Light of Wisdom, Vol. 94

 

Table of Contents

Using Our Minds Skillfully

Teachings of Master Man Sang: Sutra of the Eight Realizations of Great Beings

Buddhism in China: Rise of the Schools

Pilgrimage to India: Bodh Gaya – Where the Buddha Became Enlightened

Story From the Sutras: A Gift of Beans

Dharma Q&A

Cornucopia: The Art of Speaking – Win-Win Criticism

Changing With Circumstances: Making the Most of Every Step

Dharma Transmitter: Benefits of Collective Practice

Zen Talk: Barely Surviving vs. Doing Well

 

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Using Our Minds Skillfully

By Ven. Yin Chi

            One day, a member of the congregation called on the young abbot of the monastery to enquire about the Dharma. Arriving in the reception room he saw an elderly monk cleaning the tables and chairs. He made known his purpose and asked that his message be passed on.

            Soon enough, the abbot came to greet him and asked the old monk to make some tea. The elderly man respectfully offered the beverage and repeated to continue his cleaning duties. The abbot then told the old monk to serve their guest some fruit. The latter at once dropped what he was doing and brought the fruit. As soon as he had put it down, the abbot asked him to send instructions to the kitchen about the visitor’s lunch …

            As the old monk shuttled back and forth on his errands, the visitor started to feel a bit uneasy. Why did the young abbot call repeatedly on the elderly monk to perform these tasks?

            Having finished his lunch and taken leave of the abbot, the visitor ran into the elder monk at the monastery’s front entrance, busily sweeping leaves. He couldn’t help telling the old man: “You are advanced in years. The abbot shouldn’t make you work too hard!” But the monk replied: “You are wrong. It is precisely because I am old and a bit stiff in my arms and legs that the abbot is giving me opportunities to exercise and perhaps rejuvenate them. He has taken my age into account. He asks me only to serve tea, not to carry water, and to bring fruit, not to work the fields. He doesn’t demand that I cook in the kitchen, only to relay messages there … You won’t often see a younger person being so considerate towards an old man. So I make extra efforts, to show my appreciation for the abbot’s concern and understanding.”

            A mere thought separates heaven from hell, and the same set of circumstances is experienced entirely differently. People’s thoughts and views differ, so their responses vary greatly. The Dharma tells us that “a pure mind produces a pure environment.” It teaches us to “use our minds skillfully” while dealing with circumstances we encounter.

            The old monk is a fine example of a Buddhist practitioner. Adopting a positive attitude towards all things, he applies himself proactively and boosts his own wholesome energy. Leaving his vexations behind, he busies himself happily and lives in a state of ease.

            To be able to live, learn and work through to old age is a great blessing. To serve others and to labor for their well-being, rather than to focus on ourselves, is to undertake the vows of a Bodhisattva. It does not matter that our contribution may be small. What counts is that we should be genuinely willing to serve others according to our capabilities. So long as we are moved by the spirit of service, our age and our actual achievements matter little. We would be practicing generosity, making positive karmic connections and accumulating merit.

            People of various ages and social status can all give of themselves, differing only in the ways they serve. Dharma practitioners should always maintain correct attitudes toward life. They should learn to appreciate their good fortune and make wholesome connections with others, as well as nurture the willingness and ability to serve others. Those who understand and do this are Bodhisattvas cultivating both good fortune and wisdom. Their lives will be harmonious and blessed. Besides attaining well-being, they will have a foundation from which to walk the Bodhisattva’s path.

            Hopefully, all practitioners will resolve to learn the Dharma diligently and live their lives with the wisdom and compassion taught by the Buddha. May they resolve to contribute their abilities, and apply right knowledge and mindfulness to the people and events that they encounter. Their lives would then be happy and fulfilled, and they would travel along the Bodhisattva’s path to awakening.

