes have been a little dry; I supplement with fruit morning and evening.
“Nüwa Refining Stone” seems easy at first glance, but holding steadily in that contemplation for a long time is not so simple. Making the mind into a stone is quite difficult — the essence of consciousness and the primal brightness must both come to complete rest.
A person who has realized emptiness will have body and mind transformed into an enormous energy field, with extremely powerful absorptive resonance. All sentient beings connected to him will be ceaselessly drawn into this ocean of magnetism and transformed.
My own habitual tendencies and desires are still extremely heavy. I still care about others’ opinions, and although I can quickly settle my mind, I still have the impulse to deliver people. Even though this “desire” is said to come from the power of vows, it is not yet pure; it has impurities and defilements. Sometimes it becomes attachment, making me unable to follow sentient beings and teach according to their capacities; it’s a bit like trying to educate them.
If I cannot treat others with an equal mind, venerate all sentient beings, and remain still and natural, then even if someone reveres you and regards you as a Bodhisattva, it is false. Even if someone truly does so from a sincere heart, that is only because that person’s mind is pure. You yourself should know what deficiencies you still have. Don’t be self-righteous and deceive yourself.
Since I have resolved to attain enlightenment, I must overcome every obstacle; only then can I break through ignorance and afflictions.
In the afternoon I practiced yoga; an Indian yogi came and taught some yoga postures, which I did not fully understand. Ananda brought some books — the Bhagavad Gita, the Yoga Sutra, and others — and casually set them in front of me before leaving. I also saw him transporting the books by elephant. While I was learning yoga, I transformed into an extremely beautiful Indian girl; truly, states are born from the mind.
In the evening I practiced “Nüwa Refining Stone.” The flames rose along the energy channels like volcanic magma, gathering around the heart and burning, smelting at the heart channel. Then they surged up through the heart wheel and shot straight to the crown. A mass of fiery energy burst through the crown chakra and reached the Brahma crown chakra. A column of light appeared, and within the radiance of the Brahma crown wheel, images of Buddhas appeared layer upon layer, bestowing a light empowerment: bright drops and a white, ethereal liquid descended along the central channel, unceasingly, all the way to the perineum chakra. Afterwards my breathing nearly stopped; I heard hollow percussive sounds. The back of my head felt swollen and full, both ears grew hot with a sound like rushing wind. I saw that there was light behind my eyeballs that suddenly burst out of my eyes. The channels that had been connected to the eyeballs abruptly detached, and the light entered the top of my head, then descended again from the crown to form a bright mass of light at the brow. The mass of light split into two paths: one went out through the eyes, the other connected to both nostrils.
March 28
I got up at five thirty in the morning, did moving exercises, pratyutpanna samadhi, and yoga.
During sitting meditation, I suddenly arrived at the Great Brahma Heaven. I saw Ananda, Manjushri, and the Venerable Kaundinya. In the great hall were many venerable ones, Buddhas, and Bodhisattvas. Whenever a few thoughts stirred in me, they all laughed at me. I said, “What are you laughing at? Aren’t I just deluded at the moment?” They all laughed again. In the Great Brahma Heaven, I was like a child of twelve or thirteen. Shakyamuni Buddha had Ananda look after me and play with me; Manjushri taught me the Mahayana scriptures; and the Venerable Kaundinya told me which habitual tendencies and faults I needed to correct — he was my teacher in matters of speech and conduct. Manjushri took me to bathe. Midair, four dragons spouted water in a fine mist, and I stood in the center. After a while my whole body was crystalline and translucent. Ananda said, “Now that’s what a living being of the Brahma Heaven looks like.” Manjushri said, “During your retreat you will stay here for a while.” Shakyamuni Buddha said, “Everyone likes you.” I said to Ananda, “Why don’t you go to the Saha World to deliver sentient beings?” Ananda replied, “You went there and became so bewildered; who would dare to go?” Ananda was always so flippant. Shakyamuni asked him, “Did you deliver the books to her yesterday?” Ananda said, “I delivered them, but I don’t think she can learn them.” Shakyamuni said, “Just deliver the books; the rest is not your concern.” Ananda said, “Still, a Bodhisattva with a firm foundation of great compassion will not find it hard to spread the Dharma.”
Today is the Holy Anniversary of Guanyin. Living in the city, it has been a long time since I saw little birds. Today after sitting meditation, I saw a small bird and a magpie perched on the gate tower, which gave me the feeling of returning to nature. Usually this temple has few visitors and is surrounded on all sides by mountains, with plenty of trees. Many magpies live behind the Pratyekabuddha stupa, and woodpeckers often peck for food in the trees; there are also many small birds and crickets, which is very pleasant. The freedom of the little birds gives one a feeling of peace, ease, and tranquility.
In the afternoon I slept a little while, then sat in meditation, practiced yoga, and ate an apple. These days I’ve been doing a lot of moving exercises, so apart from lunch I eat three apples a day. Toward evening, I suddenly felt very homesick, missing my family. During the past two days my heart channels have been transforming, and my heart force has been very weak; I kept wanting to cry, just like when I first began studying Buddhism — if I thought of anything sad or recalled chickens or cows being slaughtered, I would weep uncontrollably. Now the feeling has returned somewhat.
I had originally planned to write some things after entering the meditation room, but so far I still have no interest. Almost twenty days into retreat, and it feels like a dream.
Excerpt from The Story of Yoga
Part of the Vedic literature is almost like a textbook on sound, explaining how to use sound as a tool for spiritual practice.
Modern people are surrounded by so many sounds that their hearing is no longer sensitive. In reality, the human body can perceive sound vibrations only within a certain frequency. The most easily perceived sound frequencies are between one thousand and four thousand hertz; humans cannot hear sound vibrations above twenty thousand hertz, while mice, bats, whales, and dolphins can emit and receive sound vibrations above one hundred thousand hertz. Even though we lack the ability to hear sounds of certain frequencies, relatively speaking, our ability to hear is still stronger than our ability to see.
In her book Singing, Katherine Le Mée says: “The sense of hearing… is connected to inner experience. Music and sound affect us most directly. Sight does not stir such a strong resonance within us as hearing does. This is because our visual sense can in fact perceive only light within one octave of frequency, whereas our auditory sense can perceive sound across eight times the octave of pitch, that is, sound vibrations from sixty hertz to sixteen thousand hertz. The frequency of a sound wave determines its pitch; the frequency of light determines its color. The frequency of light that our eyes perceive is much higher (roughly one thousand and ten times) than the frequency of sound perceived by our ears. It is well known that the higher the frequency, the less the ability to penetrate a given material. For example, a piece of cardboard can easily block light, but a thick wall is needed to block sound. The lower the oscillation frequency of a wave, the greater its penetrating power. We are very sensitive to sound — not only our ears, but even our skin and internal organs are affected by it.”
Science shows that the human senses are limited and imperfect; a vast number of phenomena exist beyond the range of human sensory perception. The Vaishnava scriptures confirm the limitations of human seeing and hearing and explain in detail the varieties of spiritual sound unknown to humans.
March 29
I woke at five in the morning and did not want to sleep anymore. After getting up, I first cleaned the room. By the time I finished washing and tidying, it was already six. The past two days, my stomach has been slightly uncomfortable on an empty stomach in the morning, sometimes a little nauseous; it gets better once I eat a little something.
Yesterday was Guanyin’s Holy Anniversary, and I wanted to cry all day. Today my state of mind suddenly became peaceful. The withered branch placed in the vase on the Buddha table has sprouted many green buds, which I find even more lovely than blooming flowers. All things show their wonder only through contrast; a dried branch putting out new shoots excites people and makes them treasure and cherish it.
By the time I finished the moving exercises it was past seven. I ate half an apple for breakfast and drank a glass of plain boiled water, then began sitting meditation. But I couldn’t settle my mind — I kept feeling there was a mouse in the corner of the room. I got down to check several times; there was no mouse, nor did I find any other creature. Yet the corner kept making a rustling sound, like a mouse nibbling; I decided to ignore it. On the desk, in the pen holder, where two pencils lay loosely apart, a tiny spider had spun a thread and was crawling back and forth. I used to be very afraid of spiders, but now I even found this little spider quite adorable.
After lunch, I washed the lunchbox but couldn’t sleep when I lay down. My mind was not quiet enough; there were many discursive thoughts.
Excerpt, the style of Baizhang: The numinous light shines alone, far transcending the sense faculties and their objects. The substance is revealed, true and eternal — not confined to written words. The nature of mind is without defilement; it is fundamentally perfect and complete. Simply release false conditions, and you are just as you are — the Buddha.
In every ordinary movement and gesture, the Bodhisattva guards himself with care, observing the precepts even more strictly than at the very beginning. If there is no evil cause, how could any evil result arise? Even if some evil result appears, it comes from causes planted long ago. Since the causes were planted in the past, the consequences cannot be escaped. Therefore, when the fruit ripens, one accepts it calmly and compliantly, without the slightest flinch. This is what it means to understand causes and recognize their results — that is, not to be ignorant of cause and effect.
Even for sages and worthies, cause and effect are never blurred. If an evil cause was once planted, an evil result will surely be reaped. If one comprehends this principle, then in daily life, whether meeting favorable or adverse circumstances, suffering or happiness, sorrow or joy — every state has a prior cause. One will not arbitrarily give rise to aversion or attachment toward circumstances and will naturally be able to let go. With the mind wholly on the Way, no ignorance, arrogance, habitual tendencies, or faults will become obstacles, and entering the Way will come easily. (from an instruction by Master Xuyun)
Some people while away their days drifting and lax, their minds not on the Way. Even if they practice, it is only now and then, off and on, constantly circling among joy and anger, sorrow and happiness, right and wrong, and afflictions. The six sense faculties face the six sense objects, and their thoughts run wild. Toward agreeable things they give rise to delight and attachment; toward adverse conditions they give rise to afflictions and aversion.
Practice does not necessarily require stillness; to remain unmoved within movement is true skill. The Fourth Patriarch said: A thousand Dharma doors all return to the square inch of the heart. As many marvelous virtues as the Ganges sands all spring from the source of the mind. Every door of precepts, samadhi, wisdom, and spiritual powers is fully endowed within — never apart from your mind. All afflictions and karmic obstacles are originally empty and still. All causes and effects are like dreams and illusions. There is no Three Realms to escape, and no Bodhi to seek. Humans and non-humans are equal in nature and appearance. The Great Way is vast and empty, free of thought and deliberation. Such a Dharma you have already attained, lacking nothing — how does it differ from Buddhahood? There is no other Dharma. Simply let your mind be free and at ease; do not practice contemplative exercises, nor try to pacify the mind. Do not give rise to greed or anger. Do not harbor worry or anxiety. Unobstructed and vast, act freely as you will.
Circumstances and sense objects have no good or bad in themselves; good and bad arise from the mind. If the mind does not forcibly name them, how can any deluded emotion arise? When deluded emotions do not arise, the True Mind knows and pervades everything freely. Simply follow your mind in freedom and ease, without applying antidotes — this is called Eternally Abiding Dharmakaya, without change or alteration. When you speak, recite inwardly and ponder, so that those who listen long for it like someone thirsting for drink. (from an instruction by Master Xuyun)
Patriarch Bodhidharma said: To clarify the mind-seal of the Buddha, and to be in accord in both understanding and practice — that is called a patriarch. “Accord in understanding and practice” means saying what you can do and doing what you say. Among the ancients, some could say it but not do it; others could do it but not say it. Speaking belongs to Prajna wisdom and understanding; doing belongs to the essential principle of True Reality. When the two interpenetrate without obstruction, practice and speech are both perfected. Small Vehicle practitioners guard a biased emptiness and perceive the Dharmakaya, but their confusions are not yet fully eliminated, and the principle has not yet opened fully, so they cannot speak of it. After the Fifth Grade, one can lecture so eloquently that flowers rain from heaven, yet if one cannot do it, one cannot sever delusion and realize the truth.
In every movement and gesture, the ancients were consistent inside and out, without the slightest deviation in thought, with mind and speech in accord.
In both movement and stillness, let the mind be untroubled, and let go of all thoughts of ordinary and sage. A person who has seen his Buddha-nature, when he sees an object, sees the mind; without an object, the mind does not manifest. One who fully understands the mind-ground sees that all movement and stillness, purity and filth are nothing but mind. If one does not forget the distinctions of pure and impure, ordinary and holy, then what was originally a place of practice everywhere becomes nothing but obstacles everywhere.
In the afternoon, while practicing pratyutpanna walking meditation, Guanyin Bodhisattva transmitted the “Soft-Step Pratyutpanna Walking Meditation.” The transmission noted that in women, qi and blood tend to rise upward and the mind is prone to scattered activity, knots of feeling are difficult to untie, and emotional attachment is hard to break through, which results in the tribulation of love. Because the heart chakra is the sea of blood in women, when practicing pratyutpanna walking, the heels should touch the ground first, walking as if treading on a soft sponge so that the feet feel soft, while the mind guards the Bubbling Spring point (yongquan). For this reason, the Bubbling Spring point can be called the Sea of Qi in women. When a woman’s feet can remain supple and smooth, the circulation of qi and blood throughout the entire body will be unobstructed. Although guarding the Bubbling Spring point is a form of guidance, it will not cause qi and blood to stagnate in the body; rather, it enables their free flow. (During menstruation, it is not necessary to send the mind down to Bubbling Spring; simply let the mind settle into silence — empty and luminous will suffice while walking.) All conditioned things are impermanent — this is the law of arising and ceasing. The three minds of past, present, and future are fundamentally ungraspable — what is there to cling to? Without sufficient tempering, the furnace fire will never burn pure blue, and a treasured sword cannot be forged. If cultivation is not thorough and desires and habitual tendencies are not entirely purged, one still cannot let go — one can speak the words but cannot walk the path.
March 30
Got up at 5:40 a.m., practiced dynamic exercises, washed up. At seven, began sitting meditation. During the sitting, I performed deliverance for a golden-toad king. Currently there are roughly over a hundred thousand golden toads in this area; a hundred thousand years ago there were far more — this place was practically a gathering ground for golden toads. Later, because of climate and other reasons, the golden toads gradually dwindled. At the entrance of the Dragon Palace ahead, there used to be a golden basin, which is why this place is also called Golden Basin Gorge. Later, when the Dragon King needed to seek a new water source, the Dragon Palace opened a waterway connecting to the mouth of this basin, so the water here is clear and never dries up in any season. As I performed deliverance for it, the toad grew immensely large, and suddenly the surroundings turned murky and foul; within the haze, countless snakes surged forward. I asked, “Do you bear a grudge against these snakes?” It replied, “Alas! Snakes are numerous in this place and have always been fighting us for territory; the enmity has lasted for generations.” I then chanted mantras to make the snakes retreat so that the toad could calm its mind and recite the Buddha’s name. It could not recite “Namo Amitabha Buddha,” but it could recite “Namo Greatly Compassionate and Merciful Guanyin Bodhisattva.” Slowly its mind grew still, and it repeated the name over and over. At that moment, I saw Amitabha Buddha manifest in the sky, radiating red light and holding a lotus flower in his hand. The toad transformed into a tiny brilliant sphere that entered the heart of the lotus. Afterward, its form dissolved in the air, and the snakes also dispersed like wisps of cloud. The image of Amitabha withdrew. When the golden toad departed, it left me a gift.
A small insight from reading the sutras: All Buddhas and Bodhisattvas originally have no words to speak; all scriptures are merely the finger with which the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas point at the moon. Only when we can see wisdom (prajñā) in the wordless places and realize compassion in the soundless places do we truly enter into union with the speech of the Buddhas and with the nature of emptiness.
My stomach did not feel well all morning, so I spent most of the time in the courtyard practicing pratyutpanna walking, walking until the soles of both feet grew hot and sweated, and then did some yoga dynamic exercises. By then it was already approaching noon. Today is the holy anniversary of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva; the day before yesterday we celebrated the holy anniversary of Guanyin. By the light of the Buddha I was able to eat many of the fruit offerings, and even had some cake.
Although my stomach was uncomfortable, because I had done so many dynamic exercises, I felt my appetite had increased compared to before.
At mealtime, a bird — something between a magpie and a pigeon, very lovely and plump — perched on a tree outside the door. It neither sang nor flew away and stayed on that tree for a long time. I tried to project my awareness into the bird and, unexpectedly, succeeded. I felt myself suddenly merging into one with the bird on the tree, and I could see the houses below and the distant mountains from its vantage point. I felt that the bird’s claws and legs were tired, that it wanted to rest, and that it was a female, possibly carrying eggs (not entirely clear). A thread of melancholy drifted past, like a wisp of light smoke. The bird recalled something from the previous year, but the thought flashed by in an instant and I caught no information. It turned out that a bird’s thoughts flicker extraordinarily fast, and its thinking is fragmentary — it seemed to be about a nest, as if the bird was fretting over where to build a new home. At that moment the bird flew away, and I withdrew my awareness. If I had kept following the bird in flight, I felt I could continuously see the world through the bird’s eyes and experience the bird’s mental movements. But my mental energy was a little tired, not strong enough.
After finishing lunch, I felt slightly restless and irritable and very weary. Because my period had come, its physical influence on my mental state was still very strong, and the acid reflux from my stomach at noon was also related to this. My immunity and resistance were both declining — it is just too difficult to transform this body. At two o’clock I bathed and began sitting meditation. When a woman’s period arrives, qi and blood in the heart channel flow downward and the blood supply becomes insufficient, so she easily becomes vexed, irritable, and prone to tears. Therefore, during sitting meditation, the mind should be guarded at the heart chakra. The mind must be empty and luminous, joyful, and peaceful.
Yesterday while reading, I came across a passage where an ancient great worthy suddenly stopped a Dharma lecture, saying there was someone “stealing the Dharma.” At first I skimmed over it casually, but upon deeper reflection, many thoughts arose. Listeners of Dharma teachings can be divided into four categories:
The first type is the great Dharma vessel. When hearing the Dharma, they comprehend by analogy and draw inferences from a single example; wisdom opens, and they listen, contemplate, and practice all at the same time, proceeding simultaneously. A single Dharma session for them is equivalent to having realized and confirmed the teaching through personal experience. Moreover, they can thoroughly use their own experience to form their own insights, their own theories, and thus benefit sentient beings in the future. This is the true master type.
The second type listens with reverence. When a Dharma teacher’s teaching resonates with their own nature of mind, they are suddenly touched and their heart fills with joy. Even if at first they were not particularly respectful toward the teacher, at that moment they can adopt a sincere attitude to listen, ask questions, and resolve the confusion and sensation of doubt within their heart. Such people gain great benefit from hearing the Dharma, and each time they cross a river they abandon the raft — they will not let conceptual obstacles linger.
The third type is narrow-minded and petty, yet full of complaints against others and the world, believing themselves unrecognized and untapped, always seeking shortcuts and tricks. When they listen to the Dharma, they jot down whatever benefits them and mull it over carefully; whatever does not resonate with them, as long as it is a novel viewpoint or theory they have not heard before, they secretly record it too, to be used as material for future books or memoirs, appropriating the fruits of others’ cultivation and awakening as their own. Or they flaunt it before others, letting people think it is their own cultivation experience, thereby reaping petty fame and trivial advantage. Or they have no respect whatsoever for the Dharma teacher, filled with self-conceit. When they think what the teacher says is acceptable, they keep silent; but the moment they perceive even a slight discrepancy, they deride it, scorn it, sneer at it, or argue with it. This kind of person is driven by excessive desire for fame, gain, and ambition, wanting to become a Buddha or a patriarch themselves, and their arrogance is so heavy that hearing the Dharma brings them no benefit. Moreover, what they do is not called “studying the Dharma” — it is called “stealing the Dharma.”
The fourth type, of course, hears the teaching and it is as if they did not hear it at all. Sometimes they may also think the teacher’s words make sense, but after the lecture ends they go right back to doing whatever they were doing, with no change in behavior or outlook. Such people gain no benefit from hearing the Dharma either; at most, they might occasionally plant a seed of Buddhahood.
This morning, while holding the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra, I looked inward and saw my central channel like a massive tree, around which red and black-red blood vessels coiled like vines twisting around a tree trunk. The lower part of the blood vessels was dark, the upper part red and pink. As I chanted the mantra, the blood vessels vibrated and white light shone from within them, while the interior of the central channel was dry and without light. In the afternoon, my menstrual flow increased and I could not practice pratyutpanna walking meditation. I could only read. I read until five thirty and then began sitting meditation.
March 31
Got up at six in the morning and did dynamic exercises. Drank a glass of water, ate two small peaches, and began sitting meditation.
In the morning I looked through a new comic edition of the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Classic. It was utterly formulaic, explaining the words literally, without any new insight — like modern people curing illnesses by mechanically memorizing ancient fixed prescriptions. Heaven, earth, and humanity are all changing; only the laws that govern the movement of the cosmos remain unchanged. New commentaries on the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Classic ought to focus on present realities; otherwise, it will only have value for theoretical study and discussion, without any practical use.
In distant antiquity, people all looked for their own faults and changed themselves to adapt to the cosmos, society, and the times. But modern people have lost their integrity and simplicity; they are extremely selfish. To ask them at the outset to change even a tiny habitual tendency is far too difficult! So whether it is the Buddha-dharma, medical education, or health cultivation methods, all must adapt to the mental state of modern people, making them feel that every bit of effort yields some gain — that they are not losing but gaining. And they must be made to truly perceive that benefit; only then will they eagerly rush to study and practice. Once they have genuinely understood some principles, only then can we speak to them about giving, and only then can they truly grasp the meaning of “loss” and experience the state of letting go. Only then will they truly change their bad habits and cherish life. And only by first purifying people’s minds can we alter the present out-of-control state of the universe. Otherwise, all things in the universe will lose their harmony.
After lunch I felt like simply lying down to sleep, but a vague unease stirred within me. The reason was that ever since entering the meditation retreat room, I had never once lain down to sleep right after a meal; I would always stay active for a while after eating, then rest briefly before getting up to read — as if following a clear rhythm. Earlier, I had been so undisciplined for a stretch of time, doing whatever my habitual inclinations dictated, without any proper daily rhythm. I knew this was not good and wanted to change it — was I going to wreck it today just because of a little physical discomfort? Thinking this, I sat up again, read for a while, felt my head heavy and my feet light, and then lay back down in bed to read. I still had more than ten books to finish and wanted to get through all of them in this period. At this moment, my mind grew drowsy and I felt as if I were about to slip into a half-sleep.
Suddenly, a light flashed in my heart, as if ice were melting. I felt my entire body suddenly become comfortable, a knot in my heart unraveling, as though water were pouring through my whole body. All at once, I realized that movement, stillness, sitting, lying, walking, stopping, diligence or laxity, and even greed, anger, delusion, self-conceit, and doubt — all these are just the mind toying with us, forcibly attaching false labels. What utter nonsense! I will simply abide in Unmoving Suchness and watch how these phony labels try to delude me — what further antidote is needed? One shout: “Bah!” — gone clean away! Whatever “mind,” whatever “Buddha” — all of it departs far from me. To think that these two empty labels have fooled me for so many years. Nothing in the world is at fault; it is the mind that makes distinctions! And the mind, too, originally makes no distinctions — it is I who have been lost in confusion!
At this, I truly fell into a deep sleep. I felt as if I had never relaxed this completely in thirty years; I slept a dreamless sleep. When I woke several hours later and opened my eyes, it was as though an infant had just opened its eyes; my entire body had rested so fully. In the past I had tried to learn the relaxation of an infant, muttering all day about doing everything wholeheartedly — only today have I truly learned it! Gratitude for the blessings of all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, gratitude for the blessings of all sentient beings in the Three Realms! From now on, I will simply eat when hungry, sleep when tired, and go with conditions to settle old karma — this life will not be lived in vain!
In the afternoon, I practiced yoga, walked pratyutpanna, sat in meditation, and read.
During my period, I added a glass of milk or two eggs to breakfast each day and skipped dinner. Eating too much makes the body heavy and uncomfortable. These days, eating only one meal a day feels very good. Actually, it seems human beings never really needed three meals — two meals are quite enough; it’s just a matter of habit. However, one does need a regular daily rhythm, going to bed early and rising early.
April 1
Today is the third seven-day period, and the feeling of body and spirit beginning to merge into one has started to appear. The mind is entering a state of deep stillness.
I got up at five thirty in the morning, cleaned up, and recalled that when I first entered the retreat I had a small bag of millet, so I cooked myself a bowl of millet porridge and drank it. It was not until seven thirty that I finished everything.
Yesterday I was reading the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Classic and felt that some of its contents were too oversimplified. My foster father once said that the versions in circulation now have become briefer with each edition, all to make it easier for people to understand. The basic framework of the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Classic is still there, but more detailed, more precise, and more esoteric material — concerning the relationship between energy channels and natural celestial bodies, or certain health cultivation methods — has been deleted. This is already more than ten versions removed.
After lunch I took a nap and discovered in the dream that I was actually living in a room that had once been occupied by chickens and ducks, and that I was doing sitting meditation in that room. Waves of dry heat spread through my body, and I woke up. When I awoke, I found I was wearing down trousers and a down vest. I thought about how the feathers on the floor of the room in the dream resembled the stuffing in this clothing, so I got up and changed into the cotton-padded trousers and jacket I had worn a few days before. In the dream, the smell of those feathers was quite rank.
When I got up from the nap, I did dynamic exercises, repeating some yoga postures, but I still couldn’t perform them accurately. No wonder Ananda said I couldn’t learn them. I’d forgotten more than half of the postures that yoga teacher taught me a few days ago. Probably I hadn’t paid them enough attention at the time and hadn’t studied wholeheartedly. That yoga teacher only taught them once and then left, and they were supposed to be coordinated with the breath. After he left, I didn’t review them.
I gobbled my food down too fast, and afterward my stomach felt uncomfortable — truly a bad habit that absolutely must be corrected. Even while writing this passage, I devoured an apple in a few bites. It was only after finishing that I noticed what I’d done.
At three o’clock I began sitting meditation. I felt rather agitated and couldn’t settle, so I went outside and did pratyutpanna walking. I felt as though there were a hole in the area of the heart chakra. As I walked on, the hole began to expand, and suddenly it separated the upper and lower parts of my chest and heart, as if splitting heaven from earth. Yet the qi in the upper part was not clear; at the same time, bubbles rose in that region, surging with each breath in and out like a diaphragm rippling. Then the diaphragm suddenly vanished, and there were a few shifts in my energy channels — some extending, some contracting — and a small flesh-petal lotus appeared. Upon it, a tiny, radiant white pearl emerged. The pearl abruptly shot up through the crown chakra and circled at the Brahma crown chakra. I tried to draw it back to the heavenly eye, but I couldn’t. So I paid it no more mind and continued walking with a quiet heart. At this point, I felt water rising in the heart channel, and from the Brahma crown chakra droplets of water fell into the heart channel. Many acupoints throughout my limbs and all the channels suddenly sparkled with white light, as if each acupoint held a tiny pearl. “Sensation” is very important for a cultivator, especially for a beginner, because it greatly strengthens faith. When Shakyamuni expounded the Dharma in his time, he also supplemented it with displays of supranormal powers, which enabled many disciples to believe, accept, and uphold the teachings.
April 2
At eight last night I was already sleepy, so I lay down on the bed, but my whole body itched and I couldn’t sleep. I picked up Venerable Xuyun’s Teachings and began reading. But the itching grew worse and worse, and before my eyes the hairy legs of all sorts of little bugs kept flickering. I thought maybe it was because no one had lived in this room for a long time, and perhaps the ground here had once teemed with small insects. I closed my eyes, lay still, pushed away all stray thoughts, and tried to enter Chan samadhi right there. But the moment my eyes closed, the red horns and legs of various bugs multiplied, and I actually felt a little nauseated. This illusory realm simply would not disappear, and my body kept itching in one spot after another. I was baffled — I’d never had this feeling in the previous days.
Suddenly a voice sounded, and it seemed to be the Master saying, “Child, get up quickly. There’s a thousand-year fire centipede. This centipede is over three thousand years old. Enter samadhi at once — you need the fire poison from its body.” I sat up at the sound, and the moment I quieted my mind, I saw that beyond the wall behind me was a stretch of slope and a gloomy little courtyard. An enormous centipede was crawling over from that slope, more than ten feet long, and as it writhed forward its whole body kept giving off red-yellow light as though charged with electricity, like a pillar of red radiance in the night. Around it, thousands upon thousands of small and large centipedes were swarming so thick they blotted out the sky and covered the earth; even the floor beneath my bed was packed with them. The fire centipede crawled forward, lifting the front half of its body and swaying from side to side. It was about to reach the spot behind my lower back. Apart from feeling sick and nauseated, I was also a little spooked, very afraid it would wrap itself around my waist, but my mind stayed fairly steady. I murmured Om Mani Padme Hum, yet I simply did not know how to extract its fire poison.
The Master was growing anxious. Just then, a strange laugh suddenly rang out from the sky, and a being, half-human and half-bird, flew down and landed beside the Master. “A fire centipede! Wonderful — you won’t see one in a thousand years,” he said. The Master, seeing him, said, “Star Officer, don’t devour it. I need the fire poison from its body.” I said, “Star Officer, be compassionate, don’t kill it.” The Star Officer said, “If I don’t eliminate it, I’m afraid it will bring harm to the human world someday. Still, since you plead for it, I won’t kill it. I’ll just capture it.”
The moment the fire centipede had first heard the Star Officer’s laugh, its whole body had gone rigid, its majesty utterly gone, and it lay still on the ground, no longer moving. I sighed inwardly and murmured, “Ah, karmic destiny!” The Star Officer produced a needle and flung it from the sky onto the centipede. The needle pierced it with precision, and in an instant the silver needle turned a reddish black. The Star Officer retrieved the needle and handed it to the Master, saying, “All of the fire centipede’s poison has been drawn into this needle. You may use it for your disciple.” Then he took a wooden carved gourd from his waist, pointed its mouth at the fire centipede, and a ray of white light swept every last centipede into the gourd. After that, he transformed into a bird that looked somewhere between a phoenix and a rooster and flew off toward the northeast.
The Master examined the needle, then found half a bowl of water and dipped the needle into it. As soon as the tip entered, the water in the bowl turned red. Just then, the Star Officer suddenly flew back from the sky and gave the Master two white, round pills, about the size of lentils, saying, “The fire centipede’s venom just now is raw poison. It cannot be taken directly. If you take it, you should also take this pill.” With that, he spread his wings and vanished into the sky once more.
The Master brought me the bowl of water. I drank it down and at the same time swallowed one of the pills. Instantly, flames seemed to leap up through the channels and pathways of my body; then the flames changed to red light, still and frozen in place, and after a moment they vanished. I drank two bowls, and the same thing happened each time. Then I sat in meditation for a little over ten minutes. I have no idea when the Master and the others left.
In meditation, I observed that outside the wall and beneath the bed there were no longer any venomous bugs; only the shed husks of centipedes drifted along with the dust. I lay down for a while and fell asleep. In a dream, I felt someone calling me by my ear. I startled awake and was completely unable to fall back asleep. I thought of getting up, but it felt too early, so I stayed in bed. Sometime past four, I heard the monastery’s board being struck, grew a little dull and drowsy, and fell asleep again, not waking until six.
