(III) Record of a Hundred-Day Retreat in the Zhongnan Mountains

The next afternoon, after attending to some trivial matters, Ding Yiming began leafing through Wu Aizhen’s third diary, One Hundred Days of Closed-Door Cultivation at the Zhongnan Mountains.

October 4

In morning sitting meditation, an awareness arose in samadhi that I had never left the “hall of the Buddha‑Dharma,” that I had never been born at all — birth was merely the sensation of a false mark. I contemplated beams of light extending from my body and leading out of the hall — dharma doors suited for sentient beings to enter the hall and practice the Dharma.

In samadhi I conversed with Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao. I asked, “What, after all, is still lacking in my cultivation?” The teacher laughed heartily and said, “What could be lacking? Nothing is lacking.” I said, “I myself wonder if, on the contrary, I have too many obstructions of principle?” The teacher replied, “Not too many, either.” In that instant, sitting in meditation, I realized that all conditioned phenomena are empty, and my mind abided steadily in a state of neither increase nor decrease, neither defiled nor pure.

In the course of our conversation the teacher said, “Even in the Age of Right Dharma, when people were simple and honest, Shakyamuni Buddha still said that sentient beings were stubborn and hard to transform, and that it was difficult to liberate them. How much more so now, in the Dharma‑Ending Age. Go with conditions to liberate sentient beings; yet there are no sentient beings to be liberated.”

October 8

Today I went to Famen Temple. Standing at the entrance to the underground palace, tears gushed out, and I did not know why I was crying. With palms joined and eyes closed, I saw in samadhi the entire stupa shimmering with golden light. A procession of monks in yellow robes emerged from the stupa gate; the one in the center held the Buddha‑finger sarira. I knelt to welcome it, tears streaming down my face like a small waterfall, drenching the front of my robe.

When I came out of samadhi and stood before the true‑body Buddha‑finger sarira, the sarira appeared yellow against the golden stupa, and because it was dusk and the light inside was dim, the Buddha‑finger sarira looked somewhat grayish. I had once heard that when sunlight shines on a sarira, it radiates a snowy white light.

Three of the Buddha‑finger sarira are shadow bones, but all Buddhist disciples hold that there is no distinction between true and false. The three shadow bones, like shadows of the true‑body sarira, possess the same inconceivable blessing power. What is more, one of them was made by grinding the sarira of several eminent monks into powder and then molding it to the exact size of the true‑body sarira.

I stood before the true‑body sarira, joined my palms, and entered samadhi once more. I saw the Buddha‑finger bone, slightly enlarged, enclosed within an immense golden stupa. But the bone itself was utterly ordinary; it emitted not the faintest gleam. It merely looked a little harder and slightly glossier than an ordinary person’s bone. After gazing at it for a long while, a doubt stirred in my heart: “Is this really the Buddha’s sarira? Why does it appear so plain and unremarkable in samadhi?” Just then, beside the sarira appeared a monk in a gray robe holding a rosary. He said, “Bodhisattva, there is no need to doubt. I am Venerable ———. I once escorted the Buddha‑finger sarira to the Middle Kingdom and have remained here guarding it ever since. Look — there are characters on the sarira.” The Buddha‑finger sarira suddenly enlarged slightly, and I saw four characters appearing on the bone: Ocean of Nature, Perfect Awareness. Next to them was the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra in Sanskrit script. At once I bowed with the utmost sincerity, and the Venerable One disappeared. I continued to contemplate the Buddha‑finger sarira. My mind gradually settled into stillness, and my body and mind began to feel vast and empty. The sarira still did not emit light, yet suddenly, through this ordinary, unremarkable sarira, I glimpsed the greatness of the Buddha. Within the sarira there is no self and no Buddha; looking through the sarira, I saw the great earth. The earth gives birth to all things, nourishes all things, allows all things to trample upon it without resentment or regret. No one thinks the earth is wondrous, yet all things it nurtures are a miracle: the instantaneous beauty of a flower blooming, the vigorous growth of a tree, the unceasing vitality of a blade of grass, the myriad talents and wisdom of human beings. I felt that in that kshana I merged with the sarira, returning to the ordinary, returning to the great earth. The ordinary and the great, decay and marvel, all vanished; I no longer made distinctions. There was no blessing — and yet for the first time I experienced deeply the blessing that is no blessing. I experienced the ordinary Empowerment. The Buddha, through his plain, hard sarira, manifested before me the state of no perception of a self and no perception of other beings. The mind had returned. In that moment, all the worldly toil and dust fell completely away from my body; the mind disappeared, and nothing could bind me. Only the conviction to spread the Buddha‑Dharma and liberate all beings echoed high above the golden stupa.

As I bowed before the sarira of eminent monks, the sarira released a seven‑colored light like that of crystal, shining over my entire body, and from the crown of my head, my body and mind were filled with indescribable coolness and purity.

Without contention, the mind becomes peaceful. Without struggle or argument, the great earth knows no such thing as patience.

October 11

It rained all last night, and today the sky is overcast.

Yesterday I visited South Wutai. It truly deserves to be called a Buddhist sacred site — temples clustered one after another, the scenery beautiful, especially on Guanyin Terrace, where I felt as if I were standing in a paradise on earth.

At a temple on Guanyin Terrace, as I was bowing to the Five Direction Bodhisattvas, an old monk suddenly came out to greet me, leading two rows of young monks. The old monk, wearing a kasaya, carried a tray on which rested a monk’s hat and a fly‑whisk. He said, “I have been waiting here for the Bodhisattva for over a thousand years. Now I return this to its rightful owner.” With that, he lifted the tray. Someone beside me, resembling a lady‑in‑waiting, took the hat from the tray and handed it to the Bodhisattva, who promptly placed it on her head, then picked up the fly‑whisk herself, swept her wrist with a flourish, and burst into great laughter. The hat and fly‑whisk looked like stage props on the Bodhisattva.

The day before yesterday I made a pilgrimage to Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao’s sarira stupa. I walked on foot for more than five li, following a river gully. Due to the continuous rain, I had to wade across the water in several places; there was hardly any path and no bridge at all. Beside the stupa stood five rooms where an elderly nun lived alone. I had originally planned to do my retreat there, but the nun had gone down the mountain to treat an illness, and the doors were locked tight. Besides, the mountain road was so difficult and transporting supplies so inconvenient that I abandoned the idea.

At the site of the stupa, I first swept the stupa clean, then lit red candles and incense, and afterward sat in meditation beside it.

In meditation, the teacher’s image appeared, her tone decisive. After greeting me, she said, “I had hoped to invite the Bodhisattva to do retreat here, and that it might increase the incense-offerings of this place. But the causes and conditions are not yet ripe, so there is nothing to be done. Let things follow conditions.” She continued, “The foundation of the Vajra Mind method is, first, upright body, upright mind, upright speech; second, the unity of body, speech, and mind. There is nothing else.” I then saw the heart sarira imprinted with the two characters “Perfect Awareness” merge with my own heart, and my own neck transformed into a fully blooming red lotus. Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao said, “Go back now. Leave as soon as you can.” I rose from meditation and took my leave.

These past few days, the only inner progress I have made is that I am increasingly returning to my true self. I no longer put on an appearance for others to see; I am whatever I am, and I no longer care whether others misunderstand me or imagine what I ought to be.

October 16

Today the hundred‑day retreat began. Because Five‑Horse‑Stone Temple has no sealed meditation room, I could only undertake a “convenient” retreat. In samadhi, my Master gave two instructions: first, observe silence; second, no one is to enter the retreat room casually.

I entered retreat at eight in the morning. Shortly after seven, I went to the main hall to bow before the statues of Guanyin, Manjushri, and Samantabhadra, and then to the hall by the gate to bow before Maitreya and Skanda Bodhisattva.

As I bowed before the three sages, an image of five horses soaring into the air appeared above. They formed a circle with their various leaping postures, and within that circle the wrathful form of Palden Lhamo manifested. She said, “I shall protect you until you perfectly accomplish Buddhahood.” At the same time, the Four Heavenly Kings manifested in the air and said, “We shall protect the Bodhisattva as she cultivates and realizes the Dharma.” While I was bowing before the Skanda Bodhisattva at the gate, a white image of Skanda appeared in the air, and a voice as if from a great distance said, “Bodhisattva, no need for such ceremony! I guard the mountain gate here, and the Four Heavenly Kings are protecting the Bodhisattva as well. May the Bodhisattva cultivate with a peaceful mind.” I bowed in gratitude to the Four Heavenly Kings and to Skanda Bodhisattva. When I returned to my meditation room, it was nearly eight o’clock. Inside, I set up images of the three sages of the Western Pure Land and a mandala.

I finished offering the mandala, lit incense, and lit a lotus lamp. As I was making prostrations, I heard the Amitabha image in the center ring out with a metallic clang; at the same time, the three Buddha images emitted golden light. In the sky above the corresponding three‑sage images, the forms of Mahasthamaprapta, Amitabha Buddha, and White‑Robed Guanyin appeared. The robes of Guanyin Bodhisattva seemed to ripple with the shifting light and shadow, and then, after a few seconds, the visions vanished.

At exactly eight o’clock, the retreat began.

(While I was setting up the meditation room, a resident Dharma teacher from the temple brought a painting of the wrathful form of Palden Lhamo, saying that the image had long been in the temple but that no one had made offerings to it — probably because everyone found it too terrifying, and it had been tossed into a corner. I thought the painting was very well done, so I joyfully set it up in the room, which led to the extraordinary connection with Palden Lhamo during my morning prostrations.)

In the morning I practiced moving exercises and standing‑post meditation outside, then sat in meditation and read. At noon I napped briefly, then returned to my reading. Because the meditation room had stood empty for a long time, and because it was tucked in the eastern corner of the temple with its back against the mountain, the earth‑energy was like a deep pool, making the room cold, damp, and gloomy. Although I had burned a fierce fire for two days before entering retreat — the room has a northern‑style kang (heated brick bed) — the damp had not yet been completely dispelled. Half the wall was still wet, so I draped white cloth around the lower walls. In the dampest corner I set up the wrathful image of Palden Lhamo, together with a khata and two crystal balls, one purple and one white. In samadhi, Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao and I together consecrated the crystal balls, to be used for transforming the energy channels.

In sitting meditation, I felt the entire meditation room become a single crystal ball, and I sat within it. Though the balls were actually imitation crystal — inexpensive imitations bought on the market — under the blessing of all the Bodhisattvas the “crystal ball” still emitted a brilliant radiance, its light rippling and shimmering, as if the whole room had become a room of crystal.

The entire afternoon I read my teacher’s books. The Loving Kindness and Compassion flowing from those pages always made me sigh with emotion, my eyes wet with tears.

But when I finished reading the teacher’s “Record of Right Contemplation Within Illness,” I felt ashamed. As the teacher had written: “A heavenly voice comes flying, bringing comfort; a peace and accomplishment the ancients never knew.” Every Accomplished One had labored the sinews and bones and tortured the mind and will. The teacher, suffering from a skin infection that caused unbearable itching and strange pains throughout the body, to the point of sweating without heat and shivering without cold — under such conditions still made this vow: “How could I ever become the King of Medicine? Hearing a sound, I know its suffering and cry out for mother in its stead. I vow to gather all the illnesses of the world and turn them into the spots and sores upon my own body.” Reading this, I broke into a sweat of shame.

October 17

Today is the fifteenth of the lunar month. After my morning moving exercises, I went to the main hall to offer incense and bow to the Buddha.

In morning meditation I saw Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao. The teacher instructed me to continue visualizing the crystal ball’s light filling the entire room, with myself seated within that crystal light, being transformed by it. Because my channel fire blazed fiercely, this light could temporarily ease the pain brought on by the transformation of the energy channels. I thanked the teacher for her concern and told her that my discomfort was not terribly severe. Still, I practiced according to her guidance.

In evening meditation, the deity images from the small shrine by the temple gate suddenly manifested beside me. They said, “We are protective deva spirits. Today, Bodhisattva, when you made offerings, you only made offerings at the main halls and forgot about us. We, together with the mountain gods, earth deities, and all the Dharma protectors of this region, have also been doing our utmost to guard every place of cultivation. Yet the Bodhisattva, in her Loving Kindness and Compassion, did not think of us, making offerings only to the great Skanda General and forgetting about us ‘little Skandas.’ Our hearts were deeply saddened …” After hearing this, I hurriedly apologized and promised to make up the offering the following day, and to pay close attention to every thought from then on, asking the little Skandas to forgive me. Only then did the deva spirits take their leave.

October 18

After rising and washing in the morning, I made offerings at the main hall, and especially lit a lotus lamp and incense in the shrine by the gate. I saw the mountain gods, earth deities, ghost kings, deva lords, and other beings all manifest. They pretended to be polite, telling me not to stand on ceremony. Laughing, I said, “Last night you sent a representative to demand an accounting of why I hadn’t made offerings to the little Skandas. Today you’re all putting on a show of courtesy.” Everyone broke into bright laughter. The gods said, “Bodhisattva, while you are in retreat here, please let us know if there is anything we can do. We will give our utmost effort.” I smiled and said, “I will.” The earth deity then pleaded on behalf of a dragon: “Bodhisattva, in the deep pool beneath your meditation room there is a dragon whose spine was once pierced by Guanyin Bodhisattva with a nine‑headed pipa hook, locking one of its sinews. It has been nearly a thousand years. Although this dragon once committed a wrong, for a thousand years it has lain hidden in this pool, cultivating the Way with all its heart. It has now reformed. We hope the Bodhisattva will release it.” I said, “I will.” The earth deity and the gods thanked me and withdrew.

I hardly slept at all last night, and today I felt somewhat drowsy. After lunch, especially, I slept almost the whole afternoon. At dusk I rose and sat in meditation. First I went to the deep pool to examine the dragon. I removed the nine‑headed lock and the talisman pasted on its head. Joyfully, the dragon plunged into the pool and then soared into the sky, circling above my head before settling quietly beside me. I examined it and found that a ring was still clasped around its right front claw, connected by a thread to a ball that pressed against the back of its head. I asked the reason. It said a foe had done it harm, so I helped it remove the ball and ring. It offered a black‑dragon pearl in thanks; I did not accept. The dragon then soared away, and from a summit in the Zhongnan Mountains it plucked a white lingzhi mushroom. The lingzhi was guarded by a great python, but when the dragon said it wished to pick it and present it to the Bodhisattva, the python used its own mouth to harvest the white lingzhi and handed it to the dragon before slithering away. I thanked the dragon and told it to protect the Buddha‑Dharma and cultivate Vigor so that it might soon attain the right fruit. The dragon nodded in reply, tears welling in its eyes, so that its enormous dragon eyes seemed to be veiled with a film of mist.

October 20

Rising in the morning, I washed simply, then sat alone on the bed in the outer room, opened the door, and gazed quietly through the doorway at the fine, dripping rain in the courtyard.

It had rained all night, and the rain was still falling this morning. Beyond the facing roof I could see the dense woods on the hillside. Autumn rains and frost had left the branches bleak; the leaves seemed half curled, too cold to unfold. A thin, pale mist drifted among the branches, slowly spreading into the courtyard, as if softly seeping into the room.

I sat in a daze on the edge of the bed, not in meditation, just staring at the autumn scene before me. Suddenly, my own contemplation arose naturally; I sensed that there was a self watching thoughts drift to and fro. I made no deliberate effort, just went along with this state. I wasn’t thinking of practice or meditation—just sitting relaxed and at ease on the bedside, eyes fixed on the rain and mist outside. Abruptly, something snapped open—my heart chakra unfurled like a crumpled sheet of paper being smoothed out. In that instant, the pain in my throat, the eyes, ears, body, my teacher, acupoints, energy channels—all of it separated from “one awareness.” In that heap of things I could not find “me.” Inside there was “no person.” The mind‑energy settled a little, became “void,” and finally “nothing.” All the past dissatisfactions, including the physical aches, were like someone flailing fists at empty space—powerless, meaningless. “No one” cared about any of that. Everything scattered like clouds and mist. Even when I thought of others losing their temper, shouting and screaming, it was only like watching thunder and lightning. That was just the emotional weather of others. What did it have to do with me?

The mountains were still the same mountains, the trees still the same trees, the people still the same people. Yet in that vast openness between heaven and earth, because of “no self” and “no person,” the world took on a different hue, and life became a different experience.

I remembered the sutras saying, “Empty body, speech, and mind,” and “When the body hurts, there is something that does not hurt.” But these were all theoretical abstractions; without actual proof they were useless. When the body was uncomfortable, the mind followed with pain, with agitation. As for the non‑separation of body and mind, merged into one, where one could feel pain or not at will and everything was mere manifestation—that was the level of great Bodhisattvas and Buddhas who had thoroughly transformed body and mind.

Insight:

When a person is full of worry, agitation, or pain to a certain degree, the power of contemplative awareness from their usual practice suddenly arises naturally, without any thought of “I must raise my awareness or contemplation.” At that moment, all the agitation and pain abruptly separate from the mind; the mind no longer dwells on any object, person, or event. This can even happen when joy or happiness reaches an extreme. At that moment, the true feeling of “abiding nowhere, giving rise to the mind” arises.

October 21

Today is the nineteenth day of the ninth lunar month, the day Guanyin Bodhisattva left the home‑life. After washing up in the morning, I went to the main hall to burn incense and make offerings.

All day I felt unwell, alternately cold and hot, so I mostly rested.

Last night during sitting meditation, the Supreme Lord Lao, the Perfected One Taiyi, and the Elder of Mount Hua, Daoist Immortal Ziyang, came together to visit me and treat my illness. Supreme Lord Lao used the Yin‑Yang Eight‑Trigram Linked Needles to needle my Feishu points and other back points, and also bled my two shoulder‑well points and ten fingers. In samadhi I saw what appeared to be two streams of black energy shooting out of my shoulder‑well points, and dark blood oozing from my fingertips. Perfected One Taiyi and Daoist Ziyang emitted energy to supplement my kidney qi; I saw my kidneys suddenly swelling and glowing. I also remember when the Dazhui point opened, the energy channel was like a ring of clouds; Lord Lao said this channel is called Cloud Lock and is very difficult to open. When the back energy channels became unobstructed, my spine suddenly felt as if it exploded open; the nerves and blood vessels simultaneously recharged and emitted red light. And after cupping with a golden basin on the center of my back, the area shone like a mirror reflecting light.

Lord Lao also needled my ears, face, and other points; he clamped my ear rims with small clips and needled deeply.

When the acupuncture was finished, a total of eighty‑one needles were used, and Lord Lao collected them all. Then the three of them laughed heartily and departed toward Daoist Ziyang’s temple on Mount Hua.

October 22

Last night, perhaps because I had lit a fire and the damp air was so heavy, I barely slept. After a brief nap in the morning, I got up with surprisingly abundant energy; I didn’t feel tired or drained. Only my stomach was extremely uncomfortable and my throat felt swollen, so I cooked some thin porridge and drank it. All morning I dreaded the cold, so I bundled up in a coat and sat in the courtyard soaking up the sun. By noon, I gradually recovered.

