Table of Contents
Every Day Is a Good Day, Each Year a
Good Year
Teachings of Master Man Sang:
Sutra of the Eight Realizations of Great Beings
Buddhism in China: Shi, the
Universal Surname
Pilgrimage to India: Mahabodi Temple – Planting the Seeds of Monasticism
Reader’s Corner: Journey to Hunan
Cornucopia: Crossing the Road With Mom
Changing With Circumstances:
Touched by the Buddha’s Compassion
Dharma Transmitter: Practical
Applications of the Diamond Sutra
Zen Talk: Carry Your Own Umbrella
Each
Year a Good Year
By Ven. Yin Chi
There was
once a monk who travelled by himself, teaching the Dharma as the circumstances permitted.
Having finished his regular practice one morning, he came upon a large tree in
a forest and sat beneath it to rest. As he opened his baggage to take out some
food, a burglar happened to pass by. The thief saw a coin inside the bag, so he
followed the monk, waiting for a chance to steal the money. But the monk passed
through towns and villages, discoursing on the Dharma as he went. There were
people everywhere, so the burglar was unable to pounce. The thief tailed the
monk for a whole day.
When night
fell, the monk stopped to rest at a dilapidated dwelling. As he closed his
eyes, the burglar lost no time grabbing the baggage he laid down. The monk,
startled awake, asked the intruder what he wanted. The coin in the bag, replied
the thief. “Is that your only purpose in life?” asked the monk. “You followed
me all this way just for a coin. All right, take it then!”
The burglar
took the coin and hurriedly left. He hadn’t gone far when he began worrying
that the monk might come after him. So he turned around to look – and saw the
monk sitting cross-legged under the stars, meditating serenely. The scene was
as stunning as it was peaceful. The thief suddenly came to his senses. “What do
I want the coin for?” he asked himself. “Once I have spent it, my life will
still be the same. Who will I be trailing next? What I need is not this coin,
but to ask that monk what the meaning of life is!” So he ran back to the monk
and asked him to teach him how he could achieve the serenity the monastic
possessed. The monk began to tell him about the Dharma as well as life.
This story
teaches us that the thief is the greed, anger and ignorance inside us. Our
thoughts and impulses are the thieves of the Five Aggregates, constantly
hankering after the befuddlement of the six sense objects. The Dharma tells us
that the meaning of life lies not in the six sense objects of the exterior, but
in our inner efforts to subdue our minds. Once we possess the six objects, we
would only continue our pursuits unceasingly. To have something is to want more
of it; having more, we are afraid of losing it. Our minds are as greedy and as
confused as a thief. Instead, what we should be after is peace of mind.
The Dharma
teaches us to recognize that our confusion is rooted in the greed, anger and
ignorance inside us. We should learn to temper our desire for status and avoid
becoming slaves to materialism and the six sense objects. If we can avoid
entanglement by greed, anger and ignorance, we would be able to remain serene
amid the material world.
As we
approach year’s end, the economic environment seems to have taken a turn for
the better. We are coming out of the trough, and are hoping for a bright year
ahead. Everyone looks forward to an expanding economy. Even so, the
accompanying economic bubbles and inflation also bring pressures and worries.
Indeed, things often contain such paradoxes. Our emotions are pulled along by
the ups and downs of the economy, making it hard for our minds to be at ease.
In fact,
external events are beyond anyone’s control. The more advanced a society, the
more delicate seems to be its psychological condition. To achieve serenity, we
need to work on our minds. The function and value of the Dharma lie in
constantly reminding us to observe wisely and to reflect on our own actions and
circumstances. Then we would be able to blend in and to pace ourselves.
In this
volatile world, Dharma practitioners should remind themselves not to be like
the thief in the story, chasing after wealth. If we can restrain our impulse to
engage in such pursuits, follow the Buddha’s teachings like the monk in the
story and have a worthy aim in life, we would tread a steady path in this
world. We would be able to face adversity calmly and accept all circumstances
serenely.