Reflections on my reading:
Today I read two books, Wisdom of Life and Thus It Is, by Li Yuansong, the founder of Modern Chan in Taiwan. These seem to be his early writings, in a classical style. Although they gave me no insight or stirring at the level of view, his compassion moved me deeply. Looking at his photograph, I gently brushed my finger across his high, prominent forehead, so full of wisdom. Though he died young, in his time, who ever truly read the loving-kindness and compassion in his eyes? Who ever truly understood and protected that lonely heart of his, so full of compassionate vows? At great heights, the cold is bitter! His compassion was earnest, yet his strength fell short! His heart was forbearing, gentle, full of compassionate vows, possessing the breadth and spirit of a patriarch of an age, yet he lacked the force to turn back the surging tide, to strike the table and make the Five Sacred Mountains tremble! Such were the causes and conditions, too! He came and went alone. His awakening bore too much suffering on behalf of sentient beings. As a dhyāna master, although his heart had returned to peace and stillness in the face of all things, and perhaps his heart quietly blossomed in Chan, yet in this world he did not taste sublime bliss. He did not blossom in splendor!
When a person’s heart is like still water, with no inner agitation, when the heart is so soft and tender it seems to be there and yet not there — only in that delicacy, in that quiet, can one feel the rich feeling of the universe and nature. Gray cement walls and bare branches stripped of leaves can together form a radiant landscape, allowing the Chan practitioner to realize, out of illusion and emptiness-nature, the ceaseless vitality of life, the truth of life, the rich color of life! Only then can one follow the natural, go with conditions through this life, and realize that afflictions are Bodhi.
Life is serious. We cannot casually laugh or rage or speak without restraint. We must accord with our own hearts that seek the Way. Do not neglect a small good deed, thinking it insignificant; do not commit a small evil, thinking it harmless. An awakened person may act in accordance with conditions, at ease and free, but he approaches life with utter seriousness! The energy of heaven and earth made us; our parents raised us. To destroy our own bodies, skin, and hair is to destroy the Buddha’s sarira stupa. To let our hearts be anxious, pained, afflicted, to abandon ourselves to unchecked desire — that is to whip and shame the Tathagata!
In an earlier book I saw the illustrations of a painter. His brushwork was spare, his compositions leisurely, and everything he depicted revealed some philosophical truth about life. He was a painter of real insight and thought. This is the style of painting I have always pursued as well. But his one flaw was a heart that sought fame and gain; his ego-clinging had not been broken. That is why his paintings contained a desire for self-expression, or were over-saturated with personal feeling. Though he mostly took ordinary, unadorned subjects from everyday life, conveying the sense that the ordinary mind is the Way, his paintings lacked breadth of spirit. The blessings they imparted and the stirring they provoked were not great — they merely gave one pleasure to look at, brought a knowing smile, and perhaps a sigh of more or less depth. Still, I greatly admired his painting technique and would like to learn from it. But paintings that appear deceptively simple must surely have been achieved through much arduous practice. The simpler and more natural the work, the more it reveals its depth of cultivated skill!
Right now I want to learn painting, learn the qin, study medicine, and also cultivate Chan samadhi and read Buddhist scriptures extensively. But do I truly love these things from the depths of my heart? In learning painting and the qin, is there a desire to show myself off before others? In studying medicine and reading Buddhist sutras, is it only to be of help to others? The desire is not strong, and my compassion is insufficient. So whichever one I take up, I begin in high spirits and put down when the mood fades. It turns out I am actually such a lazy person. Truly, I have accomplished nothing at all.
April 3rd
Woke at four thirty in the morning. Practiced walking meditation and sitting meditation.
At six I drank a small carton of milk. The whole morning I read, meditated, slept, and performed a liberation ritual for a large ginseng root. The ginseng came before me and said, “I wish to offer myself to the Bodhisattva!” In samadhi, the Bodhisattva said, “Eat it.” I could not bear to eat it. The Bodhisattva said, “It’s all right. If you eat it, its merit will be perfectly fulfilled.” So I picked it up and ate it. It was about as thick as a large white radish. When I finished, suddenly before me appeared an old man with white hair, leaning on a staff, who knelt on the ground and bowed in thanks. He said he was grateful that I had not disdained him for being old and stringy — he had attained liberation! With that, he rose into the sky and departed.
At noon, while doing yoga on the mat on the floor, a little black, shiny bug suddenly darted over swiftly. I felt that this kind of bug bites, so I hit it and killed it.
Actually, during this period, because my heart has grown soft and tender, I believe more and more deeply in cause and effect. I mostly regard the bugs crawling on the ground with a mind of mutual non-harm. If I accidentally hurt one, I immediately perform a liberation ritual for it. But after I killed that bug, my heart was slightly unsettled. Although I performed the liberation ritual and there were no adverse conditions, I kept wondering why my heart had been disturbed. I thought of how a Chan patriarch, in order to teach the Dharma with skillful means — the Ultimate Reality being formless — seized a cat and cut off its head, and his heart was utterly at ease, not a trace to be found. But my own heart stirred merely because I was afraid this bug would harm me. There was still ego-clinging, so I committed killing. Thus one creates karma and wanders through birth and death. The dhyāna master had no notion of self, so killing the cat was like splitting a piece of firewood. I had the notion of self, the notion of others, the notion of sentient beings, and the notion of living beings, so killing a small bug was like killing a cat! When one is transforming the seventh consciousness, because the heart has already become tuned, soft, and extremely subtle and sensitive, and because the power of intention is considerably strong, even the lightest breeze or stirring of grass, even the slightest deluded thought, will be felt as karmic force and directly experienced within Chan samadhi. Sometimes, though the heart can remain free of cares and attachments, not abiding in a single appearance, the physiological transformation is, after all, still going through this process.
April 4th
Woke at six in the morning. The wind had been strong last night, and today the weather turned cold. My lower back and legs felt somewhat uncomfortable, and I had spent the whole night in a state between sleeping and waking.
In the morning I read. I was a little drowsy, and dullness was setting in, so I lay on the bed and slept for half an hour. I felt the area of the heart chakra become very bright. Body and mind were like a dimly luminous mirror, with habitual tendencies and desires floating on the surface like oily grime, making the whole body restless and uneasy. The region of the heart was slightly parched and feverish; it seemed as though all the limbs and the hundred pathways of the body were dried up. Lately I keep making a certain mistake: when I’m writing a character, I clearly intend to write one thing, but when I finish and check, I’ve written several wrong characters. It’s all because I write too fast, and my mind is not on the writing. I thought, in cultivating the Way it’s the same — if mindful awareness does not arise in time, one falls into dullness and unknowingly creates all sorts of karmic obstacles. A wrong character can be corrected, but once a thought arises and moves, once an action or deed is done, it is as though a high-speed camera has recorded the trace into the field of the eighth consciousness. If you want to become a Buddha, you must wash them clean one by one, repay them one by one, untie and release them yourself one by one. Life and the cycle of rebirth never cease. Suffering or joy, feelings entangle and link us to one another. Without the Buddha’s wisdom-sword, who can cut them off? Even to the point of cutting without cutting — from the mud, a pure lotus emerges, not stained by a speck of dust. A mind-nature transcendent and free of worldly taint, tasting the joy of Bodhi-sovereignty right within the afflictions — this, I’m afraid, only a great Bodhisattva of perfect awareness and perfect illumination can achieve!
I didn’t nap at noon. After lunch, I continued reading. Later I practiced yoga and walking meditation.
During sitting meditation, my mind became empty to the extreme. It was like the vast, open cosmos, and then like a dark, deep black hole, and finally reached a state of nothingness, with the breath suspended. In the midst of this, I gently directed my attention inward to observe the body. Scattered and disorderly energy naturally returned to the hundred channels and energy points. Moreover, some false fire that had been stagnating in the lower back, the pelvic cavity, and the heart chakra instantly dispersed like a red cloud, and the heart chakra region became extremely cool and comfortable. It turns out that as long as the mind is empty, in an instant the hundred pathways can become orderly and function normally, and pathogenic energies naturally disappear. Maintain this for a time, and the energy will naturally enter the central channel, the four elements will naturally transform, and one enters the unconditioned Dharma. Moreover, from the very beginning of emptiness, the breath becomes barely perceptible, and there is light in the hundred channels throughout the body, still and unmoving.
In my past practice, though my mind did not run off with stray thoughts, the realms I saw and heard with the celestial eye and the celestial ear caused my mind to run off with the spirit-consciousness. I wasn’t meddling in the affairs of beings in this realm, but I was still meddling in the affairs of beings in another realm. That is why my practice was not ultimate, why my body’s energy channels could not be fully transformed even after so long, and why my habitual tendencies and afflictions remained heavy. Now I must truly “retreat” — the mind-made body, too, is illusory. Let go completely, let spirit and form merge into one, and realize and enter emptiness-nature. Only by realizing and entering emptiness-nature can principle and phenomena be perfectly fused without obstruction, and afflictions and habitual tendencies dissolve in an instant.
April 5th
Woke at six, cleaned and washed until about seven thirty, then drank a small cup of milk. Today the sky was overcast and gray, the wind strong, but the weather was turning warmer.
While cleaning today, I contemplated the matter of seeing one’s nature. I thought, seeing one’s nature isn’t really that difficult — why do sentient beings feel they cannot get a handle on it? Among those who study the Buddha-Dharma, who does not know that the Buddha said, “The mind cannot be grasped”? And also, “Nature is everywhere.” So what mind is it, exactly, that is illuminated when one sees one’s nature? And who is it that sees the nature?
To illuminate the mind is to cast away the false and unreal mind. When a Chan practitioner concentrates every thought on one sensation of doubt, on a single point, and no other deluded thoughts arise, and then suddenly a sound or a realm strikes that deluded thought — the sensation of doubt, the huatou, and so on — down as well, at that moment all minds — all deluded minds — perish, and only nature remains. The self-nature reveals itself in that kshana.
But who exactly is it that sees the nature? It is still the “deluded mind” that sees. Therefore this seeing is also not seeing. It is simply that from that point forward, this “deluded mind” understands a principle: “All minds are ungraspable. Every arising thought is like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow.” That is to say, one attains right view and abides in one’s original position, no longer turning with conditions. This is the initial stage of seeing one’s nature. However, after seeing one’s nature, if there is no actual realization, then although the mind understands that the thoughts arising moment after moment are illusory, and that the realms created by the mind are illusory as well, the habitual tendencies and desires have not yet been completely cleansed. So even knowing perfectly well that everything is illusory, the mind still moves in response. It’s just that it rises and falls back immediately — for those whose Chan samadhi is strong — and depending on the power of concentration, the time it takes to let go differs. But as long as the mind makes this one movement, as long as this affliction arises, even if only for a single kshana, a trace has already been left in the field of the eighth consciousness, and karmic retribution will follow.
The eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind must all be the great capacity and wondrous function of emptiness nature. Just as in the past, during sitting meditation, smoke entered my lungs, and the lungs had already transformed it into pure oxygen the instant it came in, so too: the moment anything makes contact with your six sense bases, those six sense bases have already wholly transmuted it. There is no need to use the mind to let go, no need for “the wild goose passes over the sky but leaves no trace.” In the nature of mind, as soon as a thought arises, as soon as there is “passing,” there is a trace. There is no need to apply a single thought to transform that affliction. The moment there is a single thought, you have already separated from emptiness nature; the innate has become acquired, already tainted, and you can no longer truly bring emptiness nature into function.
After seeing their nature, many eminent Chan masters and great worthy ones no longer cultivate the physical body. Of course, if their samadhi power is strong, with walking, standing, sitting, and lying down all in samadhi, the physical body will still undergo transformation. Yet to transform this physical body swiftly, it is still best to use the “mind” to transform it; if one does not set the mind to the task, it is far slower. But the patriarchs considered this not worth the effort: first, it takes too long—by the time the body is transformed, many more years might have passed; second, their vow could not be set aside—they needed to emerge early and spread the Dharma to benefit sentient beings. If, however, the energy channels are thoroughly transformed and supranormal powers are fully present, that bestows even greater blessings upon sentient beings. To combine the seeing of one’s nature in Chan with the cultivation of energy channels and essential drops in the Secret School, or to combine Chan with the Daoist practice of refining the internal elixir, is the fastest shortcut for transforming the physical body. It is also one of the Dharma doors most needed by the sentient beings of this age.
Many eminent monks and great worthy ones of the past cultivated under extremely poor conditions, lacking proper nutrition and a suitable environment, and in the course of wandering on foot and visiting teachers their bodies were already ruined. Consequently, after seeing their nature, it was extremely difficult for them to transform their bodies and energy channels. Many of their channels had already been blocked and dried up by illness, and their organs were severely damaged. Thus, for thoroughly transforming the physical body, a healthy and youthful body is one of the most favorable conditions. Of course, many eminent monks, because the sentient beings of the Dharma-Ending Age lack the blessings and causal conditions to hear the true Dharma, had to shoulder a share of that karma force and would also manifest the appearance of illness—but that is a separate matter.
Looking back over my own cultivation process, in the matter of transforming the physical body I have already integrated methods from the Secret School and the Daoist tradition. When one’s own mental power is not yet sufficient, visualization is very important. Every Buddha and Bodhisattva who took rebirth in this Saha world and manifested a transformation body has left a high-level field-energy in our cosmic field. When we visualize them, we can directly connect with that high-level field-energy and be directly assimilated and magnetized by them—this is the true meaning of empowerment. This kind of empowerment comes from an invisible energy field. But it requires the practitioner’s own mind to be pure and the intention single-pointed. If your mind has already entered emptiness nature, you will then be able to merge into one with the Buddhas of immeasurable, boundless worlds, merge into one with sentient beings, merge into one with the Way—the blessing and empowerment in that state are beyond words, beyond conception. Yet even when the mind has entered emptiness nature, when transforming the physical body it is still necessary to turn the light around and shine it upon the energy centers of the body. In my own practice, for example, when the mind is profoundly still and utterly empty, I must turn the light inward and illuminate each of my own energy centers—this is not entirely without intention; it requires the use of will. A practitioner must spend long periods of time within each twenty-four-hour day contemplating the energy centers; only then can the transformation be accomplished swiftly. The students of today merely sit for a few hours each day, and the rest of the time they are absorbed in deluded thinking and afflictions—with that there is simply no possibility of transformation. The gathered energy in the channels is insufficient, the internal work is not yet ripe, and transformation is impossible. Even an eminent monk of lofty Chan samadhi would need to remain genuinely immersed in the four dhyanas and the eight concentrations for long periods of time before he could transform this physical body. If one cultivates concentration amid walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, the gathering and transformation of energy will still be affected; remaining in one specific posture would be faster.
Whatever sentient beings need, I will strive to investigate and learn it. Sentient beings cling to appearances, so I must first transform this physical body as quickly as possible and manifest before the assembly with a worthy appearance.
At lunch today I suddenly felt a sense of shame, and from my heart arose an immensely powerful feeling of gratitude—gratitude to the Buddhas, the Bodhisattvas, and all sentient beings for giving me this meal. Really, if we think about it, when we come into this world, we have not contributed any merit and virtue to it at all. The clothes we wear are woven by textile workers and made through many hands, step after step; the food we eat is grown by farmers; and the various pleasant surroundings we enjoy are all created by others, while we simply sit here reaping the benefits. We might say, “I earned the money to buy all this. I worked hard and made the money.” But the very ability to earn that money—did it not come from the countless efforts your parents, teachers, and friends poured into you from childhood? Your own mind was once scattered and ignorant; your parents and teachers, bit by bit, educated you so that you acquired knowledge, became intelligent and capable, and gained the ability to survive. If I enjoy a comfortable life in this world, it is truly the fruit of many people’s efforts, and we ought to live in gratitude. Otherwise, we will lose our innate moral sense. Only by living in gratitude will our hearts become tender and free of distinction. You will see a cesspool cleaner and a high-level official with the same kind affection and the same joy, because you are content. Without that cesspool cleaner, you might be living in a stench-filled environment; without that high-level official to promote laws and regulations, society would descend into chaos.
In this world, not a single person owes you anything. Even your parents, your sisters, your beloved—though by the workings of cause and effect they share a blood bond with you, the love and care they give you may far exceed anything you gave them in past lives. How can you not be grateful, and remain unmoved, like wood or grass? If someone has no past-life karmic connection with you, and yet, because of their aspiration or their kindness and innocence, they offer you help—or if a pure-hearted child gives you a brilliant smile—you must feel gratitude. Be grateful that you have bright eyes to see that smile, be grateful that you have a tender heart capable of feeling that warmth. Because not everyone can have bright eyes, nor a heart able to experience warmth. None of this is something you fashioned yourself.
After we have studied the Buddhadharma, we must even be grateful that cause and effect never miss by a hair, and that heaven is impartial and fair, granting us good rewards for good deeds and bad rewards for bad deeds life after life. Thus, whenever we do a good deed, we feel joy and our hearts have something to rely upon. And when we encounter hardship or unfair treatment, we will think, “Why, of all the people in this world, has this calamity fallen on my head alone?” Once we understand the principle that “when causes and conditions meet, one must bear the karmic results oneself,” we become calm and accepting; instead of complaining or sinking into passivity, we actively seek the antidote and strive to free ourselves from the ordeal as quickly as possible. And even if in the end we cannot be freed, it is only the repayment of a debt; our hearts will become free and easy, calm and accepting—the body may suffer, but the mind does not. At such a time, we should be grateful that the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas have given us this wisdom. Without their compassion, without their vow to save and deliver sentient beings life after life, how would we know of the six paths of rebirth, how would we understand the principle of karmic retribution? We would certainly be bewildered and helpless, unbearably miserable.
Especially on the path to Buddhahood, even a tiny insect can test whether you still have the intent to kill, whether you truly possess the power of concentration. Without such tests, you might sometimes deceive yourself and lose your way on the path. Even a small insect is helping you accomplish the Way. When you attain accomplishment, how can you not be grateful to this world? How can you not repay the four great kindnesses above and relieve the suffering of the three lower paths below? Even if we may not yet possess uncaused compassion or the great compassion that sees all beings as one body!
Living in gratitude, you will discover love; you will find that every moment beside you is bathed in sunlight. Free of making distinctions, you will accumulate merit and virtue. From gratitude, shame arises; you will lessen your greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt. You will give and help others without seeking anything in return. In this way, you wash clean the defilements accumulated over many lifetimes upon your mind-nature. Only then will you have a sensitive heart able to feel the suffering of others; only then will you emerge from self-centeredness and become an angel, dwelling together with God. Only then can you obtain the mind-seal of all Buddhas and accomplish the fruit of the Bodhi Way!
Now I suddenly recall this morning’s question about “seeing one’s nature.” The thought came to me: “If the nature is everywhere, then surely we must be able to see it at every turn—so why do sentient beings not see it?” (1) Sentient beings have too many scattered thoughts, their minds are not single-pointed. (2) Their habitual tendencies and desires are too heavy; the defilements veiling their mind-nature are too thick, so they cannot turn the light around and shine it within—the light of the mind does not manifest, and they cannot see it. (3) The thoughts of sentient beings are constantly being turned by external conditions, without a moment’s pause; although the nature is constantly in function, they do not recognize it, and they have no way to truly quiet the mind and reflect. Therefore, for those who have many scattered thoughts but a good spiritual foundation, you must first help them concentrate the mind, anchor it to a single point. Then, when they are suddenly touched by an emotion or a circumstance, the light of the mind flashes forth. At that moment, if they catch it—this is what Chan calls “seizing the moment of splendor”—then the great work is done. It really is not difficult at all. For people whose mental defilements are heavier, they need a period of polishing and tempering in the mind-nature, so that their differentiating attachments are reduced and the mental defilements gradually loosen and fall away. Only then, when they anchor the mind to a single thought, will they have the ability to turn the light around and shine within; and then seeing the nature is not difficult either.
In the present age, everything changes too fast. Sentient beings react swiftly; their minds are sharp, and as circumstances change, their attitudes and views change quickly as well—especially the young. To guide them, you must first kindle in them a mind that seeks the Way. Then, for a period, have them study Buddhist history and general surveys of Buddhist teachings, and read select scriptures of both the Great and Small Vehicles, so they gain a general grasp of the essential meaning of the Buddhadharma. At that point, if they can be given time away from the disturbances of the mundane world, accompanied by a Dharma door and a period of pure practice, it is best if they can produce some direct spiritual experience in actual cultivation. For short-term practice, the blessing and empowerment of a teacher are extremely important. In this way, seeing one’s nature and accomplishing the three bodies is not a very difficult or bewildering matter. Think of the Buddha’s time on earth—some people could realize the fruit of an arhat in as little as seven days.
Are the conditions of sentient beings today truly so much worse than those of the beings of that time? Can they really practice for ten or eight years without any accomplishment? My thoughts on this: (1) It is a matter of theory. In the Buddha’s time, every word he spoke could directly address the spiritual foundations of the beings present, pointing straight to what was lacking in their mind-nature and clearing away their points of confusion and doubt. He gave the medicine suited to the illness, and so they progressed quickly. The sentient beings of today read the Buddhist scriptures the way one uses a single prescription to treat every illness, unable to match the teaching to their own foundation and circumstances. Unless one reads the scriptures extensively, perhaps one may happen upon a single sentence in a certain sutra that strikes the exact point of one’s deepest confusion and thereby gain true benefit. The Buddhist canon contains the Tripitaka and twelve divisions; to find a prescription that treats your present illness is no different from searching for a needle in the vast ocean. And even if you find it, the language is so difficult to understand that it is all in vain. Therefore, we need to identify the scriptures that most effectively address the common ills of present-day beings, and ideally summarize their key points in modern language, concisely and clearly, for beings to read. (2) Good-knowing advisors are hard to find. Most cultivators are themselves still confused, yet go about instructing others—the blind leading the blind. And among those who have some genuine understanding, if they have not realized supranormal powers, their guidance to modern beings, one must say, has lost one of the greatest forms of skillful means. Since sentient beings all seek supranormal powers and are curious about them, why not use them? Why does the mention of supranormal powers make everyone turn pale, as if speaking of a tiger? Since it is understood that all phenomena are false, then supranormal powers are also false illusions, dreams and bubbles; using them is harmless as long as the mind does not cling. But, does using supranormal powers bring more harm than benefit on the path to enlightenment? Does it truly accord with the spiritual foundations of the majority of beings in the Dharma-Ending Age? To genuinely and correctly guide them, first hooking them by their desires onto the path to Buddhahood, a complete theoretical system is indispensable. Otherwise, they will fixate on their spiritual experiences and sensations and slide into the demonic paths.
In truth, the insight, analytical ability, and level of education of modern practitioners far surpass those of the ages of the True Dharma and the Semblance Dharma. If they had a good teacher to guide them, they would be willing to endure hardship, they would have the resolve to pursue the truth with perseverance, and they could also let go of the desires of body and mind. But what modern people lack compared with the ancients is sincerity and honesty; their selfishness is too heavy, and they cannot feel gratitude. From childhood they have reached out for clothes and opened their mouths for food; they have never given, and they take it for granted that everything comes easily and is owed to them, accepting it all complacently. Yet when they lose even a little, it is like cutting out a piece of their heart—they erupt in anger and nurse resentment and cannot truly and willingly help others. But I think, if there really were a teacher of complete and total awakening, the great majority of cultivators would strive with all their might, do the work, and spare no cost to pursue the truth. But there is no such teacher!
Are sentient beings in the Dharma-Ending Age lacking in merit? Were we not reborn here from the Age of True Dharma and the Age of Semblance Dharma? Have the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas become lacking in Loving Kindness and Compassion, abandoning us, making them so hard to meet? None of that is true. The true Dharma is eternally abiding; truth exists forever. It does not vanish with the changing times. It is only because of various causes and conditions, just as clouds may at times cover the sun so that we cannot see it, though the sun is always there. The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are always present in the Saha World; they manifest in various forms according to their causes and conditions with sentient beings. If, during a particular period, the causes and conditions for Buddhism are insufficient, they may proclaim the true Dharma through other teachings. If we do not lose our human form life after life, and if we can broadly form wholesome connections, then even if we cannot attain Accomplishment in this life, as long as our resolve for the Way does not retreat, we may in fact encounter the guidance of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in lifetime after lifetime. Whenever we encounter events and circumstances that plant seeds of goodness within us and keep our minds pure and undefiled, we can say those events are the work of Bodhisattvas. In terms of the essential meaning of the Buddhadharma, there is no Age of True Dharma, Semblance Dharma, or Dharma-Ending Age. It is simply that, in response to the collective karma of sentient beings and as conditions shift, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas follow dependent origination and offer guidance in different ways and different forms. For example, a period of darkness allows sentient beings to better appreciate the preciousness of light and understand its meaning. Because the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas follow causes and conditions, and because of their Emptiness nature, they themselves have become the manifestation of causes and conditions. Throughout the heavens and worlds, they demonstrate dependent origination and cessation through their own arising and passing away, illustrating the truth of dependent origination and emptiness. The rise and fall of Buddhism is nothing more than this—because ultimately there are no sentient beings to deliver, no Six Paths of Rebirth to leave, and no Buddhahood to realize. Only when one understands this does one truly grasp the real meaning of the Buddhadharma.
Excerpt from Venerable Weijue’s teaching:
Breaking through the three barriers
(1) When one breaks through the seventh consciousness and shatters ego-clinging, that belongs to the stage of seeing the Way; it is called breaking through the first barrier.
(2) After Awakening comes true cultivation: breaking through attachment to dharmas and shattering the seeds in the field of the eighth consciousness. This is called entering the stage of sagehood. One can then end birth and death—that is, when Afflictions are eliminated bit by bit, True Suchness manifests bit by bit. This is breaking through the second barrier.
(3) Breaking through beginningless Ignorance and merging with the pure Dharmakaya—what is called “walking atop Vairocana’s head”—is breaking through the birth-and-death prison barrier.
In the evening my lower abdomen suddenly felt uncomfortable. Just then I turned a page and came upon a portrait of the Medicine Buddha. I placed my palms together and requested the Medicine Buddha to regulate my body. Suddenly, golden light blazed from the space before me and a magnificent half-length Buddha image appeared, holding a bowl in his left hand. He said, “You are in your menstrual period. You’ve been reading too much and also concentrating on the middle dantian, so your blood and qi are rising, leaving your mouth dry and tongue parched. Moreover, your uterine blood and qi are congested and your belt channel is not flowing freely.” He then took a pill from his bowl, out of which seemed to rise an icy cold vapor. The Medicine Buddha said this was a “Yin-Cold Transforming-Kun Pill” (I can’t remember clearly), which would dispel this ailment. As he raised the pill, I saw my uterus suddenly glow, the belt channel flash with a white light that rapidly circled once, and a sensation of knots dissolving inside my uterus. The Medicine Buddha said, “For three days, do not read books. Quietly cultivate Chan samadhi.” I bowed reverently. The Medicine Buddha drifted away and disappeared into the distant sky.
April 6
I woke up at three thirty this morning, felt very clear, and got up. It had rained outside during the night; the ground was wet. I had gone to bed early and hadn’t known. This was the first rainfall during my closed-door retreat.
I sat in early-morning meditation until five o’clock, then felt sleepy again, so I dozed off until six. I got up, swept the courtyard, and washed. The water was off today. I did dynamic exercises outside until eight, then began sitting meditation.
Insight:
A Bodhisattva should have feeling. But the mind must not have emotionally biased perception or be stained by lust or desire. That is, when one cannot let go of loving attachment towards those related by blood or close ties, and cannot treat all sentient beings equally, that is called emotionally biased perception. When one sees a member of the opposite sex who is pleasing to the eye and attractive, and the arising and movement of thoughts occur, stained by desire, with words and gestures turning ambiguous, unable to keep body and mind upright and consciously cut off improper thoughts others may have about you—all of this is the mind tainted by feeling and desire, with the subconscious still longing for love and desire.
During this morning’s sitting, I practiced the martial-fire microcosmic orbit. After several cycles, a bright little ball suddenly appeared in my energy channels and began to circulate. When it reached the heart-cakra area, I suddenly heard a rumbling sound from my heart-cakra, like the earth rotating, as if two millstones were grinding and turning against each other. At that moment, I saw two channels begin to stretch downward. These two channels connect to the Celestial Pool above (beneath the tongue) and to the Ocean of Wisdom below (the perineum cakra), while passing through the breasts, liver, spleen, and kidneys in between. At the same time, I felt a sudden coolness arise at the heart-cakra, extremely comfortable. After sitting a while, I saw water arise from the perineum cakra and rise along these two channels to the heart-cakra. After waiting a bit more, I saw the water at the heart-cakra rise further to the Celestial Pool area in my mouth. In women, the channels at the heart-cakra are the most fine, dense, and complex. When these two channels open, one can shatter emotional clinging. From then on, one can always have a cool moon in one’s heart. Although one cannot yet constantly roam in ultimate Emptiness (that requires the heart channels to open completely), one can shatter emotional clinging, and the earth element begins to quake. Consider how, when a person can break one kind of attachment, the power of the mind is so tremendous. Thus, when one person realizes Buddhahood, the Three Realms shake.
Insight:
One who has seen their Buddha-nature should see directly in the midst of phenomena, see each seeing return to Emptiness, and not abide even in Emptiness, thereby entering Nirvana. That is: With the cessation of conditioned arising and ceasing, Nirvana manifests.
When the mind is empty, the Five Aggregates must all be empty. Since the Five Aggregates are empty, the Bodhisattva should always roam through Form, Feeling, Perception, Volitions, and Consciousness without the mind becoming stained. Arising mind everywhere, yet no mind anywhere.
I sat until ten o’clock and ate a few peanuts.
I reflected that for a person who has attained Awakening, if their physiology has not been transformed, they may be very pure and still inside the meditation room, but after leaving retreat, it is harder to sustain that state in the dusty world. But if their qi channels have been transformed, there will be no regression.
Throughout the whole process of Cultivation and Certification, turning the light around and shining it within, having Awareness and having investigation, and the empty numinousness of mind, reaching void stillness and still extinction is the most important thing.
In the afternoon I did an hour of yoga exercises. Several difficult postures that I couldn’t manage before, I can now do one by one in correct form. I’ve always exercised little; from now on I must exercise more. Three times a day—morning, noon, and evening—I will do the dynamic yoga exercises and the women’s elixir exercises three times each.
After yoga I rested for ten minutes, then began sitting and practicing the women’s elixir exercises. After my chest center warmed, I used the spiritual light to gently illuminate and shifted my attention to the navel cakra. But the navel cakra took a long time to warm, so I then concentrated on the Bubbling Spring points, though they never produced any particularly warm sensation. During this process, I stopped the women’s elixir exercises and quietly investigated my heart channels. Suddenly I saw my upper back, at the spine region, brighten and emit light, and it seemed three extremely fine channels were wound together like twisted hemp ropes, now gradually separating. I added a slight intention to turn the light within and gently illuminate. Many energy channels are extremely fine and fragile; if qi is guided too forcefully, it will damage the channels. Therefore, when channels are opening, one must never deliberately guide qi with intention; instead, one must investigate with an almost imperceptible awareness, neither clinging nor separating, keeping the intention extremely empty and numinous. This is very difficult to grasp; it all depends on one’s foundation and destiny. The three channels gradually separated (originally, in women, the Governing Vessel at the spine region divides into three channels: two go forward and connect directly to the nipples, one goes straight down to the coccyx). My nipples began to glow, and then both breasts heated and emitted light. After pausing a while, I continued to keep my mind empty, numinous, and utterly still, paying no attention to the changes in the channels. Suddenly, a continuous vibration of qi arose in the heart channel area, as if some force were repeatedly clicking on the heart-cakra, and from the chest center the heart-cakra continuously splashed out brilliant light.