The temple is small, nestled in a mountain hollow. In front of the gate are five celestial horses, each in a different mid‑air leaping posture—quite distinctive. Legend has it that a vicious dragon once plagued the region; Guanyin Bodhisattva, together with the lords of Wutai (called South Wutai here), subdued this fire dragon. The mounts of the lords of Wutai displayed their might in battle, surrounding the evil dragon, neighing, biting, and kicking, preventing it from escaping and allowing the Bodhisattva to capture it. The five celestial horses, seeing that the land was fertile and the water abundant, refused to leave, so a Five‑Horse Stone Temple was built here to venerate them. It was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution; the current temple is rebuilt, its site shifted slightly downhill into the hollow. Beside it, a mountain spring flows day and night; our drinking water is drawn from it, clear and cool.

I sat in the courtyard, utterly listless, with my coat wrapped around this stinking skin‑bag, drooping as if waiting to die. I couldn’t read, didn’t want to sit in meditation—muddled and dull, with no Mind of Vigor. Everything seemed to have drifted away from me, even cultivation. I didn’t know what I was doing, what this retreat was for. If it was just rest, this cold and damp place was nothing like the comfort of home. A few faint thoughts flitted through my mind, then all fell silent. I wanted nothing, not even faith. A twinge of concern for my loved ones occasionally flashed by; hatred had dissolved, and it seemed love had also disappeared. There was nothing to cultivate—we are all originally Buddhas. Only because our minds dwell on external phenomena, clinging to “a self,” can we not attain liberation and are endlessly reborn. This is what the Buddha said. Now, even those words seemed like idle chatter. My body felt awful, and my mind dwelt on that awfulness. Is it all ultimately empty? Attachment itself is empty. Only, because of “no self,” I could no longer find a place to “give rise to the mind.”

October 23

Today my throat felt a little better; I slept fairly well last night. My throat still hurt because the damaged area hadn’t healed, but after the treatment by Lord Lao and the other masters that day, I felt my neck and chest energy channels were much more open.

At ten in the evening, during sitting meditation, I suddenly saw in samadhi a deep pool beneath my seat, its waters churning as if a large creature were about to emerge. I thought it might be that dragon, so I paid no attention. Suddenly, a head broke the surface, its irregular markings clearly visible—it was a giant python. I thought, I’ve heard “fish and dragons mingle,” but never that dragons and snakes share a pool. Perhaps my meditation had disturbed the snake. The snake seemed angry, coiling out of the pool, opening a huge mouth at me, with four sharp fangs glistening with foul mucus, occasionally flicking its tongue, glaring at me menacingly.

I was about to explain when a great dragon swooped down from the southern sky and swiftly bit the snake at the seven‑inch point behind its head. It shot back into the sky, the snake writhing stiffly in its jaws while the dragon held tight, not letting go, twisting and turning in the air. I urgently signaled the dragon to put the snake down, and only then did it descend and release the snake in front of me. The snake again opened its bloody mouth at me; I didn’t know if it was grateful or angry. I said, “Go on. Cultivate well, and don’t do bad things.” The snake gave no sign either way; it turned its head and crawled toward the southeastern mountain. With a few twists of its body, it vanished.

The dragon said, “This snake has been living on the pool wall for a long time.” Then the dragon fixed its eyes on the purple crystal ball in the corner of my room and tried to play with it, but the Auspicious Goddess enshrined behind the ball suddenly came alive and bared her teeth at the dragon, scaring it back. I smiled and told it, “Don’t be afraid! All appearances arise from the mind.

“She looks terrifying to you, but actually the Auspicious Goddess is very compassionate.” With my permission, the dragon cautiously approached the ball again. This time the goddess image didn’t move. The dragon happily sucked the ball into its mouth and played with it in the air like a circus act. I paid it no mind and returned my focus to sitting meditation.

Today I read in my Master’s book the “discourse on channels”: “All Dharma Realms of the Ten Directions are within one mind, and the mind‑realms correspond to channels, just as the Five Directional Buddhas correspond to the five chakras, the eight great Bodhisattvas to the eight channels of the heart, and all arhats and even hell beings are also distributed among the channels…” I then thought about the transformation of my own throat chakra. Some time ago, whenever I sat in meditation, I would see in samadhi my neck become an abyss bristling with swords and knives, the abyss full of hungry ghosts—thin necks, huge bellies—all looking up with open mouths, waiting to eat the phlegm and saliva from my throat. A Bodhisattva said that if my throat were no longer uncomfortable, these hungry ghosts would no longer see me and could not eat my phlegm. Hearing that made me very sad. I thought, if my throat stayed bad, the hungry ghosts eating my phlegm would be like drinking ambrosia—couldn’t that be considered compassion? But then I thought, such compassion is too small; though it might quench their momentary hunger and thirst, it cannot liberate them from the hungry ghost realm. If I can smoothly transform my throat chakra, open the other chakras, and accomplish the sambhogakaya, my help to beings in the Six Paths would be far greater. Still, these were confused thoughts moving within “ego‑clinging.” But based on my own experiences and sensations in samadhi, I felt that what the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas said is true and not false. Moreover, when I shrank the hungry ghosts to infinite smallness in samadhi, they looked very much like certain bacteria seen under a microscope.

October 25

In the morning during sitting meditation, a nun staying at a nearby hotel came to the temple. A few days earlier, I had heard from the hotel manager that her behavior and speech were abnormal and she seemed to have “gone into fire and entered demonic states.” With the weather turning cold, the mountain hotels and lodges had no tourists staying, only caretakers; everyone was on holiday preparing for winter. The manager of a lodge in front was a woman, and since she was alone in the large hotel, she had let the nun stay there for free.

The nun looked quite young, not yet thirty. Through the glass of my meditation room I saw her sitting in the courtyard, picking up a book from a table to read. I continued my sitting. Suddenly, from her body ran an antelope, which dashed into my meditation room. Since I was sitting on the kang, the antelope propped its two front legs on the edge of the kang and stared at me with its huge eyes. So the nun was possessed by an antelope.

At that moment, in the upper‑left sky, a white‑haired old man appeared and said, “I am a shepherd boy from Tibet. A few days ago I lost an ‘antelope with big eyes’; I never imagined it had run here and startled the Bodhisattva.” As he spoke, he grabbed the antelope, tucked it under his arm, and patted its head twice. The antelope, frightened, closed its eyes and didn’t dare move. I quickly said, “It’s fine. Please treat it kindly.” The old man bid farewell. I saw his back—his clothes were tattered beyond belief—and then he vanished in an instant.

When I looked at the nun again, she was still sitting in the same place reading. The energy channels at the crown of her head were turbid and severely blocked. Before my eyes appeared her past life at about seven or eight years old: she was standing beneath a gate‑tower, watching a man hang a lantern above, when suddenly the gate‑tower collapsed and crushed the little girl to death. The fatal injury was to the head, which in this life had left extensive blockages in her head channels. When anger arose or if her practice went awry, she manifested her present illness. So although the possessing entity had left, the nun drifted between clarity and confusion; she was different from ordinary people—this was a karmic illness, not a case of going into fire and entering demonic states. Because I was in retreat and now physically weak, I had no opportunity to help her further. May all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas grant her blessings. After a while, the nun stood up, mumbled a sentence to herself, and left without saying goodbye to the temple monk who had been sitting nearby.

October 26

Last night while sitting in meditation in the courtyard, I had just settled into the state when something like a small insect began darting around my left waist, and the skin itched. I sensed that “something” had slipped in an instant to my left waist, like “a beam of light.” The area on the left waist lit up. My mind was applying its fullest attention to catch whatever was making the skin itch—was it a bug, a hair, a loose thread from my clothes? Because the light slipping past and the intense effort to catch it happened almost simultaneously, the investigation of the mind never dissipated. In that kshana, I suddenly stopped thinking about the “itching.” It was as if I had seized hold of something. “What was that light?” “What was that thing that slipped past? It was exactly what I’d been looking for, the very thing we use every day yet never perceive.” A bewildering question arose: “Who am I?” Because in that state close to Chan samadhi, thinking seemed to halt. The moment “Who am I?” flashed through my mind, my body suddenly emptied out from the inside, leaving only a hollow bodily shell sitting there. I saw this bodily shell clearly, like a piece of artificial packaging. “Ah! There is no me in here. This is not me!” I suddenly understood. And that thing that had slipped out—that was me. But where had it gone? Ah! It was being used by me right then to ponder that very question. I was using “it” to think, to function. At that instant, everything vanished—the “person” vanished. The body transformed into a stream of energy, merging with the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars, the mountains, the rivers, the whole earth. This “energy stream” was utterly void, it was “Emptiness.” Everything emerged from it, took form, and returned into it. Since no self could be found inside the “person,” I merged with everything. All the universe continuously gathered here, and the body became an illusory mass of energy, exchanging and transforming with the energy of the universe. Within the investigation of that state, I thought: since everything functions from the same Dharma-nature, why not visualize my body becoming the “Buddha’s indestructible vajra body”? I’d been tormented by illness these past days, but a vajra indestructible body knows no sickness or suffering. The moment I thought it, I saw each of my organs transform into a radiant golden Buddha. Seeing this state was just like that time in samadhi when, because the mind was pure, the Pure Land appeared before me. I felt that this dirty, stinking skin-bag I’d always despised had suddenly turned into the body of a Buddha—transformed decay into wonder. This body and the Dharma-nature became one identical essence, uniting with the Dharmakaya, likewise neither arising nor ceasing, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing. Within this state, I realized in advance and experienced the majesty of the “Sambhogakaya Buddha.”

When I emerged from that samadhi, I remained seated there, considering it in my heart. Suddenly I recalled my Master’s four-line poem: “Like a turtle withdrawing all six limbs into its shell, / Breath already regulated and soft, mind already melted, / Release the master from its false seat, / Light, bold and penetrating, through the crystal palace.” These four lines, of course, described the state of my Master’s Chan samadhi. But when I first read them, I hadn’t quite understood “Release the master from its false seat.” In that samadhi just now, however, I suddenly grasped it: it is the state in which a practitioner, having deeply realized “no-self,” abruptly unites with all phenomena in the universe. “Release the master” is something that happens naturally in the state of “no-self.” The “false seat” merely refers to the physical body and the name-and-form that I had clung to as the “person.” The two happen simultaneously.

Delighted, I indulged in some wild thinking: “Have I already realized ‘No-Self in Persons’? To realize ‘No-Self in Persons’ is to attain the realized measure and cultivated skill of the four fruits of Arhatship. But I was puzzled why I hadn’t attained it.” Just then, a voice sounded by my ear—one of my teachers in Chan samadhi who said, “You have entered, but you have not yet attained. Far too early. Trials are still to come. Otherwise, how could you be forged into a heart of vajra indestructibility?” Hearing this, I felt uneasy and thought: “What more trials could there be? Physical discomfort I can bear, but what else could happen?” While I was thinking so randomly, my teacher burst out laughing and said, “One sentence and your heart is already flustered like this, and you say you’ve realized ‘no-self.’ One who has realized ‘No-Self’ is one whose expression does not change even if Mount Tai crumbles before their eyes. Where is there someone like you, who is scared of a bug crawling on the wall at night? You say you don’t fear trials, but I spoke only one sentence and your heart grew uneasy. Aren’t you ‘No-Self in Persons’? What is there for you to fear?”

I realized I’d fallen for my teacher’s trap again, so I gathered my spirit, quieted my breath, and continued sitting in meditation, neither speaking nor thinking. Who cares about “No-Self” or “dharma no-self”? Enter samadhi. When the skill is sufficient, the result naturally arrives!

This morning, while sitting in meditation, a pangolin appeared before me. It could transform into a man in his thirties, and it stood before me respectfully. I suddenly noticed that the weapon—a ring connected to a ball—that I’d removed from that dragon a few days ago was on my left hand, and the ring was stuck on my thumb and wouldn’t come off.

I said, “This must be your weapon. While I was playing with it, I carelessly slipped it onto my finger. I’ll need your help to remove it.”

The pangolin was looking up at the Four Heavenly Kings overhead, seeming a bit constrained and fearful. When he heard me speak, he quickly replied, “The Bodhisattva’s Dharma power is boundless. How could you fail to remove such a thing? Perhaps the Bodhisattva summoned me today to give some other instruction?” As he spoke, he chanted a mantra, and the ring expanded, slipping off my finger. The weapon returned on its own to the pangolin’s grasp.

I smiled and said to him, “When does the cycle of vengeance end? I hope you won’t go seeking revenge against that dragon again.”

The pangolin bowed to me and said, “That dragon did many evil things in the past and harmed many living beings in these surrounding mountains. I bound it with that weapon only because I feared it would harm us again—it was a precaution. Now that it cultivates properly and has turned from evil to the right path, saved by the Bodhisattva’s salvation, how could we go stir up trouble with it again?”

I said, “That is good. The dragon will no longer do evil and will not hold past grudges. I hope everyone can live together in peace.”

The pangolin nodded. But I could see he didn’t want to leave, so I asked him, “How long have you cultivated in this mountain?” “Probably over ten thousand years. Bodhisattva, I have a female companion. She has cultivated in this mountain for over twenty thousand years. She’s waiting outside the entrance right now, hoping to be received by the Bodhisattva.” I nodded. Instantly, the female pangolin transformed into a young woman in her twenties and appeared before me, bowing in salute. The male said, “It is a great fortune to meet the Bodhisattva this time. We hope the Bodhisattva can give us some guidance.” I looked at the two of them, thought for a moment, and said, “You have both practiced for over ten thousand years yet have not realized the Way. It is only because you have never forgotten that you are pangolins. Because of this, you ultimately cannot return to the Dharma-nature.” The woman, overjoyed, knelt and said, “I understand, Bodhisattva.” All at once she vanished, transformed into a white pearl cradled within a lotus flower, racing swiftly toward the distance. From the lotus came a voice: “My love, I’m off to the Land of Ultimate Bliss.” The lotus vanished, leaving behind only a huge pangolin shell in the place where she had just knelt. The man, however, seemed dazed and had not yet understood. I pointed at the pangolin shell on the ground and asked, “Is that your wife?” The man glanced down at the shell, then looked up in the direction the lotus had floated away. Suddenly, joyous, he said, “No.” “But didn’t you once think this shell was so very beautiful? Didn’t you believe it was your wife?” The man gave a great shout: “So there is no me in here after all. I am not a pangolin.” At his words, a white pearl shot into the sky. A golden lotus immediately caught it and carried it back to the Land of Ultimate Bliss. Before me remained only two enormous pangolin shells. I emerged from samadhi and thought: Those two pangolins realized the Way without my having to expend much speech. But it was also only after more than ten thousand years of bitter cultivation that they could meet such an extraordinary cause and condition. Excellent!

Reflecting on my own dozen-plus years of cultivation, there were countless times, due to various dependent originations, that I had deeply dissolved into the nature-ocean. Truly, for a person who has seen the nature, there is nowhere they do not see the nature. Yet the transformation of the body becomes harder and harder with time. When one is young, being able to leave emotion, abandon desire, and cultivate single-mindedly is indeed an excellent precondition. But without seeing the nature, it is still blind and misguided cultivation. Those who have seen the Way are often already old, and in the process of realizing the Way, their physical energy channels are heavily blocked or necrotic, their drops of light much dissipated and leaked—Reward Body Accomplishment is truly too difficult to achieve. Without the blessing of an accomplished teacher, relying on one’s own power alone is nearly impossible to accomplish.

Insight:

Him

I use him to eat, I use him to drink, I use him to sleep, I use him to ponder, I use him to do many things—I even use him to search for him in Chan samadhi… When I think nothing at all, he is there within my discrimination between the moving and the still. He and I are like a person and their shadow overlapping. After finding him, he begins to use me to do things. He uses me to eat, to drink, to sleep, to think, to do many things. I become one of his instruments. He uses me to do whatever he wishes. Inside this instrument, I cannot find a self, yet I am constantly being used. He and I are like a person and their shadow overlapping. Though I still have a physical body walking about, this physical body is no longer an ordinary one. The chakras of this physical body have all opened. The channel paths have become utterly void and transparent—no chakras remain to manifest. Otherwise, he cannot use me to do everything he wishes.

I am but one instrument among his many instruments. He gives birth to all phenomena through various dependent originations. He makes the thunder, wind, and rain, moves mountains and fills seas, divides heaven and earth, nourishes and destroys all things in heaven and earth. Within him, there is no will of any deity. He simply acts in accordance with causes and conditions, doing whatever conditions call for.

He is the Buddha, He is the Way, He is True Suchness, He is everything…

October Twenty-Seventh

Everything happens naturally. The sublimation and awakening of the mind-nature, the transformation of the physical body’s energy channels—all happen naturally in moments of no-mind. In that moment, without desire, without seeking, everything suddenly arrives.

Of course, the advance of vigor is necessary. The body must practice Dharma methods diligently and industriously, but the mind must become increasingly idle, increasingly lazy.

October Twenty-Eighth

The weather had begun to turn cold. Winter in the mountains seemed to come early. Every morning and evening I needed to wear a padded coat and a knitted hat just to feel warm.

The previous period had been overcast and drizzly. Recently, there had been occasional rains, but mostly it had been sunny. The room was still very damp.

This morning, with the Master’s permission, I went out with one of the resident masters from the temple and two lay practitioners to dig for Solomon’s Seal. The resident master had specially found an old mountain herb-digger to join us, but we circled the nearby low hills for several hours and found nothing. The old man said the digging season had already passed; the sprouts above ground had all withered, making them very hard to spot.

Although it was already deep autumn, the scenery of South Wutai was still very beautiful. Standing anywhere in the mountains and gazing into the distance, you could see beneath the deep blue sky the forests painted in layered colors—green, red, yellow autumn leaves densely and artfully adorning the peaks. Between the valleys, small brooks meandered gently by. For someone who had lived too long in the clamorous city, any spot in these mountains seemed to form an exquisite landscape.

The resident master said, “This is nothing beautiful. Once it snows, if you stand at the summit and look down, then you’ll see something truly beautiful.” I thought to myself, if it snows, whether I’d even be able to climb to the summit is a question. As for the beauty, I had absolutely no doubt. Though we hadn’t dug up any Solomon’s Seal, just walking a circle through the mountains left my heart deeply content.

In the afternoon, after waking up, I sat in meditation. Milarepa granted the “Sun Disc Contemplation” method. That is, one visualizes a sun disc suspended a few inches above the crown of the head, the light emitted by the sun disc being extremely intense, extremely hot, shining straight down from the crown in the shape of a cone. I felt warmth at the crown of my head, and my entire body turned completely blue.

After contemplating this way for a while, I visualized a sun disc suspended beside each ear, its light shining horizontally straight into the ears. At first, I felt that the sun discs kept suddenly transforming into fireballs and entering my ears—this was because I still had breath. Afterward, I slowly regulated the breath until it became barely existent. When the light entered, I nearly held my breath altogether. Only then did the sun discs hang steadily beside my ears and emit two white rays that met inside my brain. Then I visualized a sun disc suspended at the Jade Pillow point behind my head, a white ray shining in. I also visualized a sun disc at the Life Gate point on my body, light shining into the body. Finally, all the sun discs were drawn back and stored at the places where they had been visualized.

All of these subsequent contemplations were added by Guanyin Bodhisattva, mainly tailored to my personal physical condition.

When I myself visualized the sun discs and such, the light was extremely strong, and I felt warmth, but the body did not feel significantly hot. Previously, during sitting, when the inner fire arose naturally, my lower abdomen and buttocks felt as if they were sitting on a stove. Now, the visualization lacks force, and I think insufficient mental power is one reason, but more importantly, the fire element is out of balance and the true fire cannot be activated.

