True cultivation and realization of the Dharma is a process in which we allow our minds to grow, elevate, and undergo a complete transformation; it makes our hearts truly mature, so that we become tolerant, compassionate, and universally loving toward all things in this world. Otherwise, we may grow up in body and age, yet our hearts will forever remain those of a very young child — quibbling over trifles in this world, unable to put down our favorite big toys, and clinging to the men and women we love just as we clung to our parents in childhood — crying, fussing, unwilling to bear even a moment’s separation. A heart that has truly grown up and matured can face any storm in this world with equanimity and can always maintain a humble, peaceful, positive and optimistic outlook. Whether ordinary or great, it remains unperturbed by favor or disgrace.
The Buddha is also called the Great Tamer; with his mature and perfect wisdom, he can adjust his state of mind to its optimal condition at every moment. We grow older and our bodies mature, but our wisdom has not grown at all; instead, we have only accumulated defilements of the six sense faculties and attachment to worldly affairs. We appear shrewd and capable, never deceived or taken advantage of, yet this shrewdness and capability only bring us more disappointment and vexation. We are doing things that harm ourselves almost every day.
“The journey of spiritual growth marks the true awakening of wisdom, which requires dedicated practice. Spiritual practice is essentially the correction of our mistaken behaviors and views, while methods like meditation and chanting are merely tools to help us discipline our thoughts and intentions.”
“For instance, when I first came into contact with the Dharma, the profound states in meditation, supernatural powers, spiritual masters, and Buddhist scriptures attracted and enticed my mind like shiny new toys. I had entered the infancy of practicing the Buddha-Dharma. Curiosity led me deeper step by step, and I felt as though I had entered an entirely new realm—one where everything was magical and beyond anything I could have previously imagined. I began to negate myself and reject the rules of everyday life. In the face of this newfound realm, my entire former world seemed to crumble. Exhilarated, I cast aside all my previous validations of life, my values, and my worldview. I believed I had discovered my ultimate treasure, and I dived in headfirst, ready to sacrifice everything I owned to claim it. I was deaf to anyone’s advice. Everything in this worldly existence lost its meaning to me, and secular language felt hollow and powerless—as pale as blank wallpaper. The greater the resistance I faced, the stronger my drive became, and the firmer my resolve to practice. I soon crossed into the second stage of spiritual practice: the rebellious phase. I could not tolerate anyone disparaging my choice.”
“As my practice deepened day by day, I unknowingly entered the adolescence of my spiritual path. I began to feel lost—a confusion that stemmed primarily from the agony of ‘loss.’ As I watched love, career, friendships, readily accessible fame and fortune, vanity, pride, and self-esteem slip away one by one with my increasing devotion to practice, panic and a sense of profound loss welled up inside my heart. I used to claim that I was not afraid of losing everything, yet the truth was that I was simply unprepared. I realized there were so many things I truly could not bear to give up, things I was genuinely unable to let go of. I began to question whether my choices were worth what I was losing, and I even started to doubt the very reality of enlightenment itself.”
“Dharma practice had consumed almost all of my energy, time, and financial resources. I began to realize that what I needed most of the time were bread and milk. I needed to resolve my child’s schooling, show more care and love to my husband, and honor my parents by considering how to ensure they could enjoy their golden years in comfort… The various hardships of daily life closed in on me like a net, leaving me trapped in the cracks between worldly existence and spiritual practice. At that moment, I could not feel that the Buddha-Dharma brought me any benefit at all, and I was ready to give up.”
“Yet, that newly sprouted sliver of faith in the Dharma, my shallow understanding, and the occasional taste of bliss in meditative concentration left me unable to let go, even as I wanted to quit. When confronted with life’s endless troubles, I wanted to shave my head(Become a Buddhist nun) and run away; yet when faced with temptation, my inner desires would stir all over again… My habits and cravings manifested at every moment, even though I knew deep down that everything is impermanent and illusionary, and that it was merely my own attachment—unable to embrace life, yet unable to let it go. Every day, I indulged myself, felt remorse afterward, and then repeated the exact same mistakes the next day… Before many of my friends, however, I put on the mask of a spiritual practitioner. Whenever I needed an excuse to shirk my worldly responsibilities, I would add a fashionable justification: ‘I am cultivating myself.’ What a self-deceiving charade!”
