Table of Contents
Teachings of Master Man Sang: Sutra of the Eight
Realizations of Great Beings
Buddhism in China: Lineage of the Huayan
School
Pilgrimage to India: Towards the End, Lingering
Regrets
Story from the Sutras: On Generosity
Dharma Transmitter: A Whack on
the Head
Cornucopia: Let Go, Make Empty, Balance Out, Relax, Leave Behind
Changing With
Circumstances: Paving the Way for Hope
Reader’s Corner: Adapting to
Circumstances, Feeling Free
By
Ven. Yin Chi
There was a horseman who loved to go
riding in the wooded hills. Once, as he was riding without a care in the
forest, he was startled – and scared – when a lion suddenly came into view.
Reflexively, he drew a knife to protect himself. The lion, however, stayed
still. The horseman calmed down and took a closer look: the animal was
obviously injured. The man approached it carefully. The lion not only remained in
place, but lay down and lifted its injured leg. It turned its paw towards the
horseman, as though seeking his help.
The man saw clearly that the center
of the paw was pierced by a hard object that was both thick and sharp. Hearing
the lion’s plaintive cries, the rider couldn’t help feeling sorry for it.
Softly he approached the wounded animal and said, “Don’t be afraid. I’ve come
to help you. I will pull out the thorn, but it may hurt quite a bit. You must
put up with the pain.”
Having taken measure of the task,
the horseman quickly extracted the thorn with a single, nimble movement. He
then jumped back and watched as the lion struggled with the pain. It simpered a
while and lay down weakly. The horseman came up and applied balm to the wound.
In this manner he looked after the lion for some time. When the animal was
healthy again, he happily patted it and said, “Now you can go home!”
A few years passed. The horseman
made the mistake of befriending some rogues and found himself on the wrong side
of the law. The authorities put out a warrant for his arrest. Despite all
manner of efforts to hide himself, the horseman was eventually caught. He was
tried and sentenced to be “eaten by wild animals.”
On the day of his execution, the
horseman was put into a cage with a hungry lion. As the gape-mouthed animal
approached, he was terrified and closed his eyes tightly. He could feel the
cold, sharp teeth of the hungry lion upon his trembling face. The man could not
be sure how long he spent in that state of pure terror, but the lion did not
harm him. Instead, it licked him amicably. The horseman slowly opened his eyes
and took a peek … he spotted a familiar-looking paw scar. It was the lion he
once helped!
Seven days passed. Everyone was
surprised that the condemned man was still alive after spending a week in a
cage with a hungry lion. Even the king was curious; he sent an emissary to find
out what was going on. The horseman told him about his previous experience with
the lion., and expressed his gratitude that the animal had chosen to repay him
when they met again in the cage.
When he heard the story, the king
sighed, “So it is true that all sentient beings have intelligence. Since a
hungry lion has spared you, your crime can be considered expiated. Henceforth,
you must transform yourself and begin a new life.”
In our society, the media are full
of news reports about violence and bloodshed. Lives are lost as a result of
even petty disputes, and many people wonder how they can avoid being harmed by
others. The story above provides a powerful hint: As sentient beings are equal,
we should do what is good, help others, treat other beings well and develop
positive relationships. By giving generously as well as treating others well
and assisting them, we cultivate friendly, wholesome connections. We should
adopt a grateful attitude, think correctly and approach our relationships and
daily tasks with a positive energy.
We can dispel enmity by handling our
affairs in a harmonious, accommodating manner. Though we may not be able to
turn the other party around immediately, at least we can avoid deepening the
negative karma. So long as we treat others sincerely, we can readily make
friends and encounter benefactors.
The foregoing story also tells us
that a peaceful, happy life is built on mutual trust and help, as well as
harmonious relationships. In today’s society, many seek only to maximize their
own interests. They care not if they are being reasonable, only that they
aren’t disadvantaged in their pursuit of personal gain.
Even so, life’s greatest happiness
lies in a sense of security and peace of mind. If we are constantly struggling
against others in our pursuit of benefits, anxiety, calculation and discontent
would be our constant companions. How would that bring happiness or benefit?
Only those who live in harmony can
experience happiness. Benefits gained through struggle and grasping come at the
expense of our inner peace; they are not worth the price. Truly happy lives are
grounded in a sense of satisfaction, peace of mind and joy. That’s why we
should learn the Bodhisattva spirit, nurturing our compassion and cultivating
good relationships. We should be understanding and tolerant of other people.