October Thirtieth

In the esoteric Buddhist scriptures, there is mention of demon-damaged channels and the like. In truth, all channels are still manifestations of the mind.

Take a friend of mine, for example. Ordinarily, she is upright, kind, and forthright, practices much giving, and has little selfishness in her heart. She is open and honest as a friend, so in her Dharma practice she benefits quickly. I observed that after a few days of loudly reciting mantras, the light in her crown channel was already very strong. However, because her understanding of the essential meaning of the Buddhadharma is insufficient and her view is not yet in place, and because she once had an utterly heartbreaking matter buried deep in her heart, when I observe her heart channel, I see much blockage and a lack of light. Her crown light is becoming stronger and stronger. If a meditative state appears to her and a sudden inner joy or self-conceit arises, she could very easily resonate with heavenly demons. If, at such a time, she suddenly recalls that past sorrow, she could just as easily resonate with the Sorrow Demon and go into fire and enter demonic states. At that point, her crown channel, combined with her heart energy channels, could indeed be called heavenly-demon channels. Therefore, right now she should change from loud recitation to a low voice, or to Vajra recitation. Most importantly, she must turn her contemplation inward to the heart chakra area. Ideally, she should sit in meditation for a few days, and this can be adjusted back to normal.

But if her heart channel had already opened before the light appeared at her crown, and if the heart channel itself was luminous, the danger was slight. The stronger the light at the crown, the easier it was to resonate with the Buddhas and the greater the blessing, because wisdom had truly opened. At that point, the energy channels could not be called demonic channels; they were the very same channels, now resonating with the fruition of Buddhahood and with the reward body.

If, however, one had not truly penetrated the principle of emptiness, opening the chakras was extremely perilous and could all too easily go into fire and enter demonic states. For one who had penetrated emptiness, though, there could still be pain when opening the chakras and transforming the energy pathways, because some channels had died or been damaged and had to be reopened and brought back into function. From the standpoint of karma, diseased channels still resonated with other paths, and opening them inevitably cleared out many past entanglements and old karma. Yet because the mind had already abided in the non-duality of emptiness and existence and returned to Dharma-nature, resonating heart to heart with the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, the merit was vast. Not only were the heavenly Dharma protectors guarding the practitioner, but all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas were conferring blessings. So although the channels were still being transformed and the practitioner had not yet accomplished the reward body, the channels merely manifested a temporary impure appearance, like seeds germinating and the process of blossoming. In Dharma-nature, however, they already displayed their pure form and pure light, with no channels to speak of. Because the mind was pure, the cultivator would never go into fire and enter demonic states.

In cultivation, a person who was ordinarily free of deep scheming and cunning in dealing with people and affairs had upright energy and straight channels; sitting meditation came easily to samadhi, and the chakras opened readily.

Therefore, right bodily conduct, right speech, and right thought were indispensable; otherwise the transformation of the energy channels would be extremely difficult. Only if you had perfectly realized emptiness in your mind-nature could your conduct be called perfectly integrated; otherwise it was mere slickness. A person who acted with such perfect integration had to thoroughly understand the varieties of cause and effect and be clear about all manner of dharma connections.

It was absolutely true that the straight mind is the place of enlightenment. Only with a straight mind could the channels be straight, the pathways unobstructed, and the energy upright; only then could there be no impediments in the mind and no self-interest in the heart, bringing one into resonance with the Way.

But on further reflection, the “straight mind” in the dusty world was not some naive foolishness; it inherently contained the three studies of precepts, samadhi, and wisdom.

In the evening she went to the main hall to prostrate. Silently she held this thought: “I wish to bow before all the Buddhas of the ten directions and three periods of time. With utmost sincerity I repent the evil karma created by my body, speech, and mind, and I dedicate all the merit of my cultivation to sentient beings.” With one mind she silently recited this, and with one mind she bowed and prostrated. Because her concentration was wholehearted and her sincerity absolute, she suddenly felt that the hall, lit by only a single candle, became completely luminous, and she found herself in a boundless radiance as vast as the universe in her visualizations. She became the center of that universe, right there prostrating without cease, when suddenly she saw that her body too had become wholly transparent. Within her body infinite worlds appeared; within her pores the images of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and vajra deities manifested. Then from her body a three-colored rainbow of blue, red, and yellow emerged, encircling her. At that moment her mind wandered: she went to gaze at this beautiful rainbow rising from her body. Instantly all the sights changed. Before and behind her countless spirits and demons suddenly sprang up, glaring at her with fierce, terrifying expressions. The radiance of her body vanished, and she felt only a yin chill pressing in and a dreary wind swirling around. She knew it must be because she had greedily gazed at the rainbow that the state had shifted; it was also because her habitual tendencies were not yet exhausted. She steadied herself and immediately reflected: All sentient beings possess Buddha-nature, and sooner or later all will become Buddhas. When I bow before all the Buddhas of the ten directions and three periods of time, that should include the beings of the six paths of rebirth. Therefore, even if beings from other paths appear, I should regard them as Buddha images. I should not give rise to terror or a dualistic mind. Thinking in this way, she calmly continued her prostrations. But after several minutes the state did not change; instead she felt the ghosts pressing closer. A faint fear still lingered in her heart, so she could not generate light. At that moment she abruptly remembered the Dharma protector gods, the Four Heavenly Kings, and Skanda Bodhisattva. In a flash her body and mind brightened, and the state vanished in an instant. But immediately she corrected herself: she could not rely on the Dharma protectors for everything. So at once she turned inward and reflected: I will now represent the beings of the six paths and prostrate together with them before all the Buddhas of the ten directions and three periods of time. All beings of the six paths, because of ignorance, create every kind of karmic offense and cannot escape the suffering of cyclic existence. I now vow to dedicate all my merit to sentient beings. May the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas bless us and watch over us, and may the beings of the six paths for this moment have their karmic retribution eased. May they soon hear the Buddha-dharma and swiftly escape the sufferings of samsara… As she thought this way, the pained forms of beings from every path arose in her mind together. Her heart grew soft and compassionate; love and strength filled her body and mind. In an instant, all the terrifying forms transformed into light, and a warm current of radiance streamed down within her body. Then from the sky she heard the voices of Buddhas: “Excellent! Excellent, Bodhisattva!” “Excellent! Excellent, True Dharma-Illumining Tathagata…”

Back in her retreat room, she came to understand. She was staying in closed-door retreat, guarded by the Four Heavenly Kings. The state that had just appeared was absolutely not external spirits or demons; it was what her self-nature manifested during the transformation of the energy channels, or else it was a display manifested by the Buddhas.

Actually, what the self-nature manifests has no inner or outer division. The so-called mind-demon and external demon that people speak of are none other than the mind’s own display. When the mind fixates on a single point, a mind-demon arises. And when an external demon possesses the body, it also forces the mind to fixate on a single point. The difference is that an external demon may possess demonic supranormal powers, but that is only a difference in outward appearance. In terms of transforming the mind-nature, the obstruction is the same. If the mind is attached to any one point of greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, or doubt and cannot break through it, then in cultivation the mind has already connected with demonic nature. Even if one does not go into fire and enter demonic states, one can never achieve perfect realization.

In direct practice, compassion joins with emptiness and resonates with the meritorious light of the Buddhas. Therefore, in the state just described, instead of observing all phenomena as a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, and settling on a single point neither seeing nor hearing until the state slowly turned on its own, and instead of seeking help from the Dharma protectors to change the state, I simply gave rise to a thought of compassion. The state transformed by itself, and my body and mind along with the meridians were filled with light. The blessing and enlightened sensation I received far surpassed anything before.

The Vajra Sutra says: “All conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow; like dew and like lightning. You should contemplate them thus.”

Although the principle is that, and in our mind-nature we must indeed hold this right view in order to realize the selfless emptiness-nature, in fact the beings of the six paths cling to the notion of “self,” and because of that “self” they suffer endlessly in cyclic existence without liberation. The beings of the six paths cannot see afflictions as bodhi. The hell beings cannot find a moment of joy in the midst of their torment. No sentient being undergoing retribution can easily view that torment as being like dew or like lightning.

In the Buddha’s eyes, the three-thousand great thousand worlds are all false and unreal. But sentient beings cling to them as real, so they manifest the bitter appearances of falling into the six paths without liberation. How, then, could we not give rise to compassion and pity — pity for ourselves, and even more pity for the beings in the other paths who suffer more than we do? Even the beings of the heaven realms undergo the five signs of decay, and when their blessings are exhausted they fall straight into the three lower realms. When will there ever be an end to this cyclic existence! Whether these states are true or false, we do not make distinctions; but a heart of compassion should be present at all times.

October 31

After rising early, she went for a walk outside the temple, simply for a bit of exercise.

Leaving the temple gate, she turned right onto a small path that led up to the looping mountain road. She climbed onto the road and followed it slowly upward. On one side the road was backed by mountains and dense woodland; on the other side lay patchy woods and a valley.

The road was empty of people and cars; only all manner of beautiful birds flew low among the trees, calling. The tiniest were hummingbirds no bigger than a fingertip, and every bird’s plumage was extraordinarily brilliant. Countless little squirrels darted nimbly among the branches and over the rocks… Embraced by the natural world, her heart settled into stillness; she forgot the retreat room, forgot herself. Body and mind softly dissolved into the valley, melted into the melodious birdcalls, flowed into the faint sound of running water drifting up from the valley floor…

Points to note during this flexible retreat period:

① Whatever unforeseen, unexpected things arrive, I will joyfully accept and face them.

② Cultivation is my own affair; the words and actions of other people are only tools to test my samadhi power and compassion.

③ At each event, train myself so that my very first thought turns toward the positive in contemplation.

④ Do not keep “cultivation” or “retreat” weighing on my mind.

November 1

In the morning, while lighting incense and prostrating before the image of the Western Three Saints in the retreat room, two heavenly maidens suddenly appeared in the air. One held a peacock feather, the other a sprinkling pot; they cleaned the Buddha image and tidied the offering table.

The maiden with the feather dusted the image as she spoke: “This is the Buddha image from Guanyin Bodhisattva’s abode. Next month on the eleventh is the holy anniversary of Maitreya Bodhisattva; the Bodhisattva has instructed that the Buddhist images everywhere be cleaned.” The other maiden seemed unaware and said, “It’s the eleventh?” The two maidens drifted off into the distance as they spoke.

That morning during sitting meditation, she felt that everything she did was a dream, including her mental activities.

Yesterday afternoon she watched two lay practitioners meditating; their calm-abiding and insight practice missed the point. True calm-and-insight begins with stopping thoughts and turning awareness inward. At that stage, the breath of the person on the seat emerges from deep within the body, profoundly deep, long, and fine, now discernible and now not, sometimes ceasing altogether. The whole body appears to be governed by this deep internal breath — a hazy, undifferentiated stillness. There is subtle mental activity, but the spirit is drawn inward; the six sense faculties are drawn back, and the mind-consciousness seems fixed on an inner point. This is insight. It is not using the eyes to look at one spot. Insight approximates fixing the mind’s attention somewhere, but insight does not have a fixed point to guard. Because thought has ceased, the inner breath is deep, fine, even, and long; the state of body and mind is as if in clouds and mist, deep and dark, without any discernible object to observe. As this continues, the breath stops for longer and longer periods, and within the darkness of the meditation a first glimmer of light may eventually appear — that is the transition into a shallow stage of luminosity.

But watching their bodies and minds, she could see they still could not relax; their minds ran outward. The qi of the six sense faculties had long been draining outward; to pull it all back in an instant and subside into quiescence would probably not be easy. So she asked the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva said: “First have them perform one hundred thousand full prostrations and recite the hundred-syllable mantra one hundred thousand times. Do the preliminary practices of the Secret School.”

November 2

Today was the first day of the tenth lunar month. She went to the main hall and the Dharma protector hall to perform prostrations and offer incense.

These last few days she felt a kind of muddled state in her brain. She strolled in the courtyard, looked up, and saw the four words “The Buddha-dharma Is Measureless” written above the main hall, but her brain could not for a long while process what those words meant. When she heard others speak, she could not grasp what they were saying, though she heard the sounds perfectly clearly. Her eyes and ears were fine; it was just that her mind and brain seemed about to go on strike — not distinguishing, not reacting. She had experienced this state once before for a period. It was a normal process in cultivation, but she felt it was also related to physiology.

November 3

Today she felt as if her body had become transparent — but this transparency was not like before, when it was a crystal or lapis lazuli light-body. It was a transparency with no solid object within, a luminous emptiness. And everything she saw around her — the earth, the sky, the trees — all appeared the same way: truly “moonlight everywhere.” Her mind was deeply still, without joy. Her body felt ease.

When she made offerings before the Buddha in the morning, Manjushri Bodhisattva appeared in the air and spoke words of earnest exhortation. During evening sitting meditation she saw the great golden-winged garuda, who said he was just passing by, stopped to see who was cultivating here, and extended a greeting.

November 4

Rising at six, she read until lunch, then hurriedly washed and ate.

After lunch she stepped outside the temple gate. The ground was thickly strewn with dead leaves. She remembered there had been only a sparse scattering on the road the day before. Looking at this layer of yellow leaves and the dappled, gray, bare branches, she seemed to hear winter striding closer. Images of swirling snow and a mountain sealed by deep drifts floated before her eyes.

She loved snow — loved its drifting grace, loved its purity. But the cold that came with snow made her uneasy; she had no idea how harsh a Zhongnan Mountains winter would be. A child raised in the north knows snow and winter’s biting wind as a matter of course. Still, she never liked the kind of cold where you couldn’t stretch out your fingers, wrapped in a heavy scarf and woolen hat, with frost on your eyelashes and the boys’ stubble, your skin so dry it cracked and split.

But when she had spent a winter in the south, that damp, piercing chill made her yearn deeply for a northern winter. She took a deep breath of that northern air after a snowfall, and her brain seemed to wake from drowsiness as if frozen awake, feeling that heaven and earth had become a popsicle. That hard, brittle cold — the way she shrank her head and hands into the cotton-padded coat like a turtle, exhaling cloudy white breath and stamping her feet nonstop in the snow — was deeply satisfying.

People are always like this. When they gain something, possess it, when it becomes part of life, they never cherish it but instead complain about its imperfections and demand flawlessness. Yet once it is lost, all those imperfections become a bright landscape, something to remember and long for — especially when there is a comparison.

In truth, every sensation and experience in life — the sour, the sweet, the bitter, the spicy — once we overcome it in our mind, becomes the most perfect part of existence, without any defect.

November 6

Her cultivation gradually entered a sublime state. Spreading out from the heart chakra, a clear, cloudless sky unfolded within and without her body and mind. Sometimes her body was like a crystal ball.

In sitting meditation, she gathered her fullest attention at the very center of the heart chakra — like a clever cat stalking a mouse, like a deer pricking up its ears — slowly releasing the clinging mind of “self.” She herself was that single point at the heart chakra’s center. The area of the heart channel gradually grew warm. After heating for a while, it abruptly turned cool, spreading through her chest, neck, back of the head, and face. It was deeply cool and comfortable; at times the crown of her head felt as though purest ghee were being poured in. The heart chakra began to emit a red light.

Previously, in her cultivation, because she could exit the body, her “divine self” moved through the Dharma Realm fully endowed with supranormal powers, capable of anything. And in sitting meditation, the slightest visualization would instantly manifest as a real realm within the light. Now she discarded the “divine self” and discarded “visualization,” quietly fixing on a single point within the body—which was also a single point within the Dharma Realm—because the moment she grew still, light would arise, and whatever realms manifested within the light she regarded as if she saw nothing. This was what true “retreat” meant. She must let the Dharma Realm’s original purity and original perfection self-arise, self-manifest, and be natural, without a single trace of artificial grasping—only then would she enter no-self. Naturally, the state of no-self also had no “divine self.” After abiding long in this state, the breath would cease, the channels would stop, and the mind would rest. At that point, all dharmas would abide in their dharma-positions, each pure, each perfect—the world originally had no trouble; it was the mediocre who troubled themselves.

She thought of Chinese idioms such as “gather essence and unite spirit,” “total concentration with undivided spirit,” and “form and spirit united as one”—all useful in transforming the physical body.

Mind and body were originally one; mind and body were both the Dharma Realm. If the physical body was not transformed, one’s view would never be perfect and fully integrated, and one would never thoroughly penetrate the wisdom of a perfectly and equally awakened Buddha. One’s view could only remain at understanding. Even if one’s mind was already in mutual accord with all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, one still could not personally taste the flavor of the Dharma—it was still the Buddhas’ attainment. No matter how well one expounded it, one was still not a Buddha.

In the morning she bowed to Maitreya Buddha. A few days earlier, while bowing, Maitreya Buddha had touched her head and said she would become a crystal body. Today, she said, “Let’s see whether I’ve become a crystal body.” Suddenly she felt her entire body turn into transparent crystal; only her back was somewhat dark and lusterless. Maitreya Buddha patted her on the back and said, “Your yang energy is too weak. Here is a packet of something—take it for forty-nine days straight.” She took it and looked: it was something like ginseng, bound with string.

Yesterday in sitting meditation, five subtle channels suddenly unfolded from her heart chakra region and connected to the crown of her head. There was a ringing sound in her ears, like a distorted voice speaking through a malfunctioning loudspeaker. Immediately afterward, she saw Manjushri Bodhisattva in the light above her head. Manjushri Bodhisattva said these were five wisdom channels; if opened, they could connect to her Dharma Realm. In Manjushri’s Dharma Realm, she also saw Milarepa, Je Tsongkhapa, the Living Buddha Gongga, and others.

When a person’s mind reached ultimate purity and had already connected with all Dharma Realms, hearing an ordinary person stir a single selfish thought—if that thought was deeply attached—sounded as loud as thunder in the sky.

When a person truly made a vow to cultivate and realize the Buddha-dharma for the liberation of sentient beings in the Six Paths from the suffering of samsara, her body and mind would be filled with boundless compassionate vows and strength. She would overcome difficulty after difficulty; she would not fear any storms or obstacles that lay ahead, for the sentient beings of the Six Paths were both those she sought to liberate and her firm support. The sentient beings of the Six Paths gave her hardships to perfect her and were also fulfilling her vow.

Repay the Buddha’s kindness before the assembly of sentient beings!

November 7

People in the world must, at all times, find a position for themselves in this world. For example, within a group, a person would seek his image in the eyes of others, would want to demonstrate his value there—his words must carry weight, he must have dignity. Otherwise, he would feel he had no place to use his talents, that everything was meaningless.

But a cultivator wished for nothing more than to erase the “self” at every moment—in walking, standing, sitting, lying down, in joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure, it was best to have no self, to be no-self, to be without desire and without seeking, never to give rise to the notion that one thing was valuable or another meaningless, never to care about how to gain others’ approval, how to be valued by others, how to do what was good or pleasing to others. All of this, for a true cultivator, was something she feared she had not wiped away cleanly enough, feared this “self” had not vanished thoroughly enough.

In truth, a person of no-self was the most natural and the most powerful. Because she was in accord with the Way—doing nothing, yet nothing left undone.

