The Problem of Evil

by Norman Fischer

Beheadings. Drone attacks. Suicide bombers. Mass shootings in malls, movie theatres, and office buildings. Religious fanatics slaughtering innocents, sometimes by the thousands, in an effort to purify the world according to their lights.

The world today seems more filled with evil than ever. But no doubt people felt this in 1918, 1946, and afterwards, as they reeled with the shock of then-contemporary events. How could our reasonable, scientific, enlightened, and progressive culture, in its most promising century, have produced two world wars, the Holocaust, mass starvation, and the long, terrifying shadow of nuclear weapons?

We have been trying to digest this crisis of culture for a hundred years, to understand the perceived failure of modern Western civilisation, and the horrors, confusion, and despair it has left in its wake. Meantime, the planet is heating up every day — with as-yet-unknown but certainly dire consequences — and humanity can’t seem to find the political will to do anything about it.

And all of this is perpetrated by people, ordinary human beings like you and me. How do we understand human nature in the light of these sobering realities? How do we reconcile our hope that people are basically good with all the evil in the world?

Zen Buddhism is usually characterised as a non-dualistic tradition. In the realm of the absolute — of oneness, self-nature, true nature, Buddha nature, etc. — good and evil are aspects of the one reality. There is no fundamental difference between them.

As the Sixth Zen Ancestor challenges: “Without thinking good or bad, what is your Original Face?” All things, no matter what they are, are as they are; they can’t be some other way. And what they are is Buddha, the absolute reality beyond good and evil (and every other dualism).

It is true that in Zen there are precepts that describe moral rules, not unlike those followed by any religion or ethical humanistic program — not killing, stealing, lying, and so on. But Zen teaching distinguishes three different levels of precept practice: relative (or literal), compassionate, and absolute. On the relative or literal level, we try to keep the precepts as written and simply understood. On the compassionate level, we sometimes violate a precept in order to benefit others. The absolute level proposes that there is ultimately no way to keep any precept, and no way to break it. All precepts are always broken and kept. This is non-dual morality — beyond good and evil.

Or so it seems.

When the precepts are deeply considered, it’s clear that literal, compassionate, and absolute are only words, distinctions meant to help us appreciate aspects of the precepts we might otherwise miss. In the actual human world, we can’t avoid the choice between good and bad, because there is no absolute level apart from the relative and compassionate levels. Relative, compassionate, and absolute are ways of talking about the moral choices we make with these human bodies and minds, in an actual, lived, physical world.

Of course, there is a difference between good and evil. But we notice that not everyone agrees on which is which (though I believe that as a human family we are getting closer to unanimity on this point). Nor can we help but notice how much evil is perpetuated in the name of combating evil.

In Zen precept practice, the fundamental, absolute ground of ethics is being itself. Because we and the world exist, there are precepts. Things are. Life is. And in this, not being is also included. A moment of time arising is a moment of time passing. Being born is the beginning of dying. This is sad, tragic, and probably impossible for us to fully appreciate. Yet we can and do feel the immensity of being itself — and the strangeness of unbeing. Grounding our lives in this fundamental truth is the fruit of our practice. This is where the teaching of “no difference between good and evil” comes from. It is essential. But it can’t be taken out of context.

When evil is perpetrated it becomes a fact of existence. When ISIS militants behead people in Syria and Iraq, or when children are used as suicide bombers, evil is being perpetrated. This becomes something that is. It is undeniable. We have to accept that this evil has actually happened. We have to somehow take it in, difficult as that may be, because it is now a part of our world, of our human life.

This doesn’t mean we have to condone it or accept it in a moral sense, or that we shouldn’t do everything we can do to prevent it from happening again. It only means that we have to accept it as having happened. This acceptance is how I understand the absolute level. When evil exists, we accept it as existing, just as we have to accept a loss that’s happened to us, even as we grieve it. If we deny or refuse to accept reality as it is, we won’t be able to cope with it. We will keep on making the same mistakes again and again. Our losses, if we don’t accept them, can destroy our lives. To attempt to relieve our pain by identifying evildoers and vowing to wipe them out, as if that will remove the loss’s stark grip on us, won’t work. It will only add to evil’s mounting pile.

What does “non-dual” mean after all? I am not sure I entirely understand the concept. Some years ago I was invited to make a presentation at a conference whose theme was non-dualism. I was surprised to find that to many of the speakers non-dual meant “oneness.” I guess this makes sense — either it’s dual (which means two or more, like dual headlights) or it’s not dual, which means it’s one (or “One,” as most of the speakers seemed to understand it). By this logic, good and evil as separate things would be dualism, two different things. Non-dual would mean that good and evil aren’t different; they are one thing.

But to me, the concept of oneness is also dualism because you have oneness on the one hand and dualism on the other hand. And they seem like two different things: “I agree with oneness. Dualism is a mistake.” This seems like dualism.

Sometimes reality arrives as one, sometimes as more than one. Non-dualism must include dualism. If non-dualism doesn’t include and validate dualism, then it is dualistic! Saying it like this seems odd, but in actual living, it simply seems to be true.

Oneness would be: yes, this happened. A man was tortured to death. A child was born. Like all that happened or ever could happen, these are true, living facts, and as such I must accept them as real — good or evil, whether I like it or not. Dualism would be: wrong is wrong, and I am committed to doing what is good and right, not what is evil or wrong.

In actual living, I can’t see any way but to embrace both of these ways of seeing. How else could we live a reasonable human life?

Zhaozho once asked Touzi, “When someone who has undergone the great death then returns to life, how is it?” Touzi said, “She can’t go by night, she should arrive in the daylight.”

In Zen language, “the great death” stands for the non-dual sense of life as one. All things, good or bad, desirable or undesirable, express that oneness. To experience the great death is to see, face to face and for oneself, that everything is real, everything is true, everything is just as it is. Such an experience, if it is an experience, is certainly important in Zen practice, if not all-important. What does that — and this story that speaks of it — imply for our collective moral lives?

A commentary to this story cites another story about this same monk Touzi. In this story, Touzi asks his teacher Cuiwei to explain the most mysterious and essential aspect of the Ch’an teachings. In response, Cuiwei turns and looks at him. Touzi says, “Please direct me,” and Cuiwei says, “Do you want a second ladleful of foul water?”

The great death, oneness, enlightenment, total acceptance of reality beyond good and evil — this is a necessary step in Zen or any other profound spiritual practice. But although this may be ultimate, it is only a step. Zen calls it “the great death” for a good reason. It is a kind of “death.” It requires a complete letting go, a complete relinquishment, in trust, of everything that one has identified as one’s life.

To be truly alive, as Zen practice sees it, one has to die — to let go of life. But until we are physically dead we can’t remain dead. We have to be alive. We can’t remain in the darkness and purity of beyond-good-and-evil. We have to arrive in the daylight of this physical, limited world of distinctions and moral choices. Difficult though it may be, there is no escape and no alternative. And yet we celebrate. Having died the great death, we know what a miracle it is to be alive, and how strange and marvellous it is — even with its difficult and sad challenges, which are themselves miraculous.

Almost all Zen stories are encounters between individuals, and therefore essentially dualistic. When Cuiwei faces Touzi he is saying to him: I am me, you are you. We may be one, we may be inherently empty of any difference or separation, but as long as we are alive we are different people. This essential difference — even though it is, in the light of the great death, unreal — is our life. “Appreciate and understand this,” Cuiwei is wordlessly teaching his student.

But Touzi requires a bit more explanation, so Cuiwei says to him: “Do you want another ladleful of foul water?” To be alive in this world of human beings, plants and animals, flesh and blood, earth, sky, fire, and water, is to be immersed in trouble, in essential imperfection. “All conditioned existence is suffering, unsatisfactory, dukkha,” the Buddha originally taught. In its purity, being is beyond good and evil, beyond moral dilemmas. And it’s not. We all want to escape to some ultimate goodness, some ultimate certainty, some ultimate peace. We hope, as Touzi hopes, that our religion can give it to us. But all our religions, all our explanations, all our moralities, are mixed and impure. To accept and embrace this is what brings an end to our suffering.

The story continues: after Cuiwei says this, Touzi gets it. He is, as Zen stories always say, “enlightened.” He bows and readies to leave. As he is going, Cuiwei says to him, “Don’t fall down!” Meaning, “In this sad world of birth and death, do your best to remain on your feet and do the right thing.” And also meaning, “Of course you won’t be able to do that. You’ll be constantly placed in moral dilemmas, you’ll make mistakes all the time. So when you fall down, get up as gracefully as possible.”

To die the great death is to see and feel life as being/non-being itself, sadly and beautifully beyond good and evil. But death is useless; it can’t produce anything in this world. You have to come back to life, and, as Touzi says to Zhaozho in our original story, you can only do that in the daylight, not in death’s darkness.