It is said
that “plans for the year begin with spring.” At the start of spring, the
beginning of a new year, we have new goals and fresh aspirations. In addition
to the targets we set for ourselves at work, we should aim wisely for a bright
and steady life, resolve to be guided by our Dharma practice, and foster our
learning of the precepts, concentration and wisdom by listening to Dharma
discourses. We must allow the Buddha’s teachings to ignite our life wisdom. By
doing this, we will surely enjoy peace and happiness in the new year. May I
wish everyone positive energy and good fortune. May we serenely enjoy good
days, and a good year.
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.
In the
previous issue, we explained in detail how “ignorance leads to rebirth.” Now we
will discuss, “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.”
Anyone who has resolved to learn
from the Buddha can be called a Bodhisattva. Though beginners are only worldly
Bodhisattvas, having decided to tread the path of the Buddha, they should
remember all the more to learn extensively. Knowledge, whether worldly or
sacred, is infinite. We should make use of opportunities and circumstances to
learn as much as we can. Only through extensive exposure to the Dharma can
learners grow their wisdom.
Wisdom means knowledge that a
certain cause produces a certain effect; a wise person analyses phenomena in
this manner. Wisdom also means knowing that all things are ultimately empty.
The Heart Sutra says, “Contemplate
that the Five Aggregates are empty.” That is the wisdom of emptiness. If we can
observe wisely that all things are impermanent and changeable, we will realize
that they are empty, that they both are and are not. The wise recognize that
nothing is permanent in this world, that things change with conditions. They
learn to let go of their attachments and to live at ease, according to the
circumstances.
“Eloquence”
refers to our speech. Great eloquence means that people who listen to our
speech are persuaded by it. Speech that flows from a wise mind is naturally
eloquent. The sutras divide great eloquence into four categories – the four types
of unfettered, unobstructed understanding and verbal articulateness. All are
grounded in wisdom, and are therefore known as unbounded eloquence.
The first
kind is unlimited eloquence relating to the Dharma. That means a thorough and
decisive understanding of all the sutras and the commentaries. The second is
boundless eloquence of principle, which refers to a thorough command of the
principles of the Dharma, as contained in the written texts. The third is
unlimited verbal eloquence. Having thoroughly grasped the meaning of the texts,
its possessor is able to express it fluently through speech, so that listeners
can understand clearly. Armed with wisdom, a Bodhisattva is versed in the
languages of various nations – he or she can teach the Dharma to sentient
beings in Chinese, as well as Japanese, English, German and French. That is
unlimited verbal eloquence. The fourth kind is the unbounded eloquence of
joyous expression. It means that a Bodhisattva is happy to teach the Dharma to
beings. Because of his wisdom, those who listen to his teaching come away with
feelings of joy.
Bodhisattvas
need to learn extensively and nurture their wisdom before they can achieve the
four types of great eloquence. That is why Bodhisattvas are said to take Dharma
propagation as their basic duty and the benefitting of beings as their
vocation. With the four kinds of eloquence, one would be able to educate people
with the Dharma and allow them to gain the greatest joy from the Buddha’s
teachings. In our world, the enjoyment of a good meal or fame and fortune
brings only fleeting happiness. Only by awakening to the Dharma can a person
attain true and lasting happiness of the spirit.
The Fifth
Realization teaches Dharma learners that ignorance creates karma, which leads
to endless rebirths in the six realms and the suffering of birth and death. We
should learn from the Bodhisattvas and undertake the Four Great Vows. “I vow to
deliver countless sentient beings” – To do so, we must possess the necessary
wisdom and means to teach others. “I vow
to eradicate my innumerable afflictions” – Ignorance is an affliction, so we
must eliminate it. How? By learning extensively and nurturing our wisdom. Only
then are we free from the bondage of this affliction. “I vow to learn all the
teachings of the Buddha” – The reason we read the sutras and hear discourses on
them is to learn broadly, to become familiar with the various schools of the
Dharma. “I vow to accomplish the supreme path of the Buddha” – Wise
practitioners can not only overcome their own ignorance and transcend the cycle
of rebirth, they can also teach other people. They benefit both self and
others, helping themselves and all beings gain the greatest happiness and even
Buddhahood. So we Buddhists must realize that we cannot break the cycle of
rebirth with blind practice. To attain supreme joy, we must learn extensively,
cultivate wisdom to temper our afflictions, and deliver both self and others
until Buddhahood is achieved.