When we accommodate others with wisdom and compassion, we are actually treating
ourselves well. Such behavior is tantamount to
sowing the seeds of peace and happiness in our own lives.
Sutra of the Eight Realizations of Great Beings
THE
SIXTH REALIZATION: To know that bitterness in the
face of poverty and adversity creates bad karma. While undertaking acts of
generosity and other practices, the Bodhisattva considers on an equal basis the
intimate as well as the antagonistic. He harbors neither past hatreds nor
resentment towards malicious people.
A
Bodhisattva not only practices unconditional giving, but “considers on an equal
basis the intimate as well as the antagonistic.” He or she treats both in the
same manner. “The antagonistic” are those who have hurt us in some way. “The
intimate” are our relatives, or people who are friendly to us.
For most of
us, it is easy to be generous towards family members, but nearly impossible to
be so with those who have mistreated us. Even so, the Bodhisattva does not
discriminate while dispensing generosity. So long as someone is in trouble,
whether friend or foe, a Bodhisattva provides help to relieve the suffering.
A
Bodhisattva does not “harbor past hatreds.” He does not bear grudges against
people who once did him harm or recall those misdeeds. Hatreds only fester and
intensify if we think about them constantly. As the popular saying goes,
“Enmities are best dissolved, not nurtured.” We should think of ourselves as
accommodating: Someone has mistreated me, but I will forgive that person. A
maxim teaches that “a superior person does not bear an overnight grudge.” If he
treats me badly, it is because he is ignorant and lacks compassion. Why should
I emulate him? Isn’t it better to have one more friend than another enemy?
Our model
should be the Bodhisattva, who does not harbor bygone hatreds. Consider the
example of Shakyamuni Buddha. One of his disciples, Devadatta,
not only showed no gratitude for his teacher’s kindness but plotted constantly
to harm him. Once Devadatta even rolled a boulder
down a hill with the intention of killing the Buddha, who was passing below.
However, the rock only grazed the Buddha’s toe.
When
ordinary people are repeatedly maltreated by someone, they will hate that
person deeply. But with his great compassion, the Buddha not only bore no
hatred against Devadatta but even called him a
benefactor. “I am thankful for his instruction,” said the Buddha. “If Devadatta were not constantly creating difficulties to test
me, how could I perfect my practice of forbearance? How would I have been able
to accomplish the 32 marks and the 80 physical characteristics of Buddhahood?”
So we need
to learn from the compassionate, wise thinking of the Buddha. When we meet with
adverse circumstances, we should consider them a test. We must avoid becoming
bitter or angry, and think rather that the other party is providing us with a
chance to improve our practice. We should not hate the person. Instead, we
should thank him or her for acting like a mentor, guiding us towards
self-improvement and breakthroughs.
The
Bodhisattva holds no “resentment towards malicious people.” Malicious people
refers to those who accomplish every evil deed. How do we avoid hating such
vicious and loathsome persons? Possessing wisdom and compassion, a Bodhisattva
understands that everything that happens stems from a combination of
circumstances. A malicious person does wrong only because of a moment of
confusion or ignorance. Even a good person sometimes becomes malicious; indeed,
there are no absolutely evil people.
A
Bodhisattva’s mission to deliver sentient beings encompasses even those who are
malicious. It’s like a doctor seeking out the sick to cure! If we hate those
who are malicious, how could we give them an opportunity to change? So, rather
than abhorring evil-doers, the Bodhisattva takes pity on them, tirelessly
employing skillful means to transform them and turn them from evil to good. So
long as we sincerely treat them well, even malicious people will eventually be
moved.
In the Sixth Realization, the Buddha teaches us that when faced with poverty and suffering, we should seek to understand their causes. Bitterness and resentment only bring us more negative karma. If we wish to leave poverty and suffering behind, we must learn from the Bodhisattva’s capacity to give unconditionally. We should treat on an equal basis both the intimate and the antagonistic, and bear no grudge against past slights or malicious people. Compassionately and without discrimination, we should help the needy, be they our intimates or antagonists. To the best of our ability, we should give of our money, ability and loving kindness, in the process creating wholesome karma. We would be able to undertake such unconditional giving if our hearts and minds are capacious. By doing so, we would accumulate immeasurable virtue and good fortune.