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TEACHINGS OF MASTER MAN SANG

 Sutra of the Eight Realizations of Great Beings

 

 

            THE FIFTH REALIZATION: To be aware that ignorance leads to rebirth. The Bodhisattva always remembers to learn extensively. He augments his wisdom and enhances his eloquence in order to teach all beings. In so doing, he finds supreme joy.

 

 

            The Fifth Realization teaches us that we must gain wisdom. Why are we caught up in the cycle of rebirth in the Three Realms? No one caused us to be in this state. It is the karma we have accumulated that binds us to birth and death.

            Perhaps we owe others things from the past; all debts must be repaid. As the ancients said: “We are dragged along by our heaviest debts.” If we have substantial negative karma, we will be reborn in the realms of hell beings, hungry ghosts or animals to work off our debts. If our positive karma predominates, we will be reborn in the celestial or human realms.

            The cycle of rebirth is the result of cause and effect. In birth and death, every effect has its cause. And what are the causes? One is ignorance – a benighted state characterized by warped, incorrect views. It causes us to harm others readily while benefiting ourselves, which creates bad karma. By doing so we reap the bitter fruit of rebirth.

            People have many mistaken notions about life and death. They create all sorts of negative karma because of the five habitual afflictions – greed, anger, ignorance, pride and doubt. These afflictions are the root of rebirth and bad karma. There are also the five views that we think so highly of – view of the person, dualistic views, view of precepts, stubborn views and twisted views. These ten elements are all fundamental afflictions.

             “View of the person” refers to the mistaken belief among unenlightened beings that the person constituted by the Four Elements and Five Aggregates is “me.” Selfishly and erroneously, they say that “if I don’t look out for myself, heaven and earth will conspire against me and destroy me.” They always take their own interests as a starting point and neglect the interests of others. They do not hesitate to build their own happiness on the suffering of others. Ordinary people kill as they eat meat. Mindful only of their own health and gustatory pleasure, they care not whether other beings live or die. Such selfish perspectives and actions are “view of the person.”

            “Dualistic views” prevail when there is a division into “perpetual” and “discontinuous” viewpoints. To be attached to either of the two perspectives is to have “dualistic views.” Those who subscribe to a view of perpetuity believe that after death, we will forever be reborn as human beings, lifetime after lifetime. This is the “perpetual view.” Others think there is nothing at all after we die – that death is like a lamp going out. When some of them meet with difficulties they end their own lives, thinking their problems would be solved forthwith. That is a perspective of discontinuity.

            Buddhism teaches that both “perpetual” and “discontinuous” views are mistaken, the result of ignorance. The Dharma speaks neither of the perpetual nor the discontinuous. It emphasizes whether our actions are wholesome or unwholesome. Someone who has done much evil in this life will be reborn as an animal, while an animal which has done good can take human form in its next life. Sentient beings are reborn according to the nature of their karma; death does not put an end to everything.

            The “view of precepts” means to say that people who practice the precepts must have correct views in order to benefit from their practice. It would be a pity if such perspectives are erroneous, or the method of practice is wrong so no result is achieved. For example, some people in India saw a dog ascending to heaven after having died from eating contaminated food. They thought that by observing a “dog precept,” they too would be able to go to heaven. The dog was reborn in the celestial realm because of its past (positive) karma, not anything it had eaten. Others notice a cow reborn in heaven and thought it was because the animal ate grass. So they imitate the cow and undertake the “cow precept.” Still others believe that starving to death brings rebirth in the celestial realm. They starve themselves in their quest for heaven.

            These are ignorant and foolish ways of observing precepts. The Buddha taught us to undertake precepts by refraining from unwholesome acts, and to turn from evil to good. That is the real way to observe precepts.

            “Stubborn views” are when we insist that our viewpoints are correct even when they are not. What are “twisted views”? Whether we succumb to “greed, anger, ignorance, pride and doubt” or are enmeshed in “person views, dualistic views, precepts views and stubborn views,” all are mistaken, twisted views. Such ignorance and afflictions lead people to accumulate karma, which binds them to the cycle of rebirth.            Ignorance and wisdom are opposites. That is why the Buddha taught us to cultivate wisdom and learn the Bodhisattva path. To dispel ignorance with wisdom is the fundamental way to free ourselves from endless rebirth.