Shi, the Universal
Surname
A few issues ago, we briefly
introduced Master Dao’an. In fact, his influence on
Chinese Buddhism was profound. So we will provide more information in this
issue.
Ven. Dao’an’s teacher, Master Buddhacinga,
was known as a “divine monk.” Because of the environment they lived in, the
non-Chinese peoples of the time were rough and inclined to violence. Their
culture was relatively underdeveloped and their character was daring. Buddhacinga often used his influence to resolve local disputes.
He was widely respected, both for his special powers and his sway over the
foreign peoples. His disciple Dao’an was also
well-known and influential. Here we will look at some of his particularly
far-reaching contributions.
It was Ven. Dao’an who divided sutras into three sections – the
opening, main and closing parts. The first, or prefatory, section speaks of the
circumstances surrounding the teaching of the sutra. It records the preliminary
exchanges among participants and explains the context in which the Buddha
taught the sutra. The Diamond Sutra, for
example, was given after the Buddha returned from an alms round. The middle, or
main, section contains the substance of the sutra – the Buddha’s teachings, his
answers to the questions posed to him. In the Diamond Sutra, the Buddha’s teaching is found in the main section.
The closing
section of a sutra gives directions on how it is to be propagated. After giving
a teaching, the Buddha would urge his audience to study and to circulate it.
His admonitions and guidelines are like a summation of the sutra. Because this
part usually deals with circulation, it is called the circulatory section.
To divide
the sutras into three sections is akin to classifying the human body into its
three parts – head, torso and feet. Possessing feet, a person can circulate as
well as accomplish things. This was the model for analyzing and propagating the
sutras that Master Dao’an set out for posterity.
Ven. Dao’an was also responsible for promoting the tradition
whereby all monastics take the surname of Shi. Chinese all have family names,
as well as a strong sense of clan. Before Dao’an,
monastics did not have any particular surname. Some used their own family name,
others adopted the name of their lineage master. Ven. Dao’an
believed the matter should be made more systematic. He also understood that
someone’s personal status changed after the assumption of monastic vows, so a
distinction should be made.
Dao’an proposed that all monastics adopt the surname, Shi.
He based his idea on the saying in the scriptures, “As all water that flows
into the sea becomes salty, so everyone who takes monastic vows becomes a part
of the Shi (“Shi-jia,” or Shakya)
clan (of Shakyamuni Buddha).” No matter what one’s pre-monkhood status was, say
the sutras, all who take vows are equal members of the Shakya
clan. So Shi could be considered their surname. There was no such requirement
in the time of the Buddha, however. Consider Sariputra. He was Sariputra before
taking his vows, and he remained Sariputra afterwards. But after Master Dao’an established the practice, taking monastic vows was
like being reborn. All who did so received the same surname.
The practice
of monastics taking the name Shi began in the Eastern Jin Dynasty. There was a
man of letters called Xi Zaochi who became famous
about the same time as Ven. Dao’an. A learned man, he
heard that Dao’an was an erudite person who happened
to be versed in the Buddhist scriptures as well. So Xi paid him a visit.
Men of letters tend to be full of
themselves. When the two met, the visitor quickly introduced himself as “Xi Zaochi of the Four Seas.” The implication was that he was
known everywhere. Noting Xi’s pridefulness, Dao’an riposted: “Shi Dao’an of
Mount Sumeru.” According to the Buddhist scriptures, Mt. Sumeru is the highest
mountain in our Saha world, whose summit is so
elevated that no one can see it. Its position is certainly loftier than that of
the Four Seas. From this we can understand the extent of Master Dao’an’s eloquence as well as status.