Lineage of the Huayan School
Master Dushun
(557-640), whose life spanned the Sui and Tang dynasties, focused on studying
the thought of the Avatamsaka (Huayan,
“Flower Ornament”) Sutra. Merging the
scripture’s profound principles with the meditative practices of the Chan (Zen)
school, he established the “Three Contemplations of the Phenomenal World,”
comprising the “absolute reality of true emptiness,” the “convergence of
principle and phenomena” and the notion of “all-inclusiveness.” He was a great
master who forged a unity of theory and practice. His works, Meditation on the Five Teachings and Contemplation of the Avatamsaka Realm,
became fundamental texts in the development of Huayan
thought. For this he was honored as the First Patriarch of the Huayan school.
The Second
Patriarch was Master Zhiyan (602-668). At the age of
27, he composed In Search of the
Mysteries of the Avatamsaka Sutra, which presented and explicated the key
points of the Avatamsaka Sutra in 60
Fascicles. His work became a touchstone for the school. Throughout his
life, Zhiyan wrote about and expounded the Dharma. He
regarded the teaching of disciples and the public as his duty and never sought
fame. His personal style was lofty and noble.
The Third
Patriarch, Xianshou (643-712), fused the thought of Dushun and Zhiyan into a complete
whole. He finished the systematization of the scriptural and meditative aspects
of the Huayan school. Moreover, he classified the
Buddha’s instruction into the Three Periods, Five Teachings and Ten Schools,
taking the Huayan as a special school affirming the
interpenetration of all phenomena.
When Empress
Wu Zetian of the Tang Dynasty decreed that the Avatamsaka Sutra be rendered into
Chinese, Master Xianshou took part in the translation
work, providing special insights into the scripture. When the translation was
complete, it is said that Empress Wu personally made an offering of incense to
heighten the solemnity of the occasion. Attaching great importance to the
sutra, she asked Master Xianshou to explain it to
her.
Xianshou was particularly adept at teaching with concrete
examples. Because the Empress was unclear about many aspects of the sutra, he
made use of teaching examples on the spot. Xianshou
used the golden lions outside the palace as a metaphor for the phenomenal
world, the Six Forms and the Ten Mysteries. The confused Empress suddenly
understood. Later this episode was known as the “teaching of the golden lions.”
For the
benefit of learners, Xianshou made skillful use of
ten bronze mirrors, set about ten feet apart and facing one another, to
represent the eight directions as well as up and down. He put a Buddha image in
their midst and lit a candle, producing countless reflections of the image and
the candlelight. The reflections overlapped but did not interfere with one
another. Thus did Xianshou illustrate the rise of the
“countless layers” making up the phenomenal world. The demonstration enabled
his audience to comprehend how “the world is embedded in the infinite.” Such were
examples of his teaching talent.
Deeply
appreciative of his instructional abilities, Empress Wu named Xianshou a State Teacher. The Huayan
school flourished as a result. State Teacher Xianshou
expounded the Avatamsaka Sutra more
than 30 times. His discourses were often accompanied by special signs – his
mouth emitting light, colored clouds appearing overhead, or the ground
trembling. Some even referred to the Huayan school as
the “Xianshou school.” Such were his influence on the
school and his contributions to it. His writings – including Exploring the Mysteries of the Avatamsaka
Sutra, Five Chapters on the Avatamsaka Sutra and Eliminating Falsehoods and Returning to the Source in Huayan Practice – are key works in the Huayan canon.
Fourth
Patriarch Chengyuan (738-839) explicated the Avatamsaka Sutra some 50 times. He lived
through nine changes of regime and taught the scriptures to seven emperors. “I
feel serene and at ease [qingliang] when listening to the Master talk about the Avatamsaka Sutra,” said Emperor Dezong of the Tang admiringly. So he named Chengguan State Teacher Qingliang.
At the time of the Fifth Patriarch, Zongmi (780-841), the Huayan
school first advocated a unity between Chan and the scripture-based schools. He
also wrote the Treatise on Fundamental
Human Nature. Grounding himself in Huayan
thought, Zongmi was versed in the Three Teachings. He
had a major influence on the development of Song and Ming dynasty philosophy as
well as the rationalization of Confucianism.