Yes, “life and death are one” is a deep and ineffable truth. Killing and being killed, one. All victims of violence would have died soon enough anyway. All of them were, like us, more or less already dead — impermanence, emptiness, means that we are all already dead, losing our lives (evanescent as smoke) moment by moment anyway. Our having an actual possessable life has always been a painful illusion. The change of state from life and death is slight, the curtain between them far thinner than any of us believe. From within the great death, everything is acceptable; everything is all right all of the time. Things are just as they are, not some other way. But this, monstrous as it sounds, is so only when you are dead — only when you have entered the samadhi of the absolute, which is stasis.

We can’t stay dead. We have to come back to life because this is our condition, privilege, and obligation. We enter the world of face-to-face encounter, of the difference between us. Oneness isn’t anything other than this. There is no difference between oneness and manyness. These are just ways of speaking. In the light of life, there’s only me and you, Touzi, Zhaozho, and Cuiwei, and what we and they can do together to bring some goodness to our lives. Following precepts is very clear. There are no two ways about it: don’t kill, never kill, don’t support killing, try to prevent killing when and however you can. Support and promote life and do what you can to nurture it. And when killing happens anyway, grieve with bitter tears the innocent death, because you are a human being, and it is very sad and terrible.

A person who’s died the great death before re-entering the light understands how all this happens, and knows that in some form or another it will always happen as long as we are human. Of course, it can happen more or less drastically, and one needs to work daily and tirelessly to make it better. But there will never be an end to this work of making things better because it is our human birthright to make things worse and to make them better.

Are human beings basically good or basically evil? This isn’t a sensible question. Human beings are Buddha, because life is Buddha, all-inclusive. Understanding this, you know you have to forgive, although not forget. You know that you can’t go forth with vengeance and hatred, or with a sense of moral superiority. Because you are you and not someone else, you know that there will always be foul water in your mouth — that the evil deeds of others are yours as well, that they are ours collectively. So you protect and defend as you can, but you don’t condemn. Evil is part of all of us — and part of Buddha too, according to the Zen teachings.

There’s a line about this story of dying the great death that appears in The Blue Cliff Record, a Zen koan collection: “Where right and wrong are mixed, even the sages cannot know…. She walks on thin ice, runs on a sword’s edge.…”

Moral choice is fraught. The more you know and the more you appreciate about a given situation, the more fraught it is. At the beginning of this piece, I mentioned drone attacks. Are they good or evil? Do they kill innocent civilians? Yes, they do. But even when they don’t, are they targeting the right people? Who are the “right people”? If someone is forced, by social pressure and the threat of murder, to harbour a so-called terrorist, or even to commit so-called terrorist acts, is such a person worthy of being targeted? Is anyone? And who decides? On what basis?

Can anyone, in this corrupt, unjust, unfair, confused world, claim a position of moral superiority? Is there anyone who can sit on a pristine throne of moral rectitude from which to proclaim the judgement of who shall live and who shall die? According to this commentary, not even the sages can say. They, like us, are walking on thin ice that might breakthrough at any moment. Yet we must walk and run; we must make ethical choices based on our best understanding of and firm commitment to precepts and the goodness they represent.

A verse on this story says: Even the ancient Buddhas, they say, have never arrived / I don’t know who can scatter dust and sand.

In Zen, teaching is a dubious proposition. That’s why it’s called “scattering dust and sand.” Like Cuiwei, with his “ladleful of foul water,” Zen ancients recognised that all religious and moral systems, however necessary, must be taken lightly. They will always be partial and therefore potentially destructive in this checkered world. Even the Buddhas, as Zen sees them, are still working on being able to understand their own lives, and ours, well enough even to be able to spread the half-truths that constitute Buddhist teaching.

The three pure precepts of Zen come from the earliest Buddhism, long before Zen. They are: “To avoid evil, To do good, To benefit all beings.” We may not really know what this means. We may not know how to do it. But it is our commitment, the effort of our lifetime, to be carried out with energy, appreciation, forgiveness, non-condemnation, understanding, and grief.

Not to listen is to be like a pot turned upside down. Not to be able to retain what you hear is to be like a pot with a hole in it. To mix negative emotions with what you hear is to be like a pot with poison in it. 

The pot turned upside down: When you are listening to the teachings, listen to what is being said and do not let yourself be distracted by anything else. Otherwise, you will be like a pot turned upside down, on which liquid is being poured. Although you are physically present, you do not hear a word of the teaching. 

The pot with a hole in it: If you just listen without remembering anything that you hear or understand, you will be like a pot with a leak. However much liquid is poured into it, nothing can stay. No matter how many teachings you hear, you can never assimilate them or put them into practice. 

The pot containing poison: If you listen to the teachings with the wrong attitude, such as the desire to become great or famous, or a mind full of the five poisons, the Dharma will not only fail to help your mind; it will also be changed into something that is not Dharma at all, like nectar poured into a pot containing poison.

-- Patrul Rinpoche

修学佛道却变成外道，自己还不知道

慧律法师

若能了达法身乃“解脱”自在，离“一切”二法之“过”，而以“正”智“观察我”所“通”之一切法唯心现量，“是名为正观”，如是则能“不毁”谤如来“大导师”，以言如来为有为无，为常、为无常、为一为异等，皆是谤于如来故。

所以啊，在这里劝佛弟子，出家、在家，你要做一个佛陀的真实的弟子，不可以作为一个模糊、毁谤佛陀的弟子，佛的知见，你都搞不清楚，讲起来莫衷一是，是自己心也没有定，也没有办法彻底的领悟，当然，你就不是佛陀的好弟子。

因此，入佛正见难，这个所有的在这里解，统统叫你入佛的正见。有时候我们修学佛道，自己修得变成外道，自己不知道，不知道欸！

如果每天持大悲咒：“南无喝啰怛那哆罗夜耶　南无阿唎耶”，然后其他的听经闻法不听、不看、不闻。然后：“喔！我念到了见佛、见光”，就生大我慢，这就是佛道一修……修到最后变外道。

没有正确的观念，持着大悲咒只求感应，只求奇迹、只求治病，没有佛的真实智慧，看起来好像是佛教，所以现在的佛法被边缘化了、热闹化，又外道化、企业化、商业化、热闹化，什么是佛教的核心，搞不来，也不清楚：到底什么是正确的佛教，不知道。所以佛是我们的大导师，就是我们的模范，一切出家跟在家都以佛为模范，来看看佛陀，来约束我们自己，朝着这个方向来走。固然时间跟空间不一样，还有很多的善巧方便，但是诸位法师和居士，任何的善巧、方便，不可以离开佛的核心价值，就是涅槃、般若、智慧，一定要以这个为核心，就是你今天任何的善巧方便，法会人多没关系，但是一定要推广正法；你怎么善巧方便没关系，你就是要推广正法，法让他入心，要不然你搞得那么多，人那么多，那么热闹，意义是什么？我问你们：意义是什么？没意义。

比如说，我们举个例子，比如说：哎呀！我们观世音菩萨诞辰，大家聚一聚，来吃吃饭、用用斋啊，吃完了，大家又回去，它的意义是什么？也不能说全部没有意义，来拜拜观世音菩萨，念念观世音菩萨，有意义，站在这个角度，种下善根；回去一样无明、迷迷糊糊，脾气还是脾气啊，习气还是习气啊，杀盗淫、贪嗔痴还是不改，来，是结个善缘，这个叫做结缘的佛法，没有核心价值，也不肯用心来听经闻法，吃一点苦，就受不了。

所以，我说佛法它难，就是难在那个发大菩提心，发不起来。一个修行人，没有办法发大菩提心，这个人会时而进、时而退，时而进、时而退，一下进、一下退，一下进……他发不起来大菩提心。一个出家人没有坚定的大菩提心，一碰到逆境就倒，碰到逆境就倒。为什么？因为没有发大菩提心。

所以动心忍性，增益其所不能。所以广化律师讲：这一辈子就算下地狱，也要剃度出家。为什么？出家就算没修行，这一出家力道就大，不管下地狱、不下地狱，就是要出家。这鼓励我们这些准备出家的人，鼓励这些在家居士。那么有的人讲说出家有困难，慢慢来、慢慢来、慢慢来。

The mind is hard to check, swift, flits wherever it listeth: to control it is good. A controlled mind is conducive to happiness.

-- The Buddha

In times of Trouble, Broaden Your View

Original Chinese article, 失意时要懂得心宽 by Qing Liang (清凉)

translated by Oh Puay Fong

Disappointments and setbacks are inevitable in life — what’s important is to see them from a wider perspective.

Disappointments and setbacks are inevitable; a smooth life without obstacles makes one smug. Moaning, mourning, blaming failures or protesting against reality are futile exercises. The only resolution comes from expanding one’s perspective.