Mahabodi
Temple: Planting the Seeds
Of Monasticism
(Day 8, Oct. 29, 2008)
By Ven. Yin Chi
Last night
we decided to do our morning practice at the Mahabodi
Temple, whose opening hours were from 4 a.m. to 9 p.m. We got up at 3:15 and
departed at 3:45. From the hotel to the temple, we used torchlights to
illuminate our way. The streets were very quiet when we arrived, but flower
sellers and beggars already gathered outside the gates. We entered after
removing our shoes – and found many people already inside the temple. They had
stayed all night, doing homage to the Buddha in shifts. As we entered, they
left their places.
We made our
way to the Bodhi tree where the Buddha achieved enlightenment and sat
underneath it. Many pilgrims were already there, performing morning practice in
their own manner. Each was interesting in its own way. Our practice was to
recite the Diamond Sutra, then sit
quietly to meditate, experiencing something of the serene joy of the Buddha’s
own meditation under the tree.
When we
finished, we saw people circumambulating the temple, holding Dharma implements
or megaphones. We did our own circumambulation; no one got in anyone else’s
way. Afterwards, we took out the robes we had prepared as offerings to the
Buddha. We continued our circumambulation, waiting for some Theravada monks to
finish their morning practice, before entering the main temple. Then we went
in, occupying almost all the floor space. Though the area was small, the Buddha
image there was particularly impressive. The monks on duty accepted our
offering and quickly wrapped the robes around the Buddha statue.
As we knelt
down in homage, some of us were moved to tears – “To don monastic robes is far
more precious than gold or jade,” goes the saying. I felt grateful that
circumstances had allowed me to take monastic vows, and wished that all present
would be inspired by monasticism, so their wisdom could develop and that they
too might one day take vows. I led our group in reciting relevant gathas, so the seeds of monasticism would be planted in
everyone.
It was 6
a.m. when we finished our offerings and left the main temple. Outside it was
already light. At our request, an Indian friend prepared some oil lights. As we
recited Amitabha Buddha’s name, each member of our group lighted one while
facing the temple. We also performed various forms of homage in front of the
temple.
By the time
we were ready to leave after the offering of lights, many shops were near the
exit were open for business. Many in our group happily made purchases. We
finally left after 9 o’clock, after being reminded that it was time to move on.
More than five hours had passed quickly, and no one seemed the least bit
fatigued. We made our way back to the hotel for breakfast. Then it was on to
our next destination – the Deer Park at Sarnath.
Journey
to Hunan
By Wing Fun
I would
like to thank Master Yin Chi for leading us on a trip to Hunan Province to pay
respects to the Buddha and to lineage patriarchs. In a mere few days, we
benefitted greatly.
Master Yin
Chi always taught us that impermanence is not necessary bad. So long as we
continue to practice diligently, negative phenomena will also give way to
positive people and things. It is the same with worldly matters. It was human effort to seek improvement,
under proper regulation, that produced the technology to develop high-speed
trains.
On our trip to
Hunan, we took the high-speed rail from Guangzhou. In terms of speed, stability
and sound-proofing, it was a substantial improvement over standard electrified
trains. We commended society’s progress and the improvements in transportation.
For our own part, we could certainly improve the quality of communication among
people. If we can communicate sincerely and without calculation, we would
naturally be able to form many positive relationships.
The
high-speed train took us to Zhuzhou, where we boarded
a coach for Liling town. After checking in at our
hotel, we set out. Several cars carried our group of 20-odd monastics and
householders through the town center, stopping eventually at busy Qingyun Road near the riverside bridge. As we got off, a
large group welcomed us by playing music. As some people came forward with
flowers and fruit, others brought incense and lights. Still others carried
banners as they led Masters Yin Chi and Wu Chong past a monastic gate up the
slope of a small hill. The group followed, with householders on both sides
pressing their palms together respectfully. It was a solemn, touching scene.