With the advocacy of five
outstanding patriarchs, the Huayan school evolved a
profound and sophisticated system of thought. Together with the Tiantai school, it was a shining pillar of Chinese Buddhist
thought.
Buddhist thinking became widespread
during the Wei-Jin period and the Six Dynasties. Dharma discourses flourished
and a glorious chapter began in the history of Chinese Buddhism. During the Six
Dynasties, a key era in the development of Buddhist thought in China, most
senior monks were non-Chinese. From the Sui and Tang dynasties onward, however,
the number of non-Han monastics declined. This was not unrelated to the
Buddhism-persecution campaigns of the Northern Zhou Dynasty.
After the Sui and the Tang periods,
the foreign flavor of Buddhism began to fade as Chinese monastics became the
mainstream. The schools bloomed, with eight major ones flourishing at the same
time, interacting vigorously with one another. And Buddhism spread abroad, to
places such as Japan. During the Tang Dynasty, Buddhism entered its golden age,
its brilliance rarely matched in later times.
Towards the End, Lingering Regrets
(Day 10, Oct. 31, 2008)
By Ven. Yin Chi
Today we
would travel from Kanpur to Agra. Our guide told us we would have to have boxed
lunches as we would not be passing any
suitable eateries. Around noon we arrived at Sankashya,
where the coach stopped in front of an unprepossessing hillock. This was the
place where the Buddha descended from Tusita Heaven, where he had spent three
months expounding the Dharma to his mother. It was much smaller than the site
where had made his ascent to Tusita Heaven.
We climbed
up the hill. The surrounding scenery wasn’t especially attractive, but we felt
a sense of spirituality. At the top was a small Bodhi tree and a little shrine
made of brick. Inside, we were told, was an image honoring Queen Maya, the
Buddha’s mother.
After paying
our respects, reciting the Buddha’s name and circumambulating, we returned to
our coach. It was parked near a small temple, reportedly dedicated to Queen
Maya. Behind the temple stood a pillar erected by King Ashoka. Though Sankashya was a village, it seemed relatively well off. A
group of children surrounded us; they were dressed much more brightly than
those we saw a few days ago.
After ten
minutes on the coach, we arrived at a Burmese-style monastery. Its grounds were
spacious and a big vehicle was parked there. The administrators opened up a
large restaurant, where we rested and ate from our lunchboxes. After the simple
meal, we toured the monastery and made offerings to the resident monastics. Its
scale was impressive: Besides several structures outside the main Buddha hall,
there were classrooms and a garden.
The tour
over, we continued our journey. We arrived at Agra towards nightfall. This was
a city known for tourism. Colorful vehicles darted back and forth, many of them
taxis and motorized tricycles. Delhi aside, it was the first time we had seen
such busy streets. We arrived at what was billed as a five-star hotel. It had
many foreign tourists, as well as a guard with a long beard, who projected a
very “Indian” image. Many guests had their pictures taken with him. It seemed
that he was a tourist attraction too.
After a brief
rest, we went browsing in the hotel’s shops, which suddenly became crowded.
Perhaps because our pilgrimage to the Eight Sacred Places was complete, or
maybe because it would soon be time to go home, many of us freely bought
souvenirs. Momentarily forgetting the fatigue of the day’s journey, we
enthusiastically purchased such items as Indian silk scarves and clothing.
Tonight was our shopping night. We enjoyed its pleasures and then started
packing our luggage.
On
Generosity
There was
once a man who was remarkably stingy. Whatever he fancied, he would say, “I
want it! I want it!” Never did he say, “I don’t want it!”
One day, the
man encountered the Buddha while the latter was on an alms round. He was
attracted to a few round pills inside the Buddha’s alms bowl. So he asked the
Buddha what the objects in the bowl were. When the Buddha told him they were
pleasure pills, he immediately asked if he could have them.
“Yes, you
can have the pills,” the Buddha replied. “There is one condition, though. I can
give you two pleasure pills, but you must return one to me and say that you
don’t need that pill.”
In order to
obtain the pills, the man happily accepted the Buddha’s condition. But as he
was about to give back one of the pills in his hand, he clearly found the act
very difficult. That’s because in this life … no, actually over many lifetimes,
the man never gave back whatever he had taken possession of. Yet to avoid
breaking his promise and afraid that the Buddha might take back both pills, he
gave back one of them, with a trembling hand and after an internal struggle. “I
… I don’t … don’t need … don’t need this pleasure pill,” he stammered.