After about ten minutes of this, I suddenly felt my heart-cakra unfurl like a parasol, spreading in all directions. Forty-eight channels began to unroll, emitting light that illuminated the entire upper half of my body. After a moment, the forty-eight channels connected upward with the crown of my head, light filling the center, like a round lantern. It turned out that the heart channels total forty-nine (including the central channel), each connected to the scalp layer of the head. After several minutes, my nose began to glow; a stream of light cascaded down the bridge of my nose, sweeping away the murky dark qi. I also felt my eyes shifting outward to the sides, my brow center starting to open and unfold, and the stream of light flowing down my face, converging in an oval shape at my chin. My ears began to contract inward, the rims seeming to press close behind the ears and becoming very long. A moment later, a current of air suddenly passed through my left nostril, which instantly became exceptionally clear and open. At that point I got up from sitting. My face had a slight itch, and my lower abdomen was a little bloated.
I think that for women, the Conception Vessel and the heart channels are the most important. When the heart channels open, wisdom can be unlocked. When the Conception Vessel flows freely, the opening of other channels presents no problem. However, after the channels have just opened, they still need a period of safeguarding, that is, gentle nurturing. The key is to keep the mind utterly serene, still, and empty. During sitting meditation, one should be deep and dark, seeming to guard yet not guard. Generally, after seven days, the channels mature, energy is transformed, and they can be put to great use. In daily life, don’t rush; walking, standing, sitting, and lying down should also be gentle and slow, in order to protect the newly opened channels, so that the qi channels will not easily become blocked again. Keep the diet light, but ensure sufficient nutrition.
April 7
I woke with a start at five this morning because I dreamed my father had suddenly passed away, and in the dream I wailed. After waking, I was very worried about my parents’ health. Emotional attachment is hard to break through. Every day I say that birth and death are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, and a shadow, yet in dreams I have no control at all—I was lost and helpless, suffering terribly in the face of a loved one’s parting and death.
My sleep has noticeably decreased these past two days. I go to bed between nine and ten at night, and wake between three thirty and five in the morning; I don’t nap at noon. Throughout the day I am basically free of Dullness or drowsiness.
Around ten o’clock, my head started to ache and I felt exhausted, as if I really had wept bitterly the night before. My mood was somewhat dim. I thought to myself that in these two days I had been saying that the transformation of the heart channels requires a calm and peaceful mind. Yet with just a little worry in my heart, I had no control in my dreams. When my dream-state emotions were bad, my mind turned with circumstances, and that probably affected my qi channels as well.
Excerpts:
The Vimalakirti Sutra: “Contemplate the true reality of the body, and contemplate the Buddha likewise.”
The Shurangama Sutra commentary on the eighth consciousness: It contains and stores all phenomena; there is nothing it does not encompass, nothing it does not include. All Merit, all function, arise from it, just like a great ocean, hence it is called the “storehouse consciousness ocean.” This ocean, stirred by the winds of karma force, produces waves. The Lankavatara Sutra says, “The storehouse consciousness ocean is eternally abiding; moved by the winds of external states, assorted waves of consciousness leap and turn, arising therefrom.”
Mind-consciousness: 1. Solitary consciousness ① Scattered solitary consciousness: images that appear spontaneously in the mind without one deliberately thinking, arising unconsciously. ② Dream solitary consciousness: dream images. ③ Samadhi solitary consciousness: images within samadhi. 2. Clear knowing consciousness: ordinary discursive thought activity, arising together with the first five consciousnesses and inseparable from them.
In the afternoon I practiced yoga. My muscles have been a little sore these past few days, mainly in my calves and upper arms.
Afterwards, I sat in meditation and focused on the navel cakra. For a long time, there was no sensation at all at the navel cakra. I continued to keep my mind clear and still, gently investigating, almost imperceptible, continuous and dense. Suddenly my navel began to emit golden light; then the light shone inward, and I saw a white gaseous light like a tornado rise from the navel cakra all the way up to the heart-cakra. Then the spinning white misty mass slowed down and unfurled, like a white sack open at the top and narrow at the bottom, and gradually descended back to the navel cakra. At this moment, embryonic breathing suddenly activated; my belly rose and fell more markedly, sometimes abruptly stopping, as though the skin of my belly were pressing against my spine. At first, nasal breathing was still present, then it grew fainter and fainter and seemed to stop. From time to time, dust-like mist rose from the navel cakra. Gradually, the amplitude of my belly’s movement grew smaller and smaller, as if inside there were only qi opening and closing. Occasionally I could hear the cry of a baby, or the sound of temple-eave bells, or the sound of flowing water. My heart remained clear, deep, and still. I only gently turned my vision within. Suddenly I saw the navel cakra seem to manifest as a chakra pattern from Esoteric School iconography, and in the spaces between the channels of the chakra, there were many Sanskrit mantras, layer upon layer… At this moment, I suddenly saw several thick qi channels rising from the perineum cakra, pressed close to the surface of the body. The perineum cakra emitted light; there was a sensation of qi swelling at the perineum, and my external genitalia and anus both contracted inward. I saw an image of myself at eleven or twelve years old. At the navel cakra, a section of a translucent tube, about the thickness of a thumb, appeared, extending straight upward and disappearing at the heart-cakra; at the lower end of the tube was a very short segment of blood. The perineum cakra once generated a fire; in an instant, my legs felt as if a flame had circulated through them, suddenly heating, then disappearing. While investigating the perineum cakra, there were also sounds or scenes within the meditative state such as rain, mist, and flowing water.
April 8
I got up at five fifty in the morning, washed, and cleaned. I practiced dynamic exercises until seven thirty and drank a small carton of milk.
In recent days, during samadhi states, I kept seeing internally that at the perineum cakra there was a thick channel, wrapped all around by black-red blood vessels. While transforming these blood vessels, both day and night, I felt as if I myself had become my mother; sometimes turning the light around and shining it within, my own features even resembled my mother’s when she was in her thirties. I believe those blood vessels must be the essence and blood of my parents, because blood comes from the mother. This blood must carry all the information and genetic legacy from my mother’s pregnancy. Therefore, when the qi channels are being transformed, during this period the image and habitual tendencies of my mother carrying me in her womb will repeatedly appear. So, if a mother during pregnancy can keep her body upright, her mind upright, her speech upright, and her body and mind pure, it will greatly influence the formation of the child’s qi channels, and the qi channels will, in turn, directly affect the child’s temperament and character. Moreover, if the child later undertakes cultivation, it will be much easier when it comes time to transform the qi channels. These past few days, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, I also frequently saw myself as I was in my early teens. And the psychological shifts, habitual tendencies, and desires of childhood occasionally resurfaced in my body. From this, it is clear that every arising and movement of thought leaves a trace, stored in the field of the eighth consciousness; it’s just that once they have formed into habitual tendencies, transforming them takes a little more time.
Excerpt from the Shurangama Sutra commentary
Each of the twelve classes of sentient beings possesses twelve kinds of inversion. Altogether, there should be one hundred and forty-four inversions. Within each and every inversion are fully contained eighty-four thousand chaotic thoughts. Therefore, if one wishes to eliminate deluded thinking, one must depart from thought.
This morning I contemplated the Shurangama Sutra. Some people say the Shurangama Sutra is a spurious sutra, but to me it is definitely the Buddha’s own teaching, presenting Right View, with only some analogies or more detailed explanations added by later generations.
Reflections:
To thoroughly eliminate delusive thinking and habitual tendencies, you must use wisdom to turn awareness back upon itself. But wisdom arises from samadhi, and samadhi begins with calm abiding. Sentient beings’ minds are scattered and distracted; delusive thoughts run wild, disorderly thoughts cannot be stilled—so how can samadhi be attained? When the mind is settled, crystal clear and ever still, the wisdom inherent in Buddha-nature will gradually open of itself, and the coarser habitual tendencies and desires will naturally fade away. Therefore, for a cultivator, removing delusive thoughts and abiding in the one mind is the most fundamental thing.
Today is the fourth week; my retreat will soon complete a full month. These seven days have brought a few gains: the energy channels have opened and transformed to varying degrees, and in my mind-nature there have been small awakenings—a preliminary experience of the state where the mind does not abide. From then on, I no longer awaken with the Six Faculties, no longer fall asleep with the Six Faculties, no longer am born with the Bodhisattva, no longer die with Wu Aizhen.
Since the heart channel began to open a few days ago, my entire chest often feels vast and empty, and from time to time a cool, clear energy arises.
When I study the sutra, my mind does not yet instantly merge with it; there is still the obstruction of conceptual discrimination. The mind cannot remain pure and crystal clear at every moment; it cannot sustain contemplation, reflection, and cultivation arising simultaneously. Yet I must know that my own mind is perfect and complete, no different from the Buddha’s. There must not be the slightest doubt about this. Though my strength is not yet full, I have already stepped into the position of a child of the Buddha—rich and satisfied, I absolutely disdain to slip into the habitual tendencies of poverty and lowliness.
These days my stools have increased, sometimes six or seven times a day, without constipation or diarrhea; my lower abdomen is slightly distended with a bearing-down sensation. Vaginal discharge has increased somewhat. I sleep less and less. My sitting meditation sessions are longer, while moving-exercise practice has decreased compared to before. My appetite is moderate; I occasionally drink milk morning and evening and don’t feel hungry. My mouth is sometimes dry, so I drink more water.
This afternoon I sat in meditation, holding my attention at the navel cakra. Feeling that the energy was insufficient, I projected my spirit to the back mountain to search for a stone to refine an elixir.
From the back mountain I went forward into a deep valley. There stood a towering boulder inscribed with “Black Wind Mouth.” Behind the boulder was a pitch-black cave or gorge. I walked straight in; I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. After a while, I saw a dark-red stone on the ground giving off light. I picked it up and started carrying it out. I hadn’t taken many steps when a voice said, “Hurry!” I felt a surge of energy behind me, like an overwhelming mountain toppling and seas turning over, pushing me forward. I ran fast, but just as I burst out of the black cave, I suddenly felt a tremendous force sucking me back. I threw myself on the ground and hugged the stone tight, but I was still dragged, stone and all, toward the cave. At that moment, Skanda Bodhisattva in midair hastily thrust his vajra into the earth; I clutched it with both hands and so escaped being sucked into the black cave. It turned out this black cave was the mountain’s breathing mouth: every dozen or so minutes the mountain qi breathes in and out, just like a person. I had happened right upon the mountain qi entering and leaving—so dangerous! Skanda withdrew his iron vajra and said, “You’ve been frightened.” I looked like a child of about fourteen. I smiled, got up, and lifted the stone. At that moment Langgong came up from ahead, greeted me, and looked at the stone in my arms. “This is the finest grade of crystal stone,” he said. I rubbed the stone; once the red coating was wiped away, a white stone was revealed. The light it gave off was like sunlight on water—rippling, glimmering, faintly luminous. Langgong said, “This Black Wind Mouth is like a black hole in the universe—very dangerous.” He had once refined elixirs here and had only gone in twice. He said there was an elixir furnace up ahead and that he would help me refine it.
We went together to his elixir furnace room, built of stones. Langgong took a golden bowl from the little attendant’s hand and placed the stone inside. I saw that the stone was larger than the golden bowl, but Langgong put it right in, then inverted a second golden bowl over it. He placed them into the furnace through an opening low on one side. The fuel inside was ten-thousand-year-old pine wood. Langgong sealed the opening, leaving only a vent in the lower-middle part of the furnace through which the bowl could be seen. Then Langgong ignited the fire and began refining the elixir. Just then, Wushan Shenni walked in and said, “I thought I smelled something so fragrant—so someone is refining an elixir.” Langgong said, “Let me borrow your Green Edge treasure sword.” Shenni handed him a short sword she held. Langgong used his sword-finger to project qi, pointing both finger and sword at the vent, and his mouth seemed to be reciting a mantra. In a moment, the flame inside the furnace turned from red to cyan; the cyan transformed into light that solidified and held still. The stone in the bowl melted into liquid, red at first. Langgong urgently stopped the fire. The liquid in the bowl turned from red to gold, and then at once into a mass of white light. The bowl was removed from the furnace, and Langgong poured the liquid into a small cup to cool; it formed two pills, which he had me swallow. I guided them down to the heart cakra and then let them drop naturally into the navel cakra. After a moment, light shone upward from the navel cakra over my upper body, flickering at the celestial eye like light emitted from crystal.
Just then, strange sounds rang out in the sky—a sense of wind moaning and cranes crying, piercing sounds that repeated over and over. Langgong and Shenni both covered their ears; the sound was terrifying. Langgong raised his head to search where it came from. Suddenly two iron birds descended from the sky and landed beside my shoulders. They looked very much like the bird-shaped oil lamps on the offering tables in ordinary temples. Their legs were long, their expressions rather fierce; they were black, as if made of iron. Following them, a white-haired elder appeared in the sky; you couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. At that, Wushan Shenni fell to her knees and called out, “Master, why have you come?” Langgong also greeted her: “Wushan Shenlao.” Shenlao glanced at me and said to Shenni, “I’ve been looking for you. Come back with me now.” At this, I bowed to Shenlao and said, “Guanyin Bodhisattva pays respects to Shenlao!” Because I was in the sky, I appeared as a child. Shenlao heard my greeting, fixed her gaze, and suddenly I transformed into the likeness of the White-Robed Guanyin. Shenlao immediately dropped to her knees and bowed, saying, “I didn’t know the Bodhisattva had arrived. No wonder the iron birds called out. The Bodhisattva once awakened me…” I said, “The Bodhisattva has taken rebirth as a human being. I can’t remember many past connections. Now I am cultivating and transforming my cakra channels. I wonder if Shenlao has any excellent methods.” Shenlao said, “My Hundred Flower Elixir can help women transform the perineum cakra.” So saying, she borrowed the golden bowl from Langgong and began reciting a mantra. I saw countless flowers and grasses from the mountain forming orderly lines and streaming endlessly into the bowl she held in her hand. Shenlao suddenly sent the bowl soaring into the sky and from below used her sword-finger to project light, igniting fire, so that the hundred flowers were refined in the bowl into a single white lotus. Shenlao took the lotus and said, “This is called the Hundred-Flavor Lotus. Bodhisattva, please consume it.” At that moment Skanda Bodhisattva suddenly appeared, took the lotus in his hand, examined it from every angle, and then handed it to me. I ate the flower; it filled my mouth with an exquisite fragrance. After I finished, Shenlao and the nun took their leave, and the iron birds departed with them. As she walked away, Shenlao wiped her tears and said, “I have fulfilled a long-held vow.”
I continued my meditation. Langgong stood before me; I invited him to sit, but he at once transformed into a golden qilin lying on the ground, and the little attendant also became a small golden qilin, lying beside Langgong. In meditation, I felt a sudden heat at the navel cakra, and a white mist like a tornado surged upward. From the coccyx to both kidneys, the area began to brighten; the energy channels became visible, began to heat, and light-energy moved powerfully up the Governing Vessel. I saw my two kidneys like grass under water, being tugged upward and swaying back and forth. At the coccyx, there is a hidden cakra called the Life-and-Death Cakra. The perineum cakra’s reaction was not very pronounced.
While I was sitting, I saw Wushan Shenlao suddenly appear in monastic robes, dressed exactly like Shenni, and she hurriedly came and said she hoped the Bodhisattva would bestow ordination upon both master and disciple, making them her disciples. The Bodhisattva consented, sprinkling water from a willow branch on their crowns and then laying hands on both their heads; their hair all fell away of itself. The Bodhisattva gave them the Dharma names “Yiqing” and “Yihong.”
I continued my meditation, and the two of them sat to the side watching. Shenlao suddenly rose and said to me, “I observe that the Bodhisattva’s Conception Vessel lacks sufficient blood-energy. My blood, refined over a thousand years by absorbing the essence of the sun and moon, can be consumed by the Bodhisattva.” She drew a short sword, cut off her left hand, and let the blood flow into a vessel; the left hand then grew back of itself. There was about half a bowl of blood. I lifted it and drank, but inwardly I thought, This karmic connection will be immense. Because drinking Shenlao’s blood—blood is like life itself—must be repaid with life. Shenlao already knew my thought, and at once she drew her sword again, saying, “Bodhisattva, do not doubt. If there is doubt, I will end my life first.” As she spoke, she made to stab herself in the belly. I was deeply moved and quickly stopped her. Only then did she relent. Earlier, when she had become my disciple, she had also spit out a white inner elixir as an offering, but the Bodhisattva had not accepted it, and she took it back into her mouth. Shenlao said that she had once cultivated with two Daoist masters in the Zhongnan Mountains. After they passed away, she went to Mount Lao and cultivated under the Changfeng Daoist of the Kongtong School. Later, she met Guan Shi Yin Bodhisattva, who awakened her and told her to wait on this mountain, saying that when Guanyin Bodhisattva took rebirth in the future, she could accept her as her disciple. She had waited here for over three hundred years. Shenni was a disciple she had taken a hundred years ago.
I continued to sit. I saw that the hundred channels had an infusion of blood, but after flowing for a while the blood disappeared and the channels became dry again. The blood and my energy channels merged, but the energy was too slight; it was useless. Just then, Shenlao patted the backs of the two iron birds beside her and said, “Divine birds, go quickly and find two stalks of glossy ganoderma.” The iron birds flew off at her command. In a brief moment, they returned, each holding a stalk of ganoderma in its beak. Shenlao looked and was beside herself with wild joy; Langgong also leaped up from the ground and transformed back into human form. They both happily said, This is wonderful; the Bodhisattva truly has good fortune. This ganoderma is white ganoderma—it takes ten thousand years to take shape and grows in hidden places where it simply cannot be seen. Usually it does not manifest. And what the two birds brought back are a yin stalk and a yang stalk—perfect. Langgong placed the two white ganoderma stalks (one faintly blue-green) into the bowl, inverted the second bowl over them, and refined them with fire from his finger. I saw a white light radiating from the bowl, lifting the top bowl, and it seemed there was a sound within. In a moment, the two ganodermas transformed into a round, white sphere about the size of a chicken egg, emitting white light. Seeing this, my body began to tremble slightly. The white sphere suddenly merged with me, and I saw white light spreading out in all directions from the navel cakra. (Some parts I cannot recall clearly.)
April 9
Woke up at six in the morning and practiced moving exercises until 6:45. Because it was raining outside, I could only practice indoors. Last night’s dreams were still rather chaotic, and my mind could not stay crystal clear and ever still at every moment. In truth, even crystal stillness is itself a delusive thought. Opening cakra channels, manifesting supranormal powers, spreading the Dharma to benefit sentient beings—all of these are illusory. Using illusion to get rid of illusion cannot end birth and death!
Only by eradicating all manner of deluded thoughts and inverted views can one reach the ultimate.
Quoting the Shurangama Sutra:
The essence of true and wondrous brightness—the perfection of Pristine Awareness—is perfectly still and does not retain birth and death or any defilement. Even empty space arises from deluded thinking.
Delusion originally has no cause. Within delusion one posits cause and condition. Those confused about cause and condition call it spontaneous nature. Even the nature of empty space is actually an illusory production. Cause and condition and spontaneity are both merely the deluded mind’s calculations and speculations.
At lunch today, while eating, I reflected that previously I’d been picky about food, not eating what I disliked and only eating what I liked. Now I treat it as though I’m holding out a begging bowl and receiving alms—everything is a donation from donors. I no longer fuss over whether it’s good or bad, more or less. So every day I eat happily, and even the dishes I don’t like taste delicious. Because I no longer complain, because my mind is pure and free from discrimination, when I observe others’ speech and conduct, I should be alert to the arising and movement of my thoughts and to my future actions. I hope that from now on, whatever I do—if I set the intention to help others—I will do it wholeheartedly. In fulfilling my own duties, I will strive to keep my mind firmly in its place: careful, meticulous, and thorough. I will be more considerate of others, eliminate selfish thinking, genuinely feel grateful from the heart for every bit others do for me, and align my words with my actions. If someone makes a reluctant effort or extends even the smallest kindness merely to save face, I ought to decline or repay it immediately; I should not accept it calmly, unless it is done with absolute sincerity and honesty. Reflecting on how little I have done for others, though I cultivate with the vow to spread the Dharma and benefit sentient beings, my own habitual tendencies and desires are not yet removed, so my conduct in carrying out that vow is still tainted. Sometimes my actions revolve around my own interests; sometimes, though I make a resolution, I am unwilling to exert myself fully. Thinking of this, I am deeply ashamed. A child of the Buddha, in action, must first cut off desire and then benefit sentient beings. May all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas bestow their blessing so that I have this strength!
The rain stopped at noon; the sky was overcast, and my head felt somewhat dull. The weather still affects me. Overcast skies and head-dullness are merely phenomena that arise when causes and conditions meet. As long as my mind can remain still and luminous, what good, bad, or fault is there in overcast skies or head-dullness?
After lunch I took a nap and dreamed that I was expounding the Dharma for myself, teaching the Shurangama Sutra. Right before I woke, I seemed to remember the original text and even felt I had gained some insight; after waking, I had forgotten.
Upon waking from the nap, my stomach felt uneasy, and I started belching sour water again as I had some time ago. I rubbed my stomach and paced in the room. After a while I went into the courtyard, wanting to practice walking meditation, but my shoes were broken and had gotten wet, and the slippers were too large—I couldn’t walk. So I returned inside, thinking maybe eating something would make me feel better.
Suddenly I saw the apples on the floor—several varieties that I had asked the retreat attendant to buy at noon. Just as I was thinking whether eating an apple might help, it struck me that I hadn’t offered such fine apples to the Buddha first before eating them myself. When we remember the Buddha, it should be like a child remembering its mother. How could I see something appealing and good and never think of offering it to the Buddha first, thinking only of myself? With that, I hurriedly chose the best apples and placed them on the offering table, lit half a stick of incense, and without any other thought stood very respectfully beside the table and thought, “I wish to make offerings to the Tathagatas of the Ten Directions.”
Suddenly, in the air before her, countless Venerable Ones appeared—and all of them were eating apples. Startled and overjoyed, she froze where she stood. Seated in midair and eating as he spoke, Ananda said, “The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas eat the apples you have offered only so that in the future you may receive the offerings and help of sentient beings—not because they are especially fond of them.” Hearing this, she felt both shame and embarrassment. Facing this state, she suddenly saw, within the appearance of the Buddhas eating apples, the nature of emptiness, and awakened to the truth that the Ultimate Reality is without form. In a single kshana, a current of heat rose from her abdomen, and the discomfort in her stomach was instantly gone. The Buddha-dharma is inconceivable.
She had offered to the Buddhas with nothing but a reverent heart, utterly without other thought, and the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas had actually manifested the appearance of eating for her to see, causing her to awaken to emptiness-nature in a single instant. From this moment on, she would walk the Bodhisattva Path in this world, attending to human affairs, reverently making offerings to the Triple Jewel and to sentient beings. For the Ultimate Reality is without form, all dharmas are of the nature of emptiness, all sentient beings are Tathagatas, and emptiness and existence are non-dual. In her eyes, everything now possessed the single, eternal true-suchness nature—non-dual! She had truly understood what the Vimalakirti Nirdesha Sutra says: “Contemplate the true reality of the body, and contemplating the Buddha is likewise.” She understood the truth that emptiness itself is form. Many thanks for the blessings of the Buddhas! Many thanks for the blessings of sentient beings!
Insight:
The myriad things neither arise nor cease, and they have no place to return to. They manifest true-suchness nature right where they stand—neither increasing nor diminishing, neither defiled nor pure—and all realize Buddhahood right where they stand.
She understood that “a mustard seed contains Mount Sumeru.” In truth, there is neither mustard seed nor Mount Sumeru, because the mind is empty. It is like lights shining upon and merging with one another, without obstruction. When a person who cultivates and realizes Bodhi can bring forth a single thought of reverence toward the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas—without desire, without seeking—and make reverent offerings, the Buddhas will certainly bestow their tender regard, placing a hand upon that person’s crown. That person’s mind-light will surely burst forth, increasing wisdom and opening insight.
At this state, all words and phrases are only a stepping stone; in truth, there is nothing that words can say.
Because she had awakened into emptiness-nature in a single instant, body and spirit instantly became one. For body and spirit both manifest true-suchness nature—without bodily form, without spirit form—and do not obstruct each other. Body and mind were deeply clear and still, utterly without hindrance.
In the afternoon she sat in meditation, guarding the perineum cakra until it grew hot. In the meditative state, images related to the reproductive system, such as past sexual activity, appeared. She gave rise to no thought of discrimination whatsoever—she merely observed.
Beginning with today’s sitting meditation, she was no longer willing to close her eyes. Just then she suddenly saw Lang Gong arrive. As she was about to greet him, she saw Buddhacinga walk in behind him, take the golden bowl from Lang Gong’s hands, and say, “It has been nearly a month since I opened the Bodhisattva’s crown. I have come specially to pay a visit, and I have also brought a gift for the Bodhisattva.” Thereupon he opened the two bowls, which were fitted together. Inside crouched a rather small three-legged golden toad. “It is a toad,” she said. Buddhacinga replied, “The Bodhisattva recognizes only things that have marks, not things that are formless. This toad is no ordinary golden toad—it is a numinous being. It has merely temporarily taken the form of a golden toad.” With that, light issued from his hand, and the toad transformed into a precious pearl radiating white light, about the size of a glass marble a child might play with. Then he pointed a finger at the area of her perineum cakra, and a beam of white light shot forth. The golden toad followed the white light and traveled to her perineum cakra. Afterward, Buddhacinga and Lang Gong departed together.
She turned her inner vision upon her own perineum cakra. Inside the energy channels crouched a golden toad, motionless. After a pause, she heard the croak of the golden toad again and again. Then white light issued from the perineum cakra, and she seemed to see the toad drawing the dark masses of energy within the channels into its mouth. Moreover, her body suddenly became shadow-bright and empty—she could see nothing with her inner vision. There was only a sense of deep, fathomless, shadow-bright radiance. After a while, she suddenly saw the golden toad dissolve into water within the channels, and its croaking rose no more. From the Governing Vessel, a beam of white light suddenly ascended from the tailbone up the Governing Vessel, then circulated downward through the Conception Vessel. She saw that her uterus was rather enlarged; the two ovaries had light, but not very bright; and the uterus was shrinking, the vagina drawing inward.
That evening, her scalp was terribly itchy, and her face itched too, so she washed her hair.
April 10th
She rose at four thirty in the morning. The night before, she had dreamed she was expounding the Buddha-dharma to herself. She awoke at four and did not wish to sleep further, but she still lazily lingered in bed and did not get up until half an hour later.
These past few days, after sitting in meditation her legs ached but were not numb. Even a full night’s sleep did not restore her; her feet also ached, and her arms ached a little. She thought it had to do with practicing yoga. After rising in the morning, she began washing up and cleaning, which lasted until six twenty. Then she began an hour of movement exercises. Today, she felt that time passed especially quickly, with a kind of sleepwalking sensation. And she suddenly felt that everything in this world had nothing to do with her, that everything abided in its own place without moving. It was not that she had cut herself off from the world—only that there was nothing to do, and no mind to be burdened. Yet her understanding of the real mark of all dharmas was still not penetrating or clear enough.
After lunch, she sneezed repeatedly, and suddenly her mood turned exceptionally foul, as though dark clouds had abruptly blotted out the sun. At first she was restless and agitated. She tried walking pratyutpanna-samadhi in the courtyard, but it was useless. The sun, in her eyes, turned gray and dim, and she found the days unbearably dull, losing interest in everything. She returned to her room and did twenty sit-ups, but still she could not shake it. Her state of mind was somewhat murky and sorrowful. This force was too strong. Her mindful awareness was present, but it could not give rise to brightness. It was very gloomy. Her head was muddled with dullness and torpor. She took out a brush and practiced calligraphy to adjust herself.
First she copied the characters of Yan Zhenqing, slowly studying the shapes and forms of Yan’s script to divert her attention. Yan’s characters were like Mount Tai—stable yet vigorous, each stroke like the conduct of a great gentleman: down-to-earth, open and upright. The entire character form was steady as a boulder, hard and forceful. But his forms gave her a sense of insufficient rounded harmony—there were too many square strokes. She appreciated them, but her own nature of mind did not match the script. The writing mirrors the person. She could not capture, in her copying, the weathered vigor that showed through his characters, that feeling of a hero in his twilight years whose ambition had not dimmed. So she switched to copying Wang Xizhi’s model book. She felt she could still resonate with Wang Xizhi’s characters. Wang Xizhi was called the Calligraphy Sage. His characters were like Mount Hua—exquisite, elegant, wondrous, peerless. His brushwork moved like flowing clouds and water, swiftly changing, a delight to behold. If only a bit more ethereal emptiness could be added to his characters, they would have the grace of an immortal, the character of a sage, a complete metamorphosis. She copied his “Preface to the Orchid Pavilion.” Strangely, she was extremely familiar with Wang’s characters, a feeling that seemed to come from some distant memory.
After copying for a while, her mental energy began to concentrate. Though her writing was very poor, it was at least done in earnest. Suddenly, the restlessness returned. She wondered whether it had to do with her own physiological transformation. Before her eyes and in her brain, many unhappy past events appeared again and again. She kept her mind from being turned by these states. But after a while, mindful awareness was no longer of any use. Her whole being became foul and murky, like a lion locked in a cage. After a while, sorrow welled up in her heart. She felt the impermanence of worldly affairs, the meaninglessness of life. She wanted to sleep. Going with the impulse, she lay down on the bed to sleep, letting herself relax, observing from the sidelines, but she could not fall asleep. Her head was very bright, very empty and clear. In her inner contemplation, gusts of hot air rose from time to time at her navel cakra, accompanied by mirage-like flames and bright, dusty particles. She practiced inner contemplation, hoping her mind could settle, but still it did not work. A sorrowful energy field enveloped her, and she very much wanted to weep.
Just then, she suddenly thought of the Buddhas, the Bodhisattvas, and sentient beings. She thought of how sentient beings live every day in the very state she was now in, powerless to pull themselves free. Since she had begun her cultivation and realization, she had received the blessing and protection of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. She had once made vows: after attaining accomplishment, she would rescue and liberate the multitudes of sentient beings, repaying the Buddha’s kindness upward. Even if she could not reach that goal, she still wanted to bring joy, ease, and peace to everyone around her who loved her and had helped her. But now here she was, in such a wretched state. At this thought, a kind of indestructible, fearless power suddenly rose within her, and she immediately sat up. This power had suddenly arisen from the power of her vows, and it was so immense it seemed able to destroy all inner demons and outer demons. Sitting on her cushion, she watched with detachment her own weakness, her restlessness, her sorrow, and watched this world with detachment. Her mind was as though nailed in place, unmoving, unshaken. And from this power, endless, inexhaustible compassionate vows arose. In that moment, her body and mind suddenly became vast, empty, and expansive. The suffering of beings in the Six Paths of Rebirth and her own compassion merged into one. Within this vast, great compassion-vow, she felt no personal sorrow—she felt only endless, inexhaustible power. Boundless, limitless vow-power filled every inch of space. She herself was merely the illusory transformation of vow-power; in an instant, there was no self!
In the afternoon she walked pratyutpanna-samadhi in the courtyard. Body and spirit were slightly dazed. Both legs hurt terribly. At the sole of her left foot, a sensation of energy rippled outward from time to time, like rings of water. Her right leg was a bit stiff. At the heel of her left foot, a current of heat flowed through again and again. Black-red currents of energy streamed down to the soles of both feet. After walking less than an hour, her left leg felt heavy but no longer hurt; there was a numbing, tingling sensation. She stood outside for a while longer, then went back inside to sit in meditation. During sitting meditation, she guarded the perineum cakra. Her mind felt vast and empty, resting in one place.