The narrow
path soon brought us to Qingyun Monastery. We found
ourselves before a spacious Main Hall, which stood on a small piece of land in front
of a hillock to the side. Below the hill were small, dilapidated structures –
the former temple, Dongchan Monastery. The new Main
Hall was imposing indeed. Fully utilizing the land area, it was more than 10
meters high and a few dozen meters wide, and could hold 200-300 people. Its
construction stemmed from the resolve of a young monk, Ven. Yiwei,
to rebuild the old temple.
The Main
Hall is grand and painstakingly designed, with intricate workmanship. There is
simplicity amid its grandeur. It has three white-jade Buddha images, imported
all the way from Myanmar. Their circuitous passage points to the resolve and
perseverance of Ven. Yiwei. Also commendable and
worthy of our emulation is his rebuilding of the broken old temple into the
magnificent Main Hall, benefitting sentient beings. The theme of today’s
service is “Rejoicing With the Public: A Harmonious Liling.”
It is also an exemplary event in terms of integrating the Dharma into the
community.
Having
finished our prayers for good fortune, we set off for Mount Heng,
the southern member of China’s Five Great Mountains. We toured the scenic Shuilian Cave, then rode a cable car up the mountain. We
hoped to make our way to the summit on foot. Unfortunately, we found ourselves
surrounded by mist as we got off, with visibility only a few meters. So we
split into two groups, with one taking the planned route to the summit and the
other following Master Yin Chi back down the slopes.
That turned out
to be a blessing in disguise. After some enquiries by Master Yin Chi, our
little group was fortunate to be able to visit Nantai
Monastery, ancestral temple of the Tiantai school’s
second patriarch, Ven. Huisi. Though we were pressed
for time, we were delighted and grateful. We gazed at patriarch’s stupa at the
summit, but weren’t able to circumambulate it. Nonetheless, we felt close to
him. We recalled his teachings, such as “learn both the scriptures and
meditation,” “understanding and practice are equally important” and “one mind,
three contemplations.” We ordinary, worldly folk may be fortunate to be
learning the Dharma, but we are still full of attachments – to self, to lasting
existence, even to emptiness.
In the Lotus Sutra and the Madhyamaka Sastra, the Buddha and
Bodhisattva Nagarjuna respectively spoke of “the nature of reality.” Key
aspects included the law of cause and effect, in which things both have form
and are formless; the three levels of truth – emptiness, false existence and
the Middle Way; and the unity of phenomena and their underlying principles. May
we know, learn and remain constantly awake to them and integrate them into our
lives. We would surely derive great benefit.
Afterwards
our small group went to Fuyan Monastery, ancestral
temple of the Caodong school, built by Master Weirang. Finally, we paid our respects at Dashan Monastery,
a practice center for nuns. That completed our journey to Hunan.
My thanks to Master Yin Chi for explaining to us the practice of the Tiantai school, and for leading us in tracing the footsteps of the patriarchs. The journey allowed our minds and hearts to draw close to those of the patriarchs and bodhisattvas, and to transform ignorance into awareness. In complying with her exhortations, we should attach equal emphasis to understanding and practice, drop our attachments, assume responsibilities, be genuinely diligent and serve the Dharma. Homage to Amitabha Buddha!
Crossing the Road With Mom
Last
Saturday I went home with my wife and child. My mother, who was nearing 60, was
overjoyed. She insisted on shopping for some choice food to host us; I was
unable to dissuade her from doing so.
“Don’t try
to stop me,” Mom said. “You have come back for a visit, and I am going to cook
you a big meal. You’re not putting me to any trouble. I am happy to do this!”
“I’ll go
with you,” I offered.
“Good,
good,” said Mom chirpily. “Tell me what you would like and I will buy it.”
My mother
was getting along in years. Her legs were a bit stiff and she wasn’t able to
walk with any speed. She took her shopping basket and, leaning on me, spoke about
her household chores while we walked. “Old trees grow lots of roots,” she said,
“but old people grow talkative.” At her age, Mom liked to chatter. Others might
not wish to listen, but her children have no choice. Even if they have to
pretend, they must do so in a believable manner.
The market
was just beyond the road crossing. Mom stopped abruptly, hung her shopping
basket in the crook of her arm, and held out her right arm towards me …
I trembled
momentarily. What a familiar motion!