“Without the opening of wisdom and a holistic, unobstructed view, I was incapable of integrating the Dharma into my daily life. I was practicing asceticism—and while practicing asceticism in the mountains was easy enough, I was unwilling to endure hardships in the mundane world. I refused to work tirelessly, declined to bear any pressure, and shirked all responsibilities. This reduced my ascetical practice to a contrived, deliberate choice—a fixation and attachment, serving merely to satisfy a desire for self-display. Driven by such an unintegrated perspective, my asceticism was actually consuming my own merit, no different from indulging in worldly pleasures. As a result, the true merit and virtue of genuine ascetic practice could never arise.
“I was also practicing generosity and living a frugal life, yet without diminishing my inner greed by even a fraction. As a result, my acts of giving turned into a conditional, self-seeking form of generosity, and my frugality degenerated into mere stinginess and meanness, yielding little to no true merit.”
Because I constantly relied on these superficial displays that never truly transformed my heart, I failed to accumulate merit effectively. As a result, I could feel neither the blessings and support of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, nor the uplifting benefits of genuine merit. If I felt like a cherished child of the Dharma during my spiritual infancy and rebellious phase, then in this adolescence, I felt like an outcast of life. During this period, my mind was perpetually torn between gains and losses. Most of the time, my practice felt like a mere pretense—a hypocritical act of sanctity.
With my attachment to the Dharma, as my cultivation and realization deepened — especially as my concentration grew stronger — stray thoughts grew fewer and fewer, and my state of mind began to grow clear and pure. My heart opened wide, and I became more tolerant and accommodating. I began to focus on doing one thing at a time, and occasionally I could even experience the joy of living in the present moment. Gradually I tasted the sweetness of cultivation and realization — that is, personally savoring the flavor of the Dharma. Although I could not yet use the wisdom of the Dharma to resolve every problem in life, most of the time when I went astray it was because of the impurity of habitual tendencies and desires, and I could quickly rescue myself from confusion and affliction. I saw with ever greater clarity the illusory nature of this world. My aspirations became lofty and grand, and I could not be bothered to discuss many of my thoughts and views with the “fools” around me. I had the feeling that all the world was drunk while I alone remained sober: body and mind pure, my moral resolve unwavering, no longer bowing down for three meals a day or to satisfy the desires of this stinking bag of skin. I regarded money, fame, and profit as dung, and could not be bothered to distinguish good food from bad or to fuss over dress and grooming. Going hungry now and then was nothing unusual; I did not feel that life held any suffering, and I no longer had much attachment left for this world… I gradually entered the stage of maturity.
“During this period, my habits and desires remained uneradicated. My greed and attachment for enlightenment were no more sacred than my mundane desires in the worldly realm. Furthermore, I craved stillness and solitude, unwilling to get involved in everyday affairs. Among like-minded friends I fond of talking endlessly, boasting profound theories as if I were a re-manifestation of a Buddha or Bodhisattva. Thus, spiritual pride followed me like a shadow..
“Gradually, I came to realize that all of this was completely unreliable. There were still countless worldly conflicts I could neither face serenely nor resolve harmoniously. At times, I was still dragged around by my cravings and ingrained habits, still caring deeply about how others evaluated me. Though I had stopped calculating and discriminating over certain trivial matters, my ego-attachment remained unbroken. A solid sense of ‘self’ stood as a constant barrier, preventing me from truly merging with the universe, nature, and all sentient beings—that is, achieving ‘oneness with the Tao.’ Without merging with all beings to transcend the notions of self, others, and sentient beings, we can never truly penetrate the ultimate source of all phenomena or clearly comprehend the true nature of reality. As the poet wrote, ‘We cannot discern the true face of Mount Lu, simply because we are stuck inside it.’ To shatter this ego-attachment, we must embrace universal love and compassion. If we seek ultimate fulfillment, it is precisely those ‘foolish people’ we once disdained who can truly help us, for it is only through serving all beings that our enlightenment is accomplished. Thus, we step into the stage of fulfillment. Our awareness shines clearly and brightly as we thoroughly correct our every single thought and inner stirring—a process as agonizing as scraping poison from the bone or sacrificing life for righteousness. Until the self dies, the Great Way will not manifest. We return to the mundane world, where our spiritual journey begins anew. We become simple and ordinary once more, learning to perceive greatness within the mundane, transforming into a true Bodhisattva who selflessly benefits all beings. Thus, unconditional compassion and boundless empathy naturally arise within every single detail of worldly life.”
Only then can true merit genuinely arise, and its boundless benefits manifest in an instant.
Water flows, flowers bloom.
Yang Ning