She sat for about half an hour. Suddenly, a person came somersaulting and leaping from the crown of her head. He seemed to be singing as well. Then he ran before her. His clothes were ragged, his stature short, his manner like that of a madman. She knew this was the Venerable Milarepa. Abruptly he stood before her and, with great solemnity, plastered handful after handful of cow dung onto her face and body. She said, “Many thanks for the Venerable One’s blessing!” As the Venerable One applied the cow dung, he said, “To transform the perineum cakra requires the protection of the Fearless Vajra of Goodness, the Vajra of Great Power, the Vajra of Blissful Union, and nine other vajras—twelve in all—before it can open. This is white-water-buffalo dung from the Tianshan snow mountains, mixed with my saliva. I now use it to build a mandala.”
In a little while, her entire body was covered with cow dung.
She suddenly saw, in the air before her, a dozen or more vajras approaching. As they walked, they said, “How can it be so fragrant!” They came over, looked at the Venerable One, and said, “Venerable One, who is it here making offerings of aromatic spices to us?”
The Venerable One said, “This practitioner may be called the Mother of all Dakinis. Because of the power of her vows, she has taken birth in this world. Now she is transforming her perineum cakra and requires the help of the assembled vajras.”
Several vajras said, “The Mother of all Dakinis is the mother of our own accomplishment. We should of course offer our strength—what need is there for offerings?” After they had spoken, they gave a great shout, then seated themselves around her in a circle. All at once they transformed into a ring of fire, and the ring of fire gradually contracted and entered her perineum cakra.
She saw only that light was emitted from the area of the perineum cakra. Apart from that, she had no other sensation.
At this point, she also saw the twelve vajras seated within the pores of her body, apparently reciting mantras. She also heard the clamor of voices in the air above her head.
She heard two goddesses talking: “Who built this mandala? How magnificent. It is made of white-water-buffalo dung and holy water. I wonder who is practicing inside.”
“I see the Fearless Vajra of Goodness,” said a voice. Then: “What a lovely fragrance!”
Just then, she caught what sounded like the sound of flowing water or bubbling water. One goddess said, “What a rank smell!”
After a moment, the voice said, “It is gone.”
Now she saw the assembled vajras suddenly leap out from her body, once more transforming into a ring of fire around her. At her perineum cakra, white mist rose, and light spread outward in concentric rings. At this moment, she saw a small section of pure, fresh-red blood filling the central channel, while from the empty space above her crown, a milky-white viscous liquid descended. She could not see clearly whether it traveled through the Conception Vessel or the central channel, but the red and white liquids merged together. At this point, a voice said, “That will do.” She contemplated her body, which had transformed into a cone-shaped empty hut plastered with cow dung on the outside, while she herself seemed to be sitting in meditation inside it—yet she could not see anyone. At this moment, she suddenly came out of samadhi. The assembled vajras and the Venerable One had all departed.
A few days earlier, in samadhi, she had seen that the blood vessels of the perineum cakra were filthy beyond measure. Because these blood vessels came from her parents’ essence and blood, the thought had arisen in her mind that the essence and blood of ordinary mortals were impure, and she had been deeply disgusted. Unconsciously, she had also lost her reverence toward her parents. Now today, as the energy channels were being transformed, seeing this pure essence and blood, a great sense of shame suddenly arose in her heart. This was given by her father and mother—in what way were her parents impure? It was her own mind that was impure. She had been unable to see the pure nature within all manner of impurity; instead, she had given rise to the deviant thought of disrespect toward her parents. Her own deluded thinking had proliferated wildly; deluded and dull-witted, she had not yet repaid her parents’ kindness but had first given rise to a drop of loathing—utterly shameful, utterly evil thoughts. She must guard against her own arising and movement of thoughts!
April 11th
She rose at six in the morning. The night before, the muscles of her legs and arms had ached, and she had gotten up four times during the night to urinate. She had slept fitfully. After rising in the morning, her legs no longer hurt, but her arms still ached. After getting up, she cleaned, practiced yoga, and sat in meditation until nine o’clock.
During sitting meditation, she concentrated on her throat cakra, but she kept coughing. Lang Gong came and delivered several medicinal pellets.
After a while, she saw Manjushri Bodhisattva arrive, holding a bowl in his hand, and wash the channels of her throat. He said it was merit-water freshly brought from the Land of Ultimate Bliss. While the channels were being washed, she saw her own throat and chest transform into a crystalline white lotus. After the washing, light radiated from her lungs, throat, and bronchial tubes. Manjushri departed. A little later, two young lads came in carrying a large censer. They lifted its lid, and a column of light shot from the censer into the sky. Incense had been placed around the inside of the censer in a circle. The two lads lit the incense, replaced the lid, and said that Manjushri had sent them, that this incense was sandalwood incense, and that this censer had been blessed by Manjushri. As they spoke, they covered their noses and said, “It is too fragrant!” Then they hurried away. She understood that the channels of her throat and respiratory system had, over many years, been permeated by defilements. It must be that Manjushri was burning incense to purify her channels. Indeed, after the smoke rose from the censer, it formed two columns of smoke that went straight into her nostrils, yet she could smell no fragrance at all. Her nose was still unable to detect celestial fragrances, while the two young lads had found the fragrance so overpowering that they had hurried away. The fragrance entered her nasal cavity, lungs, and brain, and all of them emitted white light. She felt exceptionally pure. Moreover, the energy channels began to open; it was extremely comfortable. After a while, the incense finished burning, and the two young lads came and carried the great censer away. She also saw a green lion gazing from afar in the sky.
A short while later, the two young attendants turned back. One of them carried a small triangular burner that he called a “ding stove.” In each of its holes he placed a pinch of incense powder that looked like sandalwood. As he lit the incense he said, “This incense was blended by Manjushri Bodhisattva himself. It is extremely precious—none of us has ever smelled it.” The other youth said, “Why do you talk so much?” After the incense was lit, I said, “You two should breathe the fragrance as well.” Delighted, they knelt before the incense burner. At that moment Manjushri walked over, lifted the little burner, and placed it directly beneath my nose. From its three openings the fragrance streamed out—two columns entered my nostrils and one entered my celestial eye. Manjushri said, “This incense burner was specially made for cultivators. I blended this incense from over a thousand kinds of precious wood gathered on Mount Wutai, and I also added many rare Chinese herbs. All of the wood is tens of thousands of years old—truly hard to come by. I have never smelled this incense myself. I prepared three packets: the other two I offered to Shakyamuni Buddha and Amitabha Buddha; this one is for you.”
Upon hearing this, I thanked him again and again. I felt the fragrance enter my brain; my whole mind grew exceptionally clear and alert, and it filled with a white light like that of crystal.
I said, “It has the scent of green apples.”
Manjushri Bodhisattva said, “No, it is the fragrance of the blue lotus of the Land of Ultimate Bliss.”
I smelled it carefully; indeed, the lotus scent was more accurate—the aroma was pure and refined, not turbid. Manjushri said, “The only fragrance ingredient here is the blue lotus, and it came from the Land of Ultimate Bliss. Perhaps that note is a little stronger.”
When the incense had burned out, Manjushri used his fingers to stir the ash; at the bottom remained a tiny spark and a bit of unburnt powder. He bent down to sniff it himself and said, “It is truly excellent.” He added, “This incense not only purifies the energy channels but also clears the mind and sharpens the spirit.” Again I thanked him hurriedly. Manjushri said, “There is nothing else for now. I must return to Mount Wutai.” As he spoke he receded into the clouds, and I saw only the distant head of his blue lion appear once.
I came out of samadhi with my nose feeling extraordinarily clear; my throat and brain were cool and refreshed, and the coughing had ceased. My mind was bright and alert, and the whole room seemed brighter than before.
After rising, I ate three walnuts and an apple for breakfast. I suddenly recalled that yesterday, while offering incense at the altar, I had joined my palms and silently thought, “I pay reverent homage to all Buddhas of the ten directions and the three periods of time.” At that moment several Buddhas appeared in the air, all joining their palms and saying, “Excellent, Great Brightness Tathagata.” I gave it no thought at the time. But now, when I consider it, what did it mean? Did it mean that in the future I will become a Buddha called Great Brightness Tathagata, or that in past lives I was already a Buddha by that name? In truth, any name is fine; what matters is steadfast faith that one will surely attain accomplishment. Whether or not one becomes a Buddha is not the point; what matters is fulfilling one’s long-cherished vow.
At noon, after eating, I could not sleep. My head felt sour, numb, swollen, and itchy, and my breathing was so clear that whenever I inhaled I felt as if my head were being filled. It was very uncomfortable. I longed to stand on my head to find ease, but I could not do a headstand by myself, so I draped my body over the edge of the bed and rested the crown of my head on a cushion on the floor. After holding that position for an hour, my head and face grew warm and I felt a little better.
I began sitting meditation again. Now I felt a white light flowing through the trachea in my throat, accompanied by an itch and an urge to cough. Coughing made no difference; the light simply continued its movement. Suddenly there appeared in my throat something swiftly spinning, broader at the top and pointed at the bottom, like a flower stamen, with a channel wound around it. After spinning for a while it suddenly reversed direction. The channel that had been wrapped around it then loosened smoothly, and the object began to unfold until it resembled the seedpod of a lotus, hanging downward. I sensed that it had sixty-four holes precisely corresponding to the sixty-four channels of the heart chakra—not a precise count, only a felt sensation. Moreover, once this chakra had opened, it would require long nurturing by the waters of the heart to bring about its perfect merit: for instance, one would be able to understand the speech of all living beings, one’s own voice would be gentle, and all beings would understand one’s words; no matter how far away a being might be, the voice would sound equally clear; and so on.
At this point I stopped focusing on the throat and began to guard the crown chakra, since the brow chakra had already opened and needed no attention. I remained on the crown chakra for a long time. Suddenly I heard the cry of a crane and saw a crane fly before me calling out, while in the sky I saw auspicious clouds and many more cranes. I went on guarding the crown chakra and then heard the sound of mantra recitation, like the chanting of the evening service by Theravada monks in Xishuangbanna—a melodious, lifting sound (I could not hear it clearly) in Sanskrit. A voice said that Shakyamuni was helping me recite the mantra. I suddenly saw what seemed to be an image of Shakyamuni Buddha in the sky: a lotus blossomed above his head, and upon the lotus another Shakyamuni Buddha was chanting. At the same time I saw ten thousand rays of golden light pouring into my crown through every pore; my crown grew cool. Then suddenly my head and body vanished, leaving only a thick blue channel standing upright, while above my head wind and fire appeared in the void—the wind fueling the fire, roaring. In but a single kshana I came back and all those states vanished. (I could roughly grasp the meaning of Shakyamuni Buddha’s mantra recitation: it was as though he was purifying karma and expounding the Dharma for every one of my past lives.)
From my own direct experience, I believe that the transformation of qi channels or the opening of chakras can proceed smoothly only when one’s mind-nature has realized emptiness and attained a certain degree of stillness—that is, samadhi power. Whether the opening occurs by one’s own effort or with external help, without that it will go awry ninety percent of the time. The subtle interplay of these factors depends entirely on one’s individual condition; it cannot be grasped merely by reading books, and sometimes even a teacher can do nothing. I wonder what the experience of opening chakras is like in the Secret School. I thought: whatever the case, if one cannot awaken to the principle of the empty nature of things, to pursue physiological transformation single-mindedly is very dangerous. And even if some transformation occurs, it cannot be thorough or ultimate.
These past few days, in my spare time outside of meditation, I have been reading the Shurangama Sutra. Re-reading it has brought great benefit. Sometimes I also open the Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon; with a still mind, I now feel a clearer understanding of how the meridians operate.
April 12.
I rose at six in the morning, practiced yoga and movement exercises, washed, and finished by seven thirty.
In the morning I sat in meditation, continuing to guard the crown chakra. My mind gradually quieted. Then I suddenly saw the Venerable Milarepa, singing and dancing, leaping and bounding. A moment later he was in an open space in the Himalayas—surrounded by snowy peaks—building a mandala with stones: flat, white, oval stones. After arranging them, he spread the mandala floor with cow dung and set a circle of golden bowls around the stone hut, filling them with oil and lighting them as lamps. Then he took off his tattered robe and draped it over the hut; the robe suddenly transformed into a canopy that enclosed the entire hut. At that moment, the Venerable One pointed at the stone hut, and I suddenly found myself sitting inside it, surrounded by walls of round stones.
Then the Venerable One intoned a mantra, and there appeared in midair a deity with thick arms and a round waist, wearing two large earrings and with enormous eyes. He said, “Venerable One, I am the mighty ear deity of this mountain. What instructions do you have? I will serve.”
The Venerable One said, “Wait here for now. Eighty dakinis are about to arrive.”
Shortly afterward, laughter pealed through the air accompanied by the tinkling of ornaments; the eighty dakinis came filing in. The one who led them smiled and said, “Venerable One, who is the person making offerings here? The brilliance of the light is so bright and the fragrance so rich and deep.”
The Venerable One said, “She is a practitioner from the land of Han who is cultivating the Dharmakaya here. She needs your help.”
The dakini said, “Venerable One, your mandala is so majestic that we cannot enter.”
The Venerable One took the prayer beads from his neck and tossed them into the sky above the stone hut. The beads revolved above the roof, emitting light, and it seemed as though a circular opening of light formed on the roof. The dakinis entered through that opening. From the outside, the stone hut looked very small, yet after the dakinis entered, the room felt spacious, with room to spare. Once inside, one of the dakinis said, “It is Guanyin Bodhisattva,” and performed a kneeling salute. I said, “I am in the process of opening my crown chakra and need everyone’s help.” The leading woman said, “Let us set to work.”
Suddenly I saw my hair explode outward in every direction, forming a disk-like shape atop my head; it seemed that on every strand sat a dakini. Then I saw the dakinis strenuously washing a great pot at the crown of my head—because earlier, when the crown began to open, I had seen a concave depression there like a radar dish; the dakinis were washing that very spot. One dakini said, “This pot is so large—what is it for?” The leading dakini said, “It is used for opening the crown chakra. This pot can receive all the information from every heavenly world. Its energy is immense. Once we have washed it clean we must withdraw quickly, or else the pot will draw us in and it will not be easy to get out.”
She added, “Who brought perfumed powder from Fragrant Erhai? Sprinkle it into the pot and the smell will not be so rank.” Every dakini who carried perfumed powder flung it into the pot. Before long the inside of the pot began to glow faintly, emitting a dim white light that grew stronger and stronger. I heard the leading dakini cry, “Hurry, leave!” All together they shot out of the stone hut and stood watching from midair.
Milarepa said to the Great Strength Deity, “In a moment a beam of light will shoot from the stone hut. You must press against it with your palm strength and force it back down.” At that, I saw a pillar of light erupt from the stone hut. The Great Strength Deity pressed against the light with his right palm and said, “Who is sending out this light? Its power is too great.” He brought his left palm to bear as well. The Venerable One said, “Can you still withstand it?” The Great Strength Deity replied, “I’m holding.” At that moment I suddenly perceived that my body was hollow inside, and the Great Strength Deity was standing within my own body, using his palms to push upward toward my crown. After a while, I suddenly saw clear skies and auspicious clouds; the concave area at the crown rose into a convex shape and then lifted upward. At that, the Great Strength Deity withdrew his palms and returned to the sky. The Venerable One took out many jewels and presented them to the Great Strength Deity, saying, “You have worked hard.” The Great Strength Deity accepted them, knelt in thanks, and then vanished into the air.
The Venerable One then sat in front of the stone hut, struck a wooden fish, and shook a bell in his hand, saying, “Bodhisattva, it is time to wake.” He repeated this several times. I saw my head become extraordinarily vast and spacious, filled with all kinds of light. Within that light, I saw myself sitting with eyes closed and hands joined. Then I saw a lotus blossom suddenly manifest from the light, emerging through the crown and blooming above my head. The lotus was crystalline, translucent, glistening as if about to drip dew.
At this moment everything on the earthly plane vanished. I saw Guanyin Bodhisattva in a white robe seated upon a lotus throne atop a sea of clouds. Before her the Eight Immortals gradually appeared, and I heard the sound of Han Xiangzi’s flute. Everyone was offering congratulations. Beyond them, numberless immortals encircled the scene. I then saw the heavenly beings emerge in the sky, and voices spoke: “Indra Heaven congratulates the Bodhisattva on her return.” “The Trayastrimsha Heaven congratulates the Bodhisattva on her return.” “The Tushita Heaven congratulates…” “The Brahma Heaven congratulates…” One by one every heavenly realm sent forth its congratulations, and each manifested in the sky.
Then Shakyamuni Buddha appeared in the sky. He said not a word and suddenly transformed into the likeness of a great demon king and displayed all the darknesses of the hells. A voice said, “All these states are merely the products of deluded thought.” I said, “Since they are only deluded thoughts—mere illusions—what is there to fear?” The voice then said, “The Bodhisattva has attained true samadhi.” I smiled and said nothing more. At that, I came out of meditation.
After emerging from samadhi, I smelled the odor of sweat on my own body. The room, too, smelled heavy and dirty, as though I were living in a pigsty or chicken coop. This was probably because my nose and eyes had undergone qi-channel transformation over these past few days. Fortunately, my mind was not swayed by external conditions and remained relatively stable. I had not felt this way days before; I cleaned the room daily, so it should have been neat and tidy. But in samadhi I had seen everything arise from light, free of dust and stain. Now, having left that state, nothing in the room had any luster—the contrast was too great, and my six sense bases could not adjust at once. Moreover, these days of cultivation had made my six sense bases more open than before and my energy channels purer.
After rising, I practiced walking meditation in the courtyard and felt my body to be utterly illusory. In previous days my mind had been deeply still and silent, but now it seemed that even light was absent from the mind. It was like a phantom shadow—still traceable, as though the person had disappeared but the shadow remained. When I looked back at my own face, skin, and bones, they seemed like the outer wrapping of some object.
When the walking meditation was done, I returned to the room and lit three sticks of incense. I lit two wax lotus lamps, washed some apples, and placed them on the offering table. Then I joined my palms and silently thought, “While I remain in the realm of ordinary beings, I offer these humble things to the Tathagatas of the ten directions and the three periods of time and to all Bodhisattvas of the heavens.” At that moment I saw that every heaven possessed the very items on my offering table—the lamps and fruit filled the entire three-thousand great thousand worlds.
Just then Lang Gong entered and said, “Knowing that the Bodhisattva has today attained the fruit, I have come especially to offer congratulations.” I returned the courtesy. I saw Lang Gong bow before the Buddha at the offering table.
After Lang Gong finished his prostrations, he said to me, “Outside, multitudes of immortals have come to offer congratulations.” I looked up toward the door and saw in the sky beyond it the Eight Immortals and others. They said, “Bodhisattva, we know you are in retreat. We will enter only to offer congratulations, stay but a moment, and leave at once. We will not disturb you in the least. Please let Skanda Bodhisattva allow us to enter.” I told Skanda to admit them.
Then I saw the door open. The Queen Mother entered first, leading all the immortals. Two young attendants beside her brought two baskets of peaches fifty thousand years old and a pair of lovely jade rabbits.
Afterward, two strong attendants carried in a large incense burner. A young attendant said, “Congratulations from Manjushri Bodhisattva. This incense burner is cast of ordinary gold and is ten thousand years old. Its inner mystery the Bodhisattva will come to understand in time.” Having spoken, they took their leave.
Then a medicinal grinding trough, adorned all over with gold, silver, jewels, diamonds, and agates, appeared in the sky. A young attendant said, “This is the congratulatory gift from Samantabhadra Tathagata. May all the Bodhisattva’s future fine medicines come forth from this trough to cure the world’s pain and illness and to benefit all sentient beings far and wide.” In the distance I saw the image of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva in the sky. These words spoken, the image receded and vanished.
Just then, a jewel lotus flower surged from the ground right before her. Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva sat upright on it, then stepped down from the lotus seat. Diting beside him held a dead branch in its mouth. Ksitigarbha took it in his hand and said, “This dead branch was born through transformation from a place in the hells where not a blade of grass can grow; it is a manifestation of all the sufferings of hell. I hope the Bodhisattva will not forget the hell beings. Whenever you see this dead branch, let it remind you of them.” She nodded. Ksitigarbha left the branch, sat on the lotus, and vanished.
Then in the air Shakyamuni Buddha appeared, and within his light appeared layer upon layer of Buddha images from world upon world. Shakyamuni said, “Today a Bodhisattva has taken transformational birth in this world to spread the Dharma and benefit beings — the gods have come to offer congratulations; this is extremely rare and wondrous. May the Bodhisattva broadly propagate the Buddha-dharma and bring benefit to sentient beings. I shall assist by causing golden lotuses to spring from the earth.” As he spoke, countless enormous golden lotuses surged up from the ground and out of the air at the same time. The Buddhas withdrew. The immortals then took their leave, and she saw the door close again.
In the afternoon she poured the millet she had bought before entering retreat into the incense burner — first as a base for the incense sticks, and second as an offering to all the Buddhas. She lit incense, bowed to the Buddha with utter sincerity, and said, “May this millet be an offering to the Buddhas of the ten directions and the three periods of time, and may the beings of the human world enjoy favorable weather and never suffer the calamity of famine.” From the air came repeated echoes: “Excellent! Excellent!” And she saw Buddhas from every world each reach into the air, take a handful of millet, and drop it into her incense burner.
She still had one bad habit — eating too fast. She would start correcting it tomorrow. She had already corrected it countless times; what a simple habitual tendency, yet how hard it was to change!
April 13
She woke at three in the morning and could not fall back asleep. Even so, she stayed in bed until the monastery sounded the board for morning practice at four o’clock; only then did she get up.
After washing, she did yoga breathing exercises, then dynamic exercises, all the way until seven. She offered incense and lit a lamp before the Buddha, then ate three walnuts, an apple, and a glass of water as breakfast. She snapped two photos of herself and realized how old and ugly she had become, though she had once been quite pretty. Ugly or old — even if she had stayed home doing daily beauty treatments, it was only a matter of time. Youth does not last forever; birth, old age, sickness, and death are all impermanent. By cultivating and realizing the Buddha-dharma, she could thoroughly change herself from the mind outward, no longer lost amid all kinds of delusive thinking and illusory realms, able to attain liberation from birth, old age, sickness, and death — and then help those sentient beings tossing in the bitter sea of affliction. Even if she had to pay any worldly price, what would there be to regret? This shell of form would be shed sooner or later, and it was, after all, nothing but a firmly established delusion. Sentient beings cling to appearances and spend their lives enslaved to this shell of form! Lives are born and die, born again and die again; all dharmas flash into being and fade, flash and fade — what does any of it mean? What can you not see through? What can you not let go of?
In the morning she read the Shurangama Sutra. Close to noon, she suddenly felt drowsy, so she set the book aside, lay back against the bed, and closed her eyes to rest. Just then, sexual desire arose — not from the mind, but from the perineum cakra. The sensation grew stronger and stronger, yet her mind held no thought at all. Surprised, she hurriedly sat up into meditation posture and began the first section of the Great Illumination Dharma the Master had taught.
In the past, an image of herself standing upside down had always appeared clearly at once, but this time what she visualized was a flame under her seat, like a large candle burning, its tip swaying back and forth. She focused on regulating her breath, and when her breathing grew so faint it was almost imperceptible, the flame still swayed — a phenomenon she had never experienced before. Abruptly the flame became a blazing fire, then intensified further, turning into a fierce blast of white light like an electric welding arc, with a rushing, moaning sound of wind. Then, in an instant, the blazing light transformed into an immense white stream of brightness, like a current of fire but without flame, merely dazzling illumination. In a flash, the torrent of light swept upward and swallowed her whole.
She felt a gentle warmth rise through her limbs and the hundred channels of her body, though not especially strong. After the blaze passed, her whole body suddenly went limp and weak, leaving only a faintly warm sensation. Just then, the retreat attendant brought her meal. She stood up, felt dizzy, and by sheer force of will held her body together long enough to take the food. In the courtyard, it felt as if her body were a drifting ghost, soft and weightless; she saw that her entire body was filled with flowing currents of light, like lava streaming down a mountainside from a volcanic eruption. After eating, she lay on the bed with no strength at all, as if she had just died a great death and returned to life. Lying there a while longer, her whole body grew more uncomfortable — aching, numb, swollen, exhausted, weak and feverish. Her ears grew very hot, and she sensed a warm light spilling past her earlobes. Her body became a weightless mass of glowing radiance; only her heart chakra stayed consistently cool, her mind deeply calm.
Lying there, she felt nothing else, only as if she were swaying between life and death, as if her life had passed through yet another cycle of birth and death. She reflected that the immense brilliant fire that had just erupted must be the fire of nature, the true fire of the nature. Because her mind was free of desire, when that nature-fire was activated, it stirred the habitual tendencies of the reproductive system and produced abundant feelings of sexual desire. Besides, the first step of the Master’s Great Illumination Dharma necessarily began directly with the root of desire; with long and deep practice, it would sever the root of lust entirely. She wondered what others experienced when transforming the physical faculty. The moment the root of lust was severed must be like undergoing a life-and-death rebirth cycle, for from then on, the life energy would flow upward against the current, and the door that opens downward would essentially never open again.
After an hour in bed, her strength gradually returned. Her body still felt a little feverish, but no longer terribly uncomfortable — just slightly fatigued. This light was not the same as tummo. When tummo arises, there is great heat, and once the true breath enters all the channels, the body becomes soft and very comfortable. This light, however, was as if body and mind were burned to ash in a single instant, then reborn. But from past experience she knew that the transformation of energy channels could not be accomplished in one stroke; because of the depth of defilement, it would take countless repetitions before it was ultimate, before she was completely remade. If the nature of the mind was not transformed, the transformation of the channels would keep cycling back and forth.
The entire afternoon felt like a bad cold — no fever, no dullness, yet she could not sleep, her mood not especially cheerful, slightly gloomy. Over the past few days she had been defecating frequently, three or four times a day, while urination remained normal. She was not eating breakfast or dinner but was eating quite a lot of fruit. Thinking it over, what was the point of this human body?
Unable to sleep at noon, she lay for a while, then went out to practice Pratyutpanna walking. But she had barely walked a few rounds when she could barely keep her eyes open. She went back inside and lay down, yet the moment she lay down she felt exceptionally alert, with not the slightest trace of drowsiness. She simply lay there quietly, her legs deeply weary and aching.
Then, with her eyes closed, she saw her body become like a mirror, and the furniture and furnishings of the room were printed directly on her body. The offering table, the Buddha statue upon it, and the offerings in particular were clearly reflected right onto her thighs, all in vivid color. This had happened before, but never with such clarity.
She sat up to meditate. All at once scattered thoughts arose, so much so that she could not settle down, and she began reciting the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra. She visualized her body as empty, with the central channel a perfectly straight tube, and each syllable of the mantra arranged inside it from top to bottom, moving up and down with the sound of the recitation. After a while, a blockage formed at her throat — during the transformation she kept hearing the sound of belching from the channels — and she could not make a sound, so she stopped reciting.
Now she saw what had opened at her throat chakra a few days earlier — something like a lotus pod — giving off a dark, muted light. From each hole a channel ran down to connect with the heart chakra, and white light streamed from those holes one beam after another. Suddenly the channel from the center of the lotus pod descended between her breasts. The entire Ren channel was invisible; it looked as though a narrow gorge ran across her chest, and a beam of light shone up from below. At the same time she saw two channels extending from her ovaries straight upward, passing through the breasts and entering the head. She felt her uterus lift, and at the same time her mammary glands seemed to draw back; she saw her thymus gland unfold like two withered, curled leaves opening again. They exchanged positions, vibrating, rotating, and light followed the Ren channel upward. The perineum grew intensely swollen, and then a column of light shot straight up — but that column swayed inside her abdomen like a soft, transparent tubular sac (could it be the central channel?). At that moment countless rays of light shot down from the light of the crown chakra; she saw light overflowing from every follicle of her hair. Her entire head was filled with dazzling radiance, and it seemed that white points of light were flowing down the central channel.
Now, in the mountain opposite, two figures blew horns, and a disk of sun gradually drew closer. She knew this was a transformation body of Mahavairocana Tathagata. The sun entered directly into her uterus and then rose up the central channel. When it reached the crown chakra, her entire body suddenly exploded into nothingness, leaving only a pelvic bone. She abruptly emerged from samadhi.
It was past six o’clock when a small bowl of cherry tomatoes and some pineapple were delivered from outside; she ate them all. She recalled how, during these last few days of channel transformation, she sometimes saw the channels densely tangled around the main channel unravel, and the way the hundred channels stretched out looked very much like a giant lotus. The uterus was the lotus root, the heart chakra was the flower, the crown chakra was also a flower, the throat chakra was the lotus pod, the channels below the chin were like the veins on a lotus leaf, and the central channel was the stalk. It had looked that way when they first opened, but slowly it stopped resembling it.
In the evening, after eating fruit, she practiced Pratyutpanna walking in the courtyard. The temperature had dropped again over the last couple of days — it was cold and the wind was strong. She only walked a few rounds before heading back inside; she had only moved around a bit. Sitting in the room, residual habits stirred, and she suddenly felt her heart vast and empty, with nothing to lean on. It seemed as though her body did not exist and she herself could no longer be relied on — a strange sensation. Body and mind were both vast and open, yet seemed somehow strained and slightly weary. The books on the table, the objects in the room, all felt like items from memory, familiar yet strange. She felt unreal, as though she were someone who had returned from some future time and space and had not yet recovered from the time difference.
April 14
The night before, she had not fallen asleep until almost two o’clock. Her essence, energy, and spirit were exceptionally full — not a trace of drowsiness. In the end she got up to read, but the more she read the more alert she became. Later she managed to slip into a state between sleep and waking. She felt herself going to the place of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, where Manjushri Bodhisattva and Samantabhadra Bodhisattva expounded Mahayana sutras to her and spoke about various states of the transformation body. After they finished, she suddenly opened her eyes — it was already seven in the morning. She hurriedly got up and practiced dynamic exercises outside for a while, then washed up and offered incense to the Buddhas. Because her room was so small, she usually offered only one stick of incense except on festival days when she offered three. But today she felt as if guests were coming, so she lit three sticks.
After offering incense, she arranged herself cross-legged on the bed. Just as she entered a state of samadhi, she saw two figures blowing long horns in a distant mountain, and she wondered, “Has Mahavairocana Tathagata arrived?” She waited quietly. Suddenly she saw two figures wearing yellow Dharma robes carry in two tall, bird-shaped standing lamps and set them before her. They also brought a jeweled stupa; both the stupa and the lamps rose well above the bed. The two lit the lamps and the stupa. The stupa had apertures, and when they lit them, a beam of light shot straight up to the top — probably wicks had been placed inside. After lighting everything, they bowed and withdrew to one side.
Then she saw a Dharma King in a Dharma robe (the color escaped her memory) approaching from the distance, while on both sides of the path many lamas knelt and bowed their heads to the ground. When the Dharma King drew near the door, he turned back and said to the kneeling lamas, “You may withdraw now,” then entered the room. He had large eyes, a heavy beard, rings through his nostrils and ears, a broad, tall frame, and wore a five-Buddha crown. After entering, he first glanced at her offering table, then half-knelt on one knee, touched his right arm to the ground, and said, “I prostrate before Western Amitabha Buddha and all the great Bodhisattvas!” He rose, introduced himself, and said, “I am the Vajra of Bliss Union. Today, at the request of Manjushri Bodhisattva and Guanyin Bodhisattva, I have come to practice the dharma of the union of bliss and emptiness with you. I am currently xxx of Tibet.” She nodded and said, “Thank you, Vajra, for your blessing!”