Observing
the scene, the Buddha’s disciples couldn’t help finding it comical. Curious,
they asked their teacher why he had taken such pains in giving the man a
pleasure pill.
“His
habitual energy of tight-fistedness has accumulated over a long time,” replied
the Buddha compassionately. “He has never given the slightest thought to
generosity. If he continued like that, he would never be able to escape
continuous rebirth in the Wretched Realms. That’s why I want to plant a seed of
generosity in his mind.
“You
shouldn’t underestimate the tiny, wholesome thought he had today. When the
conditions are ripe, he will be able to leave the Wretched Realms by virtue of
this thought and start practicing the Dharma. Eventually, he will leave
suffering behind and permanently eliminate his afflictions.”
A Whack on the Head
Once Master Chan took a bunch of us monks as well as some lay
supporters to visit Old Master Guangqin. The Old
Master was seated in a rattan chair.
At
the time, I was apprenticing at Nanputuo Buddhist
Academy. There were more than 20 halls of various sizes on the grounds; we had
no complaints about having to make reverences at all of them. Our meals were
cooked by 9:15 a.m., but the president of the academy insisted that we eat them
only at 11:15. (Nanputuo Academy in Taichung was
strict about the prohibition of eating after noon. Everyone had to lay down
their chopsticks at precisely that time.)
When
the weather turned cold in winter, we would develop diarrhea … Because we had
only recently taken the vows of sramenera (novice monks), we had some gripes about the
president. Why did we have to do such lengthy recitations of scripture? If we
could only eat at 11:15, why were the meals cooked by 9:15? The president would
scold us if we wanted to reheat them. The matter weighed on my mind all the
time. Because I had just entered monastic life, I wasn’t able to think things
through.
As
we called on Old Master Guangqin, I raised the issue
with him. “Old Master,” I said. “Our president has our meals cooked by 9:15 in
the morning, but would have us eat them cold at 11:15. As a result, everyone at
Nanputuo Buddhist Academy suffers from diarrhea –
especially me.”
At
this point, Old Master Guangqin yelled, “Shut your
mouth!” His force of his exclamation stunned me.
“Don’t
talk about others serving you cold meals,” he admonished. “Say only that you
lack the good fortune to be eating hot meals.”
So
that’s how it was ... yes, yes. The Old Master was a great, saintly man. “Don’t
complain all the time that you are given cold food; only tell yourself you
don’t have the fortune to enjoy hot food,” he repeated. “You must always
remember to think this way, understand?”
Nowadays,
I apply the Old Master’s words to everything I do. If I encounter an employee
who behaves in odd ways, I do not resent him. I lack the good fortune to hire
good workers, always ending up with those who don’t measure up. It can’t be
helped.
Another
application of the Old Master’s advice: She scolds me, but that’s all right.
It’s just that my own comportment is inadequate. No problem.
The
Old Master’s words really are useful. By employing them, I lose my vexations.
From
such words we see that everything goes back to our own true nature. All
problems stem from our own minds.
Why
are there so many natural and man-made disasters? Why is it that certain people
meet with calamity? Is it because they lack good fortune? If the answer is yes,
we should make use of our limited time and opportunities to accumulate merit.
Remember,
it’s our own good fortune that’s insufficient, so don’t blame others.
-
Vignettes From the Discourses of
Master Huilu
Let Go, Make Empty, Balance Out,
Relax, Leave Behind
There was a
new sramenera
(novice monk) who was curious about everything. In autumn, as red leaves
swirled about the Chan (Zen) monastery, he asked his master, “The red leaves
are so beautiful. Why do they fall down?”
His teacher
smiled and said, “Because winter will soon come and the tree cannot bear so
many leaves, so it sheds some of them. This is not to ‘abandon’ but to ‘let
go’!”
When the
winter arrived, the young apprentice saw the monks empty the jars in the
courtyard of the water they held. He ran to query his teacher, “The water was
fine. Why did they pour it away?”
His master
smiled again. “Because it is cold in winter and the water will freeze and burst
the jars. So they have to be emptied. This is not ‘true emptiness’ but to ‘make
empty’!”