There is a Chinese saying that goes “in life, bad experiences happen more frequently than good ones.” Isn't our human existence condemned to suffering then? You’ve probably heard the saying, “the road to success is paved with failures”. Thus, we should adopt this mindset instead: Hindrances are part of one’s growth and transformation; a resolute mind does not waver in the face of challenges. The Chinese also believed that heavy snowstorms foretell prosperous years. It’s been said that “the sky is more expansive than the sea, but what is even more expansive than the sky is the mind.” No matter how difficult your life may be, how you may be cramped into a tiny square box of space, your mind is free from any constraints and can wander without restrictions. It’s boundless, you are free to roam as you please. This is the charming allure of being alive and conscious!

If you step onto higher ground, you will see farther. A colourful life encounters a rainbow of hues from red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo to violet. Among the five tastes of sour, sweet, bitter, spicy and salty, different people have different preferences. In life, we cycle endlessly through the seven emotions of happiness, anger, pain, joy, sadness, fear and surprise.

There is no smooth-sailing life. If there were no upheavals, our lives would be so monotonous, uninteresting and boring. Without the embarrassment and humiliation of failure, how could success taste sweet?

We will inevitably face disappointments and setbacks. Instead of treating them as rocks standing in our way, why not reposition them so we can step upon them to see even farther into the horizon? When you do, your view will be more inclusive and your heart will open wide as a result!

Humans are instinctively kind. We often make allowances for strangers and show gentleness to our beloved, but forget to leave some compassion for ourselves. Here’s a useful phrase: “It’s all right.” To others, we often utter it, either out of politeness, thoughtfulness, pretence, helplessness, sheer nonchalance, or an ulterior motive. Whatever the intention, if you need to console yourself in the face of inevitable hardships that life throws at you, utter this phrase to yourself. Without sunny days, life would be depressing indeed, so you need to tell yourself, “It’s all right.” When you lose your friends and feel lonely, learn to say, “It’s all right.” When you’re completely exhausted, utter it to yourself, and to your weary heart. Uttering it is not an excuse to dismiss all the past wrongs or to forget all your regrets completely, but to free yourself from unnecessary burdens or falling into hopelessness. Psyching yourself up is an effective way to recover.

Humans are empathetic by nature. When others are sad, unless these are their enemies, they will feel bad too and offer a kind word to encourage others. Yet, even as the advice is well-intentioned, and the logic impeccable, the listener may not accept it, or even act according to the advice because extreme pain is numbing. A writer once said, “I don’t give advice to anyone on anything. The one who tied the knot should untie it. The emotional scars in your heart can only be removed by your own hands. Advice from friends or kind people is only catalyst. You are the deciding factor.“ In short, disappointments and setbacks are unavoidable, what’s important is to widen your perspective to a panoramic view.”

Just as worn-out clothes can never again be made as new, it's no use seeing a doctor once you're terminally ill; you'll have to go. We humans living on this earth are like streams and rivers flowing toward the ocean - All living beings are heading for that single destination.

-- Mahasiddha Padampa Sangye

增上生與決定勝

玅境老和尚

【頌】：

有情無量入佛法，根性有異學亦別；增上生與決定勝，如是二途一切攝。

「有情無量入佛法」：色法中有受想行識者，是名「有情」；若無受想行識，即名「無情」；有情是無量無邊的──胎、卵、溼、化，欲界、色界、無色界，各式各樣的眾生非常多。「入」，此處特別指已經相信佛法的人，名之為「入」。如果對佛法沒有信仰，即使他能寫佛法的文章、為人講經，也不算「入」佛法。經過學習，建立信心、恭敬心，愛樂繼續學習、肯定佛法是真理，有志於轉凡成聖；若聞人說佛法是迷信，其心不悅，是名為信、是名為入。

《大毗婆沙論》中說到一件事：佛臨入涅槃前，從毗舍離向北走，至播波村尺蠖林中住。此處居民多有信佛者，其中一些大富翁聽聞佛來了，就集會欲來見佛，並共立約制，若不去者，罰五百金。其中有一位盧遮力士不信佛，不願見佛，亦不心疼五百金錢，但為了不破壞朋友情誼，也就勉強隨往。大家來到佛所，禮佛已，卻坐一面，阿難即對盧遮說：「你今天能來見佛真是難得！佛就要入涅槃了。」盧遮很直心地就說：「非也！我不是心甘情願來的！若非礙於朋友情面，我才不來，我不信佛！」阿難尊者一聽之下，就捉住他的手臂，拉他至佛前對佛說：「世尊！這位盧遮力士不信佛，請佛開示他，為說法要。」佛即觀之，便知此人是愛行人，貪欲心重，為欲所縛，為他講法他一時也不能理解。於是佛以神通力現一大坑，坑中糞穢屍蟲充滿，坑下猛火洞然。坑中有聲對盧遮說：「你若不信佛，將來死後，就下到這樣的地獄中受苦！」盧遮一聽，心大恐怖、全身顫懼，求佛慈悲救拔。此時佛才為之說法。盧遮有了信心，便受三歸，成為虔誠的佛教徒。從這個故事中也可以看出，眾生根性各式各樣，有的是非常頑強難化者；但佛菩薩具足了善巧方便的大智慧，能除其愚癡，歸信佛法。什麼是佛法？佛法有二義：一、顯示正因果義；二、顯示已作不失、未作不得義。

「根性有異學亦別」：「根」，指的是過去世的栽培；在此生之前的生命，曾在佛法中熏習過戒定慧的善品加行，能為後世善品加行現行之因，故名為「根」，即指善根而言。「性」者心也；就是現在的心情歡喜靜坐、歡喜佛法，或歡喜做種種功德等，這就叫做「性」。「根性有異學亦別」者：因為過去生的熏習與栽培不同， 這一生表現出來的思想、樂欲亦不同，學習佛法的情況，也就有各種差異了。

「增上生與決定勝」：眾生根性差別雖多，大約可歸納為二：這個人沒有成佛的意願，不想作大菩薩、阿羅漢；就是希望身體健康無病、財富豐饒、壽命長遠、智慧高深、能力強大，希望將來有特別好的父母眷屬──像唐太宗，父親是皇帝，兒子也是皇帝，這樣多好……。叫他修學聖道，他沒有興趣！希望現在好，將來還要更好，是名「增上生」。

「增上生」怎麼修習呢？就是布施、持戒、修定三個方法。這是共於世間的有漏善法，可以得到可愛的果報，故又名之為三福業。

⊙結草報恩記

《左傳》中有一個故事。晉國的大夫魏顆之父魏武子有一個小妾；魏武子病，對魏顆說：「必嫁是！」就是我死了以後，讓她改嫁的意思。後來病危時又對魏顆說：「必以為殉！」就是我死後讓她殉葬。武子死後，魏顆沒有令這個小後母陪葬，而讓她改嫁。

後來，魏顆和秦將杜回作戰而不敵，節節敗退。一日夜間打瞌睡，夢見一位老人對他說：「青草坡！青草坡！」醒來後，對他的弟弟說：「我夢見一位老人對我說：『青草坡！青草坡！』是什麼意思呢？」其弟說：「青草坡是城外的一個地方。我們打敗仗時，不妨往那個地方跑！」之後，又出城與杜回作戰幾回合，敗往青草坡時，看見一位老人把青草結成一束束環扣。杜回的軍隊追來時，就被那些環扣困住，魏顆因而生擒杜回，勝了這場戰爭。魏顆領軍回城慶祝，於夜間入睡時，又夢見那位老人。老人說：「我就是那個小妾的父親。你沒有把她殉葬，而讓她改嫁，所以我來替她報恩！」

在這個故事中看出三件事：第一、人死後生命並沒有中斷。這個故事發生在春秋時代，那時佛教尚未傳入中國，所以不能說這是佛教偽造的故事。第二、有的人作惡多端，現在卻享受榮華富貴，也有人做了很多好事，現在卻生活困苦；所以，有人就質疑善惡因果的真實性。但是，佛法說：「善有善報，惡有惡報！」是約三世因果說的。今生所受或樂、或苦的果報，是過去生栽培的；而今生所造善惡，將來必定會有報應。而吾人的生命從過去到現在、由現在到未來，雖有變異而延續不斷以承擔其應受罪福的果報。若生命中斷，則因果難以成立。第三、父母對兒女的愛，生死無異；生存時相愛，死後還是相愛的。所以，佛教徒皆應深信因果，諸惡莫作、眾善奉行。

⊙南天王的富貴

我曾在報紙上看過一篇文章，提到「南天王」的逸事。南天王大概在北洋政府時代在廣州作官；本來官不是很大，但官運很好，不斷升遷。他有位小太太，作一些事情令南天王不高興，就被驅逐了。驅逐以後，南天王的官運就一直往下降，很多事不如意。有人告訴他：「你得趕緊把你的小太太請回來才可以！」南天王即把他的小太太找回來。找回來以後，又繼續升官了。但是人的感情都是不堅固的，有什麼不高興了，又把這個小太太給驅逐了。驅逐以後，官位又下降、財富又減少。直到把這小太太再請回來後，才又開始升官、發財。這個人是個聰明人，從這樣情形感覺到這個小太太和他有共同的命運，不可分離的，就再也不敢驅遣她了。之後，他也真的就一直官運、財運亨通，最後做到南天王的地位。約佛法言之，這就是共業；以前共同做過功德，今生得果報時，要共同享受富貴。她若不在，富貴就不來。