To her, he felt different from other states she had experienced: he gave the impression of a real person, not a transformation body. His body was soft and supple, with human skin. They first embraced on the bed, then in the air, practicing the dharma of the union of bliss and emptiness. He said, “I see that the Bodhisattva’s energy channels are not yet completely mature. I hope that when we practice, you will hold your attention on the heart channel and keep your mind one-pointed, or else the energy may scatter and leak.” She did as he said. During the practice, he told her that he had not used this method to liberate beings for a long time — that for present-day beings it brought more harm than good — and so his movements were clumsy; he asked if her posture was comfortable. In Vajrayana, this method is the heart and marrow of the Great Perfection; in the Han tradition, it shatters the final barrier of life and death.
Throughout the practice she kept her attention on the heart channel and felt no other sensations. She saw bright white specks of light, like stray bullets across a night sky, streaming continuously from his body into her central channel, accompanied by red light. Finally, he let out three great shouts; his “ritual implement” shook violently inside her body, and she seemed to turn into a state of blank emptiness.
Afterward, he suddenly leaped away, sprang into the air, saluted, and vanished. Toward the end of the practice, he had also rubbed both her breasts vigorously with his hands, and she felt them turn into two spheres of white light. He laughed and said, “You are very beautiful.” In the mouth of someone who has realized emptiness, that phrase was like pointing at a flower and saying, “That flower is beautiful” — there was not the slightest hint of impure lust in it. Her heart was utterly at peace, free of any discrimination. The two yellow-robed attendants carried the lamps and stupa away, and in the distance she saw the many lamas gradually withdraw as well.
When she emerged from samadhi, she felt that her energy channels had suddenly become deep and robust. For the last few days the channels had been terribly dry; now she felt her entire body moist and glossy, and a white current of energy surged continuously from the perineum up to the heart chakra. Her body was profoundly comfortable.
The states encountered in Chan samadhi, the transformation of the energy channels, and the cultivation and realization through spirit-journeys are not suitable for most people, but there must be some whose experiences resemble her own. Therefore, during this retreat she recorded everything truthfully — she had made no records at all in the previous dozen years — so that it might serve as a guide. She wanted some people to see the path she had walked, to know what was right and what was wrong, to end their confusion, and to avoid unnecessary detours. And if she herself had truly taken a wrong path, then future practitioners could use this as a warning and never repeat the same mistake.
Now that her cultivation had reached this point, Wu Aizhen felt full of optimism and confidence about her practice—as if the sun were about to drive away the thin mist and break through, as if a rooster’s crow were about to herald the dawn, as if everything would soon be made plain. But some mist and residual habits still remained; she needed to advance with vigorous practice and give it time.
Her entire journey of cultivation and realization had begun from the level of a celestial being; under the close protection of the Lion King, the Four Heavenly Kings, and Skanda Bodhisattva, her spirit had traveled forth to visit various regions of the heavenly realms, and only now had she returned safely to the Saha World.
Because the yin spirit was not ultimate—being formed of deluded thinking—she needed to accomplish the dharma body, reward body, and emanation body in this world. People nowadays understood the sutras, teachings, and precepts in an overly rigid way. In their practice they clung to convention, and using limited wisdom they interpreted texts literally, so that cultivators endured countless hardships yet still could not find the door to the Buddha-dharma. When, in samadhi, she used the eye that transcends time and space and sees all places to look upon this world, she saw many cultivators clinging to mechanical practice like wooden puppets. They were like blind people groping through the dark, and she could not help but sigh with pity. The Buddha-dharma is not apart from the world; one’s own nature is not apart from all phenomena; mind, Buddha, and sentient beings are originally without distinction. The living Dharma is right there in everyday thoughts, in every gesture and step—why divide it into worldly and world-transcending? Truly, you could say it is difficult, as far as a journey of a hundred and eight thousand li, yet you could also say it is easy, right before your eyes, already complete.
After lunch she felt a little tired and wanted to sleep, so she lay on the bed for less than an hour. She did not actually fall asleep, yet soon felt her energy growing abundant again, with no drowsiness or fatigue at all, though the muscles in her feet and both legs were still sore and uncomfortable. This was why one must learn to relax the muscles when beginning yoga, doing relaxation exercises both before and after the practice.
At two o’clock she did yoga and felt that her body was unusually supple today. After only a dozen or so postures, a warm current circulated through her entire body; her legs and feet no longer hurt, and a slight sweat seeped from her skin.
That afternoon she read until seven, then began to sit. Suddenly she felt herself walking through hell. In that dark, lightless hell were pools of blood and filth, and beings struggling in them. Behind her followed a giant python and a large turtle, moving along with her wherever she went.
She looked back at the snake and turtle, and their past lives flashed before her eyes like a film. She saw that the turtle and snake had been two Japanese soldiers in a previous life. Three Japanese soldiers were gathered around a haystack, watching a Chinese woman lying there giving birth. When the woman delivered the child, she lifted it with both hands; one soldier snatched the baby from her, and another drove his Western-style sword viciously into her belly. The woman screamed, and the scene vanished.
Then she saw the three soldiers disembowel the baby, dig out its heart, liver, and kidneys, roast them over a fire and eat them, grinning hideously. As two of the soldiers ate, the images of the hell-turtle and hell-snake suddenly imprinted themselves onto their forms.
She could not bear the sight, but she thought that these two Japanese soldiers were truly man-eating demons—turning into a turtle and a snake was far too easy on them. Yet then she wondered: what kind of offense had that woman created in a past life to die so wretchedly? At that moment, the woman’s past-life scenes appeared.
In a former life the woman had been a butcher. There had been a cow pregnant with a calf, but the butcher slaughtered the mother cow. The cow had nearly bled out, but its eyes would not close; it stared fixedly at the butcher until it saw him cut the calf from its belly, then disembowel the already fully formed little one, before its eyes finally shut.
That cow’s eyes were filled with agony, resentment, and the benighted ignorance of a creature submitting to slaughter—a look that engraved itself deeply in her mind. Beside the cow, several other sheep awaiting slaughter had witnessed the whole scene together. And that cow and those sheep were later reborn as the Japanese soldiers.
The butcher, though he had committed the karma of killing, was relatively large-hearted, ready to right wrongs and act out of a sense of justice and courage. He was reborn once more as a human being and became that woman. After the Japanese soldiers killed her, she was reborn again as a servant girl in a wealthy household. Every time her period came, she would roll on the floor in such agony that no medicine could help. The cause was that, in the life when she gave birth, her blood and energy were weak; then her womb was pierced by a knife, and she was overcome with terror—hence this karmic illness.
Seeing this, a boundless compassion rose in her heart. Retribution upon retribution—when would it ever end? Feeling her compassion grow too heavy to bear, she withdrew from the samadhi state, stopped sitting, and went back to reading.
April 15th.
Today was the fifth seven-day period. She rose at six in the morning, cleaned, did yoga, and offered incense to the Buddha. She drank a cup of coffee and ate a small handful of soybeans. After a brief rest, she began sitting meditation.
Today her mind felt extraordinarily deep and concentrated; her body seemed to be there and yet not there, utterly still. Inwardly she was profoundly quiet and no longer gave rise to delusive thoughts. She watched her own habitual tendencies fly out like dust and mist, dispersing and dissolving. Her mind was immensely vast; there was no appearance of light, yet inside and out it was brilliantly clear. She dwelt in empty samadhi. Her mind was so empty that even “unmoving suchness”—the very idea of suchness—felt superfluous. The world and its states seemed connected to her by a thick steel cable; then suddenly it broke, leaving only a last thread. In an instant, not even that trace remained. She saw a thick black mist surge from the navel cakra, and within that black mist were images of the twelve classes of sentient beings cycling through rebirth. After a while the black mist dispersed completely, and her body and mind gave rise to light, abiding in unmoving suchness. She felt as though she were enclosed in a dense, primordial luminosity—the four words “formless” and “ignorance” truly captured this state. Now all thoughts were utterly ungraspable, and all states had nowhere to arise.
She still could not penetrate the meaning of the two lines “With the cessation of conditioned arising and ceasing, nirvāṇa manifests,” so whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, she silently contemplated them. Later, while practicing walking meditation in the courtyard, she was still pondering these lines when she suddenly stopped, bowed toward the sky, and begged Śākyamuni Buddha to compassionately give her instruction. Standing in the courtyard with palms joined, she entered samadhi. Suddenly a verse rang out in the air: “All processes are impermanent; they are the dharma of arising and ceasing. When arising and ceasing cease, nirvāṇa manifests.” After the recitation, there was silence for a few seconds, and then the voice repeatedly intoned, “When arising and ceasing cease… when arising and ceasing cease!” Her body and mind seemed struck by a resounding thunderclap; she felt transparent through and through, and her heart cakra, like a round mirror, radiated light in all directions. Suddenly her body and mind merged with the dharma body that is neither arising nor ceasing. In that state of neither arising nor ceasing, she realized what it meant to be neither arising nor ceasing—nirvāṇa manifesting before her. The voice abruptly vanished, and she begged once more for further instruction. Then the voice arose again: “Nirvāṇa does not abide; the Dharma-nature flows on. Flowing on without abiding… (I cannot recall the rest) …returning to nirvāṇa.” As those lines resounded, suddenly even nirvāṇa was gone. The real mark of all dharmas is formless; the flow is unceasing, arising and ceasing, all appearing together on the same substance, returning to nirvāṇa.
At noon she had no desire to eat, so she did walking meditation in the courtyard, feeling her life energy flow in reverse; the more she walked, the less hungry she became. Back in her room, she opened the lunchbox and saw the food. Although her belly felt full, she had a desire to eat. She thought, since the food has been brought, I may as well eat it and start my fast tomorrow instead. So she ate the rice and dishes. After eating, her body felt uncomfortable and heavy. Half an hour later, her gums began to feel slightly swollen and itchy, and her stomach was heavy and unsettled; she had a lot of phlegm, and the skin on her body began to itch. A quick bath in her room helped a little. During this period her skin had been peeling badly, which might also have been related to the weather.
She spent the entire afternoon studying the Vimalakīrti Sutra.
In the evening she practiced the women’s inner alchemy. She increased the number of breast-massage rotations compared to before, since she had not practiced for more than ten days and did not follow the original count. When she had massaged in an outward direction for over three hundred circles, suddenly a stream of white energy—very vivid—rose along her tailbone, reached the crown, arrived at the celestial eye point, then abruptly turned downward behind her ears and entered her breasts from the chest cavity. This was the pathway of the governing vessel in women. She observed the heart energy rising at her heart cakra, like a gentle flame lightly steaming her throat cakra. From the downward-facing lotus at her throat cakra, water appeared, with a few drops falling toward the heart channel. During her observation of the heart cakra, her kidney area tightened and hurt several times. At the chest center, two beams of light kept flashing and crisscrossing, as if trying to merge. Her celestial eye felt slightly swollen and ceaselessly emitted light. When the light shone, she could see everything inside the room with her eyes closed. Her heart trembled unceasingly, like an apple on a tree with a worm lurking beneath it trying to push the apple aside. Every now and then her heart would quiver a few times, yet her heart rate did not change at all, and she felt no flutter of panic or nervousness in her heart. She thought it was because the conception vessel was not yet fully open and energy was insufficient. So she decided to start a fast today, lasting about ten days.
For women, the conception vessel, the heart cakra, and the perineum cakra are all extremely crucial points. Throughout the process of circulating and transforming energy channels described above, she repeatedly heard the sound of belching within the channels.
April 16th (beginning the fast today).
She got up at 5:50 in the morning, cleaned, did dynamic exercises and yoga, drank water, and ate two walnuts.
Then she began reading the Collected Works of Zhang Sanfeng and Lü Dongbin.
Excerpt from The Collected Works of Zhang Sanfeng:
① In cultivating the Way, the accumulation of merit and virtue is the root and foundation. ② The human immortal refines original essence and replenishes original energy; if virtue is insufficient, one’s body may be healthy but one cannot transcend birth and death. The earth immortal refines original energy and forms the inner elixir, already free from the affliction of leaking essence; but if the precept-conduct is not strict, one can travel on land but cannot ascend to heaven—unable to leave the dust, hence an immortal of the earth. The spirit immortal refines original energy and transforms the spirit body, already possessing the wonders of supranormal powers, unharmed by water or fire; yet if merit and practice are insufficient, one remains only a spirit immortal, also called a water immortal or one liberated by corpse-release, belonging to the fruit of the Lesser Vehicle. The celestial immortal: a spirit immortal who can broadly accumulate merit and virtue, then refines the spirit to return to emptiness and faces a wall for nine years, thus becoming a celestial immortal, also said to have attained the Way. ③ Ghosts are pure yin energy; immortals are pure yang energy. Humans possess half yin and half yang, therefore they have form and body, birth and death. If yin energy is refined away, one becomes an immortal; if yang energy is utterly exhausted, one becomes a ghost. ④ No-self leads to no-others; without others there is no desire; from this comes great purity and great joy. Disciples who contemplate Chan verses seeking results will create obstacles—it is like planting grain and then, only a few days later, looking for the fruit. “Emptying the mind” can bring real benefit; one should know that no result is itself the result. ⑤ If a person harbors selfish desires, many principles remain unclear. Geomantic principles must accord with heavenly principle; since they must accord with heavenly principle, they cannot accommodate common human desires. Therefore this path can only be studied by wise and upright sages and worthies. Nine out of ten feng shui masters are poor because they know heavenly principle but cannot accord with it. The feng shui practitioner thereby uses feng shui as a form of karmic retribution: giving good land to good people and poor land to bad people, not accepting favors from the good nor fearing the complaints of the wicked—only then is the mind truly luminous.
She sat in meditation that morning. Her body had felt cold since early morning, though the weather was clear and the bright sun shone high; she should not have been cold. She read for a while, then sat and focused on her heart channel. Suddenly she remembered Zhang Sanfeng from the book she had just been reading and thought, why not ask him about some matters of the energy channels, to hear the Daoist perspective? She addressed the sky and invited the immortal Zhang Sanfeng for a conversation. At once auspicious clouds swirled around her and purple vapor billowed up; she saw a colossal turtle sticking out its tongue and gliding by. Within the clouds, an immortal island appeared—Penglai, she thought, the isle of immortals. Immortal cranes flew in formation, and ethereal music drifted through the air. Then a young boy manifested in the clouds and said, “The immortal Zhang Sanfeng is bathing and changing his robes; he will be with you shortly.” A moment later, an immortal elder with the white hair and ruddy face of a child, his eyes gleaming with spirit-light, carrying a white fly-whisk and wearing a Daoist ritual robe, strode over with great strides. Before him and behind him, immortal cranes soared up and down. The immortal came before her and made a bow of obeisance. “Please, no formalities!” she said. The immortal replied, “Bodhisattva, you spread the Dharma for the benefit of living beings and walk the Bodhisattva Path—most admirable!”
She asked the immortal to examine the condition of her channels. The immortal said, “Bodhisattva, your hundred channels are already open; you need only await the return of the single yang. However, the celestial water is not yet clear—the conception vessel—and the earth essence is not yet bright—the governing vessel. For now you should guard the perineum.” She brought her attention to the perineum cakra, but it felt parched. The immortal said, “It seems that when the Bodhisattva opened the hundred channels, she exhausted her true energy. With ordinary people one would need to focus the spirit on the qi cavity and nurture it until the original energy slowly recovers. But the Bodhisattva’s mind-nature is vast and deep; you can directly, in an instant, draw upon the essence-energy of heaven and earth to replenish it. Five li from here there is the Jade Truth Pond, the place of ultimate yin on Mount Tai. I shall go fetch it for the Bodhisattva.” With these words, the immortal rose into the air, untied the gourd he carried at his side, and drew the true energy from the distant Jade Truth Pond. A beam of white mist-like light was seen being sucked from a mountain hollow into the gourd. The immortal sealed the lid, brought it before her, and pointed the gourd’s mouth at her lower abdomen; the light shot straight into her perineum cakra. At once clouds and mist surged at the perineum cakra as she lightly held her awareness there. Suddenly her body was enveloped in cloud and mist, within which came lightning, thunderclaps, the sound of the heavens splitting and the earth crumbling, and the shriek of wind and the scream of startled cranes—utterly terrifying. But her mind remained unmoved. The immortal said, “This is a samadhi state; the Bodhisattva need not pay it any heed.” After a while, every kind of sound arose—the cries of animals, as if she were in a bustling marketplace. Again the immortal reminded her from the side: “This is a samadhi state; the Bodhisattva need not pay it any heed.” She simply fixed her mind single-pointedly. Suddenly the immortal said he would leave for a moment and rose to depart. Then she heard a sound of escaping air, as if from her tailbone, like a long fart. She understood: it was turbid qi being expelled from the intestines. No wonder the immortal had left—(just a joke). She also heard the sound of flowing water and the bubbling of air, which was turbid qi being discharged from the bladder.
After a while the immortal returned, holding a sword in his hand. Two young boys brought three large candles, an incense burner, and some offerings. The immortal lit the incense, arranged the offerings, and lit the candles; then, reciting a mantra, he grasped a blue-green sword. Three beams of light shot up from the candles like three light-missiles launching into the sky and landing on the mountain outside. When the ritual was done, the two boys left the candles and incense burner behind and removed the offerings. According to Daoist custom, when someone is cultivating the Way, this ritual must be performed to notify the mountain gods of the four directions and so forth, lest the mountains collapse, the earth split, or any tremor disturb them.
I continued keeping my mind on the perineum cakra, feeling that my abdomen was empty and that there was fundamentally nothing to seek. My state of mind suddenly relaxed, becoming even more still and void, yet my body still felt cold. The Perfected One said, “This is the phenomenon of extreme yin giving birth to yang.” I sat there for a long time without the slightest movement, then apologized for taking up so much of his time. The Perfected One said, “It’s no trouble. I can stay here with the Bodhisattva the whole time. When the full yang of midday rises, there ought to be some sign. The Bodhisattva may simply sit in serene emptiness and stillness to nurture her qi.”
When I sat a while longer, I suddenly felt both cold and tired and longed to lie down and sleep. I slept briefly but then felt light flowing in my throat and coughed violently for perhaps five or six minutes. I rose again and walked around the courtyard. At eleven-thirty I returned to the room to sit in meditation. My body still felt tired, and there was a flash of light at my brow as brightness flickered on and off intermittently. At this point I was so exhausted I couldn’t even lift my head, so I lay down on the bed and fell asleep while maintaining a cultivation state, only waking at two-thirty. My stomach felt slightly uncomfortable, and something seemed to be stuck in my throat. In the unceasing brightness that arose before sleep, I saw a channel running from my navel to the heart, and this channel entered at the navel, connecting to the navel cakra and continuing down to link the two ovaries—it must have been the Conception Vessel. After waking, my whole body began to heat up again, and my throat seemed swollen; it was a little sore. I suddenly longed for some thin rice gruel, so I scooped two small spoonfuls of rice from the incense burner used for making offerings to the Buddha and boiled it with an electric cooker, drinking a bowl of rice soup. Fasting means abstaining from grains, but I’d treat it as medicine. Indeed, after drinking it, my throat no longer hurt. I also ate an apple today.
Excerpt:
Remove evil, good arises; forget emotion, life arises; reject falseness, truth arises; steady intention, virtue arises. Heart open, wisdom arises; behold the Way, non-birth arises; turbidity exhausted, clarity arises; yin exhausted, yang arises. Nature settled, light arises; reverence practiced, response arises; great compassion saves, life arises; the Way functions, subtlety arises.
In the afternoon, at four o’clock, my whole body began to alternate between cold and hot again, and I still wanted to sleep. So I read Hawking and the Mind of God. Starting from the two pillars of twentieth-century physics—relativity theory and quantum mechanics—Hawking conducted exquisite research on cosmology and put forward a series of brilliant ideas: the singularity theorem, the black-hole area theorem, Hawking radiation, the no-boundary universe hypothesis, and so on.
In their exploration of cosmic phenomena and the essence of life, scientists are beginning to draw close to religion. But science requires empirical proof, and within the human world, no theoretical system of this world can ever reveal the essence of life. Molecules, atoms, particles, photons, waves, time, space, dimensions—even if we can use these terms and numbers to peel back the veils of the universe and life layer by layer, the wisdom we humans possess is still too small. We can apply science to medicine, chemistry, and even to our walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, using external tools to imitate the life patterns of beings in other worlds, but there are still limits. For speed, time, matter, and the like all exist only relative to the consciousness of living beings; they do not exist for the essence of life—that Tathagata. Science is like trying to use a defective part to explain a whole phenomenon—impossible. Everything is relative: it can be accomplished through reasoning inside a genius scientist’s mind, but it can never be proved in this world. We can unveil the laws of the universe, and we can use tools here on earth to enjoy a simulated life of the Ābhāsvara Heaven, yet the essence of the universe transcends any form of living consciousness. For life forms that possess consciousness, the truth of the universe is forever soundless; it is silence.
That evening the layperson who guarded the retreat brought in many flowers and fruits, and I was delighted. It was the fifteenth day of the third lunar month, and I took the chance to make offerings to the Buddha.
In the past, if I had been in retreat and someone sent flowers in, no matter what their intention was, I would have thought it meaningless, unnecessary, and a waste of money; better to put the money spent on flowers into the merit box. But now I would never think that way. The person who sent me flowers must have held a very beautiful intention. First I must rejoice in their merit; then if the flowers are used as offerings to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, that further purifies and elevates their thought, making the act even more meaningful. Actually, in this world, what in the end is truly meaningful? First we must shatter this attachment. The moment your eyes first see a flower, what arises in your heart should be admiration of the flower’s beauty, not any worldly concern; otherwise you are defiled. A child would never ask whether something is worth buying or how much it costs, yet we adults, in our careful reckoning of life, have lost this childlike innocence. Of course, we must be frugal; frugality is a virtue. But if you turn everything into cultivation, then extravagance and frugality alike become Dharma doors for your practice, things that can break your attachments. In truth, through all our calculations, a lifetime accumulates far too many things we do not need. We adults expend energy, time, money, even life on this; after tending to food, shelter, and travel, we really have no idea which things are truly useful to us or which deeds are truly right.
I put the flowers into vases and arranged the fruit. In a bottle used to hold water consecrated by the Great Compassion mantra, there was a withered twig. Some time ago it had sprouted a few tender buds, but after the heating was turned off, the withered twig truly became a withered twig; it lacked warmth and was nearly dead. Yet I did not throw it away but kept it on the offering table. Seeing it, I would think of the withered twig left by Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva and remember the beings in hell.
I lit three sticks of incense in the incense burner. Then, with reverence and utmost sincerity, I silently hoped that I could make offerings on behalf of all sentient beings in the Sahā world to the Tathagatas of the ten directions and the three periods of time. On earlier days, I would instantly see the worlds of all the Buddhas, the air filled with offerings, but today everything was exceptionally still. Suddenly a voice sounded in the air: “The Buddhas have no spoken words, and what the celestial eye sees is also an illusion. You can perceive the formless within ultimate reality, and this formlessness too is ultimate reality.” At once I understood that once again, in a single thought, I had slipped into discrimination and clinging to characteristics. The Buddhas I now saw—their forms and their formlessness—were all manifestations of my own Buddha-nature’s ultimate reality; seeing or not seeing is only the discrimination of eye consciousness. Buddha-nature is without eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind; it sees yet does not see; it does not see yet sees. In that instant I turned the light around and shone it within. Then I suddenly realized that the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas share the same substance as myself, share the same substance as all things. Every apple, every flower shimmered with light, each one was a Tathagata, each one was the Patriarch’s meaning in coming from the West. I understood more deeply: “If you see all appearances as no appearance, you see the Tathagata.” If in the days before I still held a state of quiescent cessation toward “formlessness,” then today that “formlessness” had become the wondrous function of the Buddhas, causing a lotus to bloom from the quiescent cessation and enabling me to perceive the miraculous in the ordinary!
As I was about to leave the offering table, the voice said: “The worlds of all the heavens are laden with offerings in abundance, but those who can make offerings to the Buddhas with a formless mind are rare and hard to find. Such an offering alone is in accord with the hearts of the Buddhas.”
I bowed and withdrew.
April 17
I rose a little before six in the morning, first wiped the offering table clean, then lit incense. Just as I was performing reverent prostrations, a voice suddenly spoke: “I am Venerable Atiśa, now teaching and transforming sentient beings in the Parinirmita-vaśavartin Heaven. The Bodhisattva’s compassionate vows pervade the billion-world universe. But at present sentient beings cling to cultivation and realization through sutras, vinaya, and treatises; your future propagation of the Dharma will meet with many difficulties. Therefore I hope you can go to the Tibetan region… may you find peace, happiness, and perfect attainment there.”
After completing my dynamic exercises in the morning, I ate some fruit and began reading An Eighty-Fascicle Meaning of the Shurangama Sutra.
In the morning I read the Shurangama Sutra and sat in meditation. Shortly after ten, I practiced walking pratyutpanna outside. Suddenly I recalled what I had read the day before about questions of time, speed, and space. In truth, many issues in the Buddhadharma can also be explained through these concepts.
For example, we all have a simple fixed idea that time flows. It passes by us second by second, the seasons change, we grow old, and we simplistically think of speed as something static or in motion, or as moving fast or slow. The concept of space we think of as presence or absence—that within a space there is matter or there is not.
But simply from the perspective of how sentient beings in the Sahā world perceive time, it differs. For instance, when Shakyamuni Buddha attained enlightenment, a black dragon in the Ganges saw it and said, “Just yesterday a Buddha entered Nirvana, and today another Buddha is born.” To us humans, the interval between the births of two Buddhas may be over a hundred million years, but to a dragon it is merely yesterday and today. Thus one sees that time is indeterminate. As another example, when the Buddha teaches the Dharma, sentient beings of all realms can hear it, but because of different time offsets, the beings of this realm say, “I heard the Buddha teach the Dharma yesterday,” while the beings of another realm say, “I heard it this morning,” and the beings of yet another realm say, “The Buddha will teach the Dharma to us tomorrow.” Therefore, the Buddha’s teaching cannot be said to belong to the past, present, or future—it can only be said that “at one time” the Buddha taught the Dharma. From this it becomes apparent that time arises only relative to the mind-consciousness of different sentient beings; it is illusory, indeterminate. As for speed, we know that when an object moves too fast, it vanishes. We can barely see its existence. If we cannot see it exist, how can we know whether it is moving or still? If it moves at superluminal speed, perhaps life forms in another world would see it as motionless. Moreover, the earth is constantly revolving around the sun and rotating on its axis in the cosmos, yet we feel that the earth is still. And when we run, a bacterium parasitic inside our body cannot feel our movement either. Thus, stillness and motion are also experienced differently by different life forms—they are attachments of different modes of living consciousness, and they are illusory. As for presence and absence in empty space: we humans cling to a present moment’s concept of time, so now you see this empty ground with nothing on it. Yet another type of life clings to the time concept that it sees, and what it sees is the past: it sees a house standing here. Then another realm of life clings to its own concept of time and sees the future, with many trees at this spot. Therefore, because time concepts differ, space also becomes relative. Thus time and space and speed are all conclusions reached by the consciousness states of different life forms, and then those life forms cling to these conclusions and cycle through birth and death. Our consciousness itself is illusory, unreal, and constantly changing—therefore all external reality is also illusory and unreal, which is to say ultimate reality is formless. And when we enter samadhi, we transcend the concepts of time and space; we no longer flow with time or generate discriminations in response to any apparent spatial reality. At that moment, everything that had arisen relative to our mind-consciousness is completely shattered. For in the absence of time and space, in the absence of present, past, and future, who are you? Where are you? You are no-self; mind-consciousness vanishes. Since you are not in the present, past, or future, not here and not there, then you can only be everywhere. And since you are everywhere, all dharmas of the world are you. That is “if you see all appearances as no appearance, you see the Tathagata.” And it also means one flower is one Tathagata, one leaf is one world. Furthermore, once we negate time and space and transcend all attachment to them, then we have actually done nothing, the universe never began, and we have neither birth nor extinction; we instantly return to the source of all dharmas, and our cycle of rebirth is nothing but a dream.
My compassion is still not enough. Take writing this journal alone: I began by wanting to record everything carefully and share it with the friends around me, hoping it might increase everyone’s faith in studying the Buddhadharma. But as I kept writing, I later no longer wanted to write and felt it was meaningless. My fingers also hurt, and I didn’t want to write so many words. Even if I can offer others only a tiny benefit, my heart will be content—I just fear doing something meaningless. I hope that after people read this book, even a single thought of turning toward the Buddha will arise, and that will be enough! If I can cast out a piece of broken tile and, seeing it, others can board the great Dharma ship of the Buddhadharma, where there are naturally many Dharma doors, many sutras, and many instructions by great masters, that can be used to rescue and liberate sentient beings!
At noon, I had a slight headache on one side, and my head felt rather heavy, but since I wasn’t eating, my body felt much lighter. The habitual tendencies of the mouth were still strong; though my stomach felt no hunger, when I saw food, my mouth still wanted to chew something.
Excerpt from The Collected Works of Wang Chongyang, Volume One:
In cultivating the Way, what is most forbidden is lewdness, thoughts of killing, malice, and deceit—these are actually easy to give up. As for slight joy and anger, judgments of right and wrong, these are normal human feelings and are hardest to guard against and eliminate. One must not allow the tiniest trifle to ensnare the heart; all discursive thinking must cease, the mind must be quiet, one must forget others and forget objects, and then, undisturbed by the immediate realm before one’s eyes, one is in the company of the Perfected. To receive praise without having done any good deed is not auspicious; to examine oneself and find no fault yet suffer slander does oneself no harm. Gain and loss lie in one’s own understanding; the person who can suffer injury without sorrow is a person of the highest mental realm.
When the mind is not swayed by externals it is called empty mind; when the mind does not chase after externals it is called peaceful mind. When the mind is both empty and peaceful, the Way comes to dwell. When the body is one with the Way, there is never a moment it does not exist; when the mind is one with the Way, there is no principle one does not penetrate.
When the mind forgets empty thoughts, one transcends the Desire Realm; when the mind forgets all states, one transcends the Form Realm; when one does not cling to the view of emptiness, one transcends the Formless Realm.
In the afternoon I read Daoist books and sat in meditation. While sitting, I stilled my mind and quieted my thoughts, severing all emotions and stilling all will. Yet my channels were parched and I had been straining my spirit too long; I needed quiet recuperation! In samadhi, my body was like a black hole—darkly luminous and profoundly still, so deep that even light was drawn in and absorbed.
This afternoon when I began to sit in meditation, from time to time little bugs crawled onto my body. Within half an hour, no fewer than four bugs appeared—two crawling, two flying. I did not bother about the reason, but as long as I saw one during meditation I immediately brushed it away with my hand, and for a long time I could not settle. I thought, although the many Bodhisattvas have bestowed their blessings, if I cannot start with the subtlest arising and movements of my own mind and talk about comfortably attaining the Way without serious effort—if I harbor such a wishful attitude, it is nothing but a daydream. External causes always work through internal causes. The blessings and teachings of the Buddhas are certainly important, but if I cannot maintain moment-by-moment mindful awareness and truly believe, accept, and uphold them, then it is all in vain. The great Way is vast and empty, doing nothing, yet its merit blazes forth—how could it ever be stolen by a scheming worldly petty person unwilling to give up even a bit, unwilling to let go of even a bit? Since I have sat down to meditate, I should gather my spirit, cast off every condition, and sit single-mindedly. Yet a few bugs were enough to disturb me. Thinking carefully: on the path of cultivating the Way, is there any achievement I can be proud of?! And if I do not cultivate, when my body wastes away and my bones are all that remain, won’t I just be food for the worms in the grave?