Snow fell
heavily and accumulated on the potted miniature cypresses. The master
instructed his disciples to lay the containers on their sides so the trees
could rest on the ground. Puzzled again, the sramenera
quickly asked, “The cypresses were fine … Why topple them?”
His teacher
made a face. “Who says they were fine?” he asked. “Didn’t you see the leaves
bend under the weight of the snow? The branches would have broken from the
pressure. We did not ‘topple’ the trees; we ‘balanced them out.’ To protect
them, we laid them flat so they could rest. When the snow clears, we will put
them upright again.”
With the
frigid weather and the global financial crisis, contributions to the monastery
diminished substantially. Even the young novice was worried. He ran to ask his
master what could be done.
“Are you
lacking food or clothing?” replied his teacher with a glare. “Just count the
clothes still in our wardrobes, and the firewood in the fuel shed. How much
potato do we still have in the storehouse? Don’t think about what we do not
have, but focus on what we have. The hard times will eventually pass, just as
spring never fails to come. You should relax. ‘Relax’ doesn’t mean ‘lose
focus.’ It means to put your mind at ease.”
Spring came
around. Perhaps because the winter snowfall had been particularly heavy, the
spring flowers bloomed with special brilliance, exceeding previous years.
Donations to the monastery gradually recovered to previous levels.
The master
got set to make a faraway journey. The sramenera
rushed to the main gate of the monastery and asked, “Master, you are leaving.
What are we going to do?”
Waving, the
master smiled, “You are all now able to let go, make empty, balance out and
relax. What is there that I cannot leave behind?”
-
From the
internet
By Ven. Yin Chi
QUESTION: I observe the Ten Vegetarian Days every
month. If I have a social engagement on a vegetarian day, can I make up for it
afterwards – or beforehand?
ANSWER: Actually, I don’t approve of
this. But rules cannot be considered in isolation from human sentiments. If you
have an engagement you really cannot avoid, perhaps you could observe the
vegetarian day early. If you do have to change the date, I suggest that you
require yourself to go two additional days without eating meat. That would be a
way of reminding yourself not to make such substitutions readily.
Evens so,
some situations are what you make them. Even if you have an engagement on a
vegetarian day, you can still avoid eating meat. When you go to the banquet,
you can abstain from the food, limiting yourself to drinks. Sometimes, you
would avoid certain foods by saying they don’t agree with you, or you need to
abstain because of a cold or flu. Isn’t this much the same? In such cases, just
avoid the food and content yourself with tea.
QUESTION: I have obstacles in my daily life. Is that
because of negative karma from a prior life? How can I eliminate it?
ANSWER: You can dissipate it by striving to improve yourself from this very moment. Bad karma stems from wrong things we did in past lifetimes. Since we know the causes lie in our past, accept the situation. At the same time, we must in the present life repent our bad deeds of the past and resolve to turn from evil to good. By often performing wholesome actions, we can accumulate merit and change our lives, as well as transform bad karma into good karma. This is the best way to expunge negative karma.
Paving the Way for Hope
By Ru Zang
A prominent
chef of the older generation wrote in a newspaper column about a recent
experience of his. During a speech he made introducing Taiwan cuisine, a member
of the audience asked about the origin of the name of the island’s famous
milkfish. The chef gave the answer he knew, based on information passed down
from generation to generation. When he finished, a 10-year-old boy, holding a
mobile phone, challenged him.
The boy said
the chef’s answer did not exactly match what he had just downloaded from the
internet. According to his web search, there were three or four different
answers to the question. He asked the chef why he thought his was the correct
version.
The chef
replied that his knowledge was based on experience and tradition. Everything he
had learned, he added, from his first cooking lessons in primary school to his
recognition as a master chef who opened restaurants and taught disciples, had
been passed on to him by previous masters. Everything he said and did was based
on what his mentors taught him.
The chef
then asked the boy which answer he himself thought was correct. The youngster
was at a loss. He merely repeated what he found online, as he did not know how
to draw a conclusion. He did not believe in tradition, authority or experience,
only on knowledge and evidence. At his age, unfortunately, he lacked both the
knowledge and the experience to make an assessment. Worse, there was no
authority he trusted, which could have helped him out of his predicament. As a
result, he could only judge and decide according to immediate factors of
greatest benefit to himself, using his limited know-how and his immature grasp
of ethics.