《易經》說：「積善之家，必有餘慶；積不善之家，必有餘殃。」此「餘」字何解？儒家未能明說人的生命是不中斷的，所以只好解說為：父母做了很多好事，由兒女來承受功德果報，所以名「餘」。這雖然也有鼓勵人做善的作用，但是在佛教的理論上觀之，卻有所不足！有時父親有某種病，兒子也得這種病，就說這是遺傳。 但按佛法說，這是「共業」，而非遺傳！也是過去世中，父親與兒子共同做過某種有過失的事，所以今生同得一樣的果報！其實父子或夫妻，都有共業；若無共業， 就不能為父子、也不能做夫妻了（當然其中亦有別業）。大家一起做功德，共同享吉慶；共同做惡，也就共受苦果。所謂「自作自受」，沒有自己作善作惡餘人受報之義；這是自己做的自己負責的意思。

【頌】：

若不發心修聖道，生死眾苦無能出；聖道甚深復甚深，從聞思修為次第。

學習施、戒、修三法，雖能滿足求「增上生」的願望，得到欲界人天的可愛果報，乃至色、無色界天的殊勝境界。但在佛法上看來，仍是在三界生死流轉中，不能解脫生、老、病、死、怨憎會、愛別離、求不得等種種的苦，是不圓滿的。所以發出離心、發菩提心修學聖道，才能究竟地解決生死問題。這就是第二類「決定勝」。

決定勝利、永不失敗，即名「決定勝」。例如，漢高祖劉邦與楚霸王項羽作戰，劉邦敗多勝少，楚霸王勝多敗少，但這都不算數；後來，項羽烏江自刎、劉邦稱帝， 最後勝利的才是勝利。這樣，勝利以後永久不再失敗，就叫做「決定勝」。學習聖道的人，聲聞種姓者於初果須陀洹以上，大乘菩薩證得無生法忍、乃至成佛，這是「決定勝」！就是從彼時以後，決定不再退轉了，故名「決定勝」。

修學聖道不能離開緣起法的觀察；而緣起義甚深，不是那麼容易理解的。而釋尊已為我們指示一條明明白白的道路──聞思修，我們遵循著這個軌則，就能契入第一義諦。「聞」與「修」中間有「思」，聞、思、修都要具足；如果不聞、思，而只有修，那不一定是佛法；但有聞、有思而不修，也很難得聖道。所以，由聞、而思、而修，才是一個圓滿學習佛法的次第。

⊙王善人的智慧

九一八事變日本侵略中國，並在東北成立滿州國。那時有一個人叫做「王善人」，沒有讀過書，在鄉村為人打工。這人有一個特別之處，就是他若聽說某人有特別的優點，他就去為這個人打工，然後注意觀察這個人一天內如何說話、如何行動。這個人若說出一句有道理的話，王善人就不斷思惟，有人和他說話，他也聽而不聞（就是他的心專注一境，達到耳識不動的程度）。後來他開了智慧，若是村裡那家兄弟不和或婆媳不和，他就去和那家人說一段話，就能把很多問題糾紛解決了。後來，一些有錢人為他成立一個「道德會」，請他講道，我的大嫂曾到那裡聽他講道。一個沒有受過教育的人，為什麼能有這樣高的智慧呢？原因就是他肯專精思惟！

現代的大學裡，重視所謂的讀書研究方法；而以聞思修為修行次第，則是釋迦牟尼佛告訴我們的讀書方法。釋迦牟尼佛的方法，比起大學的讀書方法如何？從上面那個真實故事看出來，「王善人」還是一個凡夫，但他由於專心思惟就能有那樣高的智慧，講幾句話就能解決很多問題；如果是一位大學教授，有沒有這個本事呢？從這裡看出來，思惟的重要性及其力量是不可忽視的。

若內心經過深思熟慮後，決定棄捨「增上生」而選擇「決定勝」這條路，不願再做生死凡夫，希望成就清淨的聖道，那就要修四念處！在佛所說這麼多的法裡面，我們感覺到釋迦牟尼佛是非常實際的；無論是小乘的《阿含經》，或大乘的《華嚴經》、《大寶積經》、《大集經》、《法華經》、《涅槃經》、《般若經》等，所有的法門都是要解決實際的問題。例如：屋內有毒蛇，天空有兀鷹在飛；雖然我們不歡喜兀鷹在那裡飛，但是毒蛇有致命之危，應該先趕緊把毒蛇請出去。如果你認為屋裡的毒蛇不要緊，先驅逐兀鷹，這件事在輕重緩急上就有點顛倒了。釋迦牟尼佛告訴我們用功修行那件事是最重要的，要先解決。

四念處是「觀身不淨、觀受是苦、觀心無常、觀法無我」。佛在世時，不要說出家人，就連在家居士也有得聖道的──得初果、二果、三果。為什麼能得？就是他真實地隨順佛陀的教導去修四念處了。

⊙因儒童的故事

《大毗婆沙論》一百七十九卷末，記載因儒童的故事：彼在家時，豐饒財寶，親屬豪貴，常禮拜日天。時當壯年，一日娉婦，廣請外道婆羅門眾，於自家中大設筵席。佛陀對於教化眾生一事，不會錯過時間的。是日晨朝，為教化因儒童故，著衣持缽，命阿難陀：「汝可隨我入城乞食。」於是便入室羅筏城，至因儒童宅門而住。

外道梵志遙見，大聲訶之曰：「今日此家設吉祥會，此不祥物何用來為？！」佛陀聞之，便告阿難陀曰：「汝往語彼諸外道等：『三界大師吉祥中最！汝不欲見，吉事豈成？此因儒童定於今日棄捨汝等，投我出家。盡汝技術，能留難不？』」時阿難陀受佛教敕，如師子王，無所畏難，往外道眾中告言：「佛陀善達因果，所言真實，語汝等言：『三界大師吉祥中最！汝不欲見，吉事豈成？此因儒童定於今日棄捨汝等，投我出家。盡汝技術，能留難不？』」外道聞已，相視笑曰：「沙門喬答摩隨情詭說，何有將臨娶妻，延屈我等，內外慶集，而歸汝出家耶？奇哉沙門，如是妄語！」

時有婆羅門，名為五頂，曾見世尊記事不謬。告外道眾曰：「此因儒童，定當出家，莫生異念！」外道咸曰：「設有斯事，我等必能為作留難。」即共相率圍遶因儒童宅七重而住。

須臾日出，此因儒童著新淨衣至重閣上，燒香發願，跪拜日輪。爾時世尊知化時至，便自化作婆羅門形，著黑色鹿皮衣、黃金繩圍繞其身，手執金杖，從日輪來至因儒童前，敷座而坐。因儒童接足歸誠頂禮。外道喜曰：「儒童福人，感大梵天，親臨禮席，此事今日已經成辦。快哉沙門，所言無實！」

爾時佛陀即以所化身形，告儒童言：「今作何事，如是喧擾？」儒童羞赧，俯首答曰：「今隨俗法，正欲娶婦！」佛陀隨問經費若干。答言：「我費三百千金。百千與婦作莊嚴具，百千為眾辦諸飲食，百千用施諸婆羅門。」佛言：「汝設飲食施婆羅門，用二百千金，當獲可愛之果，事容可爾。餘百千金，用買婦耶？」彼心直故，即答言：「買！」佛言：「汝婦直金爾許多耶？且汝婦髮，為直幾許？」儒童答言：「此無多直。」復問：「彼爪為直幾許？」儒童答言：「此無所直。」佛復次第舉彼身中三十六物一一問之。儒童亦一一而答，皆言此無所直。

然因儒童曾於過去迦葉波佛法中，經十千歲，修界分別觀；因佛別問不淨物故，過去所習善品現前，遂伏欲貪，離欲界染。世尊於是時，還復本來面目，為因儒童說四真諦（苦集滅道），彼聞即得不還果證。爾時佛陀便執因儒童手，上昇虛空，說伽他曰：「雖極莊嚴而行法，靜調息務修梵行，一切世間累皆捨，即是淨志沙門僧。」因儒童因過去生中曾出家修學聖道甚久，所以這一生在結婚之前，蒙釋尊善巧方便教化而得解脫。我們這一生信仰佛法，乃至出家，過去生中亦應該是在佛教中熏習過的，都是有善根的；今生我們若能努力修習四念處，理應成功，悟入第一義諦。