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BUDDHISM IN CHINA

Rise of the Schools

           

            During the time of the Buddha, the Buddhist community was known as the Sangha and was the only such group. The notion of schools hadn’t been born. A century after the Buddha passed into nirvana, differences of view arose within the Buddhist community over monastic discipline as well as doctrine. It divided at first into the School of the Community and the School of the Elders. Later, more sects arose. And with the establishment of Mahayana Buddhism came such schools as the Madhyamaka and the Yogacara.

            Buddhism came into China during different periods and spread into various regions. Influenced by economic, political and cultural factors, the schools of Chinese Buddhism gradually took shape during the Eastern Jin, the Sui and the Tang dynasties. By Sui and Tang times they already numbered 13. They continued to grow and some of them merged. Of the Tang schools, 10 were able to develop lineages. The Satyasiddhi and Abhidharma sects were later merged into the Madhyamaka and Yogacara schools. So Chinese Buddhism can be said to have eight major schools: Madhyamaka (Three Treatises), Pure Land, Chan (Zen), Tiantai, Huayan, Yogacara (Mind-Only), Vinaya (Discipline) and Esoteric (Tibetan).

            Why did Chinese Buddhism have so many sects – and how did they arise? Whether there were 13 schools or eight, it is not actually true that they were so numerous. Because the Chinese loved scholarship – and because there were so many Buddhist sutras – related texts were classified as a series. For example, the related Lotus Sutra and Prajnaparamita Treatise were grouped together. The Madhyamaka, which specialized in three treatises “expounding Buddhist thinking on emptiness,” evolved into a distinctive school. Later Chan and Pure Land were also classified as schools because of their core scriptures or special ways of practice.

            Because Buddhist scriptures were so numerous, people would not be able to study them systematically unless they were classified into schools. In the same way, the books in a library are displayed according to subjects. Otherwise users would have difficulty finding the books they wanted. Similarly, universities and research institutes have their faculties and departments in order to facilitate specialist study. If not, it would be hard to do in-depth research. Consider also the Chinese literary classic, Dream of the Red Chamber. Its great number of scholars has led to the rise of a discipline called “Red-ology.”

            Chinese Buddhism was categorized in such detail because there were so many schools and people who wanted to study them were legion. Though the sects were numerous, they did not occupy their own exclusive ground. In this they were different from religious factions in the West, which often had conflicts with one another because of politics or the division of power. Despite their profusion, the schools of Buddhism were not enmeshed in politics, nor did they have conflicts of power or interest. True, they had their own specializations and concepts, and their practices differed. But their ultimate philosophy and aim were the same – to benefit and deliver both oneself and others, and to attain Buddhahood. “Expedient means are many, but the essence is only one.” That saying aptly describes the relationships among the various schools of Buddhism.

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Pilgrimage to India

Bodh Gaya: Where the Buddha

Became Enlightened

 

(Day 7, Oct. 28, 2008)

By Ven. Yin Chi

            Nearly 100 million, or 8%, of India’s 1.1 billion people are Buddhists. Today happened to be Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights, an important public holiday. Many well-dressed Indians, as well as pilgrims’ groups and tourists, converged here to visit and honor the Buddha. Crowds thronged everywhere.

            In Bodh Gaya, enthusiastic people from various countries had built temples so that pilgrims from other nations could come to worship and make positive karmic connections. They were unattended, except by gardeners, and all visitors were welcome. Contributions were voluntary; there were no solicitations. Nearby were many stalls hawking such goods as pictures of sacred Buddhist places and CDs. The bustle was palpable.