My
generation, which grew up during a time of relative material deprivation, was
quite unified in its values. From an early age, we were taught to believe in
authority, including our elders, parents, teachers, the police and the
professionals who served us. We also had faith in tradition and experience.
Such an educational environment enabled us, before reaching maturity, to have
something to rely on. It established a track we could follow, ensuring we did
not lose our way.
Consider a
dry sponge. In order to squeeze water out of it, we must first allow it to
absorb water. In our time the educational system permitted us to absorb knowledge
in a gradual, stage-by-stage manner. Development and competition in society
were relatively slow and steady. On the whole, effort and reward were
proportional. Regardless of social background, educational level or even age,
people generally believed they would be rewarded for hard work in their
respective fields. They also accepted the fact that those who worked in
different positions would be paid differently.
All this
rested on a belief that one should “be content with one’s lot” and “work
diligently towards the future.” More importantly, one could actually “see the
future.” Such an environment gave us the opportunity to accumulate enough
knowledge and experience, so we could face the challenges of the future.
In the
1990s, the knowledge and information explosion combined with rapid economic
growth to change the world. Every nation and social class strove hard to keep
up with the torrid pace. The new generation was unable to cope with the new
challenges with only past experience and traditional education. As parents, we
anxiously plan our children’s entire lives the moment they are born. This
includes their infant communication skills, the nurture of pre-school interests
and progress at each stage of their schooling. The aim is for our children not
to be disadvantaged. And the relentless struggles in official and unofficial
education are intended to maximize their future competitiveness.
We seem to
have lost sight of the balanced, well-rounded development of a person.
Worldwide, the focus is on personal economic interests and everything is tilted
to favor the economy. We have forgotten that religious, cultural, historical
and moral development is a crucial pillar of our character formation and of
life itself.
Our world
today is full of religion-related revenge killings as well as economic plunder
and conflict among nations. In Hong Kong, the younger generation challenges and
opposes the social system. They fight actively for their beliefs and
unflinchingly resist the system. They are uncompromising and are determined not
to rest before attaining their goals. Convinced these are their rights, they
care little about the impact of their actions on others.
Under such
circumstances, we cannot make judgments about rights and wrongs according
solely to our own perspectives. These developments are the result of karma –
the collective karma of humankind. They stem from excessive pursuits as people
cope with life and survival. The problem has arisen because they are unaware of
the greed in their hearts.
As Buddhists,
we know ell the importance of influencing others through self-improvement and
personal example. Only such an approach can apply the correct medicine to our
ills and begin immediately to curb our avarice. By doing the right things in
the present, we plant wholesome seeds for the future, bring hope into the
picture.
Adapting to Circumstances,
Feeling Free
By Wing Fun
During the Yulan
(Ullambana) Festival, I encountered again a certain
fellow practitioner. His wife passed away last year from cancer and he found
this tragedy very hard to accept. Besides being fully dependent on his wife for
his daily living needs, he had contracted stomach cancer the year before. His
wife looked after him day and night during the process of his recovery. But
misfortune continued to pile up as his wife was diagnosed early last year with
terminal cancer. She passed away within months. After completing her funeral
arrangements, he lost his appetite for food and drink, suffering in both body
and spirit. I spent much effort encouraging him not to have foolish thoughts,
but to buckle up and take care of himself and his children. I urged him to
continue treatment for his own illness.
Meeting him again a year later, I noticed
that he looked considerably better. He had been moved by a well-intentioned
scolding from a caring friend to undergo Chinese message therapy and take up
yoga and qigong. His strength and
digestion had improved a lot, yet he was still sick at heart. He fell into
depression and had to rely on sleeping pills. Every time he passed by our
Dharma center, he would think of his wife and feel sad and deeply
uncomfortable.
Though his body’s condition had
improved through his efforts, he was still unable to let go emotionally.
Delusions would cross his mind and he continued to live in anguish. Luckily he
was willing to talk about what troubled him, though he had no means of pulling
himself out of his pain. Besides encouraging him to continue his exercises as therapy
for his body, we taught him to recite the Heart
Sutra to ease his inner hurt. Fortunately he had no hesitation in learning
the recitation and pledged to perform it both mornings and evenings. We made a
date to check in three months’ time whether his spirits had improved. May his
emotions heal soon!