For a cultivator, only by constantly investigating whether she had the thought of no-self—that everything she had, including her own body, was given by others; the food she ate, the clothes she wore, everything she used all belonged to others—only then would her attachments and calculations gradually diminish, her mind slowly hollow itself out, until she could enter the great samadhi of empty nothingness in sitting meditation. In that empty, luminous radiance, she would slowly dissolve the subtle residues of her attachment, and gradually, she would merge with sentient beings and the Way, no longer making distinctions between mind, Buddha, and sentient beings—naturally gentle, naturally compliant, naturally at peace in every ordinary matter that needed doing. But by that time, every word and action of hers would appear wondrous in the eyes of ordinary people. Every sentient being could find their root, their refuge, in her. She might have no words to say, no contrived method to employ, yet they would benefit from her.

It had been the Beginning of Winter solar term the day before. She went out for a walk in the morning. The trees along the road had shed nearly all their leaves. A few hummingbirds darted among the bare branches, shaking even the last leaves to the ground. The larger birds had moved deeper into the woods, where perhaps some leaves still offered shelter from the wind. She spotted two little squirrels chasing each other across the rocks, playing as joyfully as ever, not minding winter’s bleakness at all—just like when we were children, believing that winter meant we could wear our flower-print padded coats, pretty wool caps, and flowered mittens, playing with boundless delight in the shivering cold wind, still full of excitement even when our mothers called us home. At night we would dream—dreaming of playing under bare trees and laughing aloud in our sleep. But we could not say when we had lost this innocent heart, when every hidden paradise had begun to stir only sorrow at the sight in our eyes.

She heard a few caws of crows. Looking into the distance, she discovered several beautiful trees on the far hillside—something like parasol trees, but their leaves were like maple leaves, all golden yellow. Though some had already fallen, this only made the remaining ones seem more artfully placed. Faint sunlight poured down from the mountaintop, filtering through the gaps in the leaves, and she felt, unexpectedly, a trace of warmth. A hazy, fairy-tale memory rose in her heart, and at the same time a kind of enthusiasm rose with it, as if a brilliant hope suffused the air. A black crow perched among the golden leaves, its body shifting slightly, setting everything into motion. The morning light, the golden leaves, the black crow—they formed an exquisite composition. She regretted not having brought a camera, and could only capture this beautiful moment in her heart for winter’s first morning.

Realization:

If the mind still harbored delusive thoughts and hopes, one could never live steadfastly in the present moment. One could never genuinely taste the beauty of the grass and the trees, the flowers and the leaves, the spring breeze and the snowy night right before one’s eyes, and one would absolutely never, in eating, drinking, defecating, urinating, and sleeping, experience the samadhi of Chan.

November 9

What use was writing a book? If the sutras of the Buddha and the experiential teachings of enlightened teachers piled up like mountains, if fine books piled up like mountains, yet served only as material for a few enthusiasts, using worldly cleverness to derive worldly wisdom from them, without a single person attaining liberation through them—then what use were these books?

The sutras of the Buddha were meant to liberate people—to let people, through the truths the Buddha spoke, understand the real truth, and thereby believe, accept, uphold, and practice them, thus transcending samsara. If no one attained liberation, if the sutras were used only for study, then the Buddha-dharma no longer existed. The sutras had not fulfilled their transmitted purpose. And we would have failed the Buddha’s kindness.

If we could not believe, accept, uphold, and practice what the Buddha said, then we had in fact already abandoned the Buddha-dharma. Prostrating and pleading before wooden and bronze statues of the Buddha—if the Buddha had knowing, he could only stroke our heads and weep. The Buddha had pointed out the road, yet we craved the world’s fame, profit, and status and refused to walk it, planting all manner of roots of suffering. We willingly sank into depravity, clung to delusion and refused to awaken—the Buddha might have boundless power, but if we did not turn back, the Buddha had no recourse.

The distinction between a Buddha and a Bodhisattva at the stage of fruition was this: a Bodhisattva still had sentient beings not yet liberated; a Buddha had no sentient being left unliberated. A Buddha must liberate all beings throughout the ten realms before he could realize Buddhahood. At the moment of complete liberation, the Buddha saw that all beings each dwelt in their dharma-position, each returned to their dharma-position: “These dharmas abide in their dharma-positions; the characteristics of the world are ever-abiding.”

November 10

Experiences and insights from cultivating samadhi:

1. Contemplate the body breaking apart into mote after mote of dust, scattering and dispersing throughout the Dharma Realm. Light penetrates through the spaces between each mote of dust, shining upon the self that no longer has a body.

2. Slowly, the mind quiets down. The breath grows very even.

3. Contemplate the light growing stronger and stronger. The motes of dust also vanish, dissolving into the light.

4. The light becomes the Ever-Serene Light—and I am the Ever-Serene Light. The Ever-Serene Light fills the four directions, above and below, boundlessly. Because it has no boundary, it also has no center. I then settle the mind upon one point within the light and abide there. Because the conscious intention rests on this single point, this point becomes the brightest, strongest light in the entire ocean of light.

5. The Ever-Serene Light looks utterly transparent and luminous, with an effect like the water element; it flows, with an effect like the wind element; it is bright and warm, and the flowing mirage-like shimmer it forms has an effect like the fire element. When my breath grows faint to the point of near nonexistence and breathing temporarily stops, the Ever-Serene Light remains still and unmoving, and the phenomenal effects of the four elements also vanish. Do not distinguish between internal breath and external breath, for both are merely phenomena of the light’s effects, like wind threading through the spaces between motes of dust.

6. Before the breath stops, though I try my utmost to cast aside self-view and body-view, I can never fully do so. The body’s coarse sensations and the thought of my existence keep surfacing again and again. Only after the breath stops—when the phenomenal effects of the wind element vanish—do the body’s sensations disappear. I remain still and unmoving; though I am no longer giving rise to discriminating deluded thoughts, there is still a self present—clear, distinct, lucid.

7. Cast this self aside completely—throw it away completely. Let the Ever-Serene Light arise by itself, manifest by itself, be natural by itself. I dissolve thoroughly into the Ever-Serene Light; the Ever-Serene Light and I become one, without any distinction. At this moment, the Pure Land appears before me.

November 12

The morning before last, Manjushri Bodhisattva directed her to move her dwelling a little farther into the mountains. So she relocated to a guesthouse; in winter there were no tourists.

She spent all of yesterday moving. The guesthouse, set on a hillside, had ample sunlight, good airflow, and beautiful scenery. Standing in the guesthouse courtyard, one could gaze into the distance at range upon range of mountains; it leaned against the meeting point of two mountains, with only a single small path leading deeper into the mountains.

She stayed there last night, and it felt quite good—only colder than Wumashi Temple and windier, because Wumashi Temple was nestled in a hollow. From here to Wumashi Temple took about twenty minutes on foot by the small path. She hoped her retreat would be perfectly accomplished.

Today was Maitreya’s Holy Anniversary. She had originally planned to go to the temple, but later changed her mind and simply made offerings of incense, candles, and fruit before the Buddha altar in her own meditation room to celebrate Maitreya.

She realized that she still had complaints and anger when others did not act according to her wishes, and that she needed to cultivate and realize this as soon as possible. Even if others truly were at fault, she needed to point it out calmly and gently—anger and complaint were absolutely wrong, evidence that ego-clinging was still at work. Repent!

November 13

If you feel gratitude toward a person, it means that even when they no longer treat you as well as before, when they have done something to wrong you or spoken words that hurt you, you can still recall the goodness they once showed, the help they once gave you, the kindness they bestowed, and you do not forget that you have yet to repay them. When you think like this, you will not immediately give rise to anger over a momentary harm to your interests, will not complain, will not repay tooth for tooth. You will become tolerant and calm. And by holding a grateful heart at all times in this way, your friends and family will not sever ties with you over a moment’s selfishness and greed. You will always feel warmth and love.

If at all times you take yourself as the center, believing that everything others do for you has been earned by you, that it is their duty—if, when they now do something that harms your interests, you think it absolutely inexcusable, that how dare they do such a thing, and immediately give rise to anger—then even if one day you truly meet a Bodhisattva who gives to you selflessly, you will still doubt it: Why is he so good to me? What is his purpose? These thoughts and notions are themselves deeply selfish. The heart of a person who thinks and acts like this is forever cold and lonely; even if there are friends who tolerate him, they will drift away because of his suspicion and coldness.

In truth, everyone has all the emotions and desires; everyone is selfish; everyone, in their subconscious, protects their own interests. But because of differences in character and moral quality, some people, when they act, will act fairly. Even if their own interests are damaged, they will feel that their conscience is clear, that they have peace of mind, and that it is right. Others, however, are too greedy and disregard righteousness, disregard the feelings of friends, and do things that harm others to benefit themselves. But most people are not condemned as bad just because they have done a few bad things. Everyone longs for love and to be loved, longs for friendship, longs to be respected by others. As long as a person still longs for these things, they cannot do evil forever. To their family, their beloved, their favorite friends, the people they respect, they will give without seeking anything. In that moment of giving, they may not have thought of receiving anything in return, of taking — it truly comes from their not-yet-extinguished conscience, from the good side of their nature, from their momentary love. But perhaps that love is not lasting and will change later, but they did indeed perform some good deeds. So we must be grateful — grateful to them. Even if they were utterly evil and unforgivable, we are grateful for that one moment of selflessness, and we will always remember that one act of giving, which we have not yet repaid. We might think that we have already repaid it: “When they gave to me, I was also very good to them! I also gave at that time.” Or we might think, “I was already grateful then.” But that way of thinking is wrong, because as long as it was selfless giving, it cannot be an equivalent exchange, nor can we estimate who gave more or less. Understanding it that way, you will never truly know love. No matter how much you think you have repaid, as long as someone gives to you, especially selfless help born from love, you must be grateful, you must know how to repay. Because gratitude and love are the bridges that connect you with all things. Otherwise, you will always be lonely and isolated.

We may distance ourselves from certain people when they are no longer worthy of being friends, or when the hurt they have done has damaged the affection between us, and we cannot bear it anymore and feel afflicted — then we may choose to grow distant from them. But in our life going forward, we must learn to forget their faults and often recall their good points. If you think carefully, in this life, because we ourselves are also selfish, we also make mistakes; we may have, intentionally or unintentionally, hurt many friends and family. Sometimes it was to protect our own interests; sometimes it was because our love was mixed with greed and selfish thoughts, which brought physical and mental harm to our loved ones and inadvertently harmed their interests. We must deeply repent for this. If we do not know how to repent for our own actions, and only complain when others make the same mistake, we will never truly understand gratitude. A person who does not repent cannot feel the slightest compassion for the harm they have caused to themselves or others; they are numb, indifferent — that is too selfish. An excessively selfish person, in every matter, at every moment, is self-centered and will never care about other people’s feelings. And someone who does not know, does not understand, and does not sympathize with the suffering of others cannot truly understand the love of others. Then their life is equally lonely, dark, and cold.

Remembering the good in others, remembering the little acts of help they have given you, and from that, being grateful, and selflessly giving your love in return — this can keep us from becoming selfish, cold, numb, worldly, utilitarian, duplicitous, cunning and low, and hypocritical like others. Without it, aside from equivalent exchanges and mutual exploitation, there would be nothing left in human relationships worth cherishing. No one is born wanting to become that kind of person. We feel helpless, feel that we cannot discover love, cannot generate a grateful heart, only because we spend too much time attending to our own joys and sorrows, our own preferences and emotions. Because we care too much about ourselves, too often we fix our gaze on the wrongs others have committed and remember the harm others have done to us. We do not deeply remember the goodness of others, the kindness of others. We merely enjoy the goodness, kindness, and giving of others, but we do not feel grateful; we only possess and take — how can we speak of gratitude?! If there is even one moment when you can forget yourself, when you can be unconcerned with yourself, and walk down the street with a very calm mind, without so many deluded thoughts, without thoughts of worldly success, possession, and taking — then, even seeing a street sweeper, you will suddenly feel gratitude arise from the bottom of your heart. Because at that moment, there is no fame or profit in your mind, no equivalent exchange; what you see is simply that person giving, and, at the same time, the clean street beneath your feet. You will not think about how much that person earns, because ultimately, giving is not an equivalent exchange. How much do you think the labor and giving of someone like you, sweeping the street, is worth? If you have a pure mind and a little less selfish thought, you will discover that there is much selfless giving in this world that you never saw before, never noticed — including the warm sunlight and the fragrance of flowers, which can touch your heartstrings. And you, living in this world — what have you done for all things in this world? How much have you given for those you love, for those you hate? How much have you received from this world? Even though all things and all people in this world may have caused you harm, is there no responsibility or fault of your own in that? Rather than complaining that the world is unfair, rather than complaining that the world is cold, why not first be grateful? Why not first be tolerant? With gratitude, you will become tolerant, and your life will possess infinite love!

But what does it truly mean to be grateful? On a small scale, toward those who have given us kindness, help, and love, we must feel gratitude. We must know how to repay; at the very least, we must have the intention to repay. As the saying goes: “For a drop of kindness received, repay with a gushing spring!” That is the conduct of a noble person. We must be tolerant toward them. On a large scale, we must hold an equal heart of gratitude toward all things and all beings in this world. This gratitude is not the same as pity or sympathy, like the farmer and the snake. Rather, we must recognize that all things have equally contributed to this world in which “I” exist. Think of the snake, which also contributes to ecological balance. Every sentient or insentient being plays its proper role in its own place. Otherwise, I might not be able to live in peace. Every moment of peace I now enjoy, every bit of happiness, every kind of good fortune — none of it is solely the result of my own effort. Countless lives have contributed, and I am peacefully enjoying them. Therefore, I should keep a grateful heart, contribute more to all things in this world, love this world, and respect and cherish every kind of life. I will not fall into despair when difficulties or hardships come in life, because there will always be a ray of sunlight shining through the gaps in my life, and I will always be able to feel love and warmth!

A person who always keeps gratitude in their heart will themselves become a source of love, for their heart ceaselessly gives back, loves, and feels love, whether that love is past or present. Thus, everyone around them can receive blessings from them. Even the most selfish person will not resist another’s gratitude toward them. In this way, by holding gratitude in our hearts, we inadvertently create an environment of love for ourselves. In love, many misunderstandings can be resolved, many hurts can be forgiven, and much hatred can be dispelled. Living in such an environment, our life’s journey will never lose love and will always be filled with love!

May everyone understand gratitude and learn gratitude!

November 15th.

It was getting colder and colder. Sometimes, when I wrote in my room, I had to wear gloves; there was no heating, and when I sat in meditation, I would drape my quilt over myself. It was a little warmer at noon. Sometimes I ate one meal, sometimes two; I didn’t feel hungry — I only wanted to eat when it was cold, to replenish my energy.

In Chan samadhi, when the in-and-out breath ceased and I entered the “shining” stage within “contemplation,” my body became transparent, like a motionless mirror frozen in place. At such times, deluded thoughts and stray ideas drifted like clouds across a vast, bright, clear sky, not at all affecting the transparency and stillness of the mirror, nor disturbing the concentration — it was just not empty, that was all.

Sometimes, especially when my body was unwell, a feeling of renunciation toward this world would suddenly arise, and that feeling could at times be extremely strong. When the desires and habitual tendencies of people around me revealed themselves, I simply could not generate compassion and love; I could only constantly contemplate the emptiness of “no-self,” so that everything could be resolved through the contemplation of “the selflessness of the person.”

When I contemplated “no-self,” all attachments, loves, and hatreds scattered like dark clouds suddenly dispersing, and my heart became broad and vast in an instant. But as soon as I entered into people and affairs, the dark clouds would sometimes suddenly gather again. The power of mindful awareness was not so strong, even though it was not lost. It was still because my own cultivation and realization were not yet sufficient.

If I did not constantly remain vigilant and strive to demand of myself the qualities of a Bodhisattva, then even if I had memorized the entire Tripitaka and sat in meditation day and night, what meaning would it have? I would still be just an ordinary person, not even a noble one — how could I speak of transcending the ordinary and entering sagehood, of liberation from birth and death, of saving all beings?

Writing this, I suddenly remembered the night before last, when a few little mice in my meditation room crept out to steal walnuts from a cardboard box on the floor. I was awakened by the sound of them rolling the walnuts, so I got up to watch. One little mouse was clasping a walnut in its two front paws as it climbed out of the box. Startled by the sound of my bed, it panicked and, in desperation, tried to climb the wall while still clutching the walnut. The wall had a cloth covering, so the mouse’s claws could gain purchase. It climbed a short distance, then tumbled down along with the walnut, and I almost burst out laughing. Looking back now, I still find it amusing. Last night, I blocked the hole it used to enter my room with a wooden board. The mice then gnawed at that board for over an hour, but they didn’t gnaw their way through.

Insight:

In propagating the Buddha-dharma, we must ensure that it can truly transform people’s cosmology, view of life, outlook on life, and values — so that after studying the Dharma, they gain a genuinely new understanding and adopt a genuinely new attitude toward their life, career, work, and their social and family responsibilities. They should clearly understand the pursuit of emotions, desires, fame, and profit, so that their body and mind become healthy. This is the minimum; otherwise, the Buddha could not be called the Great King of Physicians. Next is liberation from the cycle of birth and death. Otherwise, in the Dharma-Ending Age, sentient beings’ habitual tendencies and desires are too heavy, and the collective karma surges like a mountain collapsing, where not even a single stone can be saved, like a waterfall plunging, where not a single drop can be held back. If we only talk about the profound and wondrous meanings of the Dharma, speaking of emptiness and existence, even if people find it reasonable at the moment, it’s like sunshine in the east and rain in the west — they always emerge from this principle only to plunge into another layer of fog, never seeing through completely. Moreover, most people, after hearing it, just get a rough idea of what Buddhism is about, as if doing scholarly work, gaining some knowledge. But how many people, when they act, are still driven by desire and tempted by fame and profit, and actually give any real consideration to cause and effect? Very few. Even those who truly believe in the Dharma do not fear karmic retribution, let alone those who only understand the Dharma theoretically — all the precepts, cause and effect, hell, heaven, the six paths of rebirth are long since cast behind their heads. If the Buddha-dharma is separated from daily life, it is separated from sentient beings. Sentient beings of the Dharma-Ending Age must truly benefit; they must genuinely receive direct experience and realization from those who transmit the Dharma. Even if it is just a flash of lightning, it will still give rise to a sensation of doubt about the fundamental nature of their own life, and from that doubt and curiosity, they will step into the hall of the Buddha-dharma and engage deeply in cultivation, realization, and study.

The wisdom of the Buddha is a study that transcends the world. Very few people can, from the very first moment of studying the Dharma, grasp the true meaning of the Tathagata. If those who propagate the Dharma have no real practice or experiential realization, if they merely explain the Dharma by interpreting the words literally without any transformation in their own body and mind, they cannot truly shoulder the Tathagata’s legacy. The Buddha-dharma must actually transform people’s body and mind; it is for people to awaken to and realize the state of Nirvana that neither arises nor perishes. If a person studies the Dharma for decades without any transformation in body and mind, only adding to their worldly knowledge, their mouth full of Buddhist jargon and theories, then their study is like entering a mountain of treasure and returning empty-handed, gaining nothing. Therefore, for those engaged in the great work of propagating the Buddha-dharma, after establishing right view and right understanding, possessing a level of realization from their own cultivation is extremely important — especially in the Dharma-Ending Age, it plays a decisive role in the propagation of the Dharma.

Let us not say that cultivated skill and supranormal powers are common to non-Buddhist paths. If even followers of non-Buddhist paths possess such abilities while those of the true Dharma only engage in empty talk, would that not make them a laughingstock? How could the Buddha-dharma stand?