At noon I also found time for cleaning. Today I cleaned more slowly than usual, carefully and earnestly. And all the while I kept body and spirit united, free of discursive thoughts, with a subtle mindful awareness—hoping that in walking, standing, sitting, and lying down I could maintain the state of samadhi.
Towards evening I practiced yoga and walked pratyutpanna-samadhi outside the courtyard for a while.
April 18
Woke up at six in the morning. My body felt a little weak, but my energy was still strong, and my body felt much lighter. I did movement exercises, drank water, ate a piece of pineapple, and then read Daoist books.
Excerpts from Daoist texts:
“When the mind wanders, draw it back at once; having drawn it back, let go again. After using it, seek stillness once more—seeking stillness is what gives rise to awakening.” (Alchemical verse)
“Wandering about and sitting blankly—this is certainly not the Way. You must let qi circulate through the orifices and passes of the whole body. Do not sit in meditation in a withered-tree cold hall; you must sit in meditation with spirit in the wondrous orifices of this body.”
“To protect the body, take calming the heart and nourishing the kidneys as fundamental. When the heart is calm, the Li-fire does not blaze outward; when the kidneys are nourished, the Kan-water does not collapse outward. When fire does not blaze outward, there is no illness of spirit-shaking, and the heart becomes still calmer. When water does not collapse outward, there is no disorder of dried-up essence, and the kidneys become still clearer. When the kidneys are clear, the life-fire does not rush upward; when the heart is calm, the spirit-fire can shine downward. Spirit and essence fuse together—only then can illness be dispelled, only then can cultivation be spoken of.”
“Whenever you sit in meditation, you must have a quiet heart and concentrated spirit. Not the slightest calculating or wishful thought must arise. Just hold fast to the inner breath and put in the work.”
“Inhaling is the first critical work on the path of cultivation. When both heart and spirit are silent—empty, utterly still—even ghosts and spirits cannot know the depth of your practice.”
“Concentrate the spirit, regulate the breath: be spacious yet orderly; neither force nor forget. When the heart is even, the spirit gathers. When the qi is harmonious, the breath becomes regulated.”
“When the heart holds no discursive thoughts, the body becomes like the great void. Not a speck of dust adheres; every care dissolves into emptiness. When the heart dies, the spirit comes alive. When the body becomes empty, the qi moves. Only then can one seek the Way of the one yang and the merit of the two firing periods. If your own nature stays still, the other’s qi returns by itself.”
A little before eight I began to sit in meditation and continued until nine forty-three. According to the Daoist school, a woman must transform blood into qi at the heart-pulse area; this is the most fundamental step—otherwise everything else is out of the question. But the Secret School, starting from opening the cakras, can also transform blood; the entry point is merely different. Yet whether Daoist or Secret, when it comes to cultivating the body, the requirements for the nature of the mind are the same. Just as I was preparing to read a sutra, I suddenly saw a black light at my throat and immediately began to sit again. I felt two spiral-wound channels at the neck begin to unwind. At the same time, dark-red masses of light emerged from them and then dispersed. But I saw that the energy passage at the center of the thyroid was very narrow and the qi channel looked dark; I supposed it was not yet open. My tongue was slightly dry.
At ten-thirty I began reading the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Blossom Sutra.
At twelve-thirty I started to sit in meditation. During the sitting, a cool qi suddenly arose from my lower back and spread through my abdomen and heart-cakra area; my entire abdominal cavity felt profoundly cool and comfortable. Following that, a limpid, brilliant light arose, and I saw that my ribs were flooded with this limpid light; there was also light in the marrow of my sternum and spine. Previously various kinds of light had arisen as well; sometimes they had illuminated the mountains on all four sides, but the light had always been accompanied by hot currents. The light this time, though dimly luminous and limpid, seemed to carry greater energy, as if circulating from within the bones, and the sensation of coolness that accompanied the light was something I had never experienced before; both arms also felt cool. After this qi and light arose, my breathing slowed to once in a very long while, and my mind was extraordinarily settled. Later I saw that a constricted channel at my navel suddenly came free, and at the same time my breath became extremely deep and long, just like a fetus: one inhalation and one exhalation could circulate through the hundreds of channels in the four limbs of my whole body, completing a single great heavenly cycle.
Over the past two days, often in meditation, objects from the room have been imprinted on my body, and my body has become as dimly luminous as a mirror. At times a round halo of light appears behind my head, and a seven-colored belt of light at my waist.
In the evening I read the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Blossom Sutra. It was as though the World-Honored One were once again personally expounding its meaning right at my ear. The joy in body and mind was something I had never known, and I proceeded to perceive light radiating from three places: one on the bed, one on the floor, and one outside the door and window. The light was like sunlight reflecting on the surface of water, dazzlingly flickering with the waves, and at the same time I caught the intermittent fragrance of sandalwood. Skanda Bodhisattva said, “Sentient beings from other worlds are listening to you read the Wonderful Dharma Lotus Blossom Sutra.” After I finished reading the third scroll, “The Parable of the Conjured City,” I felt a little tired and drowsy and prepared to sleep. Just then a voice said, “You originally meant to finish reading the fourth scroll.” In my heart I answered, “I’ll continue reading tomorrow.” The voice did not speak again.
April 19
Last night, lying in bed, I grew more and more awake, but the old laziness flared up again; I could not sleep and did not want to get up either, drifting from ten-thirty until after twelve-thirty before gradually falling asleep.
Just past five in the morning, I was suddenly awakened by a thunderclap. Outside, a violent rainstorm was underway, with continuous rumbling thunder. By six-thirty the rain had stopped, but the sky was still overcast. I drank a glass of water and began movement exercises.
Sitting on the meditation bed, I looked out through the glass of the door and window. The trees outside seemed overnight to have burst out with green leaves; the tender green leaves made the sunlight seem brilliant as well. The birds’ feathers were also bright, and their calls seemed noticeably more joyful. Although spring had arrived long before according to the calendar, only when I saw the green leaves did I feel in my heart that spring was truly here, a sense of flourishing vitality everywhere. The rain began to fall again, the sky a little gloomy; all the darting bugs had gone into hiding, and now and then I heard a few soft murmurings from the birds… The great Way does nothing; life naturally breeds and sustains itself without cease. I do not like overcast, drizzly weather, but seeing the trees outside dressed in green, stretching their branches contentedly in the rain, I seemed to turn into a plant myself. My heart grew light and joyful, and a quiet, warm feeling welled up. With a heart of wu-wei, I silently admired the wonder and joy of nature’s shifting light and darkness, fullness and emptiness.
Without formal meditation, I sat loosely on the meditation bed, listening with a still heart to the drip-drop of the rain, watching the tiny blossoms of water splashing up from the ground, and straining to hear the hidden clamor—the crackling of plants pushing out new nodes, the drift of dark clouds, the vast echoing of the universe… Every sound was the Way proclaiming itself, every sound a wonderful note of the Tathagata; every scene contained the miracle of the Creator’s handiwork! The boundless wondrous functioning of the Bodhisattvas!
Saha is so pure, life is so beautiful; the principle of the great Way is everywhere, always, so long as you view and listen with a heart free of desire…
In the morning I had waded through water in the courtyard and my feet grew cold. Around noon my stomach felt chilled and uncomfortable, and I had a sudden desire for some hot food. The moment this thought arose, I saw all sorts of favorite dishes floating before my eyes, and the flavors even rose up from my throat. But my stomach was not really hungry; it was full and satisfied. I had also eaten an apple in the morning. I felt this was the qi channels of the food tract transforming, together with the habitual tendencies of appetite. At noon my fast ended, and I began to eat.
When the food tract and spleen-stomach are transforming, fasting is certainly necessary, but it must be decided according to one’s own bodily condition. At most one meal a day; eating fruit keeps the qi clear and is beneficial for purifying the energy channels. If one can manage on fruit, then one should avoid cooked food; ideally, drink only water and eat nothing at all.
After eating, I wanted to sleep, and my head felt dull and heavy. I lay down for a while, but discursive thoughts unexpectedly increased, and my heart grew somewhat restless. It seems that if the two fundamental desires—sexual desire and the desire for food—could be removed, the other desires and habitual tendencies would greatly diminish, and discursive thoughts would naturally decrease, so that body and mind would attain purity. Right now I feel a deep loathing for the habitual tendencies and desires that sometimes still emerge from within me, especially those that stubbornly resist correction no matter how many times I try.
In the afternoon, after eating, I lay down briefly and then continued reading the Lotus Sutra. By three-thirty the sky abruptly darkened, thunder began to roar, and the small retreat courtyard and the room went black in an instant. The trees outside writhed madly, several small birds shot terrified past the treetops, and the wind, lending force to the rain, came crashing down upon heaven and earth with a rapid clatter, mixed it seemed with small hailstones—as though everything might be swallowed up in a moment. I switched on the light, set the sutra aside, and quietly watched the rain, resting my eyes.
The rain fell for about ten minutes and then abruptly stopped; the sky cleared in an instant. Nature is truly marvelous!
In the afternoon, reading the fifth scroll of the Lotus Sutra, I reached the passage where the Buddha tells Maitreya Bodhisattva that the Buddha’s lifespan is beyond imagining. Without thinking, I pressed my palms together, and my heart was filled with immense joy. It was as if my most beloved parents were telling me that their lifespan would never end, and the joy surged through my whole body like an electric current. At that moment I felt a sudden coolness at the crown of my head, as though the Buddha were stroking my crown.
Shortly before seven I began to sit in meditation. Twenty minutes later, the scene of the World-Honored One sitting in meditation beneath the Bodhi tree in former times suddenly appeared before me. The branches were thick with leaves, and fine vines coiled around the trunk. The World-Honored One sat under the tree in full lotus posture, a faint smile on his face, but his body was extremely emaciated—skin and bones. I could clearly see every rib; yet from within his bones a golden light faintly emanated. His hands were in the meditation mudra, and his head bore no uṣṇīṣa; from the crown of his head, light shot upward like a searchlight, and his whole body seemed nailed to the ground. Facing the World-Honored One, I looked back at myself. I saw that my own body was not at all steady; it was as if the muscles were all trembling (the qi channels circulating), and I was pale and plump besides. A sudden sense of shame arose in my heart, and I could not help but place my palms together and bow.
Just then, the World-Honored One and the tree seemed to shift into my meditation room while I sat on my meditation bed. The image of the World-Honored One in samadhi suddenly spoke: “To cultivate Chan samadhi, you must first regulate the breath. The yin-spirit is formed from the gathering of the wind element; you should start from this point… (I cannot remember clearly).” As the World-Honored One spoke, he did not open his eyes; his face was shrouded in a soft, hazy light. He then said, “Hold out your hands.” I placed my hands, which had been in the meditation mudra, on my knees with palms facing upward. I saw the World-Honored One place his two hands radiating golden light on mine and say, “Breathe deeply, draw a long, slow breath, and then swallow it down into the abdominal cavity.” I did as instructed. After several repetitions, the World-Honored One said, “Very good.” I asked, “Is this practicing the vase breath?” The World-Honored One said, “No. You do not need to hold the breath. This way of breathing suits only you. Take ten breaths in a row.” I did so. After a while, the World-Honored One said, “Good, your breath is fully gathered. No matter what happens shortly, do not be alarmed or afraid.” I settled my mind and sat still.
At first, when I began to inhale, I saw a white mass of light rise from my abdominal cavity and gradually diffuse, but I kept my awareness entirely on the breathing and did not contemplate it. Suddenly, all the flesh of my entire body—starting from my two hands—seemed to peel off from the bones as if shedding a skin, yet my bones were not exposed; instead my body became dimly luminous. During this period, a figure seemed to fly in from the air, resembling a bird-like being; I could not see clearly within the light. It flew to one side of the World-Honored One’s head and said something. The World-Honored One answered a sentence that I guessed was in Sanskrit—it sounded very beautiful but I could not understand—and the figure flew away. At that moment, the World-Honored One suddenly said, “I will go out for a moment.” I then saw someone rise from the body of the World-Honored One in meditation in front of me and leave. After a while, the World-Honored One returned, holding an ox horn in his hand. He said, “This is water from the pure lotus pool of the Brahma Heaven. The passage of your perineum cakra is dry; it must be irrigated with this water.”
I asked, “Why must you use an ox horn to hold the water?”
The World-Honored One said, “This is a rhinoceros horn; it indicates that this water is rare and hard to obtain.”
I said, “Is the water from the pure lotus pool very precious?”
The World-Honored One replied, “It is very precious in the Saha world.”
The World-Honored One poured the water into my perineum cakra, and I saw him merge back into his body again, with both hands still resting on my palms. He then said, “Contemplate the perineum cakra. Whatever sounds you hear, simply sit quietly; there is no need for fear.”
I did so. During this time, there were shrieks of a woman giving birth, the ferocious chopping of a butcher’s knife, singing voices, and many chaotic sounds; amid them there even seemed to be images of the hells. I kept my mind collected and sat quietly, making no distinctions, neither startled nor afraid. After what seemed a very long time, a beam of light suddenly shot up from the perineum cakra like a pillar, accompanied by a channel wrapping around this shaft of light.
The World-Honored One said, “Good, your central channel is now open.” I contemplated this channel as a single straight shaft of light extending upward and out through the crown cakra.
I asked, “World-Honored One, what is that wrapping channel?”
The World-Honored One said, “Pay no attention to it; it is the umbilical cord.”
After a moment, I saw that umbilical cord gently fall away from the central channel. Earlier I had also asked the World-Honored One why he had me guard the perineum. He had said, “That is the root of life. You came out from here and must also enter through here.” After the central channel opened, the World-Honored One said, “Good, now you are fully endowed.” With that, the vision and the tree suddenly faded away. Earlier, when I first began to contemplate the perineum cakra, I had also seen my perineum cakra turn into a lotus leaf. Later it changed again into a mirror, and every object in the meditation room was reflected on the mirror’s surface. Everything on the offering table was covered with a white light, as though hidden in mist. When I looked more closely, the table was quite clear, yet there was nothing on it at all—the Buddha statue and the offerings were nowhere to be seen. It was altogether inconceivable. Just a few days ago, when the room’s scene was reflected on my legs, the offering table and the Buddha statue had been the most distinct of all. This whole meditation session, from beginning to coming out of samadhi, lasted one hour.
April 20
I got up at five fifty, swept and cleaned. It had rained the day before, so leaves had fallen and the courtyard was filthy; it took nearly an hour to put the inside and outside in order. After doing moving exercises, I began reading the Lotus Sutra. For breakfast I had an apple and a glass of water.
Reflections on reading the Sutra:
The Wonderful Dharma Lotus Blossom Sutra is the foremost of all sutras, the king of sutras—if a person truly attains it, they realize Buddhahood on the spot! How lamentable that people of the world look at the sutra but cannot attain it. They merely look at the words and recite them aloud, without purifying the six faculties and contemplating it with purified body, speech, and mind. Thus they cannot obtain the true Sutra! Though black characters sit on white paper and one reads them with practiced ease, only when one deeply penetrates the intent, merging one’s body, speech, and mind seamlessly with the sutra’s meaning until there is neither self nor other, a single shared substance—then it has nothing to do with white paper, black ink, or paragraphs. If those who read the sutra cannot believe, accept, uphold, and practice it, they are like entering a mountain of treasure and leaving empty-handed: their effort is in vain. If they merely parse words without cutting off all desires or purifying body, speech, and mind, they cannot grasp the Tathagata’s true intent; they only add to the obstructions of principle and the habitual tendencies of pride and arrogance. But if they genuinely awaken to even a fragment of a phrase, the benefit is boundless.
April 21
I had gone to bed at twelve thirty the night before and rose a little late this morning, so I skipped moving exercises and began sitting meditation. Last night I dreamed that I was explaining Chan samadhi to myself over and over.
The whole day, apart from sitting meditation and yoga, I read The Complete Biographies of the Eight Immortals. Though written in story form, like popular fiction, the author’s insight into cultivating the Way is quite sound, and the prose is graceful. I suspect the author, the Daoist Wugou, must have done well in his own cultivation.
After finishing the book in the evening, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t chatted with the Eight Immortals for a long time. They had dropped in a few days before but left in a hurry. So I entered samadhi, intending to invite the Eight Immortals for a visit. But Skanda Bodhisattva reminded me, “It’s too late; you needn’t invite all of them. If you invite anyone, ask only Lü Dongbin. Otherwise, with all eight coming, the commotion would be so great that the local earth deity and mountain spirits would be thrown into a flurry.” I saw his point.
A moment later a Daoist appeared in the air, with the grace of an immortal and the purity of a Daoist sage, looking about thirty-four or thirty-five. Dressed as a Daoist, he held a horsetail whisk and had a halo behind his head like those of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. He had brought a large, powerful wolf-dog that lay down at his feet. Hurriedly I greeted him: “I’ve invited you without any particular matter, Master Lü, simply to chat for a while.” Dongbin said, “The Eight Immortals are all very busy; we seldom gather now.” When the subject turned to energy channels, Dongbin said, “Since you, Bodhisattva, are a disciple of the Buddha’s gate, practicing Buddhist methods will be faster for you. Daoism emphasizes the eight extraordinary meridians, the microcosmic and macrocosmic orbits; Buddhist Esoteric School emphasizes opening the crown and opening the chakras. Ultimately the effect is the same.” I asked how he was doing these days, and he said he was doing business… I said, “Yes! Studying the Way these days also requires money; without money there’s no way to cultivate the Way.” He then placed two silver ingots on the desk in front of me and said, “If, Bodhisattva, you lack money for studying the Way, I can support you.” I smiled, remembering how several years before, for my birthday, Dongbin had actually given me two gold bars as a present. At that thought I glanced at the two silver ingots. Suddenly they swelled to an enormous size and pressed down on my chest; I couldn’t put them down, and my chest grew heavier and heavier. Dongbin said, “If you, Bodhisattva, have even the thought of letting go of fame and profit, you have already become attached to their appearance.” Instantly I was released, my chest lightened in a flash, and I said, “Thank you, Master Lü, for the guidance.” Dongbin said, “Fame and profit are not wrong in themselves. With money you can practice giving, you can do many good deeds. The fault lies in the human heart.” I nodded. “Yes—if one is free of greed, desire, and attachment, what right or wrong can fame and profit have? Besides, fame and profit are inherently empty, so what is there to put down?…” When the talk turned to swordsmanship, I said, “I read in a book that your Heavenly Escape Sword Art is very formidable.” Dongbin immediately said, “I can transmit it to you now.” I smiled. “I don’t have any foundation in swordsmanship; how could I learn it all at once?” Dongbin said, “Not so. Once it is recorded in your eighth consciousness, it will arise and function when the time comes.” With that, he proceeded to perform every stance of the Heavenly Escape Sword Art in midair, naming each move as he executed it. I had no real intention of learning, but I still watched quietly. When the talk turned to the development of Daoism, Dongbin said, “The future trend is the unification of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism.” I nodded in agreement. We also talked about the mind-made body and the Daoist practice of the yin spirit leaving the body. Dongbin said, “What you, Bodhisattva, now have is called a mind-made body, but the Daoist practice of exiting the yin spirit, when cultivated from the human level, is very different from yours. Your present ‘yin spirit’ can divide into countless bodies, ascending to heaven or entering the earth without any obstruction. But the Daoist yin spirit is only one, and it cannot stray far from the physical body; it lacks such great spiritual penetrations.” We talked about a few more trivial things; then Dongbin took his leave and departed.
April 22
Today is the sixth seven-day period. I got up at six in the morning and did moving exercises. The weather these days has been a bit cold and windy. Today I meant to spend the whole day in sitting meditation, and during breaks to contemplate the Flower Adornment Sutra.
A little after seven in the evening, the Holy Mother of Ba Mountain came to see me. During the afternoon I had let a few thoughts stir—that after the retreat I would need to take a bath first because my body itched, and that I had washed my hair the previous morning, but today it was a tangled mess and beyond taming. I’d combed it for ages that morning and thought I’d better cut it shorter. That evening during sitting meditation, Xuanmu Niangniang of Mount Tai sent two personal maids to help me bathe. The two little maids brought a wooden tub with water that had been infused with crystal powder and the like. I sat in the tub; each maid held something soft and fluffy with which to wash me. One little maid said, “Bodhisattva, you don’t have very much hair. If you drank the water from our place, your hair would grow long and black.” I noticed that both maids’ hair was indeed long and black. After a while, this maid added, “Bodhisattva, you have many little bumps on your back. Xuanmu Niangniang has many medicinal powders that are very good for the skin; you might ask her for a little to rub on.” The other maid said, “Chatterbox.” Then she explained, “Actually, whether that water is good for hair depends on the person.” I smiled and said nothing. After the bath, they brought out a white inner skirt for me and then slipped a yellow flowered outer skirt over it. Then I went with them to Xuanmu Niangniang’s place, while the two maids carried the bath water back to water the flowers.
Xuanmu Niangniang’s dwelling was like a palace in the heavenly realms, with elegant pavilions and terraces, quite luxurious and serene. Xuanmu Niangniang and the Holy Mother of Ba Mountain were already waiting there. Once inside, Xuanmu Niangniang brought out a long, black dressing-case carved with flowers, inside which were many medicinal powders arranged in individual boxes. Using a small dish, she mixed the powders and applied them all over my body and face, saying, “These are made from the finest crystals, hundreds of minerals, and thousands of flowers—azaleas, peonies, tree peonies…” After applying them to my face and hair, she gave me a tiny crystal ball, saying it was a crystal pill. Taking this pill, she said, would help the beauty treatments last longer. Earlier, when I first entered, she had also given me a bowl of water that contained many small white beads, like pearls. Xuanmu said, “They are not pearls—they are refined from crystal and are very good for the skin.” I saw that Xuanmu looked very young, her skin tender and fair, like a virgin of sixteen or seventeen, but she had two chicken feathers on her head. I reflected silently: it turned out that Xuanmu had originally been a pheasant who later cultivated into a phoenix, and from a phoenix cultivated into an immortal. No wonder she had two pheasant feathers on her head, like two antennae. After all the beautifying was done, I went out to stroll with one of the attendants. Xuanmu said she and the Holy Mother had some matters to discuss. Xuanmu called the two little maids Yunxia and Wuxia.
After wandering for a while, I returned to the meditation room and resumed sitting meditation. Suddenly before me in the air appeared a troop of celestial maidens; the one leading, carrying a jade rabbit in her arms, was Chang’e. They said something to Skanda at the entrance, then came in. Chang’e said, “I have come at the Queen Mother’s command to do your hair and makeup.” Hearing this, I thought to myself: I must not let my thoughts wander recklessly again. Today I let one thought about dressing up arise, and already two groups of beings came to do my hair and makeup. But since they had come, I welcomed them. Chang’e sprayed a fragrant wax mist on my hair, applied scented powder to my face, and said I had skin tags and she needed to extract them. At once I saw my face grow enormous, with pores as wide as a little finger. Chang’e plucked a skin tag out of a pore; each time she did so she told me to hold my breath. Then she painted my eyebrows while I simply watched her come and go in silence. Afterward, she produced many small white pills and placed them into acupuncture points all over my body. Chang’e said, “Since you’ve already been washed with quartz water, my work here is much easier.” As she was leaving, Chang’e took out a silver collar and said, “I’m very fond of you, Bodhisattva, and would like to give you this collar as a gift.” I smiled and accepted. Chang’e then departed into the distance with her little maids.
During sitting meditation that evening, it seemed that the bridge of my nose opened a crevice, and three shafts of light connected to the back of my head in time with my breathing; they linked up with the Governing Vessel, and there was a cool sensation inside my nose and along my upper gum.
April 23
I went to sleep a little after ten the previous evening and woke at midnight, sat in meditation for over two hours, then slept a little more. But in between, flying insects kept buzzing around my head, startling me awake. After going through this twice, I finally slept for another hour just before dawn. When I got up in the morning, I felt a slight dullness, but my spirit was fine. I did moving exercises, then began reading the Flower Adornment Sutra.
During a break in contemplating the Sutra, I offered incense to the Buddha and said, “I make offerings to all Buddhas and all great Bodhisattvas of the ten directions and the three periods of time. May the Buddhas bless me so that I may enter the wisdom ocean of the Buddhas, know the states of the Buddhas’ supranormal transformations, and possess every kind of skillful means to rescue and liberate sentient beings in the Saha world.” At that moment a majestic Buddha-image appeared in the air and said, “Excellent, excellent! I am Universal Worthy Tathagata. Because you can arouse such vow-power to enter the ocean of Universal Worthy’s vows and deeds, I shall bless, protect, and be mindful of you.” Then I suddenly saw a jeweled crown placed on my own head, and my whole body was adorned with necklaces and precious jewels. While this transformation was taking place, a white column of light poured down through the crown of my head, and my entire body became transparent and luminous, radiating white light. At the same time, I saw myself in a single kshana transform into the very form of Universal Worthy Tathagata, the light of my mind bright and pure, free of the slightest dust. After standing a while by the offering table, I thanked Universal Worthy Bodhisattva and returned to my seat to continue contemplating the fourth fascicle of the Vows and Deeds of Universal Worthy Bodhisattva of the Great, Vast Flower Adornment Sutra.
From the Flower Adornment Sutra, Volume 6:
“Know that your own mind is precisely the Dharma of all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. Because you know that your own mind is the Buddha-dharma, you can purify all lands and enter all kalpas. Therefore, good man, you should assist your own mind with wholesome dharmas, moisten it with the rain of Dharma, cleanse it with the governance of Dharma, strengthen it with vigor, humble it with patience, quiet it with Chan samadhi, sharpen it with wisdom, arouse it with the virtues of the Buddha, broaden it with impartiality, and illuminate it with the ten powers and the four fearlessnesses.”
I had planned to read ten fascicles of the Flower Adornment Sutra today, but by the ninth fascicle I felt so drowsy that I went to sleep.
April 24
Today I woke later than any day since the retreat began: at seven thirty. I had gone to bed a little after nine the night before, but after waking at one in the morning I could not fall back asleep. Still, getting up at one struck me as too early, and I didn’t feel like sitting in meditation, so I forced myself to sleep again and didn’t wake until seven thirty. I didn’t feel particularly well—too much sleep. I cleaned and did a thorough cleaning that lasted until eight thirty. After a bit of light exercise, I ate an apple, drank a cup of tea, and began contemplating the Flower Adornment Sutra.
From the Flower Adornment Sutra, Volume 11:
“All sentient beings are assembled from measureless, extremely subtle particles of the great elements, just as the ocean is made of countless tiny drops of water. Thus, in the human body, the skin, the hair, the pores each amount to three kotis, and in each pore abide three kotis of creatures. If you look closely, through the skin and apertures, within the two eyes, in the palms of the hands and soles of the feet where fat gathers, no hair-sprouting creatures are born; every other part of the body, however, is packed without a gap.
“Contemplate this body again as consisting only of the nature of the five great elements. What are the five? They are solidity, moisture, warmth, movement, and the nature of empty space. Solidity refers to the body’s three hundred and sixty bones and all solid obstructions, which are of the nature of the earth element. All moisture is of the nature of the water element. All sensations of warmth are of the nature of the fire element. All movement is of the nature of the wind element. All orifices and spaces are of the nature of the space element. And yet these four elements are each composed of many extremely subtle particles that mutually support each other within the realm of empty space. The nature of the subtle particles is so fine it is hard to perceive; none but Buddhas and Bodhisattvas can see them. Thus the five great elements combine to form this body, just as a granary eventually falls into ruin. This bodily vessel is upheld by karma. It is not created by a sovereign god, nor by inherent nature, time, or space. It is like a potter shaping clay into a vessel, filling it with filth, painting and ornamenting it, deluding the foolish. Or it is like four venomous snakes placed in a single basket. So the four elements combine to form a body. When one element is out of harmony, a hundred illnesses arise. Therefore, those of wisdom should regard this body as if raising a venomous snake, as if holding a broken vessel.
“Good man, you should also know that both the inner body and the outer vessel are formed of the four great elements. From beginning to end they undergo the changes of the five periods. What are the five periods of change for the outer vessel? They are the transformations of empty space, the worlds of the ten directions, which are held by the deluded karma perceived by sentient beings. At the beginning of a kalpa, when the world first forms, human life is immeasurable; beings are born spontaneously, without a sense of ‘I’ or ‘mine.’ Next comes the eating of solid food, and greed and other afflictions become manifest. Next, from the concept of ‘mine,’ a landowner is collectively established to rule. Next, the lifespan gradually declines until it reaches a mere ten years; due to evil karma, the three minor calamities arise. In the fifth period, the world is about to be destroyed: the calamity of fire breaks out and the Brahma worlds are reduced to emptiness; then the calamities of water and wind follow in succession. These are called the five periods of change for the outer vessel. And what are the five periods of change for the inner body? In infancy, the mind is without discrimination, like people at the beginning of a kalpa who are free from ‘I’ and ‘mine.’ In childhood, one can distinguish right from wrong, like the second period when distinctions of self and other are established. In the prime of life, one indulges in greed, anger, and delusion, like the third period when the landowner is set up. In old age, one is assailed by many illnesses, like the fourth period when the lifespan diminishes. Finally, at the time of death, the body breaks apart and life expires, like the fifth period when the world is destroyed. These are called the five periods of change for the inner body.”
From the body composed of the four great elements, all sentient beings can develop four kinds of illness: bodily illness, mental illness, guest illness, and combined illness. Bodily illness is dominated by wind, jaundice, phlegm, and heat. Mental illness is dominated by madness and mental disorder. Guest illness is dominated by wounds from knives and staves or overexertion. Other types give rise to one another in succession, causing sentient beings to suffer physical and mental pain. Such illnesses are less common among the poor and lowly, because they endure much labor, and more common among the rich and noble, because they enjoy excessive comfort.
Bodily illness arises from retained food. It is hard for sentient beings to know moderation and sufficiency in eating and drinking, gauging their age, strength, the season, cold and heat, wind and rain, dryness and dampness, and the toil and leisure of the body. One should examine these oneself and not miss what is fitting, so that no illness can find a cause to arise.
In the evening sitting meditation, I saw two channels under the tongue leading to a point behind the thyroid (the Spring of Thirst and Craving), which directly connects to the secret wheel at the coccyx. At the secret wheel there seemed to be a deep pool of water, but within the water there was red mist; it was not clear enough. This water also connected to the perineum cakra. Because the habitual tendency of thirst and craving had not yet been purified, the water was not clear, and beneath the tongue I often felt dry and parched; the tongue body was occasionally dry, and the energy channels in the neck were not flowing freely. I also saw a wheel below the Bubbling Spring point on the sole of the foot (the Foot-Triumphant Wheel, or Wheel of Myriad Blessings). Once this wheel opened, the macrocosmic orbit became unobstructed. In the past two days I had suddenly begun to see dirtiness everywhere again, with unpleasant smells. Going to the bathroom sometimes brought dry heaving, as if I had smelled something foul, and my spleen and stomach would spasm.
April 25
I got up a little after five-forty in the morning. These past few days the muscle soreness from yoga had ceased, but my whole body felt languid — probably part of the process.