            We went on to visit Mahabodhi Temple, which marked the spot where the Buddha gained enlightenment. The street we passed was full of monasteries built by different countries; it wasn’t easy to stop at each one. Opposite the entrance to the Mahabodhi Temple was a Queen Maya Restaurant: as befits a sacred site, even an eatery was named after the Buddha’s mother! Nearby we bought a few dozen white lotus flowers for our group to offer to the Buddha.

            It was necessary to remove our shoes and walk barefoot into the Mahabodhi Temple. When we arrived, we busied ourselves taking off our shoes and buying tickets allowing cameras to be brought inside. All the places we visited the past few days were wide open and sparsely populated. But here, coinciding with Diwali, it was noisy and crowded. Pilgrims of various races were all worshipping in their own manner. The remarkable sights and sounds made us forget how unaccustomed we were to walking around barefoot.

            During the 12th and 13th centuries, India was pillaged by orthodox Muslim armies. Many of the sacred Buddhist monuments and sites, it is said, were preserved only because they were sealed with mud. Inside the solemn main hall of the Mahabodhi Temple sits a large Buddha statue. Every day, a special attendant reportedly clothes it successively in monastic robes from eight different countries.

            After entering the hall and taking pictures we left rather hurriedly, making room for other people waiting to get in. We did a few circumambulations and went behind the temple, where the vajra throne marking the Buddha’s enlightenment was located. The seat was fenced off but we still felt the Buddha’s presence, a sense that he was very close. Prompted by a joy that was hard to describe, we made prostrations near the railings and offered flowers before the throne.

            A closer look revealed the actual location of the seat behind the fence, covered with gold cloth. We made three prostrations and felt deeply moved – as though the prodigal child had finally come home. We had come home to the Buddha.

            Lots of people milled around, worshipping, circumambulating and reciting scriptures in their own manner. We found a spot to sit down and do some recitation and meditation ourselves. Though we were reluctant to leave, it was already dusk. There were many places we still hadn’t visited. We wanted to press on, but large numbers of Hindus began to sing and dance nearby, and some members of our group were busy taking pictures. So we decided to return at 4 a.m. the next day for morning practice.

            After dinner, we wanted to take a stroll around the Mahabodhi Temple. But it was Diwali and people were displaying lights and setting off firecrackers in the streets. We were concerned that it might become too crowded and even chaotic. Moreover, we were tired from the past two days’ walking at Vulture Peak and the Saptaparni Caves, so we decided to stay in our hotel and rest.

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STORY FROM THE SUTRAS

A Gift of Beans

            Once the Buddha was teaching the Dharma in a certain country, whose king made extensive offerings to him and his monastic disciples. There was a woman, stricken with poverty, who has delighted to hear that the monarch was making the offerings. She too wanted to donate something. But since she had to beg for her living, she had nothing at home. What could she offer as a gift? Suddenly, the woman saw near her kitchen stove a small pile of beans someone had given her. She immediately picked up the beans and hurried to the palace, hoping to offer them to the Buddha.

            When the palace guards saw this shabbily dressed old woman with her handful of beans, clamoring to enter the palace to present them to the Buddha, they thought her foolish and laughable. They refused to let her go in. Aware of the incident from the commotion, the Buddha used his powers to take the woman’s beans and spread them among the food offered by the king. The monarch became angry when he saw beans in all the dishes. He was just about to summon and punish the cook when the Buddha said to him: “Great king, it is not the fault of the chef. These beans were offered by a poor woman outside the palace.”

            The king was puzzled and displeased. “This woman has been sincere and respectful,” the Buddha said. “Though it’s only a pile of beans, it exceeds your majesty’s offerings. Therefore the beans cover the other food.” The king was skeptical. “These beans amount to very little. How can they compare with all the fine dishes I have prepared?”

            “The woman may have offered very little,” the Buddha said, “but the merit she will reap is certainly greater than your majesty’s.” The king remained at a loss. He asked the Buddha: “Can it really be that the merit from my abundant offerings cannot compare with the woman’s handful of beans?”