⊙小軍比丘的因緣

再說一個故事。佛在世時，羅閱祇國有婆羅門兄弟兩人，哥哥叫大軍，弟弟叫小軍。哥哥與長者女訂婚後，遠到他國做生意，經過時日頗久都無音訊。長者就到其弟小軍這裡來，對小軍說：「你哥哥遠行很多年都無音信，也不知道情形如何。現在我的女兒年紀漸長，不能再等了。你和我女結婚好不好？」小軍當時很堅定的拒絕了這件事。多少時日後；爾時長者數來陳說：「你哥哥還沒有消息回來，你不要拒絕，你們結婚好了。」小軍意堅未曾迴轉。爾時，長者想了想，就想出主意來了。 過不多久，從遠方來了一個生意人，捎來一封信，說他哥哥死了，朋友為他辦了後事云云。弟聞兄死，心乃愕然。幾天後，長者又來了，說：「我聽說你哥哥的朋友來了一封信，說你哥哥已經死了，你可以和我的女兒結婚了嗎？」小軍默然不出聲。長者又說：「你若再不同意，我就要將女兒許配他人了。」這麼一說，小軍被逼急了，就與這個女孩子結婚了。婚後沒多久，他哥哥捎信說就要回來了。小軍聞兄還國，心懷慚懼，便離開家，逃至舍衛國，到於佛前求索出家。佛知可度，即時聽許。出家後修四念處，不知經過若干時日（應該不會很久），得了阿羅漢道。

大軍回家後，得知其弟已娶其婦，非常地憤怒；於是懸賞五百兩金，僱了一個殺手，欲取小軍性命。兩人找了很久，終於在舍衛國祇樹給孤獨園，見到小軍在樹下靜坐。殺手舉起弓箭，對著小軍比丘射去，但是這箭卻忽然間轉了回來，把大軍射死了。

大軍死了以後，心裡含恨不捨，變成一條蛇，住在小軍住處戶樞之中；門一開一關，就把蛇擠死了。蛇死了以後，又變成一隻很小的毒蛇，這回住在小軍靜坐之處的頂上。一日，小蛇墮在小軍比丘頭上，小軍比丘就中了蛇毒。他自知不久將死，於是招呼舍利弗尊者，請他將自己扶到外面，免得污穢此地，別的比丘就不好在這裡用功了。舍利弗尊者說：「我看你的氣色完全正常，怎麼會中毒了呢？」小軍比丘說：「眼非我我所，乃至識非我我所，是故面色諸根無有變異。」後來舍利弗尊者將小軍比丘扶至外面，小軍比丘的身體就像糟糠一樣，全身都碎了。這個故事在《賢愚因緣經》裡（大正第四冊）有記載，而舍利弗尊者和小軍比丘的這段對話則出於《雜阿含經》。

故事就說到這裡，我姑且加上一段註解。當大軍花了五百兩金僱殺手時，小軍比丘已是具足三明六通的大阿羅漢，他是能夠知道的，但他心裡不同意這件事，所以當殺手用箭射他時，箭不能傷害他，反而折了回去。而大軍死了以後，變成蛇來害他，小軍比丘也都知道，但此時他也沒有同意，所以蛇還是不能害他。最後，小軍比丘應該是同意了，所以小蛇一掉下來，就把他毒死了。

後來，舍利弗尊者將此事報告佛，問佛：「小軍比丘能出家精進用功得阿羅漢果，是非常難得的修行人，為什麼會為毒蛇所害？」佛說：「這是有因緣的。很久很久以前，有一個歡喜打獵的人，常到曠野山林裡，用網捕天上的飛鳥、用箭射地面上的走獸。那時山裡有一位辟支佛在那裡住，他知道獵人常在這裡打獵，不忍動物受到殺害，所以常常將這些鳥獸趕走。獵人打不到野獸，心中怨恨，就以毒箭射這位辟支佛。辟支佛中了毒箭，自知不久將死，就飛至虛空現種種神通變化。而獵人一看，知道自己殺害聖人，恐怖自責，歸誠謝過，求哀懺悔，並發願將來還能遇見聖人、得聖道，具足種種神通道力。這個獵人就是小軍比丘，他以毒箭射死辟支佛， 所以五百世以來一直是中毒而死，最後一生得了阿羅漢道，還是要中毒而死。」

所以，學習佛法之後，我們才知道什麼是善、什麼是惡，什麼事有功德、什麼事有罪過，然後學習「諸惡莫作，眾善奉行，自淨其意，是諸佛教」。若未曾聽聞佛法，那裡知道打獵是不對的呢？到海邊釣魚有什麼不好？打到獵物、釣到大魚，心情不是很快樂嗎？不是很有成就感嗎？其實，按佛法說這是殺生，這不僅有傷慈悲，將來的果報也是很重的。而殺一般眾生，罪過已經很大了，若是殺害聖人，那就更嚴重了。惡事不可以做呀！但未得聖道入不退轉之前，我們隨時會糊塗，即使出了家，若是失了正念還是會做惡事。所以，我們應該好好地用功、學習佛法，多靜坐修止觀，調伏自心、悟入第一義諦、究竟解脫，要趕快做這一件事！

【頌】：

重岩我卜居，鳥道絕人跡，庭際何所有，白雲抱幽石，住茲凡幾年，屢見春秋易，寄語鐘鼎家，虛名定無益。

最後，學習一首寒山詩作為結束。寒山這位禪師住在那裡呢？「重岩」：一重一重的高岩處。「鳥道絕人跡」：這個地方只有鳥飛行的道路，人很難到達。「庭際何所有」：他住的那個房子裡，沒有沙發也沒有電燈、電話。「白雲抱幽石」：只有白雲偶爾飄來，環擁在大石頭間而已。若按我們人世間標準來看，這個地方太苦了！

「住茲凡幾年，屢見春秋易」：若有人問他在這兒住多久了？而這裡沒有月曆，也不知道經過多少歲月了，只見花開花謝、春去來秋而已。「寄語鐘鼎家，虛名定無益」：住在這裡，放下萬緣專心辦道，一定會成功的。成功以後，安住淨戒之外，還有清淨三昧及無漏聖道，所以他是非常充實、非常快樂的，一切外道、種種魔軍、聖教怨敵不能映奪，不能傾動。如果不歡喜那樣清苦的境界，想在世間上奮鬥，獲取財富權力，成為「鐘」鳴「鼎」食之家，我「寄語」告訴你：「虛名定無益！」富貴只是虛名而已。

我們讀歷史，劉邦打垮楚霸王，劉邦快樂乎？《史記》卷八云：「漢十年八月，趙相國陳豨反代地；九月上自東往擊之。十一年春，淮陰侯韓信謀反關中，夷三族。 秋七月，淮南王黔布反。十二年十月，高祖已擊布軍會甀；布走令別將追之。高祖歸還，過沛。置酒沛宮，悉召故人父老子弟縱酒，發沛中兒得百二十人，教之歌。 酒酣，高祖擊筑自為歌詩曰：『大風起兮雲飛揚，威加海內兮歸故鄉，安得猛士兮守四方！？』令兒皆和習之。高祖乃起舞，慷慨傷懷，泣數行下。」劉邦反叛秦帝，滅項羽而稱皇帝後，時有反叛，其心安樂乎？讀其歌詞「泣數行下」，可知非樂也！

又隋文帝臨終時，後悔不應把權力交給二兒子楊廣。楊廣實在是個敗家子，其父親統理的國家本來是很富強的，但楊廣很快就搞垮了，所以後來唐太宗做了皇帝。但是唐太宗也不快樂，何以得知？《新唐書．房玄齡傳》：「帝嘗問：『創業、守文孰難？』玄齡曰：『方時草昧，群雄競逐，攻破乃降，戰勝乃剋，創業則難。』魏徵曰：『王者之興，必乘衰亂，覆昏暴，殆天授人與者。既得天下，則安於驕逸。人欲靜，徭役毒之；世方敝，裒刻窮之。國由此衰，則守文為難。』帝曰：『玄齡從我定天下，冒百死，遇一生，見創業之難。徵與我安天下，畏富貴則驕，驕則怠，怠則亡，則守文之不為易。然創業之不易，既往矣；守文之難，方與公等慎之！』」讀斯文可知，創業守文皆非易！

又其太子李承乾與功臣侯君集謀反，又其子齊王祐反於齊州，此類事不令李世民心煩乎？又如晉朝大富翁石崇，最後也是很悽慘的鳴呼哀哉！積了很多的財富、奪到很大的權力，結果苦苦惱惱的嗚呼哀哉了，有什麼好？ 世間上的富貴榮華都是虛假的，實在是苦而非樂。只有修學聖道，才是真實有義利的，大安樂、大自在的。

Don’t prolong the past, 

Don’t invite the future, 

Don’t alter your innate wakefulness, 

Don’t fear appearances. 

There is nothing more than that! 

-- Patrul Rinpoche

Vajrayana Explained

by Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche

The root meaning: the path of generation and completion’s union.

This has what has to be known and what has to be meditated.