When I was
in primary school, I had to cross a certain road every day to get there. My
mother, concerned about my safety, would accompany me across the street before
turning around to go to work. When we were about to cross, she would hold out
her right hand and grasp my little hand in her palm before leading me across
the road. “Don’t cross when a car is coming,” she would remind me. “Always
cross together with others.”
Twenty years
have passed. The tiny hands have grown into the big hands of a man. And the
delicate hands of my young mother have become worn and wrinkled. But in holding
hands, her movements were so familiar. She has suffered much in life, and often
experienced humiliation. All these she brushed aside, the way she brushes her
hair. But her love for her children can never be brushed away. Her son,
however, had grown increasingly distant from her. Even his occasional visits resulted
from a kind of dutifulness, a desire to avoid being blamed by others for being unfilial or ungrateful. He not only lacked sincerity, but
was selfish as well.
I did not
extend my hand, but took Mom’s basket from the crook of her arm and carried it.
With my other hand I lightly held her hand. “When I was little, you led me
across the street every time,” I told her. “Now let me take you across.”
There was a
flash of surprised delight in Mom’s eyes; she smiled broadly.
“Mom,” I
said, “your legs are not so nimble and the traffic is heavy. When crossing the
road, you must look carefully both left and right. Don’t try to compete with
the cars. And if there should be any problem at home, I’ll be there, however
busy I am. After all, I’m the son you raised so painstakingly. You don’t need
to stand on ceremony.”
My mother
turned her head away. Her eyes moistened. Leading her by the hand across the
road, I experienced a mix of gratitude, pain, love and sadness. We show our
love for the young, but often neglect to display a similar concern for the
elderly. As we hold the little hands of our children, we who are parents should
remember that our own parents long even more for us to take them by their aged
hands!
- From the internet
Touched by the Buddha’s Compassion
By Ru Zang
Babies cry
easily. They cry when they feel pain or hunger, when they need something or
when they don’t get what they want. Because they aren’t able to distinguish
among external stimuli or express their feelings, babies can only vent their
discomfort directly by crying. In time, they begin to accustom themselves to
different environments and learn to control their own emotions. Crying is used
to express only extreme feelings. Most other sentiments are controlled or
repressed; they are not immediately or directly displayed.
Upon
entering society, whether to study or to work, each person has his or her own
ideals or goals. People strive to create their own futures. We face fierce
competition. At the same time we adapt to circumstances and protect ourselves,
in the process walling ourselves off psychologically from others without being
aware of it. Mutual concern and trust diminish. Our mental walls grow higher
and higher, until they cannot be breached. Our feelings become distant and our
hearts turn cold. Interacting with others, we package our emotions and
spontaneity becomes a rarity.
I carried this
kind of attitude into middle age. But the life-threatening illness of a family
member brought a sea-change. Feeling utterly at a loss, I encountered the
Dharma under the guidance of a beneficent teacher. The Buddha’s teachings
helped me transform the terror I felt into peace of mind. My family member
rapidly recovered after undergoing surgery, and we both began to learn the
Dharma.
In the early
days, I made great changes in my ways of thinking as well as longstanding
personal habits. Guided by my Dharma friend, I recited day and night the
scriptures as well as the name of Amitabha Buddha. I participated in the
activities of various Dharma centers and sought out books on Buddhism, in hopes
of learning more about the Buddha’s teachings. Within a very short time, I
became a full-time vegetarian.
During this
process, as I listened to Dharma discourses, attended services or heard
Buddhist music, I often felt as though the light of the Buddha had penetrated
into the darkest recesses of my spirit. It gradually released the guilt-ridden
feelings I had repressed for so long; I would be moved to tears. I remember the
first time I participated in temporary monkhood. As I undertook repentance
before the Buddha’s image, I looked up to see the Buddha gazing down on me with
an infinitely compassionate expression. The experience was electrifying – an
deeply moving. Tears streamed down my face. Despite the passage of years, the
memory remains vivid.