            The Buddha explained to the king: “Though the woman’s gift was small, it was everything she had. Your majesty has offered much, but it was all from the people; you yourself have not lost anything. That’s why it can be said that the woman has given much, and you very little. So her karmic reward will be greater than yours.” The king was deeply ashamed; he had learned something. He ordered that the woman be admitted into the palace.

            The value of our offerings lies not in their material worth, but in the depth of our sincerity in making them. It is enough to give what we can. However poor, a person can always offer some sort of physical action that accomplishes good. The most precious donation is when we resolve respectfully to give something to others, and then do it according to our best capability.

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Dharma Q&A

By Ven. Yin Chi

            QUESTION: I once heard in a Dharma talk that so long as we have the right attitude, even burning a Buddha image to make heat for survival is not an offense. And if we are unable to bring Buddhist books to the monastery for burning, can we give them to trash-gatherers to resell?

            ANSWER: The story you heard describes the mindset of an enlightened person. Its purpose is to encourage the deluded to let go of their attachments. It admonishes us to use wisdom, and to be flexible, in dealing with things and people we encounter. In matters of life or death, of course, we can use expedient means to deal with situations to save those in peril.

            If we are not at that level, however, or if we are not out to save someone, we should not blindly imitate such behavior. Buddhist texts are precious Dharma treasures, so it would be inappropriate to offer them to garbage collectors to sell. If we are unable to use them, we could pass them on to others or return them to where we got them from.

            Texts that are too worn to be used any more should be burned. If we wish to recycle them, they should first be shredded so their words and images can no longer be read and seen. The aim is to avoid being disrespectful, or setting a negative example to others. If Dharma treasures are treated like trash, right-minded people will feel distressed when they see them among the garbage. If those who don’t know any better see them, they may repeat the error in future. The damage would be serious.

            QUESTION: I eat vegetarian meals every 1st and 15th day of the month. However, I hear from friends who are fulltime vegetarians that abstaining from meat twice a month is known as “vegetarian lite.” People who do so, they say, should not eat egg or egg-related products. So I dare not buy certain snacks even when I am hungry, as I fear they may contain egg. What should I do?

            ANSWER: There is no such thing as “vegetarian lite” in Buddhism. Some people use the term only to make a distinction with fulltime vegetarianism. Since you are able to avoid meat on the 1st and 15th, I suggest that you also do so on the special days honoring the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. Of course, it would be best for vegetarians to avoid eating egg, but we need not have fixed rules about that.

            Since you eat vegetarian only twice a month, it would not be remiss to demand a little more of yourself. But if you cannot find snacks without any egg content, you can eat expediently as the need arises. The purpose of vegetarianism is to foster compassion and sound health. We should not trouble ourselves too much while practicing it.

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CORNUCOPIA

The Art of Speaking: Win-Win Criticism

            The secretary of Calvin Coolidge, America’s 30th president, was prone to making mistakes in her work. One day the president commended her for her attractive dress. As she was basking in his praise, he added: “But I hope your handling of documents will be just as attractive!” Thereafter, the secretary made very few errors.

            A member of the president’s cabinet admired the way he handled the issue. Coolidge told him: “It’s like a barber applying soapy water to a customer’s face before shaving him. That way it doesn’t hurt during the shave.”

            Some people think that bluntly pointing out a person’s mistakes is to be “frank,” while speaking in a roundabout way is “hypocritical.” Actually, being a bit indirect does not conflict with being frank, so long as we genuinely take into account the other’s feelings and do not act for personal gain. By contrast, if criticism is made to let off steam or out of spite, or even for enjoyment, “frankness” would merely be a kind of hypocrisy.

            For there to be growth and progress, mistakes must be pointed out and corrected. But overly harsh reprimands and unconstructive attacks only make others feel abused and disrespected. They become defensive and want to hit back. Such emotions will smother their capacity for self-reflection – and shift the focus from problem resolution to personal conflict.