But talk is one thing — how many people are willing to renounce the world’s love, kindness, fame, and profit and truly cultivate and realize? May the great Bodhisattvas descend into the world and save sentient beings from the ocean of desire.

To become a genuine Bodhisattva, every second of your life is lived for sentient beings, every thought must be for others. If there is a single thought that considers yourself, a single thought that is selfish, a single thought that plans for “me” and “mine,” a single thought that cares about your own joys and sorrows, or cares about how others treat you — then she is not a true Bodhisattva!

If you cannot attain no-self, cannot reach the level of a Bodhisattva, how could you ever accomplish Buddhahood?!

November 16

Today is the fifteenth of the lunar calendar. I offered incense and a lotus lamp and prayed for all sentient beings. Suddenly Shakyamuni, the World-Honored One, appeared in the sky and said, “Excellent! Your compassion shakes the billion-world system. I now bestow upon you a ruyi scepter. May all who encounter you in the future forget their afflictions and find temporary release from the suffering of illness.” As he spoke, he took a white jade ruyi scepter from his right side and gave it to me. I received it, and the World-Honored One vanished into the sky. I bowed in gratitude.

In daily life, I made sure every thought relinquished the self. Whenever a thought of self arose — a selfish impulse, a feeling of being wronged — the moment it appeared, I let it go at once. After only one day of practicing this way, the moment I sat in meditation, the state was already different.

Once I took my seat, the six sense faculties closed of their own accord. All external phenomena and sounds could no longer enter my mind; there was simply no more runaway thinking to pull back. After a few seconds my breathing grew naturally long, subtle, and even, and I felt myself settled within a cone-shaped pillar of golden light. Even within this state, if so much as a thought of “I” arose, I released it immediately. Energy flowed unceasingly up the central channel into the point between the eyebrows and the crown, and the point between the eyebrows expanded outward to both sides of its own accord. Before long, the body became thoroughly transparent inside and out, and the mandala plate on the offering table across from me imprinted itself into my body. I felt every energy channel turn instantly straight and unobstructed, without any blockage. As the time in samadhi grew longer and longer, external breathing turned into embryonic breathing, and body and mind entered a silent, settled brightness. This brightness was not like crystal or lapis lazuli, not a colored light perceptible to consciousness — it was a brightness of emptiness, of nothingness. Within this empty brightness, I felt that I myself, all sentient beings, and even time and space all dispersed like gathering mist within this light, vanishing without a trace. The world originally has no troubles; it is the mediocre who disturb themselves. How many matters of the Buddha-dharma — all surrendered to laughter and talk.

In this state without self, without other, without Bodhisattva, without Buddha, I suddenly experienced the sorrow of the ignorance and afflictions of beings in the six paths. Sentient beings and I are not two, not different. Every sentient being is myself, suffering in ignorance, unable to return to the Dharma Realm. Great loving-kindness and great compassion arose in an instant.

Realization:

If only we could simply appreciate beauty, without desire — how wonderful that would be! It is like seeing a beautiful little bird perched on a branch, singing. I can appreciate its brilliant feathers, its lilting song. I draw closer, and it is already right before me; it has not flown away. It still stares at me with round eyes, studying me. Suddenly a thought stirs: I could reach out and catch it. In an instant, it flies off. I am at once ashamed of this thought. What was I just trying to do? Why did I want to seize it? It stood on the bare branch, I stood beside the tree, and we were appreciating each other. The bird, the bare tree, and I — all part of a scene of perfect beauty. And a single thought of mine destroyed it. Even if I had caught it and caged it in gold wire, what meaning would that have? Would it be happy? What would I have gained? I would never again be able to appreciate a beautiful little bird on a bare tree, singing joyfully, flying freely back and forth, quietly appreciating me as scenery. A single thought of an ordinary person can sometimes sound as terrifying as a thunderclap in the Dharma Realm.

Realization:

All human suffering and affliction come from selfishness. A person burdened by heavy suffering and affliction is invariably someone who thinks, moment after moment, only of his own gain and loss, only of the sensations of his own body and mind. A person who sinks into suffering and cannot pull free for a long time is either utterly deluded, or like a moth darting into a flame — knowing only one road, boring deeper and deeper into a dead-end obsession. Or his very cleverness has betrayed him: he is too full of himself. He cherishes himself too much, thinks himself too good.

In the light of the dharmakaya, the myriad things, the beings of the six paths, all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are with you; there is not an instant of separation. How could you possibly feel lonely, or desolate, or find cultivation tedious?

When a person possesses the Four Immeasurables — loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity — then his body and mind are connected to the Dharma Realm of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. When his energy channels are transforming, the blessings he receives are far greater than those received by someone who has not made such vows, whose mind-nature has not changed, and his transformation will also be far swifter.

Mind and body are fundamentally one: whichever Dharma Realm your mind penetrates, your body’s energy channels will naturally receive the blessings of that Dharma Realm. If your mind is the mind of an ordinary person, still filled with greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt, how could your energy channels possibly open? If your mind is already the mind of a Buddha or Bodhisattva, yet your physical body does not transform — that is absolutely impossible. It must mean that your understanding of the principle is not yet thorough, and your practice has not yet been carried out fully. But if someone is a Buddha or Bodhisattva returning to this world, that person may bear the karma of sentient beings, may settle karmic ties in various ways — that is a different matter.

November 18

I did not believe that someone who desperately craves wealth and fame could truly learn the Buddha-dharma. Such a person lacks even the most basic renunciation. He studies Buddhism only in the hope of finding within the Dharma some opportunity or shortcut to riches and renown. But he does not understand that he will only lose more and gain nothing. How could the principle of the Great Way be stolen by such a person? Even if tomorrow he passes himself off as a Dharma teacher, picks up a few glib Chan phrases, deceives a handful of people, and acquires some fame and material offerings, there is still a long chain of karmic retribution and samsara waiting for him. He cannot even brush the edge of the principle of emptiness. I would urge such people to first quiet their minds and reflect on their own desires and the impermanence of life. Otherwise they will only delude themselves and harm others.

The Hinayana “no-self of person,” though not ultimate — it cannot transcend the cycle of rebirth in the three realms — is nevertheless the cleanest and most thorough departure from this world, from among human beings. A person who has realized the no-self of person can instantly transcend the people, objects, and events of this world. If from this foundation one can generate Bodhicitta and connect it to the Mahayana Six Paramitas and Myriad Practices, then giving, upholding precepts, and patience will all be carried out perfectly and thoroughly. Because of no-self, one gives completely. Because of no-self, precepts do not become ascetic hardship, nor even precepts at all; one naturally accords with them and can obtain the true essence of the precepts. Because of no-self, patience too becomes an empty phrase, for one cannot even find an object to be humiliated. And in Chan samadhi, one can also transcend the annihilation samadhi of the Hinayana practitioners and realize the state of the dharmakaya, becoming one dharma-body with all sentient beings and all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, entering the Bodhisattva state, and from there giving rise to great loving-kindness and great compassion, with wisdom gradually reaching completeness. On this foundation, one truly has no self, no other, no sentient beings, no Buddha or Bodhisattva, and dissolves completely into the ocean of Buddha-nature. Here, one sees that all dharmas abide equally and peacefully — each dharma abides in its own position, the world abides in its constant appearance — and one accomplishes perfect and unsurpassed awakening, great and thorough enlightenment, completely liberated from cyclic existence, reaching the state of neither birth nor death, of no Nirvana.

In the morning, after finishing my exercises, I stood there quietly pondering certain questions. In my heart I made a vow: may every sentient being be happy! But the happiness of sentient beings is built upon the satisfaction of desire and habitual tendencies. Whenever I saw the naked exposure of others’ desires, an aversion would arise within me; I could not take others’ happiness as my own happiness! This contradicted the power of my vow. But if I let everyone bask contentedly in the fulfillment of their desires without pointing out their errors, would that not also be wrong — unworthy of a Bodhisattva? Then it suddenly occurred to me: here lies the crux. Have you yourself become a Bodhisattva, free of desire and capable of helping sentient beings? If you still have desires and habitual tendencies yourself, then your aversion to and condemnation of others’ habitual tendencies becomes nothing but a distinguishing mind. Not only will you fail to help anyone, you will only provoke their anger and annoyance toward you. And for your own cultivation, it is harmful rather than beneficial.

At that moment, I recalled a passage I had read the day before, in which a patriarch of the Kagyu school of the Esoteric School described his recognition of the guru:

This precious and perfect guru,

whatever he does is good.

All his actions are sublime.

In his hands,

even the butcher’s foul work is good

and can benefit beasts and birds,

because of his compassion.

When he engages in sexual misconduct,

his virtue grows and new qualities arise —

this is the symbol of the union of skillful means and wisdom.

The lies he uses to deceive us

are nothing but marks of skillful means

with which he guides us onto the path of freedom.

When he steals,

the things he steals become necessities of life

that can relieve the poverty of all sentient beings.

When such a true guru scolds,

his words are

powerful true words that dispel sorrow and obstacles.

When he strikes you, it is to bless you,

able to produce the two kinds of accomplishment

and gladden all who are loyal and reverent.

When I finished reading these words, I felt a deep reverence for the Kagyu patriarch arise from within. I believed that when a disciple possesses such qualities and regards his guru with such a mind, then regardless of whether his guru has attained accomplishment or reached complete realization, the disciple will certainly attain accomplishment. If that is so, then the disciple is like a spaceship soaring through the cosmos, and the master is merely the button that ignites the rocket for liftoff. The disciple is a roaring fire; the master is only the match that lights it. In this way, cultivating and realizing the Buddha-dharma is the disciple’s work, not the master’s. The disciple receives from the master only what he needs for his practice; because of gratitude, he shows the master, through body and mind, endless reverence and love.

I then turned the thought over: if we can hold our guru in such reverence, why can we not give this same reverence and love to every person around us? When this thought arose, my heart suddenly opened wide. Every sentient being seemed to transform before my eyes into a guru. In an instant, my heart became exceedingly gentle and surrendered through reverence, becoming deeply humble and pure. When others asked me about the Buddha-dharma, I answered, but it was only answering a question; there was not the slightest notion or shadow of “saving” sentient beings in it, because the person asking was also my guru. Beyond answering with reverence, I could entertain no other thought. Fellow practitioners still called me Teacher Wu, but in my ears that was no different from calling me a blade of grass or a small tree; there was no trace of “the teacher is higher than the student, knows more.” Forms of address had become echoes in an empty valley, carrying no meaning, no concept. In that moment, everything in the universe before me took on the quality of the guru. Because my heart was surrendered and gentle, I revered and loved every sentient and insentient being in the world. The distinguishing mind came to an abrupt halt in that kshana. I experienced the blessings bestowed upon me by all things. I no longer had any attachment. Ego-clinging shattered. I and the myriad things of the universe dwelt together, abided together, merged together, shared one substance.

When we penetrate a truth of the Buddha-dharma — through the sutras, through the guru’s instruction, or through the revelation of the myriad things — and immediately apply it in our actual daily lives, letting body and mind act in accordance with that principle, this is realizing the Buddha-dharma in practice. It is not only sitting in meditation, going into retreat, or performing preliminary practices.

In cultivating and realizing the Buddha-dharma, all blessings are directly proportional to the practitioner’s capacity of heart. One who possesses the Four Immeasurables — loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity — receives blessings that are also immeasurable. These blessings come not only from all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, because his heart is connected to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. They also come from sentient beings, because he and sentient beings abide equally in the same essential nature. And they come from his own Buddha-nature, which reveals the qualities of his own stage of attainment.

November 19

In the practice of the Buddha-dharma, because mind and matter are one, when you touch the Buddha’s principles and views and your thinking and consciousness begin to transform, your physical body will certainly transform at the same time. Unless, of course, you have not deeply taken the true meaning of the Buddha-dharma into your heart — unless you have only let the sutras pass before your eyes while your brain memorized a few Buddhist terms and concepts, learning the Dharma by rote memory. If you study with the heart, you will surely believe, accept, and uphold it. A person’s habitual tendencies and desires will certainly change. When behavior and consciousness have both changed, the physical body is bound to transform accordingly.

If one pairs this with the practice of Chan samadhi, the physical transformation will be even swifter, and habitual tendencies and desires can be transformed more quickly.

In the transformation of the physical body, we cannot avoid speaking of changes in the energy channels. Because before this form-body is transformed, no one can do anything about it. You may be perfectly clear in your view that the four elements are empty, but who can truly empty this physical body? In consciousness you can transcend the self; when the breath settles, the channels stop, and the mind rests, you can temporarily abide in a state of no-self within samadhi. But once you emerge from samadhi, the physical body still cannot be dissolved into emptiness. As long as there is a physical body, there will be subtle attachment. How much more so for beginning practitioners, whose attachment is purely coarse and heavy. If the energy channels cannot be thoroughly transformed, if the physical body cannot be dissolved into light and emptiness as Padmasambhava did, it is extremely difficult for the mind to be free of discrimination and attachment. One can only, in a fleeting moment — through the blessings of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, through the power of samadhi, through the depth of practice of study and reflection, through the cumulative force of past-life permeation and cultivation — glimpse a semblance of the state of emptiness and understand the state and realized measure of true emptiness giving rise to wonderful existence that the Buddha spoke of. But to truly and completely understand the Tathagata’s true real meaning, one must accomplish the three bodies. Otherwise it is not complete, not ultimate.

In the transformation of the physical body, your mind can pass through the Three Realms. For example: when I transformed the energy channels in the throat, I saw in a samadhi state a sea that is located in the human body beneath the tongue and in front of the Adam’s apple, connected to the central channel. This sea is the passage from the Form Realm into the Formless Realm, called Xiang’er Sea (or Xing’er Sea). Above this sea gather the dakinis of the Secret School. The water of this sea does not look like the water of the human world; it is light-water, water composed of light. Slowly, this water changed from turbid, stagnant water to clear, emitting pure bright blue light, transparent and pristine. The dakinis in the sky said, “The water has cleared.” Then several dakinis together lifted a chest, opened it, and sprinkled a kind of fragrant powder into the sea, saying, “The World-Honored One’s things are put to use again today; it has been a long time since anyone attained enlightenment.” After the seawater absorbed this powder, it gradually shrank and solidified. Finally the seawater disappeared, and in a sunlit depression, a pillar of light shot upward from below. Instantly, dazzling radiance spread through the eyes, ears, nose, and tongue. At that moment, an image of Shakyamuni World-Honored One appeared in the sky, saying, “Excellent, excellent…” Then I saw all the dakinis return and disappear into Shakyamuni Buddha’s neck.

Although the billion-world system is all false and unreal, attachment to the states of the Form Realm and the Formless Realm is no different from attachment to the states of the Saha World. Yet every cultivator, when realizing Buddhahood—especially when cultivating the sambhogakaya—must pass through various illusory realms during the physical transformation. If these cannot take form as images, they also manifest as various lights. If a cultivator does not understand the true meaning of these states and lights, as long as the mind harbors the slightest curiosity or pursuit of supranormal powers, it is very easy to fall into these illusory realms and be unable to pull free. Or if one’s samadhi power is not firm and the mind cannot abide securely at all times, one will only go into fire and enter demonic states. But if one’s view is thorough, and one is familiar with the relationship between channels, lights, images, and realms—and also knows which realm one is in, and knows that attachment to this realm is no different from attachment to the human realm, and that for the sake of attaining Buddhahood the mind must not dwell on it—then one will immediately relinquish that realm, as readily as one would relinquish human greed, anger, and delusion. Then the transformation of the physical energy channels will advance steadily. Of course, if you possess great awe-inspiring virtue, you can freely roam among all the realms, visiting or accumulating merit without hindrance. Having already recognized them as illusory realms where there is no self and no other, acting according to conditions in the Three Realms—this is the level of a great bodhisattva.

Although states and supranormal powers are empty and unreal, we cannot refrain from discussing them. Doing so allows those who might go into fire and enter demonic states because of them to pull back from the brink. If we simply dismiss them out of hand and refuse to speak of them, sentient beings only grow more curious and more easily become lost playing in these realms.

If you wish to play among the states of the Three Realms without losing right view, you must first accomplish the dharmakaya.

After writing this, I saw Manjushri Bodhisattva. Manjushri said: “It is not that states cannot be discussed, but sentient beings cannot reach them. Your view is not wrong, but after complete realization you would never discuss view this way.”

Realization:

After realizing no-self in persons and no-self in dharmas, suddenly persons and dharmas are both empty, all dharmas have no place of arising, no place of cessation, no place of abiding, and one attains the state of the three bodies: dharmakaya, nirmanakaya, and sambhogakaya.

When realizing “no-self in persons,” one cannot become empty of persons; one simply cannot find an “I” within the person. In this state, body and mind are constantly like the vast, cloudless sky, radiating a sapphire-like blue light. This light can manifest at any moment, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. Within this light, all dharmas abide within this “great self.” One experiences being of the same essence as all beings in the Six Paths, merging as one with the entire Dharma Realm. The mind has no place of arising—the state of the dharmakaya. But when this “great self” is relinquished, sentient beings and all dharmas disappear, and one realizes that all dharmas are without self, without self-nature. At this point, there is no self, no other, no sentient beings; persons and dharmas are both empty. Reaching this state, instantly the mind does not abide anywhere and naturally abides in its original position—the state of the sambhogakaya. (Only realized through insight, not yet certified.)

Sometimes I secretly reflect: in the correct view of the Buddhadharma, mind and body are originally one, yet why is it that the Buddha principles I sometimes realize in mind cannot be expressed through my bodily actions? Today I was suddenly struck by awareness: it is because in our daily lives we cannot unify body, speech, and mind. In ordinary affairs, what the mind thinks, what the mouth says, and what the behavior does are never in accord. When we come to cultivate and realize the Buddhadharma, this obstacle then appears. (In the evening while resting, I casually opened my earlier diary and began reading. Suddenly I came upon the page where Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao transmitted the Vajra Mind Dharma to me. When I read the words “body, speech, and mind united,” it was as if something struck my heart. I instantly awakened: if I cannot unify mind and body in ordinary activities, how can I seek that unity only in cultivating and realizing the Buddhadharma? Thank you, Dharma Teacher Yuanzhao, for your blessing. I will certainly not fail your earnest hopes!)

November 22

Being human too long, I was nearly buried alive by human greed, anger, delusion, pride, doubt, and worldly entanglements. I practiced frantically, wanting a place of resolution. I could no longer constantly generate the “illusion” sensation from within this human illusory realm. I often felt disheartened, disappointed, pressured, and afflicted; sometimes I wanted to escape. The right view that ultimate reality is without form was still there, and I could use hearing, contemplation, and wisdom to gradually think about letting go. But ultimate reality and formlessness exist simultaneously; yet I still clung to this “self,” this human body, and could not simultaneously bring forth this correct realization. Even when it occasionally arose, I could not sustain it. In particular, the influence of the physical on the mental is too great. But since body and mind are originally one, looking back, is it that my principle remains unpenetrated? Or has theory not transformed into action? Because I am too fond of myself, often the physical sensations are far more powerful than the mental insights. They constantly drag the mind down into hell, into dark ignorance.

Why is our mental strength insufficient, our discursive thoughts too many, our spirit restless and lacking samadhi power? With samadhi power we could change some of our habitual tendencies and restrain some desires. But the true liberation from desires and habitual tendencies still requires wisdom.