In the fifth song of The Quintessence of the Union of Mahamudra and Dzogchen: The Practical Instructions of the Noble Great Compassionate One, Chenrezik, Karma Chakme Rinpoche describes a path that consists of the unification or integration of the generation stage (the visualisation of a deity or deities) and the completion stage (which in this case refers to recognition of the mind’s nature). This path is presented as two things that can be practised simultaneously and do not necessarily have to be practised separately. The song has two parts: what is to be understood and what is to be meditated on. The meaning is profound and extensive. What is to be understood is the actual view behind all deity meditation, and what is to be practised is the main meditation of this path.

THE VIEW OF VAJRAYANA 

The essence of the mind of all beings

Is primordially the essence of buddhahood.

Its empty essence is the birthless dharmakaya.

Its clear distinct appearances are the sambhogakaya.

Its unceasing compassion is the variegated nirmanakaya.

The inseparable union of those three is the svabhavikakaya.

Its eternal changelessness is the mahasukhakaya.

The view is to be understood as follows: The nature of the mind of all sentient beings, irrespective of any obscurations that may obscure or conceal it, has from the very beginning been Buddha. There is an inherent wakefulness and perfection to the mind of each and every being. In fact, this is what the mind of each and every being is. In and of itself, it is free of all defects and complete with all qualities, and therefore the nature of the mind can be called Buddha. Even though we have become confused and wander through samsara, that basic nature has not degenerated, and even when we attain full awakening, that nature itself will not improve. The nature of the mind remains unaffected; in other words, it is the same in both the context of ground and in the context of fruition. Its essential emptiness is the dharmakaya, the essential nature of the mind that is free from arising, abiding, and cessation. Nevertheless, your mind is not just empty; it is vivid, lucid, and cognitive. That characteristic or appearance of the mind as a lucidity that is unmixed in its experience of appearances is the sambhogakaya, or body of complete enjoyment. The actual display of that lucidity, the goodness or responsiveness and compassion of the mind, which is unlimited and unceasing in its variety, is the nirmanakaya.

When we speak of them in these terms, these three seem different from one another. The mind’s emptiness, its clarity, and the arising of appearances within the mind are not in and of themselves substantial, but rather they are the appearance of that which is without inherent existence, like a rainbow. Although these three sound different, they are not three different things but are in fact a unity. That unity, which is the mind itself, is the svabhavikakaya, or essence body. This unity also never changes: it does not improve at the time of fruition, nor does it degenerate under other circumstances, so therefore it is called the mahasukhakaya, or body of great bliss.

This primordial innate presence in yourself

Was not created by the compassion of the Buddhas, by the blessing of the gurus,

Or by the profound special essentials of the dharma.

Wisdom has primordially been present in this way.

All sutras and tantras are in accord on this.

From the very beginning, this primordial wisdom has been inherent in each and every person. It is innate; it is something that we are never without; we never lose it nor deviate from it. Because it is and has always been the unity of emptiness and lucidity, the path that corresponds in characteristic to the ground is, therefore, the unity of these two stages, generation and completion. This unity itself, which has always been the nature of our minds and which we have never been without, is not produced by the path. The path corresponds in characteristic to the qualities of the ground, but the path does not produce the ground, it only reveals it.

This perfect nature of mind has not arisen because of the compassion of the buddhas, the blessing of the guru, nor through the profound meaning of dharma, such as through its understanding or practice. It is not produced by any of these things; it is not produced at all. It has always been there, from the very beginning, although we can never find a beginning; therefore not only was it not produced, but it is also not the case that at some point this nature was pure and then somehow we degenerated from it. The mind has always been what it is in and of itself, but it has not been recognised. This has been presented the same way in all the sutras and tantras. Here, all sutras primarily refer to Mahayana sutras.

THEN WHY ARE WE WANDERING IN SAMSARA?

We do this because of the delusion of not knowing ourselves.

For example, it’s like seeing a man who has gold hearthstones

But does not know they are gold and suffers from starvation.

Being given the direct recognition of this is the great kindness of the guru.

If your mind has from the very beginning been uncreated purity and perfection, then you might ask why we wander in samsara. It is because from the very beginning we have never recognised our own nature. This is not to say that we degenerated from a former state of recognition, but rather there never was such a state of recognition. We have always looked outward at appearances, and because we look at them and do not recognise them, we mistake them as being fundamentally separate from the mind to which they appear. In other words, although appearances as the display of the mind are the spontaneously present three kayas, we do not recognise them as such, and therefore we misapprehend them to be what they are not. The use of the word bewilderment or mistake or confusion indicates that we are not seeing things as they are. Our way of seeing things in samsara is a deviation from the truth. We are mistaken. We are seeing things as they are not, and this in fact is what samsara is.

The text gives an analogy that concerns an extremely poor person whose entire house is made of gold, but he does not realise this. The person is so impoverished that he is actually starving. Of course, the person could feed himself if he knew there was gold in the house, but not knowing that, he is starving. This is why the pointing out of the nature of your mind to be gold, to be perfect, is such an act of kindness. If someone came to that poor person and said, “You do not have to starve; there is gold right there,” that would completely change that person’s life.

You may recognise the gold, but that will not dispel the hunger;

You must sell it, and prepare food by frying,

Cooking, or roasting it, and then eating it will end the hunger.

In the same way, after the guru gives you the direct recognition,

Through practice, your mistake will be eliminated and you will be liberated.

This illustrates why merely receiving the pointing out of your mind’s nature is not sufficient by itself. If someone came and told the person that they had gold, that alone would not alleviate their hunger; they would have to use the gold, exchanging it for grain or other food, which they would then have to cook and prepare for eating. The text follows the model of tsampa, or roasted barley flour. You first have to roast the barley and then grind it into flour. The poor person could use the gold to buy provisions, cook the food, and then eat, and in that way alleviate all hunger.

Similarly, merely receiving the introduction to your mind’s nature, the pointing out of your mind’s nature, does not remove your bewilderment or misapprehension. You can only become liberated from bewilderment by applying in your practice what was pointed out.

THE GENERATION STAGE PRACTICE 

The Mahayana sutras and the Mantrayana tantras are in agreement

That your own mind is, in that way, Buddhahood.

However, the sutras do not provide the direct recognition

That your body is Buddhahood, and therefore it is a long path,

Achieving Buddhahood after three incalculable aeons.

All the sutras of the Mahayana and the tantras of the Vajrayana are in agreement on the nature of mind being Buddha. The difference is that the path of the sutras is very long because the fact that the nature of the physical body is also Buddha is not actually pointed out, whereas the path of the tantras is short because this is pointed out. Further, in the tantras and in the highest and final level of the Mahayana sutras, the third dharmachakra, there is a more direct identification of the innate qualities that are spontaneously present within the mind’s nature. Below that — in the common sutras up to and including the second dharmachakra — the nature of things, and therefore the nature of the mind, is primarily described in terms of what it is not; that is, it is mostly pointed out as being emptiness. But here a distinction is being made more in terms of pointing out spontaneously present qualities within the mind (the text simply says, the direct recognition that your body is Buddhahood) as opposed to simply pointing out the mind.

Because of the lack of a precise identification of the inherent qualities within the ground in the common path of the sutras, it takes even those of the highest capacity three periods of innumerable aeons to complete this common path and attain Buddhahood. For example, that is how long it took Buddha Shakyamuni. Many other Buddhas take as long as thirty-seven periods of innumerable aeons.

The highest tantras have the methods for attaining Buddhahood within one lifetime.

They are profound because of the direct recognition of your own body as the deities.

Therefore, the highest tantras teach in complete detail

That your own body is the mandala of the deity,

Such as Samvara, Guhyasamaja, the eight herukas, and so on.

The reason why you can attain Buddhahood in one lifetime according to the higher tantras, the anuttara yoga tantras, is that the method of those tantras is based on the identification of the nature of your body as Buddha. Each of the higher tantras has its own way of explaining that the nature of your physical body is the mandala of deities. In specific terms, it will be described as the mandala of that specific tantra, such as Chakrasamvara and Guhyasamaja of the new tradition, or the eight great sadhanas or eight herukas of the old tradition. In any case, the fact that the nature of not only the mind but also the body, is Buddha is explained extensively in all anuttara yoga tantras.…

What does the practice consist of that brings about the manifestation of these qualities? It consists of all the practices of purifying obscurations and gathering the accumulations, but especially the visualisation of deities, recitation of mantras, and resting your mind in the even placement of samadhi. As you go through these practices, gradually as your familiarisation with these innate qualities increases, your degree of obscuration — cognitive obscuration, mental afflictions, and karmic obscuration — decreases. As this happens, you come correspondingly closer and closer to Buddhahood or awakening.…

THE COMPLETION STAGE 

Then look directly at the meditating mind.

All that is meditated upon will vanish into emptiness.

The second part, the completion stage, is as follows: by looking directly at the mind that is meditating, all that was previously visualised dissolves into emptiness. You do not actually think, “It dissolves into emptiness,” but rather you direct your mind toward the visualisation and look directly at the mind that has been visualising. Then, the sense of a person visualising something just dissolves.

The mind has no form, colour, or substance.

It does not exist outside or inside the body, nor in between.