            So overly severe criticism does not solve problems. Instead, it may trigger unhappiness and confrontation, creating lose-lose situations. Moreover, it is hard to be sure that we are entirely correct, and the other is wrong. We easily take a subjective view of things, using our own frames of reference to interpret information from the external world and thinking we are always right.

            Even the simple-minded can chastise someone bluntly. But only kind people are capable of being considerate and showing concern for others’ feelings. Only the wise know how to look at the bigger picture – and foster win-win outcomes when tackling problems.

            How can we skillfully review with others their mistakes? First, we should speak with them one-on-one. Public criticism is to be avoided at all costs, for it could put others on the spot and set them against us. The central focus should be on the issue, not the person involved. Describe the developments clearly and indicate where the problems are, without using adjectives such as “a big mess.” Take special care to avoid descriptions directed at persons – for example, “you were terrible.” Adjectives make people feel they are being judged, without knowing why. That only confuses and irritates them.

            Express your viewpoint, to be sure. But even if you think you are completely correct, do not say so with a sense of absolute truth or an air of lecturing the other. Avoid turning specifics into generalities. If you wish to say, “You always make the same mistake,” point out how you think things can be improved, rather than indicating how someone has fallen short. If you do the former, the person will become aware of the latter. He or she will not feel that you are out to find fault.

            Do not speak about more than one or two issues at one time, and discuss each one only once. Refrain from talking about too many problems simultaneously; avoid dwelling on the same one over and over. And do not bring up issues from the past. Focus on the present. Use phrasing (suggesting humility) such as, “In my opinion …” and “Wouldn’t it be better to do this …?” Then ask the other person’s opinion, as a gesture of respect – “Do you agree?”

            During the entire process, use “you …” as sparingly as possible and “I …” frequently. The reason is that statements with “you …” usually target the other person to some extent. While we are trying to point out someone’s mistakes, that person is likely to be very sensitive to any criticism. If possible, we should praise him or her for positive performance in another area (but we mustn’t just make something up, or the person will question our sincerity). We could also acknowledge, or express gratitude or appreciation for, the person’s past efforts (however sub-par the performance, some effort must have been made). For example, we could say “I’m very happy that you have tried so hard” – and then proceed to say what can be improved.

            By softening our criticism, we can avoid many unnecessary conflicts and vexations. We’ll make fewer enemies and more friends. And we’ll be able to bring about real improvement and progress.

            According to management theory, a company benefits greatly if supervisors and subordinates as well as colleagues can speak amicably to one another. Many studies have shown that workers’ performance suffers if their supervisors or colleagues have harsh or aloof attitudes. In work environments with a distinctive human element, morale is high and productivity rises.

-- From the internet

 

EDITOR’S NOTE: “A person who is ill-tempered and speaks harsh words cannot be considered a good person even if he or she has a good heart …”; “Pleasant words are like a lotus flower, while disagreeable speech is like a poisonous snake …”; “To speak warm and gentle words is like sprinkling perfume on another person; a drop or two will fall on us as well ….” These sayings from Ven. Cheng-yen show how the art of speaking can produce win-win or lose-lose situations.

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CHANGING WITH CIRCUMSTANCES

Making the Most of Every Step

By Ru Zang

            I have liked playing football since I was young. My best position was midfielder, and my job was to help the forwards during attacks and assist the fullbacks on defensive maneuvers. The skill requirements were not so demanding, but one needed to have plenty of stamina and steely determination. The position was like being a foot soldier on the team

            Over many years of competition, we encountered many teams whose skills exceeded ours. When they fell behind by a goal, their objective was to score an equalizer. If there was a significant difference in capabilities, the aim was not to yield a second goal.

            The most memorable match came during my university years, when we played the Luk Kwong team. Its players were all members of the national team who had done military service. Their abilities far exceeded ours, and by half-time we had already conceded six goals. During the break we agreed on our objective for the second half: We would consider it a victory if we gave up less than five goals.