I once thought that the transformation of the physical body was very difficult for the Chan School to accomplish. But now I think, as long as you truly guide every thought and every action with right knowledge and right view, then everything becomes cultivation. Naturally, at a certain point, the self, the person, and dharmas all merge with the nature of emptiness, and true emptiness gives rise to wonderful existence. When that happens, how could the energy and channels of the physical body fail to transform? This is truly effortless action, the highest state, where cultivation occurs in every moment without interruption. But to reach this state, one must at the very least see one’s Buddha-nature, so that one is fully endowed with right view. Views derived from hearing, contemplation, and wisdom are always someone else’s possessions; they are unreliable.

November 23

Last night I recited the Manjushri Five-Syllable Mantra in Sanskrit. During the recitation, Manjushri came to bless me and taught me the correct recitation method. I visualized Manjushri seated on my crown, he reciting one phrase and I reciting one phrase. Manjushri had me first visualize an opening at the crown reciting the mantra, then an opening at the back of the head reciting the mantra, all three mouths reciting simultaneously… Later I felt that every cell of my body had become a mouth reciting the mantra. My lower abdomen throbbed strongly, as if dramatically simulating embryonic breathing… During the recitation, my whole body was extremely comfortable and warm; the breath nearly stopped… After finishing the recitation, I washed my feet and rested. I slept especially well that night.

After rising in the morning, when I saw other people, I felt that each person was my own transformation body. This was beyond discursive thought or wisdom gained from hearing and contemplation. The moment I looked at someone, that feeling arose simultaneously—I sensed that it was another “me” over there. I had never before had such a direct sensation, and it was not merely at the conceptual or visual level. Rather, it was a kind of intrinsic, deep-level connection with everyone: he is me. I understood and knew everything about him—his inner thoughts and mental activities.

I remember that during last night’s mantra recitation, for the first time both body and mind simultaneously gave rise to the sensation that “I am a Buddha,” without the slightest doubt. My mind was extremely vast yet settled, without a single ripple or uncertainty. A few days ago I saw that my throat region was connected to the beings of the hungry ghost realm. Now I immediately saw the still-ailing throat suddenly overflowing with golden light, and golden rays shooting out from every pore of my body. It must be because my mental state and view had not yet been perfect in the previous period, so my body remained that of an ordinary being. But when your view reaches the Buddha’s view in a single thought, your body instantly becomes the Buddha’s body. Of course, last night there was Manjushri’s blessing, since my own view had not yet reached the Buddha’s view. But that night’s state immediately made me think of the Dragon Girl who instantly attained Buddhahood, transforming her dragon body into a Buddha body. We often speak of the non-obstruction of principle and phenomena—why can we not, like the Dragon Girl, suddenly transform the physical body? It is because we have not yet reached the Buddha’s view. Otherwise, with body and mind as one, the energy channels would instantly transform and Buddhahood would be attained on the spot! I asked Manjushri Bodhisattva whether this was so. Manjushri said: “Yes! If one reaches the Buddha’s view, it can be done. But no one can arrive there all at once.” “Then what about a returning one who has turned back the boat of compassion?” Manjushri said: “Returning ones all have their own missions and causes and conditions. Sometimes they transform and no one else knows.”

In the morning I recited mantras, the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra (in Sanskrit syllables). Manjushri Bodhisattva had me visualize the sound of the mantra emanating from every pore of my body (as though every pore had the sound of mantra spreading outward). After a while, Manjushri had me visualize the sound of the Great Bright Mantra emerging from the universe and entering my body through every pore. After practicing this for a while, he had me visualize one recitation of the mantra going out from every pore and the next recitation coming in through every pore. After a while, Manjushri told me to stop concerning myself with whether it was going out or coming in and simply follow the mantra’s movement in and out. In this samadhi, I felt some mantra sounds going out and some coming in, with more coming in than going out. More and more entered, fewer and fewer emerged. Then I felt all the mantra sounds gathering in the central channel; at the center of my body there seemed to be a white pillar of light, condensed and motionless. I stopped reciting, and the breath ceased its coming and going. Then the mountains, trees, sky, earth of the universe, the time and space of past, present, and future—everything, everything converged upon me, absorbed into that light at the center. My body was also absorbed. The pillar of light disappeared, and I only saw what seemed to be a point of light at the heart channel, like a flower about to bloom. Manjushri Bodhisattva said: “Only twenty-eight heart channels have opened. Once the heart channels are all open, the other channels will open easily.” Suddenly, Manjushri Bodhisattva, riding his green lion, leaped down from my crown. In samadhi, I felt that the distance from my crown (without a body, just the sense that it was the crown) to my heart center was no different from an unfathomable abyss. I saw many celestial beings in the sky crying out in alarm. They must have seen Manjushri leap down. I don’t know what form Manjushri showed in their eyes, nor how far that distance from my crown to my heart chakra appeared to them. Judging from their terrified expressions, it was no less than our seeing someone leap into an unfathomable abyss, and below that abyss was hell. Manjushri stood at the center of my heart chakra, manifesting the Great Awe-Inspiring Virtue form, and gave a great roar. I saw a white stream of light-energy shoot from the Great Awe-Inspiring One’s mouth. At that moment, my throat felt tired from reciting, but suddenly a thought moved: just now I had seen so many celestial beings standing beside me. If I recited now and they could hear, wouldn’t it greatly bless them? With that thought, I immediately began reciting with my mind. With the first recitation, I suddenly saw several petals of the flower at the heart channel open. Manjushri exclaimed in praise: “Excellent! This is the result of that one thought of compassion.” Hearing this, I was deeply moved. I thought: I have only given this little for sentient beings, yet the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and beings have given me such great empowerment. I was so moved I nearly wept. I then came out of meditation and rested.

This afternoon while sitting in meditation, I suddenly returned to the scene from years ago when I paid respects to the true body of the Sixth Patriarch at Nanhua Monastery in Shaoguan and asked him about the mind-dharma of the Chan School. Again I saw that light and the countless “mind” characters that appeared with the light. I suddenly realized: mind is Buddha, and the mind-dharma of the Chan School is also the mind-seal of all Buddhas. After emerging from samadhi, I asked Manjushri Bodhisattva whether my understanding was correct. Manjushri said quietly and seriously, “I don’t know.” It was like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Manjushri Bodhisattva, in his great wisdom, said, “I don’t know.” In an instant, I was freed from discursive thought, freed from any verbal appearances, and fixed in place! In that moment, I took a step deeper into understanding the mind-dharma of the Chan School. I bow in utmost sincerity to Manjushri Bodhisattva!

November 24

I still cannot discuss view with a mind that has left all appearances. If I were to discuss it with such a mind, even plain speech would carry great blessing.

Once, when I made an offering with a mind free from appearances, the Buddhas all praised it. But I cannot sustain that physical and mental realization and sensation.

Though I have comprehended the principle that ultimate reality is without form countless times, I have not penetrated it thoroughly. This shows that my mind still harbors attachments, hopes, and discriminations of love and hate. The feeling that form and emptiness are not two cannot arise or be sustained.

Getting up in the morning, I quietly observed the people of this world. Their desires surged like floodwaters from a broken dike, without restraint, without limits. It seems that people can tolerate and understand any bizarre thing that happens in this world. The advances of technology bring all controversial and sensational events before people at the fastest speed through the internet, television, and newspapers. The more people see, the more numb they become. Some even learn to do the same. People are no longer shocked or startled. Instead, it is a brave act of righteousness that now draws sighs of wonder, astonished that such a person still exists.

Amid the raging currents of the ocean of desire, temptations and thrills abound. But to drift upon that ocean and have all one’s wishes come true, money is the indispensable passport. And so the worship of money springs up naturally. With money, one can effortlessly gratify any sensory or physical craving. At first, perhaps, it feels a little uncomfortable buying certain things, but before long everyone grows accustomed to that enjoyment. Because you’ve paid, you can avoid responsibility for whatever you do; you can have your way with everything, since something you’ve bought is, of course, yours to dispose of. Desires are so easily satisfied that the shallowness of money is laid bare. Those with money begin to feel empty, longing for something money cannot buy. They feel that anything purchased is always commercial, too laden with artifice. So they start spending even larger sums in search of the natural and the unspoiled — what they consider simple, genuine things — to fill an endless, insatiable desire. Those without money suffer unbearably in the ocean of desire. Tormented by wanting, comparing themselves with others, they feel that without money they can lose even their dignity. No one thinks anything of you; you have no standing. Above all, why can’t I have what others have? Spurred on by that thought, they turn into fanatics who toil desperately to make money. Gradually, many of them no longer know what it means to live; they only know how to earn. Earning itself becomes a thrill and a pleasure, a display of dignity and a mark of status. The more money they accumulate, the more secure and free from future worries they feel. But exactly how much is enough? How long must they earn before they feel they have arrived, can live without a care? There is no end. Desire and affliction race side by side, so that money-makers have already forgotten what they originally wanted to do when they started earning. Could they truly love nothing but money? Think about it — surely not.

In the ocean of desire there is no turning back. People know they are wrong; they know this kind of life will destroy them. Yet, like drug addicts, they no longer have the strength to pull themselves out.

Parents and teachers are supposed to set an example, yet they are all drowning in the ocean of desire. The innocent children see it with their eyes, record it in their hearts, and imitate it in their behavior. Their parents’ and teachers’ instructions then lose all power, becoming empty words that only invite ridicule.

The Dharma, a vessel of compassion, ferries all beings to salvation. How can it rescue these people? They might step aboard, yet precepts, samadhi, and wisdom are far too hard for them. Upholding precepts would be like shutting a lion in a cage: faced with the colorful, omnipresent temptations outside, the lion would gnaw through everything and break free. Even if they believe that faith is noble, they will feel that it is truly the province of sages — something they can only look up to. Moreover, they will doubt whether the helmsman steering the boat has enough experience to lead them out of the ocean of desire, or is just an ordinary mortal like them, trying only to cheat them of the fare.

Today’s city-dwellers are widely informed and quick to grasp theoretical matters, which is why it seems that even ants can spout a few Chan phrases. But no one wants to engage in actual realization. First, it is too hard. People do not see living examples; they do not meet anyone who has attained enlightenment. Second, they are unwilling to give up sensual pleasure, because they have not yet felt that life is painful enough to give rise to the mind of renunciation. As for whether hell or heaven exists after death, they do not care to think about it. Anyway, who knows? And they have no time to reflect, no leisure to concern themselves. They feel they have never harmed anyone, nor done many truly bad deeds. They have no idea that they are all already stewing in the same pot, where no one can tell how rotten another is and everyone feels pretty good about himself. Never do they consider that every single thought they have is selfish, cold, ruthless, devoid of gratitude, ignorant of repaying kindness, suspicious, jealous, hateful, arrogant, greedy, ready to betray loyalty for gain, lecherous, and on and on. The virtues of kindness, integrity, benevolence, finding joy in helping others, not looking at what is improper, not taking what one should not, repaying a drop of kindness with a gushing spring, respecting and loving one’s teachers, being filial to one’s parents, rejoicing in others’ merit — all these fine qualities have long since been completely lost in their every thought, yet they still think of themselves as good people, as gentlemen. They have no idea that they have already utterly forfeited the virtues of a human being! The seeds of the three lower realms are already being sown.

Insight:

The person is without self; all things are without inherent nature. All things have no fixed abode in the Dharma Realm; they are originally thus, just as they are. The bright aspect, the flowing aspect, the warm aspect of the Light of Eternal Stillness are all illusions born of one’s unceasing consciousness — like the illusion of the bank moving when the boat moves. Earth, water, fire, and wind are entirely illusions. When the boat stops, the illusion of the bank moving naturally disappears. When consciousness ceases, the four great elements naturally clarify and reveal the original face. Consciousness has no place of birth; like empty flowers, it is but a phantom shadow. Consciousness and the four great elements are, at root, only layer upon layer of illusory shadows of the “self.”

The eighth consciousness, the seventh consciousness, and even space consciousness still belong to the sphere of consciousness. It is only that this consciousness gradually changes — there is a dharmakaya consciousness and a nirmanakaya consciousness — and these already lie beyond the range of human consciousness. Consciousness that surpasses the human grade cannot be recognized or detected in the gross human state. The arising-and-ceasing consciousness of the myriad things and of the Dharma Realm is far too subtle to fall within the scope of human thought or cognition. Even the Light of Eternal Stillness is a phantom image, because once, in this world, a single thought of ignorance arose in us, and there remains this illusion of light.

We must realize our original face — that true reality of perfect illumination.

Because consciousness streams on without interruption, we form the impression of the Billion World System. There then arise the illusions of birth, aging, sickness, and death, of formation, existence, decay, and emptiness, and the illusion of unceasing rebirth.

November 25

Today, the attachment to body and mind suddenly loosened. At once, body and mind experienced the sensation of abiding in spacious ease.

November 26

When you regard this world with a mind of equality, sentient beings are equal, the Dharma Realm is equal, and only then can your mind abide peacefully in all the things of this world.

But to possess a “mind of equality,” you can only have “no self.” “Self” is the greatest obstacle to the mind of equality.

Therefore, in daily cultivation, I must be able to realize no-self in every thought and every action. Whenever there is “self,” I must renounce it. Because every thought is without self, every action will cease to revolve around me. This is the cultivation and certification of mind-nature.

In the cultivation and certification of the physical body: wind merges into fire, fire merges into water, water merges into earth, and earth merges into emptiness. In this way, body and mind return to the Dharma Realm, body and mind return to the ocean of nature. At this moment, the Reward Body is accomplished.

(In actual practice, lung respiration ceases and one enters embryonic breathing, i.e., inner breathing. Inner breathing gives rise to inner heat; inner heat gives rise to the warm aspect — this is wind merging into fire. Inner breathing ceases, giving rise to true breathing. True breathing and the warm aspect settle into stillness, producing light. This light gradually quiets and transforms into empty brightness — this is fire merging into water. At this point, empty brightness gives rise to the aspect of ease, a coolness that pervades the entire body. Empty brightness and ease continue until they enter “no-self” — water merging into earth, earth merging into emptiness.)

November 27

After waking in the morning, I climbed alone onto the pavilion in the courtyard to look out at the distant mountains and move my body a little. The pavilion was built atop a nearly elliptical boulder in the yard, with stone steps leading up.

Standing in the pavilion, after finishing my exercises, I began to chant the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra unconsciously. After ten minutes or so, I suddenly felt an indescribable fear. I opened my eyes and looked around in all four directions. I felt as if the air around the pavilion had solidified, while the sky above it pressed heavily downward and merged with the earth’s energy into one mass. The withered grass and branches on the boulder did not stir; they all leaned slightly toward the pavilion. Where I stood seemed to form a vast vortex, with everything swirling in toward me. The solidified air gave off a blue light. That dead, silent stillness and the blue light made me uneasy. I moved my body a little, but nothing changed. It was as if I stood within a huge, deathly still space. I remembered that when I first climbed onto the pavilion, there had been a breeze and the branches had been swaying. Now, it seemed, not even a single breath of air could penetrate this space. I knew that I had unintentionally entered some kind of “field”…

In the morning, in samadhi, an old man led me into a cave with a long passage. The entire cave was crystal. A female voice sounded in the air: “Whoever enters this cave has a connection with me.” I heard the voice but saw no one. Yet in my heart I knew she was the Crystal Buddha-Mother. She said, I shall now transmit to you the Crystal Buddha-Mother Heart Dharma.

Crystal Buddha-Mother Heart Dharma:

Visualize the Crystal Buddha-Mother sitting atop your head. In every pore of your entire body there sits a Crystal Buddha-Mother. (Perhaps to make it easier for me to visualize, I saw an indistinct face appearing upon a gigantic crystal stone.) I simply visualized the Crystal Buddha-Mother as a large crystal stone with an indistinct face on it.

Then recite the Crystal Buddha-Mother Heart Mantra: Om, Hapala, Hum (Hapala is the name of the Crystal Buddha-Mother).

Before I began the visualization and mantra recitation, I saw myself take my heart out of my chest and give it to the Crystal Buddha-Mother. I cannot remember what form she displayed. After receiving the heart, she faced it and loudly recited the heart mantra above. In a moment, the heart turned into crystal. She handed it back to me, and I placed it again in my chest.

The Crystal Buddha-Mother dwells on the lowest level of the Formless Realm. When practicing this method, the entire body seems to become transparent, emitting no light whatsoever — no worldly lapis lazuli radiance or crystal light. It is simply an empty brightness in which all nearby and distant scenes are imprinted. I could no longer see my own body, the mountain, the trees, or the stone beneath my seat. Opening my eyes, I glanced below the pavilion and saw a person on the rooftop. In my mind I had no particular thought; I only swept my eyes over him, and the moment I closed my eyes, I instantly became that person. Such a thing had often happened before, but never this quickly, and never with such a clear image. I stopped playing and settled my mind on the mantra. My own body and mind, the mountains and rivers, the great earth, people, things, and dharma doors — all were illusory realms. Cultivation is merely using illusion to remove illusion. My mind was utterly empty and open. Within the state of samadhi, I gradually let go of the mind that clings to self, and did not even apply antidotes to the illusory scenes. There was neither self nor other; everything arose of itself, manifested of itself, and was just as it naturally was.

November 28

During evening sitting meditation, I felt a current of energy suddenly rise from my chest, traveling upward along the neck. At the same time, my chest became vast and open and filled with light. Following that, the entire upper half of my body, inside and out, turned into empty brightness, and lung respiration ceased. The energy moving up along the neck was extremely powerful. I sensed my teeth, gums, and the palate of my mouth fill with light, swelling and turning cool. Then my tongue grew numb and cold, and became so soft that it curled backward naturally inside my mouth. My body gave off a mild heat, grew soft and pliant, and then my bodily awareness disappeared. I tried to rest my intention upon the heart chakra. In previous sessions, even though I could no longer feel my body, my intention could still accurately locate the positions of its various parts. But this time was different. I could not find the heart chakra. Occasionally I felt I had found it, only to be met with a powerful light that pushed my intention upward. The force of my thought could only move toward the crown. I had no choice but to visualize a Sanskrit syllable “Om” hovering a little more than three inches above my head. But the light did not rush out through the crown following my intention; instead, it remained permeating my chest and the six sense faculties, producing a swelling sensation in my chest and head. Moreover, this light was extremely dense and solid. The entire area above my chest felt as if it had turned into a thick mass of crystal. With single-minded concentration upon the syllable “Om,” a clap of thunder seemed to sound across the crown of my head. I let go of all intention, becoming empty and thought-free. Slowly, my self-awareness began to flicker between presence and absence. I had entered samadhi before, and had experienced all kinds of sensations and insights, but what I felt this time was unlike anything before. In terms of cultivation and certification, it seemed to be a qualitative leap.

November 29

Waking in the morning, I had originally planned to go sit on the pavilion, but I felt the sky outside was overcast and a little cold. So I sat on my bed. The moment my mind settled, the scene of the Second Patriarch cutting off his arm to seek the Dharma appeared before my eyes, as though I were standing right beside it, watching. I seemed to hear the inner voice of Patriarch Bodhidharma: “Could the supreme secret Dharma by which all Buddhas leap free of the Three Realms and transcend samsara ever be easily understood and attained by someone unwilling to lay down his body for the Dharma, unwilling to give up his very being for the Dharma?” A sudden shame washed over me. I rose at once, picked up my mat, and climbed onto the pavilion.