After rising, I cleaned the room. While wiping the offering table, I looked at the Amitabha statue on it and thought, This statue is too dirty; how should I clean it? The statue was carved of wood and stood on a lotus pedestal. The hair was carved very finely, with dust caught in the strands; the lotus petals held dust as well, impossible to wipe away with a cloth. I thought about it but came up with no good solution, so I simply wiped the offering table clean and lit three sticks of incense. Silently I made the wish: May I make offerings to all Buddhas and great Bodhisattvas of the ten directions and the three periods of time. At that moment, I suddenly saw Amitabha Buddha in the Land of Ultimate Bliss smile at me. With a whoosh, a white fireball shot from the Land of Ultimate Bliss and landed in the incense burner before me. Then the three incense sticks grew tall and thick, turning crimson, as if three golden dragons coiled around them. The incense burner, originally black porcelain, now turned golden, and the Amitabha statue before me emitted ten thousand rays of golden light. When the statue’s radiance ceased, two heavenly maidens suddenly descended through the air carrying spray bottles. They sprayed water onto the statue and, holding long feathers, began to clean it…
After I emerged from that state, I looked at the statue before me — still covered with dust just as before. I reflected: Sentient beings in the Saha World have no supranormal powers, so how could they see that this statue has already been cleaned, pure and majestic? Yet I realized that sentient beings cannot see because their eye sense faculty is impure, which is why this world is utterly defiled. The impurity of the eye sense faculty stems from an impure mind; if the mind is pure, the six sense faculties are naturally pure. All the teachings and skillful methods of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are washing our minds. These past few days my own organs seemed to have become extremely delicate: seeing filth or smelling an unpleasant odor would make me want to vomit — but in truth it was still my own mind that harbored discriminative attachment and habitual tendencies toward purity and filth. I wash this face of mine clean every day, but is it truly clean? If one enlarged the pores and looked, there is filth and grime hidden everywhere. Where in my body’s orifices and organs is there not bacteria breeding? It is not much cleaner than the statue before me — merely deceiving myself and others. Thinking of these things, my spleen and stomach’s tolerance instantly strengthened. What had appeared dirty or clean now seemed perfectly ordinary, without any distinction. My hands continued sweeping, but my body and mind were still, as if entering a state of samadhi. I no longer felt dust entering my nose, nor did I keep coughing and sneezing. It was as if all six sense faculties had closed; even breathing seemed faint, now present, now absent. Only when our bodies and minds are pure and our minds abide constantly on the Way do the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas constantly fulfill our wishes and constantly bless and teach us. It is only because our minds are too heavily covered with defilements, and because we constantly lose mindfulness and do not abide on the Way, that we cannot perceive it. After finishing the morning cleaning, I did the moving exercises and then began to contemplate the Flower Adornment Sutra, Chapter Twenty-Eight.
Extract from the Flower Adornment Sutra, Chapter Twenty-Nine:
…Good man, if a Bodhisattva can purify the mind with sincerity in this way, he can accumulate all roots of goodness, and whatever practice he undertakes, he can realize and enter it. Why is this so? Because he utterly eliminates all hindrances and obstacles, namely: the hindrance of seeing the Buddha, the hindrance of hearing the Dharma, the hindrance of drawing near to and making offerings to the Tathagatas, the hindrance of skillfully gathering in all sentient beings, the hindrance of purifying and adorning the various Buddha lands. Because the Bodhisattva has left behind these hindrances and obstacles, if he gives rise to a mind yearning for good knowing advisors, without expending any effort he will meet them, and so on, until he ultimately accomplishes all-wisdom.
These two days, reading the Flower Adornment Sutra and seeing Sudhana’s fifty-three visits to good knowing advisors, I recalled my own travels in search of learning over the past ten-plus years. Although I have persevered under the Master’s unseen guidance all along — difficulties there were, obstacles there were, confusion there was — only today do I feel that I seem to have truly understood something about the principles of being human. All these ten-plus years I had been pretending to be a cultivator of the Way, but when I examine my actions of these past few years, my arising and movement of thoughts, when they do not encounter objects they can remain pure, but the moment they encounter objects, scattered thoughts swarm and desires instantly appear. The habitual tendencies and defects of greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt remain to this day. Realizing Buddhahood and rescuing sentient beings seemed to be the goal I had always pursued, but what is Buddhahood like? And how does one rescue sentient beings? I was lost and confused, muddled and unclear. Looking back now on past events, they are like smoke and clouds passing before the eyes, like a fleeting dream. Although the past thought cannot be grasped, past actions can still spur the present, so that from every step and every thought now, I can demand of myself and urge myself to act like a Bodhisattva. I see that the vast majority of cultivators around me are still following in my old footsteps: they say they cultivate the Way to Buddhahood, capable of overcoming some difficulties, yet when they encounter objects, their minds are again confused and cannot resist any temptation. Sometimes they even use grand principles of the Buddhadharma to make excuses for themselves. The Chan School has been ruined by such people (myself included). Body, speech, and mind are not pure for a single moment; habitual tendencies and desires are heavy, yet they do not broadly accumulate merit and virtue. Their blessings do not suffice to offset their karma, yet they dare say, “Doing and not doing are the same — a mind with no impediments, that’s all there is to it.” But just think: can one really achieve no impediments in the mind?! Even worse, there are those who cultivate in complete confusion yet consider themselves clear-minded, their mouths full of abstruse Chan words that leave others utterly baffled, every gesture and move as if embodying the meaning of the Patriarch’s coming from the West. Not recognizing another’s capacity or level of study, they want to exchange Chan repartee to show off their profundity. This truly misleads both self and others, doing terrible harm.
Around four in the afternoon, the retreat-protecting layperson brought in a bowl of walnuts, and I began eating while reading the sutra. After only a few, I suddenly felt I should first make an offering to the Buddha. During this period, whenever I thought of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, a warm current and a loving feeling would arise in my heart, as though I were thinking of parents, siblings, or other family. That love would instantly fill my body and mind, making my heart extremely tender, and with this tender love I could not bear to harm even tiny insects.
I placed the walnuts on the offering table, lit three sticks of incense, and as I bowed I thought: I make offerings to all Buddhas of the ten directions and three periods of time, and to all great Bodhisattvas. May I be able to forever fill my heart with this loving feeling, to protect and rescue all sentient beings of the Three Realms, and at the same time to possess the wisdom and strength to deliver and liberate them. At that moment, countless pairs of hands suddenly stretched down from the sky toward my crown, bestowing empowerment upon me. A voice said, “Excellent! This empowerment comes from your boundless love.” At the same time, I saw a column of light rise from my crown into the sky, revealing the invisible summit mark. Then, from the curling incense smoke before me, layer upon layer of Buddha worlds manifested, and from one world a procession of people came toward me. An elder, robed in a kasaya, his beard and hair all white, his dharma appearance sublime, said to me, “I am Shakyamuni. Today I will perform your final tonsure.” As he spoke, he shaved my head and said, “After this tonsure, may your heart be like my heart, like the hearts of all Buddhas, like all great Bodhisattvas at the Bodhi seat, attaining irreversibility.” After the tonsure, Shakyamuni took a kasaya from a tray held by a young attendant behind him and draped it over me, saying, “This is the purple-gold Mani kasaya that Bodhidharma wore when he journeyed to the East. I now transmit it to you. May you be able to broadly establish Chan cultivation centers, propagate the sudden-enlightenment method, and amid all dharmas attach to no dharma, seeing the wordless prajna within all realms of written words and states… (I do not clearly recall the original words.)” I wore the kasaya, appearing in the majestic form of one who has left the home-life. Shakyamuni and all his attendants receded into the distance, and the Buddha worlds suddenly vanished.
After Shakyamuni Buddha’s tonsure, three whorls remain on the crown, curving from left to right, and these marks never disappear. In samadhi I have seen holy monks with such marks on their crowns and thereby knew they were disciples personally tonsured by Shakyamuni Buddha; this is the distinctive mark of Shakyamuni’s tonsure technique. I cannot remember clearly how many times I have been tonsured — probably more than ten. Before each tonsure, my body and mind’s liberation went through a qualitative leap. After the tonsure, the knots in my heart opened, a layer of mental defilement was removed, and light suddenly appeared.
At noon, while peeling an apple, a piece of skin fell on the floor. In the afternoon, I saw that the peel was crawling with tiny ants, and without a second thought I picked up the apple peel together with the ants and threw it into the wastepaper basket. The wastepaper basket was in the courtyard and not very large. I thought, after the ants finish eating the apple peel, they should be able to climb out. But then I thought: they can climb out, but the ants may not be willing to leave, for the basket held many other fruit peels, which would probably attract many of their companions to come in to eat. Yet the day after tomorrow, when the basket is full, I would tie up the plastic bag holding the waste and throw it out. If someone burns the trash, they would set the whole pile alight, and those ants would perish in a sea of fire… This train of thought suddenly made me think of human beings. Many people’s lives are just like these ants: bustling about for three meals a day, until old and sick, until the very last breath, unwilling to climb out of the wastepaper basket, unaware that this world also holds the Buddhadharma and the matter of liberation. Even if they know, if their blessings are insufficient, they cannot study or practice. When I reflect on the beings of the Six Paths, how pitiful they truly are! I myself now have the blessings and affinity to cultivate and realize the Buddha’s teachings, and I must certainly practice with vigor, never slacken. If I can attain accomplishment, I will certainly repay the four great debts of gratitude above and relieve the suffering of the three lower paths below, without regret or resentment!
At five o’clock during sitting meditation, a voice conversed with me. “You say you want to rescue the beings of the Three Realms — do you understand everything about the beings of the Three Realms?”
“I do not,” I said.
“If you do not understand the beings of the Three Realms, how can you deliver and transform them? For example, if you love a person but do not understand everything about them, how can you care for and protect them? Therefore, you must broadly study all methods. The Buddha is the great Medicine King. You must use every kind of method to heal and rescue the beings of the Three Realms.”
“Then how does one understand the beings of the Three Realms?” I asked.
“You must enter profound Chan samadhi. Only in profound Chan samadhi can you thoroughly know the various ways of life, eating and drinking, habits, various pleasures and preferences, various thoughts, and various dispositions of the beings of the Three Realms… Only then can you guide them according to their tendencies and rescue them from the ocean of suffering.”
“How does one enter profound Chan samadhi? Wasn’t my previous cultivation already samadhi?”
“That was also samadhi, but for the physical body it was not right concentration. Before, you only accomplished the dharmakaya and nirmanakaya. Now you must transform the physical body, and you must cultivate the four dhyanas and eight concentrations to further transform the physical body. You are now already skilled at harmonizing and softening your body and mind, pure and sublime, and your energy channels have largely become unobstructed. Entering right concentration will not be difficult.”
“For cultivating concentration now, do I need to fast, or practice sitting upright through the night without sleep?”
“If the mind has already been transformed, why all the trouble?”
“But if I don’t eat, it’s easier to transform the energy channels.”
“Everything is an illusion of the mind. The body doesn’t even exist — let’s not even mention energy channels.” I began to meditate. The voice added, “Just regulate your breath; there is nothing else.”
A little before eight, just as I began to sit in meditation, I suddenly heard a hard snapping sound near the ceiling on the opposite wall. Opening my eyes, I saw a large scorpion curling its tail up and releasing it again as if playing, banging the iron roofing strip with loud snaps. This was my first time seeing such a venomous creature, and I felt a little nervous, afraid it would crawl down. Fortunately, it crawled back through a gap in the ceiling. The other day during sitting meditation, I had seen many scorpions crawling, but because I was in samadhi, I couldn’t tell where I was seeing them — presumably there were many such poisonous creatures on the roof. Skanda Bodhisattva said, “The scorpion is yin and venomous, yet it favors places where yang energy is strong. You are now at a time when yin is culminating and yang is arising, which is why you have attracted so many scorpions.” During this period my state in samadhi was also not the same as before. Once, I had projected my spirit-body and gone to the scorpion-spirit cave on Heavenly Dragon Mountain to play, and I felt not the slightest fear toward the cave full of scorpions — they seemed illusory. But now, even in samadhi, I still felt fear in my heart. The last time I saw a centipede, I felt both nauseated and flustered, not composed enough — probably because of the transformation of the energy channels. Moreover, these last few days my mental strength had been extremely weak, especially in the evening.
April 26
Last night I did not turn off the light when I slept — first, I was afraid the scorpions might come out again, and second, these past several days whenever I closed my eyes I saw many tiny insects. Some were in crevices, some in holes, some were crawling everywhere; seeing all kinds of little bugs made my whole body itch.
Having the light on made it feel a little better. Later, in that half-sleep state, I suddenly saw two cranes standing on one leg each on either side of my head—one on the left, one on the right. I understood inwardly that these cranes were there to drive away and eat the small insects. And beneath my bed and all over the floor of the room, lingzhi mushrooms and mountain ginseng were growing everywhere. The lingzhi could even speak; they told me to sleep peacefully, saying that with them around, the little bugs would not return. I actually slept soundly that night and didn’t wake until a little past six-thirty. When I opened my eyes, I still seemed to see the great white cranes on either side of my head. After I got up, as I washed up, I thought to myself: What a blessing it is to receive so much care! I wonder what other cultivators would do in this situation. Probably they can’t see the insects and so don’t consider it a problem. Those who can see them, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas will surely bless. Even these mountain ginseng and lingzhi that have become spirits can offer protection.
At noon when I lay down to sleep, both lower legs and feet felt swollen and painful, very uncomfortable. I looked within and saw two calves dark with pooled blood, blue and purple. The muscle of one leg had split open and was curling outward; the other leg seemed to have a pitted crater with maggots crawling on it—karmic retribution, I supposed. Yet when I got up and rolled up my trouser legs, both legs were perfectly fine, though still intensely uncomfortable; I had to keep moving them back and forth.
I asked Skanda Bodhisattva to take a look for me, but Skanda instead summoned Lang Gong. Lang Gong said, “This is a karmic illness. You are undergoing retribution. Only a Buddha who has perfected merit and virtue and attained complete, perfect enlightenment can heal it; I’m afraid no one else can.” At that, I made prostrations to the empty sky, begging the Buddha for guidance. No sooner had I finished bowing than I saw a man in commoner’s clothes, about thirty-some years old, walking out of the distant clouds. He was carrying two black porcelain jars on a shoulder pole, their mouths covered with cloth, and he was singing as he walked, the song bright and pleasing, though I couldn’t understand the words. Lang Gong immediately waved him over, saying, “This is a travelling doctor with a carrying pole—he can cure your illness.” Skanda was about to stop him (and I too had my doubts, thinking, You just said only the Buddha could heal it), but Lang Gong had already beckoned him over. The man stood smiling before me, looked at my legs, and said, “This is caused by the five poisons stagnating in your energy channels. A wash with my water and you’ll be better.” Saying this, he pulled back the cloth from one jar, scooped out a ladleful of water, and sprinkled it on my legs. “This is five-poison water,” he said. “Using poison to attack poison is just the thing.” At that moment, I saw Skanda behind Lang Gong press his palms together and bow to this doctor, and I understood in my heart that this must be a manifestation of the Buddha. After the water was sprinkled on my legs, the pooled blood, swelling, and bruised muscles vanished instantly, and I saw a red-colored current of energy circulating toward my thighs. Then, abruptly, the doctor rose into the air and revealed the form of the Buddha, saying, “Wash with this water three days in a row, and it will be done.” Then he and his voice faded away. Lang Gong saw that my leg muscles had much improved, but one leg still had a split wound, so he uncovered the cloth of the other jar and said, “Oh! This side is clear water—probably for cleaning.” He sprinkled that water on my leg, and the wound immediately healed. Both legs felt cool, though still a little swollen, but no longer painful. Lang Gong covered the jars again, and we all bowed toward the sky, thanking the Buddha.
Reflections:
In cultivating and realizing the Buddhadharma, the first thing is to sever the root of lust. If lust is not cut off, wisdom can never be perfected, and afflictions and habitual tendencies can never be exhausted. Once the root of lust is severed, the habitual tendency of craving follows suit and is cut off, and thus one can perfect uncontaminated wisdom and merit and attain true sovereign freedom. Only then can one truly play in the red dust of the world, entering taverns and houses of lust without being defiled. Only then can one emerge from the mud unstained, go with conditions to settle old karma, and have the strength not to abandon any dharma while delivering all sentient beings everywhere.
But human beings come into this world through lust, so severing the root of lust is extremely difficult. It requires plucking a lotus from the fire and coming back to life from death. Back then, the Buddha merely instructed his disciples to uphold the precepts and, along with their practice, gradually cut off lustful thoughts. But now is not like India during the Age of Right Dharma, when keeping the precepts was easier. Today, monasteries have become tourist destinations; monastics can also accumulate private assets. Large monasteries live in relative affluence, and monks and nuns have not grasped the essentials of cultivation and realization. Even those who sincerely aspire to practice and shoulder the Tathagata’s work still find it hard to keep the precepts, breaking them again and again. With so many temptations, the mind set on the Way is not firm, and samadhi power is insufficient. After breaking a precept, there is the mental obstacle of having broken it, which sometimes makes it even more difficult for them to practice than for laypeople.
I hope the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas will bestow their blessings so that more and better Dharma doors suited to sentient beings in this Dharma-Ending Age will appear in the world, enabling those who sincerely aspire to genuine cultivation and realization to meet suitable good-knowing advisors and suitable methods. And when such people encounter good advisors and good Dharma doors, may the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas empower them to learn with an open mind, so that self-conceit does not blind their eyes and cause them to miss opportunity after opportunity.
Close to five o’clock, I began sitting meditation. During the sitting, suddenly ten thousand beams of light shot forth from the crown of my head and pierced the clouds, with colorful, billowing clouds swirling within the radiance and connecting with the heavens. My entire crown disappeared and turned cold. At that moment, Skanda Bodhisattva said, “Mahāvairocana Tathāgata…” He had only spoken half the sentence when, in a mountain range across the way, two figures faced each other and blew horns, the sound even more clarion than before. The mountain seemed to open a breach, and countless cattle, sheep, and other animals surged forth like a bursting dam. I was slightly puzzled but simply watched quietly. When the herd reached the outside of my door, they parted into two rows and knelt on the ground. Only then did I see that these animals had transformed into countless Tibetan people—men and women, old and young. Then a form appeared in the sky straight ahead, with a voice that said, “I am the Shepherd.” The figure wore a shepherd’s padded jacket, like a shepherd’s garb, but his head was hidden within a round sun. His appearance kept changing, shifting into various Tibetan Buddhist images—Buddha forms, Vajra forms, and the like. I gave rise to no thought whatsoever and simply watched quietly, as if in a dream. Then a young Tibetan man came running from behind the mountain, knelt, and made obeisance. I saw the form in the air change into a Dharma King, wearing Tibetan clothes, his hair in a coiled pattern like a Buddha halo, a flesh protuberance atop his head, his features sublime—a majestic presence seated upon a vast and lofty Dharma throne. The man spoke some words below the throne, and the Dharma King sent him off. A short while later, I saw him return with several people, carrying a huge drum that they set before the throne—both throne and drum reached from the ground to mid-sky. They also brought an incense burner. The Dharma King called out something and began lighting incense: three tall sticks of incense, their flames shooting high into the air, blazingly bright. Then the Dharma King struck the great Dharma drum three times; the drumbeats were grand and powerful. At that, the people kneeling along the road began cheering and reciting mantras. My ears were filled the entire time with the sound of Tibetan chanting. Behind the Dharma King, someone had rolled out a woolen carpet from the mountain side. Several young Tibetan women, holding white khata scarves in both hands, came forward, kneeling with every step until they reached me, and they draped the khatas around my neck. Then several more young women came bearing trays holding vessels that seemed to contain clear water. As each woman reached me, I would dip my fingers in the water and flick it onto the crown of her head. To my surprise, after these women there was even a small pug. The little dog crawled up to me, raised itself onto its hind legs, and stared at me with round eyes, refusing to leave—until I stroked the top of its head, after which it wagged its tail and departed.
Then the horns sounded again and the Dharma drum began to beat, faster and faster. After a while, the Dharma King sang out a note, and the horns and drum fell silent. The Dharma King spoke loudly in Tibetan; as the words entered my ears, they instantly translated into Chinese, the meaning something like this: “Most compassionate and merciful Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva (thrice proclaimed), you have descended into this world to become the refuge and protector of sentient beings. On behalf of the Tibetan people, I welcome you to Tibet to deliver the suffering multitudes there. What I do now is nothing else but a celebration of your emergence from retreat. I only hope that after you come out, you will blow the great Dharma conch and beat the great Dharma drum, rousing the slumbering people, rousing the slumbering Dharma, so that the masses will no longer become absorbed in the peripheral branches of the Buddhadharma (the rest I cannot recall clearly).” Finally the Dharma King again intoned, “Namo Great Compassion Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva.” At that, two dragons appeared in the sky and began spouting water, symbolizing renewal day by day. Then the Dharma conch sounded once more, the drum resumed its beat, and in a distant mountain hollow a rooster crowed loudly, followed by a hundred birds taking flight from the mountains like billowing colored clouds, while a vast red sun rose slowly behind the rooster. All the images gradually faded away. This Dharma ceremony was of magnificent scope—many thanks to Mahāvairocana Tathāgata!
After about an hour of evening sitting meditation, I suddenly saw a dense black mass above my head, like dark clouds surging in. In the past, Skanda Bodhisattva had always helped by covering me with a dome of light, but now I used my purple-gold cassock to wrap myself entirely, adding a thought-intention to conceal my form. Skanda Bodhisattva also transformed into a pillar of light and vanished. Since this had happened many times before, I knew it was Māra the Demon King passing by with his demon horde, and because my spiritual career was not yet accomplished, it was not fitting to confront them.
Māra was in front, his demon children and grandchildren behind, a multitude so vast it took them a long time to pass through the sky. Then I saw a Vajra-being holding many human heads, circling in the air above my crown. I recognized some of the heads in his hand as members of my family. After flying back and forth for quite a while, this Vajra said, “Why isn’t she here? She ought to be here.” Just then, the local earth spirit appeared in the sky, holding a large ginseng root in both hands, and said, “What is the Vajra looking for?” The Vajra replied, “I’m looking for a woman in her thirties.” The earth spirit offered the ginseng, saying, “There is no thirty-some-year-old woman in this place.” The dark Vajra accepted the ginseng and prepared to leave. The earth spirit then said, “Could you leave one of those heads with me?” At that moment, I saw among the heads the Vajra was holding my elder brother, who was sneezing repeatedly. The earth spirit said, “Just leave that one.” Having taken the earth spirit’s ginseng, the Vajra seemed embarrassed not to leave one, so he handed over that head, saying, “Out of over five thousand, one less won’t matter.” The earth spirit hastily caught it. Once the Vajra departed, the earth spirit called out to Skanda Bodhisattva. Skanda appeared in the sky and hurled that head toward the ground. I also manifested my form and said, “There are still so many others.” Skanda sat cross-legged in the air and said, “I’ll work a dharma to render his incantations powerless.” I saw Skanda’s lips move in silent recitation, and then I saw countless human heads falling from the sky toward the earth.
Just as the rite finished, Māra turned back with his entourage. Skanda, the earth spirit, and I all concealed our forms. I saw that Vajra bow before Māra and report, “Great King, someone has broken my death-curse. This one’s spiritual penetrations are very great; I do not have the strength to overcome them.” Māra thought for a moment, then waved him back. Looking up to the sky, he sighed faintly, saying, “The great tide has arrived!” Then Māra suddenly ordered a gorgeously alluring woman from his ranks to step forward; he whispered a few instructions into her ear, then departed with wild laughter. The woman bowed to Māra and then, like a black swirling current, flew into my parents’ home. I saw her attach herself to my mother. At that, Skanda Bodhisattva appeared in the air, pointed his vajra scepter at my mother, and shouted, “Insolent demoness! Come out at once!” Then a mass of black qi drifted out from my mother’s body, and upon reaching the sky it transformed into a beautiful woman kneeling before Skanda. She reached out and stroked the scepter Skanda was pointing at her, her face taking on a captivating, seductive smile. As her hand caressed Skanda’s vajra, the scepter seemed possessed by demonic power and began emitting white light, which traveled up from the scepter to Skanda’s arm. Skanda stood there suddenly frozen in place, and I was greatly alarmed. Then, in an instant, countless Skandas appeared in the sky, all roaring together, “Insolent demoness! I am General Skanda! Leave at once!” The demoness’s face abruptly changed color, and she disappeared in a wisp of black smoke.
I said to Skanda, “I never imagined that my own cultivation would bring so much trouble to my family.” Skanda said, “Do not worry. They won’t come to any harm.”
April 27
Last night I didn’t sleep well, because a kind of small insect kept flying around—I don’t know where it came from. Its flight was unsteady, crashing about wildly with a loud noise like a bee, sometimes banging against the wall or the windowpane. The bug was big, with a hard shell on its back. I caught one and threw it out, but soon another flew in. It might have come through a crack in the ceiling. It was past two before I finally slept, and I got up several times during the night, so when I woke in the morning it was already seven-fifteen. I hurriedly got up, washed, cleaned up, drank a glass of water, ate an apple, and it was nearly nine o’clock.
She sat in meditation all morning. When she first settled, she perceived everything transforming into a single light—her own body included—and even this light was illusory and unreal. All houses, trees, and objects flickered in and out of sight within this light, now appearing, now vanishing, shifting indeterminately, and even the mind that gave rise to such thoughts was itself illusory and unreal. After abiding in samadhi for a while, she emerged and became aware of a great deal of noise: the cries of all kinds of birds outside, the buzzing of insects crawling across the floor and flying through the air inside the room, the sound of her own heartbeat, the sound of her blood flowing, the sound of the earth turning—rising and falling, one after another, as though playing a symphony. Gradually, these sounds became utterly unconnected to her, and the entire universe transformed into a motionless, frozen light. Every sound, every color, every state seemed frozen inside that light, the way branches and debris are suspended in a thick block of ice. The ice was transparent, and she could still see the tiny dark specks frozen motionless within it. After abiding in this samadhi for a time, her spirit-consciousness suddenly began to scatter, and she thought of her family. At that single thought, the frozen light vanished. She then took everyone she was attached to, everyone she was fond of, everyone she disliked, everyone she could not release, and brought them before her one by one to contemplate. As she contemplated, she dissected her own mind: why could she not let go? Where did her attachment lie? What was there, really, that she could not release? Because her mind was profoundly still, she ended up contemplating them all as dry leaves that had drifted to the ground outside, and in an instant her whole body felt lightened, free of every concern and stray thought. She saw only that the region of her heart channel was red, as though it had been wounded. Probably as long as there is any concern—whether toward someone disliked or someone loved—the heart channel sustains injury. She fixed the power of her thought on that red place, until the red light suddenly disappeared and transformed into a clear, luminous brilliance, and this limpid radiance swiftly expanded to fill her entire body. She saw her whole body become pure, translucent, and deeply luminous. She remained settled in this deep, luminous state, no self, no other, yet there was still a thought that knew she was abiding in this state.
At that moment, Lang Gong suddenly appeared and began pouring water over her entire body from the vessel the Buddha had left behind the day before. She did not emerge from samadhi, nor did she greet him; she simply remained settled in that deep, luminous light. But she was perfectly aware of everything he said and did. As he kept pouring the five-poison water, he struck her bones with a jade ruyi scepter he held, and she heard the cracking sounds of her bone joints being shaken open. Moreover, the bones were very hard, and their quality was poor; some places were yellowed, some reddish, some pale, and the coloring was uneven. Lang Gong said, “So hard—the joints are practically rusted shut.” At this, she saw her own body as nothing but an appearance laid out on the meditation bed, without breath, being washed and cleaned by Lang Gong. After pounding for a long time, she saw dust fly out from the joints as they vibrated. A little later, a girl attendant brought Lang Gong a canister like a modern insecticide spray bottle; he sprayed it over her bones and internal organs and said it was to kill pests. Afterward, he entered her body together with the girl and swept and cleaned her bone crevices and organs, exactly like a thorough housecleaning. Before long, she saw her entire skeleton streaming with white light, and her organs were very clean as well.
But Lang Gong still seemed dissatisfied. Then Lu Ban appeared, carrying a giant axe, and came to repair the damaged places in her bones. Ding ding dang dang rang out for a spell, as though he were doing carpentry. After a while, Lu Ban said, “Many of her bones are already ruined and must be reborn through transformation. They cannot be repaired. On the thirty-third heaven there is a ‘Harmonizing Adhesive’ that can transform and regenerate anything. If we ask the World Honored One for help, we can obtain it.” At that moment, an immense seated image of Shakyamuni appeared in the sky, filling the whole of empty space. The great seated image was majestic, solemn, and still; the birds, beasts, houses, and trees in the sky remained clearly present—neither emerging from his body nor imprinting on it, as if completely unconnected, yet both were distinctly visible. She saw the World Honored One extend his right hand, and Lu Ban stepped onto his palm. The World Honored One drew back his great arm, gently lifted his palm, and Lu Ban vanished into the air. A moment later, Lu Ban reappeared in the World Honored One’s hand holding a vaiḍūrya vessel, and the World Honored One set him down softly before her. Only then did the World Honored One’s image slowly fade away. She saw that one of the World Honored One’s colossal crossed legs had nearly reached into her meditation room.
The vaiḍūrya vessel in Lu Ban’s hand was like flowing, luminous flame, yet it retained the shape of a bottle. He aimed the mouth of the vessel at her and poured from her head downward. A viscous light cascaded down from her crown, and her head and shoulders grew pure, translucent, and deeply luminous beneath it. Her bones dissolved away. The adhesive in the vessel emptied completely in one pour, yet only her head and shoulders had been transformed. Lang Gong said, “Is there no more?” Lu Ban replied, “Because this is the Saha World, regeneration is a little slow. The vessel will fill again in a moment.” Sure enough, after a few seconds, the adhesive brimmed inside the vessel once more. Again and again it refilled, and again and again he poured, until her entire skeleton had been entirely transmuted. Then Lu Ban said, “Now her bones are transformationally reborn. They can no longer be counted as those bestowed by her father and mother.” She stayed in samadhi throughout, watching these states, her mind free of the slightest wandering thought, her body like a wooden puppet or a utensil, letting them handle it as they pleased. She saw that Skanda Bodhisattva had also been standing in the air the whole time, observing.
A big mountain really does shelter every kind of creature. Just now she spotted another small lizard crawling out of a crack in the ceiling, the first she had seen. The weather had begun warming these past few days, and all manner of creatures were starting to show themselves. The house was far too old; even sweeping twice a day, an endless stream of tiny insects materialized as though born from the air, and she kept having to escort them from her room out into the courtyard.
Her heart’s strength had been extremely weak these past few days. Sometimes she could feel the heartstring itself—frail, thin, and delicate—so that even the smallest sound made her whole body jolt. Yet her mind did not panic. The sensation was impossible to describe: it was as if the one who startled was not her, as if she remained utterly unmoved, yet she had indeed been startled through her entire being.
That day she was contemplating the Flower Adornment Sutra. When she reached the thirty-eighth fascicle, which describes how the youth Sudhana contemplated the path Samantabhadra had walked from his initial resolve, there was a passage: His mind was vast as empty space; his great compassion was firm as vajra. Suddenly her heart stirred, and she found herself fixed in samadhi right there. In a single instant she felt her mind become like empty space, free of obstruction, free of hindrance. Where was there any weakness or strength? Even empty space itself could not be grasped. The heart-power deficiency that had troubled her for days—caused by the transformation of her heart channel or by physiological reasons—vanished in that moment.
When she came out of samadhi, her heart’s strength was still not especially robust, but she sensed that her capacity to endure had already recovered to the standard of an adult.
She was contemplating the Flower Adornment Sutra, which she had borrowed from one of the temple masters, and she feared she would not finish it before her retreat ended. She had first contemplated fascicles one through ten, then twenty-six through forty. Now there was still time, so she went back and started on fascicles eleven through twenty-five.