Even if you search for it in every direction, it is unreal.

It has no origin, location, or destination.

It is not nothing; your mind is vividly lucid.

It is not single, for it arises diversely as anything.

It is not multiple, for everything has one essence.

When you look directly at your mind, the mind that has been meditating on Chenrezik, you will observe that it has no physical form or colour; in short, it has no substantiality. As far as where the mind is, if you look directly at it, you will see that it is not limited to one location; therefore you cannot say the mind is outside the body, but you also cannot say that it is just inside the body, or that it is somewhere in between. No matter where you look for it — and you can look for it all over the universe — you will not find it in the sense of finding a substantial thing that you can honestly call your mind. If you look to see where it comes from, you will see that it does not come from anywhere. If you look to see where it is, you will see that it does not seem to abide anywhere. If you look to see where it goes, you will see that it does not go anywhere.

Since the mind has no substantial characteristic, no substantial existence, no location, and so on, you might think, “Well, the mind is nothing.” The mind is not nothing, because it is your mind, which is extremely vivid or glaring in its cognitive lucidity. Likewise, you cannot say, “That mind, being a cognitive lucidity, is one thing,” because this cognitive lucidity is infinite in its variety. It can arise as the experience of anything. Yet at the same time, you cannot say that the mind is different things either because all of this infinite variety of cognitive experience has the same essential nature.

No one knows how to describe its essence.

If one describes it by analogy, there will never be an end to describing it.

You can use many synonyms and terms for it,

Names such as “mind,” “self,” “alaya,” and so on,

But in truth, it is just this present knowingness.

You cannot say the mind is something; you cannot say the mind is nothing; you cannot say it is substantial; you cannot say it is nonexistent and utterly insubstantial. Its nature cannot be described by anyone. This means that no one, including Buddhists, scholars, siddhas, and so forth, can actually say what the mind really is. It is not because they are ignorant of what the mind is; rather, it is because the mind is inconceivable, unthinkable, and indescribable, as we say in the common praise of Prajnaparamita. In and of itself, it is inexpressible; therefore when we try to describe it, we use some kind of analogy or we say what it is not. “It is not this” and “It is not that.” If we limit ourselves to analogies saying what it is not, there is no end to what you can say about it. There is so much to be said, but you are never actually saying what the mind itself is; therefore all of the terms and concepts that we have come up with for the ground or basis of experience are all themselves of the mind. We call it “mind itself”; we call it alaya, “all-basis.” We impute all kinds of things to it; we develop innumerable attitudes and theories about it. All these are really just concepts about, and names for, this very cognition or experience of the present moment.

This itself is the root of all samsara and nirvana,

The attainment of Buddhahood and falling into lower existences,

Wandering in the bardo, good and bad rebirths,

Aversion, anger, craving, attachment,

Faith, pure perception, love, compassion,

Experiences, realisation, qualities, the paths, the bhumis, and so on—

It is this very mind that is the creator of them all.

This mind is itself the ground of all experience because it is that which experiences everything. It is therefore the root or source of both samsara and nirvana. If the mind’s nature is recognised, that recognition and the qualities inherent within the nature of the mind are the source of everything we call nirvana: all the qualities of Buddhas, of their bodies, realms, and so on. If the mind’s nature is not recognised, that lack of recognition, that ignorance, is the fundamental cause or root of all samsara, all of its suffering and lack of freedom. It is this mind that, when its nature is recognised, attains Buddhahood. It is this mind that, when its nature is unrecognised and on the basis of which karma is accumulated, falls into the lower realms. It is this mind that wanders through the bardo, and it is this mind that undergoes various forms of rebirth that are relatively better or worse depending on the particular karma accumulated as a result of the lack of recognition of its own nature. It is this mind that, under the power of the mental afflictions we generate through ignorance of the mind’s nature, gets angry and holds grudges. It is this mind that wants, and it is this mind that falls prey to craving and attachment. In short, it is this mind that retains or engages in the root and branch mental afflictions.

Through some degree of recognition, and through the accumulation of merit, it is this mind that experiences faith and develops a pure view. It is this mind that feels compassion and love for others. It is this mind that generates experience, realisation, and all the other qualities of the path, so it is this mind that traverses the path and achieves its various stages and levels. It is just this mind itself that does and experiences all of these things.

This very mind is the root of all bondage, the root of all disaster.

When the aorta is cut through, all the senses stop.

For one who has understood and practised this

There is no dharma that is not included within it.

This mind is the source of everything, and therefore this mind is the source of all bondage and all disaster. It is this mind that becomes confused through failing to recognise its own nature and thereafter becomes bound by mental afflictions. The recognition or absence of recognition of the nature of this mind is the deciding factor in whether this mind experiences nirvana (in the case of recognition) or samsara (in the absence of recognition). Here Karma Chakme gives an analogy. If you kill someone by cutting their aorta, all their senses stop when they die. In the same way, if you kill the whole process of ignorance by recognising the mind’s nature — because ignorance is, so to speak, the life force of samsara — all suffering and mental affliction of samsara cease. All dharmas without exception are therefore included in the recognition and the cultivation of the recognition of the nature of your mind. That is the point of all dharma.

There is not a hairsbreadth of anything to be meditated on in this.

But it is enough to look at the essence without distraction,

Without hope for good and fear of the bad,

Without thinking what it is or what it isn’t.

Whether still or in movement, whether clear or unclear,

Whatever arises, look fixedly at its essence.

There is no object of meditation because your mind is simply experiencing itself just as it is, in the present moment. It is sufficient here to look at the nature of your mind without distraction. The words look fixedly at are by nature dualistic language, and are misleading in the sense that the mind that is looked at is not something other than the mind that is looking.

While doing this, it is unnecessary to hope that things will go well and that you will recognise your mind’s nature, or to fear that things will go poorly and you that will become distracted or lose the recognition. It is unnecessary to think, “Is this it, or is this not it?” It does not matter whether your mind is still or moving. If it is still, it is not going to stay still forever, so it shouldn’t matter anyway. It does not even matter whether your mind is particularly lucid in that moment or for that day. Regardless of whatever is happening in your mind, simply look with an intense or glaring awareness at the nature of whatever arises. The term vivid means “one-pointedly without distraction.” This means not allowing the distraction of thoughts to divert you from looking at the nature. That itself is the main practice here.

When you are meditating in this way in the main practice,

If you are resting blissfully and unwaveringly, that is “stillness.”

If you are not resting, but running into the ten directions, that is “movement.”

Being aware of whatever appears, whether stillness or movement, that is “awareness.”

While doing this, different things can happen. Sometimes when looking at the nature of your mind, your mind does not move; it stays put, evenly, peacefully at rest. That is stillness. At other times it wanders all over the place. That is movement. There is also the faculty of awareness, the recognition of whether the mind is still or moving.

Though they appear to be different they are one in essence.

Stillness is dharmakaya, movement is nirmanakaya,

Awareness is sambhogakaya, and their inseparability is the svabhavikakaya.

They are the seed or cause for the accomplishment of the three kayas.

When you experience stillness, movement, and awareness in meditation, they seem like three different things. There is stillness, there is movement, and then there is the awareness of both of these; yet all three are of the same nature, they are three states of the same mind. Here Karma Chakme says that the mind in stillness is the dharmakaya; the mind in movement is the nirmanakaya, and the awareness that recognises stillness and movement is the sambhogakaya. Furthermore, because they are not three different things, but rather three different manifestations of the same mind, they are collectively the svabhavikakaya, or essence body. In that sense, they are the cause of, or the seed for, the attainment of the trikaya, or three kayas. Here seed refers to the fact that this mind is fully revealed in the context of the fruition, and that recognition or familiarisation with this essence is the seed of liberation.

Therefore there is no good or bad in terms of stillness and movement.

Therefore do not choose, but maintain whatever arises.

At first repeatedly look for brief periods many times,

Then gradually look for longer and longer.

Because they are of the same nature, there is no need to prefer stillness over occurrence or movement; one is not better than the other. Do not be selective, just look at the nature of whatever arises, without feeling that it needs to be one thing and not another. When you first start to practice this, it is important to do so for brief periods. If you try to prolong it for too long, the effort, which is initially unfamiliar to you, will be tiring, and as a result, you will get sloppy and allow yourself to become distracted while you are sitting there. For that reason, initially, it is best to look at the mind’s nature for very brief moments. Then gradually, as you become more familiar with it, you can prolong the periods of looking at the nature of mind.

Look at the man walking past you on the street. He is not a stranger, but a potential friend. Let us leave behind the hostility we associate with people we have never met.