Such
experiences broke down my internal walls, allowing me to rediscover myself and
find a way out of my confusion. These emotions also enabled me to transform inspiration
into strength. They helped me embark resolutely on the path of learning the
Dharma.
Fortunately,
I had outstanding teachers and was able to settle into my volunteer work at our
Dharma center. As I helped organize various activities over the years, I spent
relatively little time attending services or Dharma discourses. Unconsciously I
allowed that to become a pretext for my own slackness. I stumbled repeatedly in
my efforts to learn the Dharma, making no progress at all.
I was able
to persist, however, thanks to the support of my fellow learners and
practitioners. Taking advantage of my retirement last month, I participated in an
eight-day Sea and Land Dharma service. Amid the chanting and music, I felt
again those powerful emotions. Once, as 3,000 participants were chanting “the
Dharma is hard to encounter in countless kalpas, but
I have now encountered it,” my tears gushed forth. I felt deeply ashamed of my own
laxness over the years.
Master Yin
Chi once said, “Human form is hard to obtain, but harder still is to be able to
hear the Dharma. Few are those who adhere to the Buddha’s teachings, and fewer
are those who practice accordingly.” We have taken human form and we have heard
the Dharma. We also have guidance from good teachers and Dharma friends who
practice with us. Can we let this opportunity of infinite kalpas
go to waste?
May we tear down together our inner walls and deal with people and events around us sincerely. We should hear the Dharma more often, take part in volunteer work as much as possible and practice diligently. Through such efforts, we can inspire and motivate ourselves to tread properly each phase of our path.
Practical Applications of
The Diamond Sutra
Perhaps we
long ago encountered the Diamond Sutra. It
teaches us that “all phenomena are empty” and that “by avoiding attachment to
external appearances, we remain serenely unmoved.” That’s how the scripture
reads, but if someone scolds us viciously – especially if some of the
accusations are groundless – we set aside the sutra and take the circumstances
as real. We start feeling hurt and aggrieved. We forget completely that all
things are empty and are led around in circles by illusory phenomena. We not
only become attached to appearances, but are stirred up by them. Not only that
– we get upset as well. We are hardly “serenely unmoved.”
We may have
been reading the sutras for decades, but once tested by reality we trip over.
If someone says our Dharma learning is a sham, lacking earnestness, we would
feel aggrieved. Even so, we reveal ourselves once a test comes – that we
haven’t really learned any of the things the Buddha taught us. Forbearance paramita (perfection practice)? Put it
aside for the moment … let’s first argue things out, or have a good cry.
There was a
householder who was really quite lovely. He told me about the first time he ever
ate a paramita fruit, and his story left me with a tinge of regret. When he
went off to work in the hills, he recalled, he heard people singing praises of
the fruit. So he bought one, for a thousand dollars, to sample.
The
householder also heard that the fruit was very sticky, and one needed to apply
some oil before eating it. He did not realize, though, that the lubricant was
to be applied to the knife, so it wouldn’t get sticky while cutting the fruit. He
picked up a knife and started slicing straightaway. Wherever he cut, the knife
became sticky. The stickiness spread to his hands and body, and he had a hard
time washing it off. “Sticky hands, sticky feet,” he exclaimed. “It’s enough to
make you mad! If I’d hadn’t paid so much for the fruit, I would just toss it in
the trash. That would save me much trouble!”
He thought
the oil was supposed to be applied to the fruit as he was about to eat it.
Naturally it tasted greasy and was totally unappetizing. The oil was meant to
be dabbed onto the knife before cutting, not the fruit before eating! (The oil
that prevents the knife from becoming sticky = wisdom that forestalls attachment.)
The
experience of this householder in eating the fruit resembles our efforts to
practice the Dharma. Oil has to be applied to the knife so the blade won’t get
sticky while cutting the fruit. Not knowing that the knife needs oil is like
not being aware that wisdom requires non-attachment. As a result we become
attached to everything – truly sticky hands and sticky feet, enough to make
anyone angry. All thoughts of paramita are set aside.