            We went out and played spiritedly, taking the game to our opponents. We fought them until the last minute. As a result, we yielded just two goals; the final score was 0-8. Though we had lost, the entire team was in high spirits. We had tried our best and our performance exceeded expectations. Our approach consistently won the respect of our opponents. The experience also helped forged a determination to meet the challenges we face every day. It was this spirit and resolve that helped me make the most of every step in life.

            On September 1 this year, the new school year began – as it had for the past two decades. I went to the school early in the morning, but my role was different. It was the first day of my retirement, and I was back at school as a stand-in teacher. Most of the students, unaware that I had retired, told me about their summer activities at home as soon as they saw me.

            When I transferred to the school in 1990, my motive was that it was near my home. I would be able to save on commuting time. Later I found that there was much there that fell short of my expectations, in terms of student discipline, working conditions, school administration and staff issues. I wondered whether I should seek another transfer.

            Settling down after a while, however, I decided it would be more meaningful to change my environment rather than look for a new one. So I started working towards this objective with a group of like-minded colleagues. I hoped to be able to put my ideas into practice and create for the students an environment conducive to learning.

            Three years later, there was a big change in our working conditions. More than half the school administration retired and we had a new headmaster. As many problems awaited resolution, I was appointed from among the regular teachers to take charge of the two key areas of discipline and activities. At the time I gave no thought to the questions of position, pay and capability. With only some ideas and a firm resolve, I accepted the challenge.

            After a year I was promoted to the school’s administrative team. I was only a director, but the position provided much room for maneuver. Together with teachers in the discipline group and other professional colleagues, we laid the foundation for ethical and disciplinary work in the school for the next ten years. Our efforts were highly commended in a 2004 report by the government’s Education Bureau on quality education. Most importantly, it cited the positive conduct of our students.

            I became a Buddhist in 1995, and the nourishment of faith made my work even more meaningful. I began working as a volunteer at Lo Hon Monastery in 1997. By 2004, the pressures of work had become more than I could bear mentally and physically. A difficult choice confronted me in terms of my career and Dharma practice. I decided to phase out my career in education and focus on volunteer work to support the Three Gems. At the school’s behest, however, I reverted to a standard role of instructor, reducing my workload and the attendant pressures. A few years later I took a further step back, serving as a half-time teacher until the past academic year.

            This year I felt the conditions were ripe for me to retire completely. Actually, I had never deliberately made plans for my own future. All I did was try to deal with circumstances as they arose, and to take each step the best way I could. I made appropriate adjustments according to the changing conditions.

            I am grateful that the karmic circumstances have allowed me to step down from the frontlines of my profession, so I can devote myself wholeheartedly to Dharma practice. That I am able to enjoy nature from time to time with a few kindred spirits is another blessing. Students of the Dharma should appreciate their blessings and treasure them. Of course, they should continue to make the best of every step they take – to show their gratitude to the Three Gems, to their Dharma teachers, to their parents and to all sentient beings.

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DHARMA TRANSMITTER

Benefits of Collective Practice

By Ven. Kin Lam

            One evening I raised my head and saw a flock of wild geese in the sky, flying in V-formation. As I gazed at their white shapes, I could not help but admire their flight, conducted in such a harmonious and disciplined manner. My curiosity was also aroused: Why do they fly together – and in V-formation? I found the answers after some research in the library.

            When a wild goose flaps its wings, the movement generates air currents that support flight and provide a boost to other birds that may be following. The result is that flying in V-formation allows the geese to travel some 70% farther than flying individually. Moreover, if a bird tries to leave the group, it immediately feels a preventive force. With the supportive motion generated by its companions, it can quickly rejoin the formation.

            A flock of geese uses the supportive force of flight to boost its airborne capabilities and extend the distances it travels. Dharma practitioners at a retreat operate under the same principle. Striving together, they learn from one another and minimize the chances that they might take a mistaken or roundabout path. If they encounter setbacks or obstacles, they can encourage one another. They are able to push ahead without fear, even when facing adversity.