As she read, small flying insects kept appearing, dashing wildly about. In no time she had escorted over a dozen of them out to the courtyard. At last, she had to beseech the Local Earth God of this region to think of a solution. Joining her palms, she bowed in reverence to the local earth deity. She saw a little old man with a completely white beard and hair come striding through the main gate, laughing heartily and holding a fly whisk. She said, “Are you the Local Earth God of this region?” He replied, “I am the Earth God of eight hundred li in this quarter. Though I am embarrassed to say that in name I govern eight hundred li, in truth I can only manage a radius of six hundred. So I can only be called the Six Hundred Li Earth God.” He spoke while laughing; this old Earth God seemed to have a most humorous and playful disposition. She explained that the little insects were far too numerous and asked if the Earth God had a solution. The Earth God said, “That’s easily handled.” With that, he joined his palms and stood in the middle of the room, chanting a mantra. In an instant, countless tiny insects converged from every corner of the room and adhered themselves entirely to the Earth God’s body. In a mere moment, he had become a mound of crawling insects. She was somewhat alarmed and thought to herself, This method does not seem particularly good. Just then, another Earth God suddenly emerged from the center of the courtyard and said with a grin, “Bodhisattva, the old monk is over here.” She looked and laughed as well—so the original Earth God had long since shed his shell like the golden cicada and slipped away. But the insect-covered Earth God still standing in the middle of the room actually began to walk. The Earth God in the courtyard waved his fly whisk and said, “Follow me.” The Earth God inside the room promptly turned and strode out the door. Every last insect clung fast to his body as though affixed with glue. She heard the Earth God call out from the distance, “Bodhisattva, I take my leave. Please apply yourself to your cultivation in peace!” and then he vanished beyond the main gate. After the Earth God departed, the room suddenly grew much quieter; there was no more stir of insects. She did not know what the evening would bring—she would wait and see. If this really worked, she should have paid her respects to the mountain god and the local earth god of this region before even entering retreat. As the saying goes: The county magistrate is not as useful as the village headman right in front of you.
In the evening she sat in meditation. When she first settled, she saw a black hole the thickness of a finger at the spot of her celestial eye, and it felt swollen. She fixed her awareness on that black hole. After contemplating it for a moment, the power of her thought of its own accord shifted downward to the stretch of her nose bridge near the inner corners of her eyes, and her nose began to feel swollen and itchy again. She said to herself inwardly: “There is a blocked channel in this section of the nose. When it opens, because the channel here is extremely fine and subtle—and because there are two exquisitely sensitive nerves—triggering the nerves will stir the mind-consciousness and produce some illusory realms. You must absolutely not panic or be frightened, or all your prior effort will be wasted.” Having said this, she fixed her awareness on that part of her nose. At that point, the passage felt as though it had been clogged for a very long time, as though the channels were stuck together. She saw the red nasal mucosa, and when she felt energy trying to pass through, she saw the nose hairs bristle and, in a flash, transform into a caterpillar covered with legs. Then an enormous crab lunged at her face, reached out a pincer, and clamped onto that section of her nose. She knew this was an illusory projection; her mind neither panicked nor feared, and she was not moved in the slightest. She only kept her awareness fastened tightly on that spot, refusing to budge.
Suddenly, the illusory realm vanished. At the same time, two streams of white energy surged upward into her brain, and her nose bridge seemed to broaden. Energy from the nose channel spread toward the fundus of both eyes, and a white light surged within her eyes. (Under normal conditions, when this channel opens and one’s practice deepens over time, one can achieve a photographic memory and read ten lines at a glance.) She guarded the spot a while longer, then shifted the power of her thought to her throat, for the vital-energy channels in her throat were still not flowing freely. After guarding it for a time, she saw two large holes—one at her throat wheel, one at the ceiling—like a torn fishing net, and perceived that the channels there were severely damaged. There was also a fish spine lodged in the torn section, and she pulled it out of the channel. Reflecting that this was probably the manifestation of a karmic result from having once eaten fish, she proceeded to repent, to transfer the merit, and to make vows for the universal rescue of all beings. Only gradually after that did she see two lines of white light ascending along the cervical vertebrae into the back of her brain, though the front of the throat was still blocked. Slowly, she began to feel a coolness suddenly enter her throat, as though she had taken a menthol drop. And she saw her tongue emitting a golden light, which made her very glad. A tongue radiating golden light signified that she had broadly accumulated virtue in speech and that her words had never been false; only then could one see one’s own tongue’s light appear as gold. The energy channels of the throat and mouth were still not entirely open; she could only keep cultivating them slowly. It had been nearly three hours now, and not a single tiny insect had appeared. She felt as though she had suddenly stepped from a bustling marketplace into the mountains; her hearing was far purer and quieter. She was immensely grateful to the Earth God.
April 28th
No tiny insects had disturbed her the entire night, and she slept fairly well. She simply had not been sleepy; it was after midnight before she lay down. She rose at 5:40 in the morning, washed, laundered a few pieces of clothing, and drank a small carton of milk.
She wrote a note to the temple masters, informing them that she would come out of retreat on time, then began contemplating the Flower Adornment Sutra. Perhaps because of her period that day, her body felt weary and slack, so she had supplemented with a cup of milk in the morning, but it had not improved matters.
In the evening she sat in meditation and again saw the immense image of Shakyamuni Buddha filling all of empty space, yet it did not obstruct the least bit of the houses, trees, or anything else in the sky. Perhaps she was able to perceive scenes from two dimensions simultaneously. For if Shakyamuni had actually come before her in the sky, his colossal form should have blocked out the sky beyond and the trees; yet she was able to see both at once. She saw the image of Shakyamuni clearly above her courtyard, his giant feet nearly reaching the door of the room where she sat in meditation—and yet the door bore no trace of feet passing through it. The states of supranormal powers were inconceivable. As she gazed at Shakyamuni, she saw several people building two exquisite eight-jeweled stupas at the entrance; they were strikingly beautiful, and the bells on them rang with a pleasing, clear sound.
That afternoon, a gigantic strange bird also flew in from the sky. Its entire body was jet black, with long feathers atop its head, like a woman’s neatly trimmed bangs. As it descended from the sky, the feathers rose and fell with the motion of its body. When it alighted in the courtyard, it knelt on the ground and transformed into a man cloaked in a black cape. Holding a letter above his head, he said, “Bodhisattva, Taishang Laojun has sent me with a letter for you.” Somewhat surprised that Laojun would make contact in this fashion, she went out the door and accepted the letter. The man instantly turned back into a bird and soared away into the sky. She opened the letter. Laojun’s meaning was roughly this: Seeing this letter is like seeing me in person. I am currently in the Western Regions and cannot get away. I wish you a successful conclusion to your retreat. Many thanks for your concern about this old godfather.
That afternoon during Chan samadhi, Ning Mu and Wu Mu came. After entering, Wu Mu could not stop looking the temple over, as though she liked it very much, and said, “This temple is so enormous!” Ning Mu said she was still cultivating on Mount Emei, and that Samantabhadra Bodhisattva had now transferred her to serve as a steward in the main hall on the Golden Summit—she was no longer at her old post below. She also brought greetings from Samantabhadra Bodhisattva and presented a golden flower, about the size of a brooch. She picked it up and on the stem beneath it saw a line of characters that read “The Ocean of Samantabhadra’s Great Vows of Conduct,” and she carefully put it away. Ning Mu asked after her warmly and brought pine nuts she had personally gathered on the mountain for her. Just at that moment, the two girl attendants Cai Luan and Cai Feng, sent by the Holy Mother of Mount Ba, arrived carrying a large tub of bathwater, intending to bathe her. Ning Mu and Wu Mu then took their leave. Wu Mu said she was serving as a steward in the Sutra Repository on Mount Wutai, but Wu Aizhen had no time to ask which temple. She merely encouraged them not to fail the deep regard of the two Bodhisattvas Samantabhadra and Manjushri, to apply themselves fully to their cultivation, and that when she herself had reached complete realization she would liberate them.
As they were leaving, I wanted to give them something but hesitated over what to offer. Suddenly I saw that I was draped from head to foot in gold, silver, pearls, agate, and jade ornaments. I quickly slipped a pair of broad gold bracelets from my arms and gave them to the two mothers. Both were very pleased. I took some necklaces from around my neck and gave those too. I was about to remove more when it occurred to me that their blessings were not yet abundant enough — if I gave them too many things, other evil sects and heterodox outsiders might see and try to rob them. Wouldn’t I be bringing disaster upon them? So I gave no more. I had never realized I was this wealthy. In the future, I could practice the giving of material things even within samadhi. And if others helped with something, I could also give them gifts.
April 29
Today was the seventh week of the retreat. I woke at six, washed, cleaned, did some laundry, and drank a small carton of milk. My state of mind was very ordinary, just as it had been when I first entered retreat — no waves.
Only last night, lying in bed, my thoughts suddenly turned to worldly people. Having had no close contact with outsiders for over forty days, I felt that my body and mind were extremely pure. Though my outer appearance remained unchanged, inside, body and mind flowed with light and color, transparent and luminous throughout. Within the retreat, I could often hear the voices of people outside, and every word carried a crude, vulgar quality. I could feel a thick layer of defilement on their minds — as if scabbed over — and their speech and conduct were unbearably coarse. I knew I should not be making such distinctions, but the sensation was too powerful, like filthy air rushing at my face.
I felt that certain things in this life I absolutely had to do: be filial and care for my parents, raise and nurture children, respect my teacher and cherish friends, spread the Buddhadharma. I simply felt these were inescapable responsibilities; I must do my utmost to fulfill them, only prioritizing by urgency and importance. I had already thoroughly understood cause and effect and seen through all the enmities, resentments, rights, and wrongs among people in the dusty world — including parents, children, siblings, lovers — all were merely causes and conditions in my heart. There was no longer any greedy clinging or love, no weighing of who was weightier or lighter, who was closer or farther. It was only about settling karmic ties, doing my best to go along with them and fulfill their wishes. Of course, the work of the Way still came first. As for those who could not understand me — let them curse me for being heartless and unprincipled. I felt that, for the time being, no one could truly understand what I had realized and felt within. Were it not for these responsibilities, I would certainly retreat deep into the mountains and forests, keeping company with the clear wind and bright moon, even if it meant sleeping under the stars and living on air. That was the life I truly loved best.
But I reflected that my heart of loving kindness and compassion had still not truly arisen, nor had I truly realized no-self. Otherwise, how could I so often be thinking of my own sovereign ease and enjoyment? I should think more of the suffering of sentient beings. Moreover, I had the ability to pull free from the five poisons and escape affliction — and even this was because sentient beings had accomplished me. I absolutely must not harbor such selfish thoughts. From moment to moment, I must keep sentient beings in mind.
At ten thirty in the morning, I began offering incense and sitting in meditation.
Just as I came out of samadhi, Skanda Bodhisattva announced that a host of immortals had come to offer congratulations. The image of the Jade Emperor appeared in the sky, and at the same time two boys carried in an enormous luminous night pearl set on a carved wooden base. One boy said, “This night pearl is a gift from the Jade Emperor for the Bodhisattva. It is over three thousand years old and came from the Dragon Palace. It can clear heat and expel poisons and be used to ward off summer heat. At night its radiance shines like the sun and moon.” With that, the Jade Emperor’s image vanished from the sky, and the two boys bowed and departed. The pearl was crystalline and translucent, veiled in a hazy blue-green mist, like vapor rising from the surface of water.
Afterward, the Mother of the Most High Lord Lao arrived, riding a phoenix carriage with a retinue of more than a thousand female attendants. The Mother descended from her carriage, asked solicitously after my well-being, and then brought out a very small precious sword. “This was formed from the elixir of a great python that cultivated for ten thousand years,” she said. “The python was once a sword immortal, so it refined its elixir into the shape of a sword. It can grow large or shrink small and is exceptionally numinous.” It had been offered as tribute to the Mother the previous year, and she had always thought it a treasure, wanting to save it for me. I thanked the Mother, and she took her leave.
The Mother of the Most High Lord Lao’s retinue had not yet entirely dispersed from the sky above the courtyard when Maitreya Bodhisattva suddenly appeared, belly thrust out, carrying a cloth sack on his back. He descended from the clouds and said, “What a lively gathering!” He then took down his sack and tipped it onto the ground, spilling out all manner of delicious foods. After emptying about half the sack, he said, “That should do. Enough to last you several lifetimes.” I said, “Bodhisattva Maitreya, why go to such trouble bringing food for me?” Maitreya replied, “Do you think there will be good things to eat on the road to Tibet? So I brought you a little something.” I smiled and said, “Bodhisattva, this physical body of mine is so heavy and clumsy — when will it ever be transformed?” Maitreya said dismissively, “The real has already come forth — what’s there to fear from the false? When the sun rises, the dark clouds will scatter sooner or later. You silly fool.” Saying this, he shouldered his sack and strode off, singing as he went.
Just then, three figures entered through the back door. The one in front had a head whose lower half resembled a fish’s, with many long barbels, while the upper half resembled a dragon’s; the body was like that of a human. Behind him followed two young servants in black robes who kept their heads lowered the whole time, their faces impossible to make out. They came in and stood to the left of my meditation bed, trembling all over with fear. The dragon-fish creature first made the two attendants kneel, then knelt himself and explained that he was a flood dragon from the Eastern Sea who had long been waiting here. Just now, with Skanda away escorting the Mother of the Most High Lord Lao, he had finally found a chance to slip in through the back door, hoping the Bodhisattva might guide him. At that moment I saw White-Robed Guanyin gently and kindly stroke the heads of all three with her hand. The two in black behind were utterly overwhelmed by the unexpected favor, wild with joy. Guanyin also gave them a copy of the Universal Door of Guanyin written in the language of dragons and told them to study it carefully. She said the great flood dragon in front could be reborn as a human after one thousand years; the two behind would need three thousand years before they could take human rebirth, at which time the Bodhisattva would return to deliver them. She urged them to do many good deeds and accumulate much merit. All the while, Skanda was in the sky, silently watching all of this without speaking a word, but his majestic wrath radiated in every direction. After Guanyin finished speaking, the three did not dare look up at Skanda and hastily tried to slip out through the back door, but Guanyin Bodhisattva smiled and directed them to leave through the main gate. The three could only scurry away from under Skanda’s feet, but it was clear they were beside themselves with joy.
Just after the old flood dragon left, a great dragon’s head suddenly rose in the direction of the Crystal Palace in midair. When half its dragon body had emerged, it transformed into a dragon-headed human form, wearing a long white robe, the dragon head now shrunk to roughly the size of a human head. The dragon said, “The Dragon King of the Eastern Sea pays his respects to the Bodhisattva. Now that the Bodhisattva has emerged from retreat, this old dragon has come to offer congratulations.” As the voice sounded, several young girls carried in white lotus blossoms the size of a basin’s mouth, all just on the verge of opening, filling the floor. The Dragon King then ordered two young attendants to present a coral stone, also set on a base. The Dragon King explained, “This coral is fifty thousand years old, a treasure of the Dragon Palace. Bodhisattva, please observe — within this coral there is a natural formation resembling a human eye. Over fifty thousand years, a precious pearl has been refined inside this eye, just like a human eyeball.” I looked closely and saw that the coral was irregular around the edges, while the central section was long, narrow, and smooth, shaped exactly like a human eye. Most marvelous of all was that the coral was hollow, and inside a small round pearl rolled back and forth, just like a human eye. The Dragon King said, “Whenever the Bodhisattva’s eyes grow tired, gazing upon this precious pearl will bring relief.” I fixed my eyes on the pearl and stared for a while. Suddenly, the pearl leaped out of the coral and flew into my eye, splitting into two as it entered. Both the Dragon King and I were taken by surprise. The Dragon King said, “I never imagined this treasure had such an affinity with the Bodhisattva. It must have been destined for you to receive it. But though the precious pearl has departed, this coral remains a supreme rarity of the sea. Bodhisattva, you should treasure it and not cast it aside.” I thanked the Dragon King, and he took his leave and withdrew. At that moment, all the white lotuses on the floor bloomed fully, releasing a crystalline radiance, and the room filled with the fragrance of blue lotus.
Just after the Dragon King left, in the distant mountains two figures raised and sounded long horns. Could it be Vairocana? I wondered. But it did not seem so, for when Vairocana appeared, the two horns blown were like long ox horns. This time, however, the instruments were like brass pipes — slender and very long, like trombones.
Someone was approaching through midair, and I felt a great solemnity, yet I could not see any form.
A voice rang out from midair: “I am the Venerable Milarepa. I come from the Land Without Joy.”
I asked, “Where is the Land Without Joy?” The Venerable One said, “Not in the Saha world.” Thereupon, many illusory appearances of the Venerable One manifesting in the human realm filled the sky. Those illusory forms sang: “All offerings are but illusion — the Bodhisattva does not abide in them, does not cling, does not yearn for them… The Bodhisattva’s mind is like empty space, shining upon all…” (Some of the lines I could not remember.)
When all the illusory forms had vanished, two beings — human in body but with elephant heads — carried in a great tripod. The voice spoke again: “I made this tripod in imitation of the tripods of the Saha world. When its sound rings out, it shakes the three thousand worlds.” As he spoke, a few fingers lightly brushed across the tripod, and a majestic, resonant, melodious bell tone arose. The earth, the mountains, and the sky all trembled at once; the ocean seemed to boil; light swayed in the air. I myself shook several times. Then the Venerable Milarepa used his spiritual power to shield and began striking the tripod three times anew. This time, nothing shook. As he struck, he said, “I hope the Bodhisattva will in the future broadly spread the great Way, so the sound of the Dharma reaches far and wide.” He continued, “I’ve heard that the Venerable Atisha has already invited the Bodhisattva to Tibet, and that Vairocana has also performed a grand Dharma ceremony for this purpose. Today I too offer some aids for the path to the Bodhisattva.” As he spoke, over ten kinds of Dharma instruments appeared before me. The Venerable One said, “These are ten Dharma instruments of Tibet. When the Bodhisattva enters their land and follows their customs, you will have use for them.” Then he gradually faded away.
Next, Manjushri appeared in the sky, riding a green lion. Manjushri remained in midair and raised a horizontal flute. As the flute sounded, the sky transformed into a dazzling display of rare treasures, fresh flowers, colorful butterflies, exotic birds and beasts, a hundred kinds of birds and wondrous blossoms — a radiant, richly hued scroll of images. It was as if I were placed within a painting, surrounded on all sides by beauty, my heart expansive and my spirit refreshed. Suddenly, the flute fell silent. All those vistas left me, appearing in the sky as though displayed within a transparent sphere of light, then gradually faded away. Manjushri said, “All the Buddha’s work in the world is just like this.” Saying no more, the Bodhisattva turned, riding the green lion, and departed. I smiled as I watched the Bodhisattva vanish, aware that a trace of clinging feeling still lingered in my heart — I had wished to say something more to Manjushri. But Manjushri had left decisively, like the momentary manifestation of a pure, transparent light, leaving me to quietly reflect.
Suddenly, a vast form of light and shadow appeared in the sky and said, “I am Samantabhadra Tathagata.” I was just trying to discern which direction the voice had come from when it spoke again: “What is the Bodhisattva looking for?” At these words, I suddenly turned the light around and shone it within, and saw that within every single pore of my body, I and Samantabhadra Bodhisattva were conversing and exchanging thoughts — and in each pore, Samantabhadra Bodhisattva appeared in a different form. Within the pores, I saw Samantabhadra Tathagata give me a jade ruyi scepter, wishing that everything would go according to my wishes. Then, as Samantabhadra Tathagata took his leave, he also gave me an umbrella. The umbrella flew down from the sky, and immediately the room was filled with a fragrance that struck the nostrils — the shaft, it turned out, was made of aromatic wood. The canopy, shaped like a mushroom, gave off a white radiance. I saw myself suddenly transform into one with a thousand hands and a thousand eyes; one hand caught the umbrella and closed it, holding it in my grasp.
At that moment, a lotus throne suddenly surged up from the center of the courtyard. A pillar of light, mushroom-shaped, shot up into the sky and then slowly descended again. From within the light there emerged a small, dark green creature — the Listening Beast — and Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, his dharma characteristics majestic and solemn, holding a monk’s staff in his hand. He stood before me, said not a single word, and then raised one hand before his chest and began reciting a mantra. I too pressed my palms together and listened with deep reverence. Ksitigarbha recited in Chinese; the mantra was very long and I could not understand it, but the sound of that deep, resonant male voice chanting the mantra pervaded my body and mind. I contemplated as my muscles and bones gradually dissolved and disappeared, until at last I became an empty tube of light, and even the light itself was on the verge of vanishing. Then Ksitigarbha stopped reciting. Still without a word, he turned, mounted his throne, and struck his staff once against the ground. The earth instantly became as transparent as crystal — and beneath the earth as well. Through that crystal-clear ground, I could see Ksitigarbha returning to his dwelling, and there, in that dwelling, all was luminous, pure, and adorned — utterly a Pure Land. I was overcome with shame, thinking how Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, through this great vow-power, had made every place he passed through so pure and adorned, so that even the hells blazed with light like the Brahma Heaven, and the defiled soil had become as transparent as crystal. Bathed in this light, I felt the narrowness of my own heart and the feebleness of my own spiritual strength. I was thoroughly ashamed.
Before Ksitigarbha stopped reciting, he had stepped forward and placed his palm upon my crown as a blessing.
When first setting out to cultivate the Way, I must constantly guard the arising and movement of every thought as though treading on thin ice. Even so, a single deluded thought will often rise, and already I have broken the precepts countless times, already planted numberless seeds of karma; when conditions ripen, the fruit is ready. Lost amid karmic entanglements, I tumble back and forth, tasting joy, suffering, and bitterness all by myself—when does it ever end? How long do I intend to wait before resolving to seek liberation? Those closest to me in daily life—the nearer I draw to enlightenment, the farther they seem from the Way by comparison. I grow anxious, wanting to dispel their deluded thoughts so they might soon return to their bright and pure nature of mind; only then could I claim to have laid some foundation in cultivation. But they cling to worldly pleasures and comforts and feel perfectly content, and most of them have a strong appetite for fame and gain, unwilling to seek liberation. Even if the Buddha himself came again, what could he do? Ask them to let go of a single selfish attachment, and they behave like a child who has lost a few glass marbles in a game—eyes round and staring, silently calculating profit and loss, still unwilling to accept the setback, still smarting, and sometimes irritable and short-tempered. It must feel unbearable. “To lead them into the Buddha’s wisdom, first entice them with desire.” But surely I cannot let them pursue fame and profit as a path to the Way. And besides, I do not yet have the power to reveal anything to them. Even if my supranormal powers were complete and I inspired them to take up the Way out of envy for the Buddha’s penetrations and wisdom, that would already place them a hundred thousand miles from the Way. When the fruit is not upright, the path must twist; when the initial resolve is not correct, even if in the course of cultivation one gradually clarifies the mind and sheds desire and habitual tendencies, one will still have to take many detours and endure many calamities and kalpas of hardship. Why suffer that? Otherwise, one can only become a demon, never attain perfect and unsurpassed awakening. Ah! In truth, I think too much. They have their own karmic affinities. I myself did not suddenly awaken until the masters guided me; it took more than ten years to set down so many habitual tendencies and desires, and even now I dare not claim to be completely pure. Why meddle so much? If I have the capacity, I will help them little by little. As for how far they can cultivate, that depends entirely on their own karma. What is there to hurry or worry about?
Having received the blessings and protective mindfulness of all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, and the offerings of gods and humans, I must not harbor even the slightest self-conceit. Sentient beings are all future Buddhas—I must hold this thought. When speaking with others, my voice must be low, gentle, and accommodating, as though I were speaking to Buddhas themselves. Otherwise, if these future Buddhas give rise to anger or lose their temper and thereby create the karma of hell-beings or animals, would that not be my fault? I have sought and received treasures from the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, yet I have nowhere even to give them away—ah! Just joking. But truthfully, I don’t know what else to do.
Excerpted from the Flower Adornment Sutra, Scroll seventeen: With one mind unmoving, practice the first dhyana. Still all mental karma, gather in all sentient beings; with intellect bold and vigorous, recollect with joy—practice the second dhyana. Contemplate the self-nature of all sentient beings, weary of birth and death, abide in the bliss of Nirvana—practice the third dhyana. Fully able to extinguish the manifold sufferings and torments of all sentient beings—practice the fourth dhyana. Increase and perfect all vows of wisdom, skillfully give rise to oceans of Samadhi, enter the ocean-gates of liberation of all Bodhisattvas. Sport in all Bodhisattva spiritual penetrations, accomplish all pure transformations, and with pure wisdom universally enter the Dharma Realm. I have attained only this Bodhisattva liberation-gate of silent Chan-samadhi bliss and universal, fearless roaming.
That evening, sitting in meditation, the entire empty space bloomed with golden lotus flowers. I too sat upon a golden lotus, my mind like empty space.
Skanda came and announced, “The Buddha of Great Light draws near.”
I looked, and the entire empty space was filled with the Master’s form. He had come from the Formless Realm, manifesting as a heavenly lord.
The Master transformed into a ring of light that descended from the crown of my head and wrapped around me. Then a voice spoke: “Child, is everything well?”
I answered, “Very well.” I asked the Master to manifest another form. Across from me in the air appeared a lotus seat of translucent crystal and the Master in crystal form.
The Master said, “This retreat has brought you the accomplishment of the Dharma body. Congratulations… I hope that everywhere you go, you will take the propagation of the Buddha-dharma and the welfare of sentient beings as your constant concern…”
I listened in silence to his instruction, then said, “I am always full of trepidation, afraid of failing to live up to the Master’s kindness.”
The Master said, “You have now attained the Bodhisattva’s immovable stage. There is no need to trouble yourself over this.”
I also told the Master that the energy channels in my neck had long been blocked and I did not know why. The Master examined them briefly, smiled, and said, “Your neck is crooked; even the base of your tongue is not properly aligned.” As he spoke, he took hold of my cervical spine and straightened my head. After he adjusted it, however, I felt as though my head had gone crooked. The Master said I had grown accustomed to the old posture and would gradually adjust. The middle of my tongue felt as though a knot had been untied, and it suddenly extended and relaxed, turning into the form of a vast, long tongue. A coolness spread through its entire length.
April 30
Today was the last day of the retreat. Tomorrow morning I was to emerge. I rose a little past five-thirty, washed, cleaned, and laundered a few pieces of clothing, not finishing until nearly seven-thirty. Then I offered incense, made offerings to the Buddha, and began to sit in meditation.
In the morning, since I was about to leave the retreat, I greeted Lang Gong and thanked him for guarding the retreat during this period. He had just caught two lion spirits and brought them over together. I sent Skanda to deal with the two lion spirits and told Lang Gong to rest a while. I spoke words of gratitude, and gave him three strings of beads—one for Fotucheng, and another for his little disciple. Lang Gong was very moved and excited. He said Fotucheng had gone to Tibet and finally knelt, saying he had a request to make. I smiled and said, “No need for such ceremony.” Lang Gong then said this little disciple had been with him a long time and he wished to have the boy become a disciple under Guanyin Bodhisattva. Hearing this, the little disciple promptly knelt down and wept. The Bodhisattva assented. Lang Gong then took his leave, saying he could continue guarding the retreat for one more day, and added that throughout these forty-nine days, the credit was entirely Skanda’s; he himself had handled only superficial matters, and had even been absent for a stretch in the middle.
Afterward, Guangchengzi came to congratulate me on the full completion of the retreat, and brought a pill for his crane disciple. He said the crane had refined this pill itself long ago; it had remained in the Tianshan Mountains all this time, and only now had he retrieved it for the bird. A white crane suddenly appeared in the sky and greeted him. He tossed the white pill, and the crane opened its beak, caught it, and swallowed it. Then it circled several times above the heads of Guangchengzi and me before vanishing. Guangchengzi said that with this pill, the crane’s Dao-heart would be firm.
At noon, celestial music and light appeared in the sky. Amitabha Buddha manifested in the air. The great earth quaked, and the local earth gods, mountain spirits, and dragon kings could be seen kneeling in reverent welcome. I greeted Amitabha Buddha and bowed. He brought several garments for me, one of them as thin as light gauze. Amitabha personally draped it over my shoulders, saying it had been born of transformation from the coldest regions of the North Pole and could withstand any extreme cold. My reward body was not yet complete, he said, and I must take care to protect my physical body. He then brought out a white jade case and gave it to me. I opened it to find it was a wordless celestial book, a treasure of the Land of Ultimate Bliss. Delighted, I thanked Amitabha Buddha. He spoke a few more words and then withdrew. An enormous mass of light departed with him, and within it, celestial maidens could be faintly seen in flight. For more than ten minutes after he left, a standing image of Amitabha Buddha and his golden lotus seat could still be seen in the sky. The energy field was too powerful to disperse all at once. The same phenomenon had occurred in the sky the day before, after the Master departed.
Just after Amitabha Buddha departed, Shakyamuni, the World Honored One, arrived with his many disciples. He first praised the Bodhisattva for riding upon a vow to come in the Dharma-Ending Age, when sentient beings have scant blessings and the Bodhisattva must endure myriad hardships in order to bring them to fulfillment… When the World Honored One and his great disciples arrived, countless golden lotuses welled up from the earth. The World Honored One brought a great many sutras, saying he had brought everything I needed.
At noon I finished lunch, rested briefly, then began packing up my things in earnest. I washed more clothes, hung the bedding out to air, and again swept the place thoroughly. I read for a while. It was nearly six o’clock; I drank a glass of water and ate an apple.
May 1
I rose just past six in the morning and straightened the bedding. The wind had been strong the night before, and the courtyard was again covered in leaves, so I began sweeping. As I swept, more leaves kept drifting down, fluttering and falling. My heart was light. Though it took a long time to sweep the courtyard clean, watching the still-falling yellow leaves, I felt an unexpected happiness, as though the wind, the leaves, and I were playing hide-and-seek together. In the end, I simply stopped sweeping.
After offering incense and making offerings to the Buddha, it was already past eight o’clock. I sat on the meditation bed, drank a cup of milk, and then a cup of water. Quietly I gazed at this little courtyard where I had spent forty-nine days alone. In one more hour, the door that had been shut for forty-nine days would open, and the stillness of this courtyard would be broken at once. But I believe that the lucid, deep stillness within my heart—like empty space itself—will never disappear.
Gratitude to all who guarded this retreat!
May all merit be dedicated to the multitude of sentient beings!
By the time Ding Yiming finished the first volume, it was already noon. Zheng Meiqin had not worked overtime today and had personally prepared a full table of dishes.
During the meal, Zheng Meiqin said, “Have you been reading Wu Aizhen’s diary all morning?” “Mm.” Ding Yiming wolfed down his food. “Ah—do you think the states of cultivation and realization she describes in her diary are real? They’re quite miraculous, like something out of a myth.”
Ding Yiming was chewing a mouthful of food and did not answer for a long while. After a pause, he said, “Neither real nor unreal.” Zheng Meiqin said, “I don’t get it.” “The Buddha said this world of ours is illusory and insubstantial. Do you think it’s real?”
“I don’t feel that it is.”
“It’s the same with the states of Chan samadhi. The Buddha said they are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow. Perhaps those who have realized and entered them do not perceive them that way. Only when one can see the mark of emptiness within all the states of the Three Realms has one truly understood what the Buddha said.”
“Wow! Honey, you’re studying at such a high level now!”
“Thanks for the compliment. It’s only a small awakening.”
“The Buddha-talk you speak—half the time I can barely understand you anymore, and you call it a small awakening.”
Ding Yiming laughed, set down his bowl and chopsticks, wiped his mouth, and said, “I’m full. I’ll trouble you, dear, to tidy up when you’re done eating.” Then he slipped back into the study.
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