The oil that
lubricates the knife teaches us about the wisdom of non-attachment. It is
something every blade needs. The oil is not meant to be applied to the fruit
before consumption. This suggests that wherever we are, we need the wisdom in
the sutras. It is not something to be used for ornamental purposes.
— Excerpted from Master Tao Cheng’s The
Caterpillar Becomes a Butterfly
By Ven. Yin Chi
QUESTION: If I swat a mosquito after having taken the
Three Refuges, would I be committing the offense of killing? How can I
cultivate compassion to deal with repugnant little mosquitoes?
ANSWER: If you’ve taken the Refuges but
not the Precepts, you cannot be said to have committed an offense. Even so, the
law of karma continues to operate. You should not kill any living thing. Human
beings, dogs, mosquitoes and bugs are different life forms, and the karmic
offense in taking the life of each of them similarly varies. Yet killing is a
karmic mistake that carries consequences.
It is
commendable that you should find mosquitoes repugnant, yet wish to develop a
compassionate way of treating them. True, a mosquito’s way of life has an
impact on people. That is an inevitable result of their mutual karma. Killing a
mosquito cannot be compared to killing a person, of course. The latter is a
much heavier offense. Yet it cannot be denied that a mosquito also has a life
of its own. In nature there are lots of mosquitoes; you cannot kill them all.
To avoid
trouble from them without taking life, we need to apply wisdom. We should be mindful
of our surroundings while going about our home life, taking care not to create
conditions favorable to mosquitoes. We must pay attention to hygiene and not let
dirty water accumulate, which would allow the insects to breed. While taking
part in outdoor activities, we should take precautions that would help us avoid
having to swat mosquitoes. As the Department of Health often reminds us, these
include wearing long-sleeved, light-colored garments and applying mosquito
repellent.
QUESTION: My mother, a Buddhist,
keeps fish as a hobby. She feeds them with tiny red worms, putting them into
the bowl for the fish to eat. She says that is a part of the natural order, and
in the food chain worms are meant to be eaten by fish. If not for the red
worms, the fish would starve to death – and that would negative karma. Yet I
feel doing that is to kill the worms indirectly. Would it be a karmic offense?
Is there a compromise to resolve this issue?
ANSWER: In a natural environment, fish eating worms is an act of nature. But keeping fish in a bowl is a man-made situation. Its sole purpose being to satisfy a personal interest, it is far removed from nature. Feeding fish with red worms is taking life directly, and killing is negative karma. Your mother’s justification does not hold much water; it is merely an excuse for her actions. In fact, it is not worth incurring such an offense by keeping fish for one’s own pleasure. And the fish do not necessarily have to eat worms. A compromise would be to use fish feed. Though we are not sure what the feed is made from, at least it is not living, moving beings.
Carry
Your Own Umbrella
A Buddhist
practitioner was sheltering himself from the rain under the roof of a building.
When he saw a Zen master approaching with an umbrella, he called out: “Master,
how about delivering a sentient being? Can you accompany me on my journey with
your umbrella?”
“I am in the rain but you are under
the roof,” replied the Zen master. “There is no rain under the roof, so you
don’t need my deliverance.” The practitioner immediately stepped out into the
rain. “I’m now also in the rain,” he said. “Shouldn’t you deliver me?”
“We are both
in the rain,” said the Zen master. “The rain does not fall on me because I have
an umbrella. It falls on you because you don’t. So it’s not a question of me
delivering you, but of the umbrella protecting me. If you want deliverance, you
needn’t come to me. Just get an umbrella!” He made off without even turning around.
With an
umbrella, we can avoid getting wet when it rains. If we have true Zen nature,
we can steer clear of delusion. To expect help when we don’t carry an umbrella
on a rainy day is like seeking deliverance by others when we have not sought
seriously to understand our own true nature. Neglecting our own precious
resources, we only wish to use those of others. How can we expect to get what
we want?
To shelter
under our own umbrella means trying to resolve all issues ourselves. By
refusing to lend his umbrella, the Zen master was underscoring this point. He
was enlightening the confused at a basic level.