            By practicing together, Dharma friends are able to generate a mutually supportive energy. It enables them to travel farther along the Dharma path and with less effort. If someone feels a little slack, one look at others applying themselves earnestly and the person will quickly buck up. It is like the wild goose that wants to leave the formation: a force naturally steers it back into the ranks, and it continues its journey.

            By contrast, a person who practices alone cannot enjoy such advantages. When we practice at home, external disruptions or temptations easily undermine our efforts, making it hard for us to concentrate. For example, we have just settled into our meditation when the phone rings … or a neighbor or the postman sounds our doorbell just as we put down the phone. These incidents divide our attention. Perhaps we have actually been meditating for a while. Suddenly, we want to drink some water – after which we may wish to look at the news or check the latest market prices. It is very difficult for most people to “let go” of such external distractions to their practice, so they are unable to apply themselves.

            The Lotus Sutra tells of an occasion when 16 princes took monastic vows at the same time and resolved to propagate the teachings of the sutra. All 16 eventually achieved Buddhahood. The Sacred Penitence of the Names of 88 Buddhas records that in a previous life, Shakyamuni Buddha recited the names of 53 Buddhas together with 3,000 other people. Because of such collective practice, all became Buddhas in different eras. We can see that joint practice often produces auspicious fruit. So it was that Master Mazu established a monastery in a remote, forested area, so that monastics could practice collectively and achieve awakening together. As Fayan, the fifth Chan patriarch, said: “The forest is where holy men are made, where talent is nurtured and where teaching takes place.”

            There are four kinds of teaching: by words, by example, by environment and by system. A group of people practicing together in harmony is an example of instruction through environmental influence. Amid the pure environment of collective practice, we are easily inspired and stirred to diligence. It is like the Pure Land described in the Amitabha Sutra: “In Amitabha Buddha’s realm, a gentle breeze stirs and rows of bejeweled trees and nets give off subtle sounds. They are like music from many thousands of musical instruments, all playing together. Those who hear these sounds are naturally stirred to think of the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha.” When we join a retreat and practice together, everything we hear and see is wholesome, making it easier for us to have pure words, deeds and thoughts. The Pure Land becomes available, here and now.

            Are you still a goose flying alone? Join the flock winging its way collectively towards the Pure Land!

-          From the internet

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ZEN TALK

Barely Surviving vs. Doing Well

          On a particularly hot day, the flowers in the Zen monastery wilted. “Heavens, let’s pour some water!” cried the young monk. He went to fetch the bucket. “No need to hurry,” said the old monk. “The sun is too fierce now. Exposed to heat and cold in quick succession, the flowers will surely die. Let’s wait a while before giving them water.”

            By evening, the flowers resembled a bunch of preserved vegetables. “We should have given them water earlier …” moaned the young monk. “The flowers must all be dead by now. No amount of water can revive them.”

            “Stop grumbling and pour,” instructed the old monk. Not long after the watering, the withered flowers straightened up and actually seemed full of life.

            “Heavens,” exclaimed the young monk. “How remarkable! There they are, barely surviving.” “Nonsense,” the old monk corrected him. “They’re not barely surviving, they’re doing quite well.”

            “What’s the difference?” asked the young monk softly, lowering his head. “Of course there’s a difference,” replied the old monk as he patted the young monk on the shoulder. “Let me ask you – I am over 80 years old. Am I barely surviving, or doing well enough?”

            At the end of the evening lesson, the old monk summoned the young monk and asked him: “Have you thought it through?” “No,” replied the other, his head still bowed. The old monk patted him again and said: “Foolish boy! A person who constantly fears death is barely surviving. One who always looks ahead is doing well.”

            “We ought to live well each day we are alive,” said the old monk, smiling. “When they are still alive, some people pray and offer incense to the Buddhas every day because they are afraid to die. Will their wish for a long life come true? While capable of living well, they do not do so. Why should heaven grant them more days simply to await death?”

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