Also during Yulan,
a three-year-old girl came to the Dharma center with his grandmother. The
object of much affection, she was perky and not a bit shy. After bowing three
times before the Buddha, she said hello to everyone around her. One moment she
was playing with a puppy, the next with her iPad. She
then focused her attention on drawing, reading characters aloud, singing and
telling stories, all with much relish.
Later her grandmother told a sunny
little story about the girl. Once the grandmother and some friends were taking
the child to Toys ’R Us. Along the way, one of the friends pulled a prank on
the girl and said they had lost their way and were unable to find the toy
store. The child, however, neither made a scene nor threw a tantrum. Instead,
she said cheerfully, “Never mind. Let’s keep moving on … maybe we will find
it!”
This may be a fleeting episode, but
we can note the contrast between the child’s optimism and my fellow
practitioner’s pessimism and attachment. It makes us realize that life is full
of disappointments. What’s important is how we can let go, face up to
difficulties instead of fearing them, and act with an optimistic spirit.
Master Yin Chi often teaches us to
make use of the Buddha’s teachings in our daily lives and understand causes and
effects. We should give generously, form positive connections, share others’
pleasure in good deeds, and avoid doing or saying negative things to steer
clear of unwholesome relationships. When suffering the consequences of
something we had done, we should repent sincerely and accept responsibility
with a positive attitude. We must neither bear resentment nor feel regret, but
work actively to change ourselves for the better. We have to let go of our pain
and anxiety, our vexations and unhappiness, so we can set new goals and
aspirations. Then we should implement them. By being firm and combining faith,
resolution and action, we will surely be able to overcome adverse conditions
and accomplish that which is good.
If we can live according to the
Buddha’s teaching of the Four Boundless States of Mind – giving joy, taking
away pain, delighting in good and letting go – and adapt to circumstances, we
would feel free and easy. The world would then enjoy harmony and its peoples
peace of mind. May all sentient beings leave suffering behind and obtain
happiness.
Homage to Amitabha Buddha!
No Time
to Be Old
Dazhi, a disciple of Chan (Zen) Master Foguang,
returned to the monastery after having studied and practiced elsewhere for 20
years. In the Dharma hall, as he was about to tell Master Foguang
his experiences, he noticed his teacher smiling encouragingly. “Master, have
you been well these 20 years?” Dazhi finally asked.
“Very well,
very well,” replied Foguang. “I’ve been giving
discourses, teaching the Dharma, writing and copying the sutras. There can be
no happier life than to be swimming in the sea of the Dharma every day. Each
day I am joyfully busy.”
“Master, you
should find more time to rest!” said Dazhi with some
concern. His teacher told him, “Right, right, right! It is late now, you get
some rest! We can talk more later.”
In the wee
hours, as he drifted between sleep and wakefulness, Dazhi
seemed to hear the sound of sutra recitation and muyu (wooden fish) coming from
the meditation hall. During the day Master Foguang
never tired of giving Dharma talks to practitioners who came to pay respects to
the Buddha. Back in the meditation hall, he would either be reviewing the
practice reports of novice monks or editing teaching materials for lay
practitioners. He never seemed to run out of things to do.
Just as
Master Foguang was finishing a talk to the assembly, Dazhi grabbed the opportunity to ask his master, “Teacher!
In these past 20 years that we’ve been apart, you’ve still been as busy as
ever. How come you don’t seem to have aged?” Replied Foguang,
“I’ve had no time to feel old!”
“No time to
be old.” The phrase would thenceforth ring regularly in Dazhi’s
ears.
Some people
may be young, but their inner strength is already in decline; they therefore
feel old. Others may be advanced in years but strong in their resolve. Their
spirits are in robust health. “No time to be old” means one has not wasted any
time. The idea of aging, of waiting to become old, does not appear in his or
her mind.
There was
once an elderly man, his hair completely white. When someone asked him how old
he was, he would reply “four.” As onlookers expressed astonishment, he
explained, “For 70 years, I lived for myself. My life was selfish, meaningless.
It is only in the past four years that I have learned to serve the public,
which have been full of meaning. So I have really only lived for four years.”
It would be
wonderful if we had “no time to grow old.” Short of that, it would be very
meaningful also to be a four-year-old senior citizen.