In sitting meditation, all minds dissolved and disappeared. I could no longer find the mind that encompasses heaven and earth and the myriad things, nor could I see the mind dwelling inside my body or outside among the mountains and rivers. I abided gently. Because there was no mind, consciousness began to disappear. After consciousness disappeared, the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body became a machine: they could still hear, see, smell, and taste, but they could no longer make distinctions. At that moment, I recalled the scene and sensation of being born from my mother’s womb: the walls of her vagina were like two towering precipices of light, with a long, narrow crack between them, and I struggled with all my might, squirming from that narrow crack toward the exit. Behind me, there was red light and flames, and I had no consciousness of making any distinction…

Within Chan samadhi, I saw that many of the channels around my eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and other places had become heavily defiled by my everyday discrimination and attachment, and most were twisted and crooked. When I entered the state of no-mind, all the channels purified themselves automatically; they began, of their own accord, to straighten out. The channels of the eyes and mouth were the most damaged and bore the heaviest stains. This shows that among the six sense faculties, the eyes and the mouth create the strongest karma in daily life.

November 30

During sitting meditation, I recited the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra. I perceived that all the sounds of the universe were being gathered in and held by the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra, like rays of the seven colors revolving and merging into it. The Mantra then transformed into a single white point of light. That white point of light, in turn, became an ocean of sound. Following that, the entire universe — the formed and the formless; earth, water, fire, wind, space, and consciousness — was all gathered in and held by the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra. The Mantra became the sound of emptiness, transcending sound and silence, transcending movement and stillness, and becoming the mother of all.

At that moment, although she was reciting the mantra, she felt that her body and mind were dwelling inside the mantra, not dwelling in the sound of it. Her ears seemed to no longer be functioning as organs of hearing, but instead saw the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra emitting white light, and yet the “Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra” she saw had neither form nor abiding place. Because her mind dwelt within the mantra, the mantra her ears saw was everywhere, and yet nowhere did any mantra exist. Her eyes seemed able to hear the sound of the mantra, and she experienced the sensation of the interpenetration of the six sense faculties.

Suddenly her body turned into a pillar of solid white light, upon which the syllables Om Mani Padme Hum were deeply embedded, shining with a golden light. At other times, her body became a rapidly spinning oceanic whirlpool, and the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra whirled swiftly with the light into the depths of the vortex.

December 1st

While reading in the morning she became drowsy and fell asleep against the headboard, probably around five o’clock. In the half-sleep just before waking, the verse appeared in her mind: “All conditioned things are impermanent; this is the law of arising and ceasing. With the cessation of conditioned arising and ceasing, nirvāṇa manifests.” And in that state and realm, she watched once more as the myriad things arose from conditions within the Dharma Realm and ceased from conditions within the Dharma Realm; the Dharma Realm was fundamentally empty, and dependent origination and cessation were like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, no different from flowers in the sky. And yet every person and every thing was, in its fundamental substance, the Dharma Realm itself, neither increasing nor decreasing, neither defiled nor pure, neither arising nor perishing. Sentient beings, with their attachment, were lost in illusory realms and illusory appearances no different from flowers in the sky, unable to recognize that arising, abiding, decay, and emptiness were merely the manifested appearances of the Dharma Realm’s fundamental substance, false phenomena projected by beings’ clinging to illusion; the substance of the Dharma Realm had never been born or perished. When she fully understood this principle, the true reality of all things — that they neither arise nor perish — appeared before her eyes.

In the afternoon she went to the back mountain. She took a wrong path and the climb was rather arduous. Standing quietly for a while in a pavilion on the back hill, she realized that she still had things to which she clung; regarding the true reality of the universe, she was sometimes deluded and sometimes enlightened, unable to penetrate it with perfect and seamless clarity.

December 4th

These past few days she felt her mind growing clearer and clearer. She could look down at Buddhist theory, the universe, human life, and everything else from above, and it seemed she understood more and more.

At times she experienced the surrounding environment and people as though they were an illusory realm. She had felt this before, but previously the sensation remained at the level of consciousness: it was only on the conscious level that everything was like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow. The moment someone or something triggered her habitual tendencies, she would become afflicted or angry and lose herself in it again, and though she could let go fairly quickly, there was always a split second of clinging. Now, however, the experience of everything as illusory was as though both body and mind were feeling it at once, as if she were walking with perfect clarity through an illusory realm, and these illusions were constantly changing and impermanent, and she was aware of it at all times. And yet the suffering of beings in the illusory realms — in the hells, for instance — constantly tugged at her heart. Within this illusory-like experience there was also a real experience: an unconditional loving-kindness and compassion would arise.

She felt that her experience of the Dharma had deepened another layer. Although she could not sustain the above state at all times, and she knew that it was still not ultimate or fully accomplished, in the end she had taken another step forward in actual realization.

December 5th

She rose at four thirty in the morning and read her teacher’s books. All at once hot tears filled her eyes. Her teacher had exhorted her again and again, instructing her earnestly, painstakingly explaining the secret teachings he wished to reveal, comparing and elucidating them over and over, and he also hoped that people of different capacities

could all gain something from them. He was always tireless, covering every aspect and every detail to the fullest. Think of it — what were these greatly virtuous teachers doing all of this for? If they did not possess a mind of great loving-kindness and compassion, how could they have done it! If she did not study with diligence and vigor, she would be letting every one of her teachers down.

December 7th

“The power of ‘repetition’ is immensely strong. A certain behavior of ours becomes a habitual tendency only because we have repeated that behavior countless times, mentally or physically, which is what made it a habit. So neither can we expect to correct that habit or fault all at once; we also need to keep repeating the ‘correction,’ just as dripping water eventually wears through stone, allowing that habit or fault to slowly disappear from us.”

December 8th

The transformation of the energy channels still takes mental transformation as its precondition. She felt that every time she broke through in view, the transformation of the channels would immediately follow another level. If one only cultivates samadhi or qigong, but one’s psychological view is not yet in place, even channels that have opened will become blocked again, and the transformation will never be thorough.

Therefore, if we truly possess the Buddha’s perfect wisdom and great loving-kindness and compassion, the channels will transform naturally and the physiology will transform at once. Body and mind are fundamentally a single unity, true and not false; it is only that our view is still not fully accomplished and still has gaps and biases, which is why we cannot put it into action and find it even harder to reach physiological transformation. It is just like the nature of our mind — constantly vacillating and unpredictable.

December 9th

Fundamentally we already possess perfect Bodhicitta and the Buddha’s eighty minor marks and thirty-two major marks, but we can never bring ourselves to truly believe it. We are always stuck and clinging to the body and mind of an ordinary being. The body and mind of an ordinary being are originally illusory and have no self-nature, but we cling to appearances and are carried away by form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness, and then we try to smash these illusory images through cultivation. Since they are illusory images, there is fundamentally no place to apply any effort; if your mind has a place to apply effort or a place to stand, that only adds one more layer of clinging. The Buddha said “use illusion to dispel illusion,” but almost everyone gets trapped in the illusory states of cultivation and the illusory states of body and mind and cannot get out; we cling to both sides, attach to both sides, and on neither side can we recognize illusion and leave it. We are neither present yet empty, nor functioning yet empty.

To study the Buddha’s View, you must see through it in every matter of cultivation and realization and everyday life before it can be called your own view. Otherwise, the sutras, vinaya, and treatises remain nothing more than black marks on white paper. Even if you read them and talk about them, what does that have to do with your own cultivation and realization of Buddhahood? Anyone who can read can do that. You may say you have thought about it and understood the Buddha’s knowledge and views, but if you have not seen through them in actual matters of cultivation and realization and life, then your view is not thorough and clear, and what you think the Buddha meant is merely your conjecture, still not in place. Therefore, someone who truly wants to realize Buddhahood in this very life must examine themselves in every matter at every turn, in order to know clearly how high their own view really is. Never assume you are something just because you have read a few sutras, learned a few Chan phrases, and “cultivated” for a few years. The above was spoken mainly to herself.

Today she stood on the balcony looking at the distant mountains. When her gaze fell upon the withered tree before her, the changes of the four seasons suddenly appeared in her mind. From the flourishing and withering of the tree in front of her, from the unending vitality of the myriad things, she abruptly glimpsed nirvāṇa. It was a state transcending body and consciousness; she stood within luminous emptiness, with neither self nor other.

December 10th

Some friends are far too fond of seeking other people’s appreciation, especially from people they themselves look up to, and they wear themselves out over this trivial kind of reputation. In truth, if you conduct yourself with openness and treat people with genuine sincerity, whether others appreciate you or not is really a matter of no importance. All the more so for cultivators: becoming a Buddha or a Bodhisattva is something you do yourself and has nothing to do with anyone else. Even with regard to our teacher, as long as you have reverence and love him the way you love your own parents, then how he treats you really does not matter.

December 12th

After attaining the view of the Dharmakaya, the “shining” in samadhi can be called “perfect shining.” In perfect shining, neither breath nor a single thought can disturb your samadhi, and the entire body is luminous emptiness. It is like the vast and boundless cloudless sky: a stray wind or a passing cloud does not in the slightest harm the empty and bright state of the sky.

At this time, in everyday life, when someone reproaches you without cause, no anger arises, and there is no affliction; rather, you see that all sensations, whether mental or physical, emerge from light and dissolve back into light. Good and bad, wholesome and unwholesome, are entirely without distinction.

Previously, during sitting meditation, she would often observe her own image in reverse and could see her own sitting posture. But this was still in the state of “observation”: there was an observer and an observed. Once cultivation enters “shining,” it is different. Yesterday, in sitting meditation, she startled herself. In an instant, she suddenly saw a large creature sitting face-to-face with her, almost nose-to-nose. Startled in her samadhi, she froze for a moment before realizing that she had simply shone upon her own image.

When ordinary people first begin to study samadhi, they can also pass from observation into the stage of shining. However, because their channels have not transformed and they have not realized the Dharmakaya, the body cannot produce light and they cannot enter the state of luminous emptiness. Therefore, that kind of samadhi may, on the one hand, still remain at the level of concept and belong to what is imagined through visualization. Another kind belongs to the extinction samadhi of the lesser vehicle, with no manifestation of luminous emptiness. Moreover, even if there is light, it may appear as a single point, a chain-like expanse, or a mass — all cases of not yet having perfectly realized the light of the Dharmakaya. Although these also count as seeing the light of the Dharmakaya, they are not perfect or ultimate, and therefore one’s view of emptiness nature is also not complete. Nor can the shining observation in samadhi be called “perfect shining.” If one can enter perfect shining, then one will surely, like Guanyin Bodhisattva, “shine” and see that “the five skandhas are all empty”; it is only a matter of time.

In the whole course of cultivation, the light revealed from emptiness nature passes through several layers:

The first layer is the initial light. At this stage the light has colors — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — and at times it is strong, at times weak; at times large, at times small; at times dazzling, at times dim and hazy.

By the second layer, the colors gradually simplify, generally becoming white or gold, with white predominating. The brightness and area of the light are also unstable and keep changing.

At the third layer, the light takes on the quality of crystal or lapis lazuli. At this stage the light begins to stabilize, but it leans more toward the bright side.

At the fourth layer, the light becomes “luminous emptiness”: there is only brightness, without any awareness of light, yet the clarity is greater than before.

At the fifth layer, even “brightness” disappears; only then is it truly the light of “emptiness nature.”

In fact, the progressive transformation of the light is also a process in which karmic forces gradually dissolve, the power of samadhi steadily strengthens, and wisdom opens step by step until it reaches perfection. At that point, it is the true Reward Body Accomplishment, because light belongs to the transformation of the form body.

A realization: Theory, experiential sensation, and realization are completely different. Theory is still only words, only thought — something hollow and insubstantial that has not yet established any connection with you, so in everyday life you go on doing whatever you usually do. But experiential sensation has already connected with you. In cultivation, the part that leans toward psychological sensation is mental state; the physical sensation is physiological experience. Only at this stage does theory cease to be empty talk, and you can be said to have a certain “view.” But even this kind of view is not yet perfect, because within your view you still frequently pull out “theory” as a supplement in order to explain things or convince others, so a large part of that “view” is still empty talk. After realization, however, that is no longer necessary: the experience of body and mind tallies completely with theory and perfectly proves the theory’s correctness. Body and mind are completely transformed from an ordinary person’s greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt into the Buddha’s great wisdom and great compassion. Therefore, sometimes when our Chan samadhi practice goes well, we may have various physical and mental sensations and believe that we have already realized, but in truth we are still on the path. As long as you are still on the path, not only is the transformation of body and mind not yet perfect, but even your view still contains biased and partial elements; it is not thorough, not complete. Because body and mind are fundamentally a single unity, the transformation takes place simultaneously. Although the mind can be awakened in a sudden breakthrough and affairs can be cleared away gradually, as long as the habitual tendencies and desires have not yet been eliminated, that sudden view of awakening cannot be considered perfect, nor is it the right and equal enlightenment. If you had truly realized the Buddha’s view, your form body would have simultaneously transformed into the Buddha-body.

If in theory you seem to be perfectly enlightened but in realized measure you are not, then your wisdom is still mixed with the wisdom of hearing and thinking, and your mind still discriminates and clings. The teaching given to disciples will not emerge from emptiness nature and its blessing will be limited; this cannot be counted as realizing Buddhahood in this very life and body. It is only awakening, and not even great and complete awakening.

For example: Sometimes, in Chan samadhi, her body would gradually feel as though it had disappeared, and she would feel empty and gone, with no sense of her body’s weight, yet she could still clearly see the pattern of her meditation cushion. This was merely experiential sensation, not realization, because after rising from meditation her body did not disappear; it was only something within a mental state, not yet realized.

But even when attained, it must still be perfect and ultimate. The realization of an Arhat or a Bodhisattva, for instance, is not yet ultimate. Therefore, one must perfectly realize the fruit of Buddhahood to be ultimate.

December 15th

Since yesterday the temperature had dropped again. Sitting in her room, she was so cold she could barely stretch her hands out.

Today an intensely fierce repentance arose within her for the karmic offenses she had committed in the past through impurity of body, speech, and mind. At the same time, she thought of how every sentient being was just like her, still creating all kinds of karma within ignorance, and compassion arose in her heart.

While she was walking on the balcony repenting, a demon was suddenly drawn to her and tightened a rope around her neck. She remained completely still, letting it do as it wished. All at once, Skanda Bodhisattva struck down from the sky with his staff, and the demon instantly vanished. Because she had the mind to become a Buddha and the mind to deliver sentient beings, the demon had been able to harm her. If everything could arise from emptiness nature, how could a demon ever find or approach her? She reflected that the earlier fading of various mental states had merely been experiential sensation, not realization. There were still obstructions of principle, obstructions of concentration, and the like, and she had not yet pierced directly through all afflictions and thoroughly seen emptiness nature; she had only understood the principle of emptiness nature.

December 20th

Doctrinal teachings must be joined with the “practice of the mind”; only then is it true cultivation.

Dharma methods must accord with “emptiness nature”; only then is it actual realization.

Cultivators cannot put on a surface show — going into retreat, living on a mountain, not lying down to sleep, sitting in meditation, and so on — while their minds remain muddled and disturbed, and the moment an external situation appears they are swept away by it, their greed, anger, and delusion not changed in the slightest. This cannot be considered true cultivation.

In the course of cultivation and realization, if a practitioner has not yet relinquished the desire for fame and profit outwardly and their motivation is impure, or if inwardly they cling greedily to light and supranormal states and haven’t shaken off curiosity, if they cannot penetrate deeply the impermanence and emptiness of all internal and external states and cannot settle into right concentration, cease mental chatter, and quiet the mind—they still cannot be said to have genuine realization. As for the actual skill of realization, where thoughts are empty, the mind is empty, and everything comes and goes freely, that is the landscape of an accomplished person, something to admire, appreciate, and strive toward with vigor, but it has nothing to do with someone who is still cultivating and realizing.

December 21

To go to rebirth carrying one’s karma in the Pure Land, the karma-burdened person must, at the time of death, have profound faith in the Buddhadharma, harbor not a shred of doubt about the existence of the Land of Ultimate Bliss, and single-mindedly wish to be reborn there, together with heartfelt repentance for all the evil deeds they have committed in the past. If they do not repent, then it shows that this person has not truly believed what the Buddha taught. For once one believes the Buddha’s teachings, one knows the principle that the Buddhadharma embodies compassion—do not fail to do a good deed because it is small, and do not commit an evil deed because it is small. How could one not repent of all the previous evil deeds one has committed, especially heavy offenses? Otherwise, because the mind is not aligned with the Land of Ultimate Bliss, one cannot be reborn there. The Land of Ultimate Bliss is a manifestation of Amitabha Buddha’s merit and virtue; if a person cannot resolve to reform and turn away from evil, they cannot resonate with the merit and virtue manifested by Amitabha. Merely reciting the Buddha’s name a few times with a wishful-thinking attitude will not bring about rebirth.

The Pure Land is a land adorned by Amitabha’s merit and virtue; a person whose body, speech, and mind are impure cannot resonate with the Pure Land.

A Pure Land practitioner who constantly cherishes wholesome thoughts and constantly performs good deeds—their very conduct is already in harmony with “ultimate bliss,” and rebirth comes more easily.

A person with heavy karma, during the intermediate state, has a dark mind, and so they mostly see terrifying scenes. Even if they see the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, they mostly see them manifesting wrathful forms and feel terror, not daring to approach.

December 22

Towards evening, while reading, I paused for a moment and suddenly felt that I had become seawater—I didn’t know whether it was vast or tiny; you could say it was boundless, or you could say it was just a single drop. I felt that I had suddenly transcended all distinctions. This was a very strange sensation: I hadn’t entered samadhi, yet it seemed as if I again saw a mustard seed containing Mount Sumeru. Because there was no difference between large and small, the mustard seed could also be boundless, and Mount Sumeru could also be described as small as a mustard seed. This was a sensation that transcended conscious discrimination. At that moment I knew clearly that one must not give rise to distinctions (the mustard seed is empty too, and Mount Sumeru is empty too).

December 23

“Calm abiding (śamatha)” means not giving rise to a single thought; “insight (vipaśyanā)” means not discarding a single thought. Insight is built upon calm abiding. While in insight, although one does not discard a single thought, each thought does not linger. When calm abiding and insight operate together, one enters the stage of illuminating. During this illumination, every thought is empty and silent. Only after attaining the vision of the Dharmakaya can it be called perfect illumination. In perfect illumination, a single thought perfectly illuminates the entire Dharma Realm—above, below, left, right, the ten directions and the three periods of time—space and time are boundless and endless, yet all can be gathered into that “single thought” like a mustard seed.

An ancient saying: A noble person has four bearings—genial as a spring breeze, earnest as the summer sun, solemn as autumn air, frank as winter snow.

To my mind, being genial as a spring breeze and earnest as a summer sun are built upon solemnity and frankness. For only through solemnity can a person face life squarely, uphold character and integrity with strict discipline, see through the entanglements of gratitude and resentment, love and hate in the human world—yet without becoming despondent or despairing—and preserve personal integrity alone amidst the swirling dust of the world and the surging ocean of desire, thereby keeping an open and magnanimous heart under heaven, free of resentment and regret. Otherwise, geniality and earnestness become mere social forms of politeness, inconsistent with one’s inner character, and such a person can only be regarded as half a noble person or a hypocrite.

Morning offering to the Buddha, an insight:

With a single stick of incense, with one thought I make offerings to all Buddhas of the ten directions and three periods of time, because the self is empty, the object is empty, and the ten directions and the three periods are empty. Therefore, “one thought” enters all kalpas, one thought enters all Buddha-lands, one thought makes offerings to all Buddhas. The self is empty, so the self is this one thought; the object is empty, so the object is this one thought; the ten directions and the three periods are empty, so the ten directions and the three periods are this one thought. The self is empty, so the self is not merely one self but all sentient beings of the Three Realms; the object is empty, so the object is not merely one stick of incense but all incense of the Three Realms; the ten directions and the three periods are empty, so it is not a single moment—space is boundless and time is without beginning or end. This one thought contains all of that; this one thought makes offerings to Buddhas numerous as the sands of the Ganges. This thought arises from emptiness; this incense emerges from emptiness.

December 25

In the cultivation and realization of calm abiding, insight, and illumination, there is fundamentally no fixed sequence; these are just convenient terms in speech. For example: the calm abiding of illumination is itself insight, the calm abiding of insight is itself illumination, and the simultaneous application of calm abiding and insight is perfect illumination. Yet though the same calm abiding, insight, and illumination are practiced, different capacities bring different attainments.

Reading sutras, you cannot treat them as ordinary “books” to be read; you must use the “mind” to comprehend them. But this “mind” is precisely what is called “no-mind”—you must apply it from the place of no-mind. Otherwise, you cannot gain entry into the Buddha’s principle.

December 27

Realizing Buddhahood is simply an “awakening” of the ordinary person—this “awakening” means waking up. After waking, everything in the dream naturally vanishes like mist and smoke; one no longer clings to the dream’s states. This “waking up” comes naturally, and so when one wakes, all cultivation and realization, the six paramitas and myriad practices, and so forth all become matters within a dream. Waking from the dream doesn’t require intention or effort. Once awake, “self,” “Buddha,” and “all dharmas” are all events within a dream.

December 28

Today, I suddenly realized that I already possess a body adorned with Bodhisattva merit and virtue—that is, a sambhogakaya or body of light. During sitting meditation, light filled my entire body, inside and out, leaving no place untouched. My energy channels had long ago been opened and unobstructed; it was only because I clung to ordinary views and gave rise to all kinds of delusive thoughts that the channels became tangled again. Now, all that is needed is quiet rest.

Cultivation through spirit-travel is indeed fast, but it requires a teacher. When the view reaches the proper stage, cultivation and realization arrive simultaneously. However, the three bodies are not yet complete, because although there is light, it has not yet reached the light of emptiness. The light of emptiness encompasses all lights; it manifests according to conditions and gives rise to various wondrous functions and supranormal powers. When the mind is truly vacuous and pure, the light of emptiness will appear. This “mind” includes both the “mind” and the “body” of an ordinary person.

December 29

For a person who has just resolved to cultivate, the mind at the beginning is hot both inside and out, sympathizing with and pitying all beings—a kind of motherly compassion. Gradually, as the power of concentration strengthens and one understands cause and effect but has not yet eliminated habitual tendencies, the mind tends to become cold inside yet warm outside, because outwardly one still must engage socially, but inwardly one knows that everything is like flowers in the sky and the moon reflected in water, and cannot rouse faith or enthusiasm. At this stage, the attitude is somewhat cool and detached, sometimes approaching callousness. Slowly, as practice advances, karmic force diminishes and mental impurities lessen; at this stage, the mind is inwardly tranquil and outwardly mild. With further cultivation and realization, this shifts to inwardly pure and outwardly easy and straightforward, and a trace of loving-kindness begins to show. Advancing further, the mind begins to pass from purity into emptiness—that is, inwardly empty and outwardly compassionate. This compassion: anger without hatred, joy without desire, calm and wise, gentle yet dignified. Then even the mark of emptiness disappears, as does the mark of compassion. One returns to original innocence, manifesting appearances according to conditions—laughter, scolding, anger, and reprimand all become writing; body, speech, and mind all become wondrous functions of the Buddhadharma. Without form and without mark, without birth and without extinction. Speech pure, mind pure, body pure.

December 30

Renounce the Three Realms, and you leave the Three Realms.

When cultivation reaches this point, one no longer feels that the events, objects, and people of this world are illusory or false phenomena. The true reality of all dharmas exists solidly before one’s eyes; one no longer needs to contemplate or raise mindful awareness. Yet the mind has already renounced everything in this world—there is no mind to contemplate, no mind to illuminate, no mind to make distinctions. Whether body and mind are comfortable or uncomfortable, happy or unhappy—it all is normal. Like an echo in an empty valley, whether sound arises or not, all sensations become ripples on the surface of water, arising and ceasing on their own. Though ripples arise from the wind and though thoughts arise from external conditions, external conditions and the arising of thoughts have now become completely unrelated. It is as if thoughts arise and cease on their own; they arise with external conditions and cease the moment they meet them.

During the afternoon sitting, my Master came and performed a light empowerment. During the empowerment, I could no longer see the Master; my body entirely disappeared, and light poured down from the sky like a torrential rain. Within the stream of light there were white specks of light, and this stream was so immense that I felt the entire Dharma Realm was a flow of light pouring down upon me. This light was the great empowerment of all Buddhas—countless, boundless Buddhas were giving me empowerment. Whoever comprehends this light accomplishes the sambhogakaya. In an even higher sky, countless dakinis danced and sang, calling out “True Dharma Illumination Tathagata” and “Great Light Tathagata.” This light is the heart of all Buddhas, that which breaks through ignorance and dispels darkness. This light comes from emptiness; this light encompasses all the light in the Dharma Realm—even the light of a tiny firefly is this very light. The light empowerment was to last for three days.

January 1, 2006

To know that everything is like an illusion, yet to abide peacefully within the illusion—this is truly an empty mind. To understand all causes and conditions, to know they are irreversible, yet still to admonish earnestly and tirelessly without growing weary or irritated—this is indeed a Bodhisattva.

January 2

The physical discomfort has eased somewhat, but I am tired.

With mind, there is the world’s dust; without mind, there is the still extinction. If one sees all appearances as non-appearances, one sees the Tathagata.

January 4

A heavy snow fell; the mountains and trees were wrapped in silver—utterly beautiful! I heard it was artificial snowfall.

January 5

A person with a chronically scattered mind will surely be drawn to someone whose mind is profoundly tranquil. A sage’s tranquility comes from the views and attitudes they hold towards the myriad things of this world; they have clearly recognized the world amidst the illusions of the mundane and have chosen their principles and manner of conducting themselves, dwelling at ease. And a Buddha who has perfectly realized the principle of emptiness possesses wisdom that is transcendent, beyond this world. They have recognized and seen truths that we cannot comprehend; they have understood the true reality of the Three Realms with even greater clarity. The charisma that flows from emptiness transcends human nature and surpasses imagination; it can endure in the Three Realms, undiminished for thousands of years.

I believe that anyone who yearns for truth, goodness, and beauty will be captivated by this charisma. If we have found solace for the spirit and a refuge in a profoundly tranquil earthly sage, then a person who possesses wisdom transcending the human way—the enduring charisma they possess and the radiance they emit—requires our gazing upward, our surrender, our prayers. We may not even recognize where this allure, this radiance, comes from. It is so familiar to us, and yet so far beyond reach. We bow and pray deeply to this silence, this light of emptiness that surpasses all other light. We wish to be accepted and held by this light, never to lose our way again.

January 7

The Lesser Vehicle and the Great Vehicle—the “vehicle” here refers to compassion and wisdom. Practitioners of the Lesser Vehicle have a small resolve, so the compassion and wisdom at their stage of attainment are likewise small, hence the name Lesser Vehicle. Yet both compassion and wisdom arise from emptiness; the more complete the emptiness, the more complete the compassion and wisdom. The Lesser Vehicle only knows the emptiness of the person but does not know the emptiness of dharmas, so their realization of emptiness is also incomplete. It is like a frog at the bottom of a well and a great roc soaring high in the sky: both have seen the sky, but their understanding and realization of the sky differ as vastly as heaven and earth.

January 8

When speaking of wisdom, worldly people think of worldly or transcendent knowledge, but it is not so. This wisdom comes from emptiness; it is the truth of the universe, as vast as heaven and earth. Once this wisdom is fully realized, it possesses the merit and virtue of heaven and earth birthing all things. This is still an inadequate analogy: the wisdom of emptiness gives birth to all things and also endows all things with the identity of emptiness. Therefore, within this wisdom of emptiness there simultaneously exists the great loving-kindness and compassion of the same substance as well as boundless, limitless merit and virtue—it includes all the merit and virtue of all sentient beings in the universe.

January 9

With an empty mind, one absolutely never argues much; having realized the Way, why long for others to know?! Saving beings according to conditions to fulfill past vows, right and wrong, gossip and disputes have nothing to do with it. When conditions end, depart with grace and go home, sporting in the Saha world, free and unrestrained like Avalokiteshvara.

January 10

This morning, while reading the Comprehensive Commentary on the Five Pure Land Sutras, I discussed the passage on rebirth carrying one’s karma with Manjushri. Manjushri said, “Rebirth carrying one’s karma is possible, but one must rely on the Buddha’s power.” But how many people can truly rely on the Buddha’s power? Unless, while alive, during Buddha-recitation one can see the Pure Land manifest before one’s eyes or experience various signs, or receive aid from a greatly accomplished teacher—otherwise, how could one easily borrow the Buddha’s power at the moment of death? Sentient beings are heavily defiled and separated from the Buddha by layer upon layer of obstructions. Just by looking at how a Pure Land practitioner recites the Buddha’s name in ordinary life, one can tell whether they can be reborn at the end.

With the meager wisdom of sentient beings, to hope to borrow the Buddha’s power while entangled in greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt is forever impossible. Without sincere repentance and single-minded Buddha-recitation, one absolutely cannot be reborn easily. Furthermore, greatly accomplished beings are rare in the Dharma-Ending Age, and even rarer are those whom ordinary reciters can meet if they lack the affinity.

This suddenly reminded me of two friends who practiced Buddha-recitation. One used the vajra-holding recitation method with single-minded focus and nearly entered samadhi, at which point the Pure Land could already appear before him. The other recited the Buddha’s name with uninterrupted concentration, one sound following the next, and suddenly saw lotuses bloom on his crown, both shoulders, and both hands. I also recalled my own practice: entering the samadhi of Buddha-recitation, I visualized Amitabha entering my heart chakra and became Amitabha myself. These three kinds of signs are all indications that rebirth is possible; they are all genuine Dharma doors of Buddha-recitation. There is also the case of a person who has committed the five heinous crimes. At the point of death, if they suddenly see through this world, feel no attachment whatsoever, and at that moment give rise to immense faith in Amitabha—and because they have no more ties to this world, no longer discriminate between good and evil, their mind becomes like still water—and especially if at that moment they harbor not the slightest doubt about the Buddha’s teaching and use a power of calm abiding and insight far beyond the ordinary to recite the Buddha’s name, then ten recitations can extinguish grave offenses numerous as the Ganges sands and receive Amitabha’s compassionate reception. But if a person lacks such a great mind and great strength, together with profound faith in the Pure Land, a grave offender cannot be reborn. They can only undergo karmic retribution and fall into hell. Therefore, in cultivating the Pure Land Dharma door, the most essential thing in Buddha-recitation is single-minded concentration without distraction, with pure thoughts continuing unbroken. This requires a great power of calm abiding and insight; otherwise, it is very hard to accomplish at the time of death.

January 11

We actually don’t love the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas; we merely hope that they will do more things for us, praying that they will grant us more care and blessings. We think they are all compassionate, as if loving sentient beings is their inherent quality and everything is something they ought to do. If we truly loved the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, we would make offerings with genuine sincerity, as we would to our own parents. We would pray and prostrate with a true heart, and when asking for blessings, our hearts would be filled with boundless love and admiration for the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, without the slightest doubt or perfunctory attitude. Only such offerings and prostrations can bring a response.

January 12

One must make an unshakable resolve to change one’s habitual tendencies and faults more thoroughly; only then can the mind reach perfect attainment, and merit and virtue be fulfilled.

Although I had set realizing Buddhahood and delivering all sentient beings as the goal of my cultivation and realization, the path of cultivation has its bitterness and its sweetness. Every bit of my attainment has come from the blessings and empowerment of the Buddhas, the Bodhisattvas, and my masters. Without my Master, I do not know how long I would have remained lost. When any sentient being shows respect to their own master, I should feel joy and gratitude with all my heart — gratitude that sentient beings can, through me, come to know the kindness of the Buddha. I must never entertain even a thought that I myself have given anything. Without my Master, I would not have today at all.

In the afternoon, a deep and piercing repentance for my past actions and thoughts suddenly welled up within me, and I nearly wept. This was a sensation I had never felt before. In the past I had recognized that I had habitual tendencies and faults, and had wanted to change them, but whenever I faced people or situations, the tendencies were still there. I had repented too, but it was only like making a show of resolve to others — I had never felt such deep, aching remorse from the heart. And now every single mistake, every tiny fault, appeared before me with complete vivid clarity.

Out of this aching repentance, gratitude toward my Master surged forth naturally. Without my Master, I would be an ignorant and foolish person. From this there suddenly arose a boundless compassion: I thought of sentient beings who do not have the blessed karmic conditions that I have, who cannot receive the teaching of an enlightened teacher as I have. I must transmit everything my Master has given me to all sentient beings. A few days earlier I had thought of compiling a textbook for friends around me, but then I considered that sentient beings’ habitual tendencies are too deeply rooted — what use would mere theory be? Better to attain realization myself first, and then go teach them; writing things down was not as worthwhile as sitting in meditation. But now, with this sudden surge of compassion and vow-power, I felt my whole body filled with inexhaustible strength. I felt my own children were in a pit of fire, about to be burned to death, while I was concerned only with my own attainment. I must think of every possible way to save the children first — never mind whether through theory or through cultivation and realization—I must use whatever strength I have to the fullest. Meditation can be done at night; I can just sleep a little less. With this thought, I immediately set about writing the textbook.

What I mean to say in writing this is that only deep repentance can give rise to genuine Loving Kindness and Compassion, and only when genuine compassion arises can one make selfless great vows — and act on them at once. And in that moment, everything concerning oneself is utterly cast aside.

January 14

In cultivation and realization, desires grow fewer and fewer; one’s expectations for food, clothing, sleep, and this world sink lower and lower. At such times, if compassion is not solidly firm — now present, now absent, now strong, now weak — one moment feeling that sentient beings need rescuing, the next moment feeling that their misery is of their own making, that they do not know how to be grateful. You try to save them and they do not even realize it is for their own good; they know only that money, fame, and profit are important, and the moment their actual interests are touched, Anger flares up in them. Whenever this happens, my compassion shrivels by more than half; I do not want to say anything more or do anything more. Especially before my period, my heart will suddenly turn to dead ashes, and a Hinayana attitude — a wish to abandon this world and take nirvana as bliss — will often arise abruptly. I keep telling myself that I must not betray the kindness of my Master, of the Buddha, of my parents: if sentient beings do not know how to repay kindness, do I not know it either? But my heart remained cool.

January 16

The suffering, its cause, its cessation, the path, impermanence — all that the Three Realms present before sentient beings are illusory flowers seen by diseased eyes. When sentient beings’ sickness is cured, everywhere naturally reveals permanence, bliss, true self, and purity.

These days, when I close my eyes, I often see the entire meditation room as if made of lapis lazuli; the air, the objects, all become lapis lazuli. When I recite the mantra, both ears emit a hissing stream of energy. When the energy flows out, the ears feel cool and extraordinarily comfortable. If there is no hissing sound of energy flowing out, the inside grows hot, as if the warm energy channel is blocked, which is very unpleasant. Flashes of light constantly shine through the neck, throat, mouth, ears, and brain. Sometimes it is like several streaks of lightning crossing the brain; most of the time it is a crystalline brightness like lapis lazuli — not dazzling, but exquisitely clear. When the light appears, everything inside the brain, mouth, nasal passages, and neck manifests distinctly in a fleeting moment, the way a city’s houses and streets suddenly reveal themselves under a flash of lightning in the dark of night.

January 18

In the afternoon, I suddenly found myself thinking about many people’s matters of the heart, and even about stories from foreign romance novels I had once read. An inexplicable sadness and despair welled up in my heart. So I asked one of the masters about it.

I asked, “…Why does thinking about matters of the heart still feel so dark and hopeless?”

The master replied, “…The oppression and distress you feel now do not come from emotion. It is the sense that life is meaningless, a disappointment with life itself, that produces this darkness — that is the true source of your unhappiness. In fact, if you simply stop hoping to become something, if you just live plainly, calmly accepting every situation you face and every state you are in, then life will possess a positive, beautiful meaning.”

I said, “If I am already a blade of grass, then I should simply live as a blade of grass. I can understand this state of mind, but sometimes I cannot carry it out — especially when the body is ill, like the patients in the hospital, or when people encounter all manner of misfortunes and blows in life. It is even harder for them to achieve this calm acceptance.”

The master said, “If everyone learned to slowly cultivate this relaxed, tranquil attitude of accepting everything in life, it is not something unattainable — it is only that people do not cultivate it. And for you, it should be easier.”

I said, “Thank you, Master. My state of mind has already improved.”

I have had many such conversations with masters in daily life, and they always quickly help settle my mind into peace and tranquility. And they often help me see through my own habitual tendencies more clearly.

Cultivating and realizing the Buddha-dharma is like anything else in the world: one must constantly adjust one’s state of mind and take the middle way as the measure. In the course of cultivating the Buddha-dharma, my heart often suddenly turns to dead ashes, and I immediately close my eyes. At those moments, I did not want anyone to mention or discuss the Dharma with me — I do not even want to hear it. Although this state often occurs during the transformation of the energy channels or when the body is unwell, if I trace it to its root, it is because my thirst for the Dharma has been too extreme and the mind that seeks attainment is still very strong. I have been unable to regard cultivation itself as something in a dream; the mind clings, the emotions stir, and that is what causes it.

If one can release attachment to emotion and feeling, one can be liberated from the skandha of sensation.

January 20

Statement of Vows

1. May I soon realize perfect and complete enlightenment. If I realize Buddhahood, may every sentient being bound by suffering, afflictions, and hardship, upon thinking of my name, feel infinite warmth and strength, and overcome all afflictions, suffering, and demonic forces, emerging from the most desperate circumstances.

2. If I realize Buddhahood, may every sentient being who seeks ultimate liberation from the Dharma, upon hearing my name, attain right faith and right thought, and may the light of the mind flash forth and see their Buddha-nature.

3. If I realize Buddhahood, may every woman who suffers over matters of the heart, upon seeing any book, image, object, or retinue associated with me in the Saha World, instantly find boundless, limitless tranquility and acceptance in her heart.

4. If I realize Buddhahood, may every person in the Saha World who sincerely does good deeds and gives rise to virtuous thoughts — regardless of their capacity — have me appear in their samadhi, in their dreams, and in their quiet, still moments, so that I may teach them personally through every kind of skillful means and guide them on the path to Buddhahood.

5. If I realize Buddhahood, may every sentient being who cultivates the true Dharma, by reciting my name, transform every adverse condition in their lives into a wholesome one, be filled with the joy of the Dharma, and on the path to accomplishment in the work of the Dharma, find supporting conditions without end.

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