-- His Holiness the Dalai Lama

闻思修是三乘佛法的根本

益西彭措堪布

三乘佛法的功德，都是从闻思修获得的三慧中产生出来的。过去和现在的一切佛陀，都是对于法宝进行了精进的闻思，然后按照获得的思慧，不折不扣地进行串习、修行，才得以成就的。像本师释迦牟尼佛，广度了娑婆世界的无量众生。即使在当今的五浊恶世，众生仍然凭借着本师流传下来的法宝，在获得解脱道上的利益。但是大家要知道，在久远劫前，本师也是一位凡夫，而且还因为踢了母亲的头，而堕入在地狱之中。虽然以替代他人受苦的善念脱离了地狱，但是如果佛陀没有之后精进刻苦的闻思修行，以当时他的一介凡夫之力，他能够给众生带来这么大的利益吗？ 

比如阿弥陀佛，成就了西方极乐世界。这是一个连痛苦的名字也听不到的殊胜国土，利益了一切世界的众生。 假如当年法藏比丘没有精进闻思修，能产生出如此大的能力吗？ 

再比如密勒日巴尊者，之前为报仇，杀死了35人。犯下如此重大恶业的人，世上也少见。但是尊者却凭借着对恶趣的畏惧，对上师的虔诚依止，以及如理听闻、思维和精进修持上师的窍诀，而终于依靠佛法的力量即身成佛了。佛法就是这样，如理闻思修后，所获得的力量，不但可以把一个坏人变成好人，还可以让人脱离轮回，成就佛果。从尊者身上，可以看到佛法的无穷力量。

还有，像曾经的难陀尊者，贪心很重。即使出家了，还念念不忘俗家的妻子。当他依靠佛陀的神力见到了天上的天女，则又移情别恋，开始贪求起天女来了；曾经的须菩提尊者，嗔心很重。就连听到风吹雨淋的声音，都会莫名其妙地生气；曾经的周利槃陀伽尊者，痴心很重。经书背到下句，就忘了上句。但是，他们最终都成就了，成了佛陀座下的大阿罗汉。他们靠的是什么呢？就是对于法宝孜孜不倦地闻思修行，而产生的智慧。 

如果我们获得了闻思修三慧，这将比世间上最珍贵的东西还要珍贵上千百倍，这能实现我们暇满人身的价值，使自己成为世上最富裕的富翁，并且还能帮助亲戚朋友，使他们也能沾上佛法的光，获得佛法的一份加持。在倓虚老法师的《影尘回忆录》里，就记录了一位叫刘文化的居士，研读了七八年的《楞严经》后，在现量境界中，超度了自己的冤家、妻子女儿和父母。 

获得了闻思修三慧，还能认识到周围的亲戚、同事的烦恼，并用如理作意的法义来实际分析，帮助他们减少、压服烦恼。净化他们的思想，影响并带动他们过有意义、有价值的生活，做有意义、有价值的事情。这对于社会的和谐、国家的安宁都有很大的促进作用。而且，在根基逐渐成熟之后，甚至有可能修持金刚乘密法。 

这样的闻思修佛法的三慧在外道与世间的学说之中，是根本不可能出现的。想都没有想到众生的心性中本来就存在着功德圆满的如来藏光明。因此我们应该好好地闻思修，努力获得闻思修三慧，让相续中充满佛法的功德。 

闻思修三慧能产生出无量的功德。对于凡夫来说，最初表现得比较明显的功德是：能够分别并认识烦恼、进而 能够压服烦恼、最终起到根除烦恼的作用。 

获得了闻慧，能够认识烦恼。凡夫的特点，是整天都身处烦恼之中，但认识不了这些烦恼。还认为自己各方面还比较不错。其实世间人的很多认识都是颠倒的。 

比如凡夫总觉得世上最重要的是自己，和别人在一起的时候，往往只考虑自己的需求，不考虑其他人的感受； 又比如世上流行着很多错误的认识，就像把对异性的贪执说成是“伟大爱情”、乱发脾气伤害别人说成是“张扬个性”、把为自己的名闻利养的努力说成是“有上进 心”、把“执著”当作是褒义词等等。这些现象，都是没有智慧所导致的，是无明的直接体现。长期这样的非理作意，导致的是忙碌一生，最后还是一场空。不但什么都没捞到，还增加了许多新的业障。通过对经论的听闻，就能发现哪些是对自己和他人真正有利的，应该实行的。哪些是对自己和他人都有害的，应该放弃和断除的。对自他有害的，就是烦恼。这样当自己或他人的烦恼出现的时候，虽然没有能力进行对治，但是能马上认识到它。不会像以前一样犯了错还不知道哪里错了，这就是闻慧的作用。 

获得了思慧，能够压服烦恼。思慧是在思想上接受了之前学到的闻慧。这相当于世间说的思想得到了改造，得到了升华。虽然因为之前错误见解的习惯势力还在，心里还不断会有和它相应的烦恼的出现。但是当这些烦恼出现时，通过闻慧能马上把它们认识出来。通过思慧， 则能运用如理作意，而把烦恼压服下去。 

比如当自己看到某个人，感到很不爽的时候，具有思慧的人，就会用理解到的法理如理地去分析，知道自己之所以看对方不爽，是对方在某个地方没有按照我的标准在行事，伤害到了自己的我执，这样就通过对方，发现了自己还隐藏着的那些执著，并且在这个方面会产生不爽，说明类似的其他事情都会让自己生起嗔心，这样的自己，还根本不可能出离轮回的牢狱。另外，对某个人不爽，说明自己慈悲心还非常肤浅，没有认识到对方过去世对自己的养育之恩，对不起过去世的这位母亲，这是非常不应该的事，根据思慧，可以有这样的种种的如理作意，这样就能把心中的不爽和执著给压制下去，甚至还会由此而感谢对方提供了让自己发现毛病的机会。 

获得了修慧，能够根除烦恼。修慧就像文殊菩萨的宝剑，它能断除无明。这就从根本上把产生烦恼的可能性给截断了。 

比如修悲心，当串习成熟的时候，悲心成了自己的习惯思维模式，心里起心动念都在悲心的状态中，任何时候都会把众生的利益放在第一位。这样虽然贪嗔等烦恼的种子还没有断，它们的习气还会蠢蠢欲动，但是烦恼不会再有现行的机会了。而如果修的是般若法门，则当彻底见到了一切万法都没有实质，都是如梦幻一般的时候，众生即使要产生实执，也没有可以产生实执的所境了，执著断除，烦恼也就没有立身之地，连根拔除了。

Once you are able to remain in the nature of the mind, which is rigpa, you will first experience what is called "abiding in the nature of the mind", then the "movement of the nature of the mind", and then "awareness of both abiding and movement".

You need to examine these three - abiding, movement, and awareness, or observation - to see if they are separate or the same. When you are abiding in the nature of the mind, this nature of the mind is utterly free - free from discursive thoughts.

Movement refers to the movement of the nature of the mind, which is the arising of discursive thoughts.

Awareness of the abiding and the movement is simply that. When you examine these with awareness, you will see that they are not different, and you will come to understand that these three are one and the same - just one flow.

When you are aware of abiding in the nature of the mind, that is the meditation. Yet from that nature of mind, anything and everything arises. Part of the meditation is to realise that all discursive thoughts, whatever is arising, are only the display of placement, or the nature itself.

When we are remaining in the nature of the mind, anything that arises, any discursive thoughts, are immediately recognised as being simply the play, or the display, of the nature of the mind.

You must practice the two sets of three - where the mind arises from, where it remains, and where it passes to, and then abiding, movement, and awareness. You must try your best to realise the nature of the mind to be empty, luminously clear, and unobstructedly compassionate. This realisation is the actualisation of the view and is also the maintenance of the view in the meditative experience.

When you are in equipoise, your experiences are just experiences; they arise and they pass and there is nothing to hope for or to be disappointed in. As you maintain the meditation, which is awareness that everything is just the display of the primordial nature, you will be able to ascertain it all in the nature of the great equality and remain in that nature of equality, free from all expectation and disappointment and of all negative emotions.

-- Yangthang Rinpoche

The First Step of Buddhist Practice

by Khenpo Sherab Zangpo Rinpoche

Why does spiritual practice fail to change our lives consistently? Why do those means and methods that have successfully transformed many people’s destinies and enabled them to attain freedom and enlightenment never take effect on us? The answer probably lies in our excessive clinging to life. Consciously or subconsciously, every aspect of life — career, family, money, fame, and relationships — is of great significance to us. To make us feel secure, we want to keep all of them under control. Not only do we spend our time and energy on achieving this goal, but we also hope to boost our reassurance with spiritual practice. Regardless, life is like sand in our hands — the tighter we hold it, the quicker we lose it.

Spiritual practice loses its true purpose if it is only intended to fortify our egos and to give us extra assurance. The practice will become incoherent and distorted, unlikely to be rewarding in a life that is by nature impermanent. However, if we can loosen our clinging, take what comes to us more lightheartedly, and focus on practice itself, our lives will become better. True change will start to manifest itself, and we will get a first taste of freedom arising from detachment.

To learn to take it easy is therefore the first step of Buddhist practice. As we get used to tension and confrontation, we are always uptight about ourselves, others, and our environment. We do not like to live a life outside of our control, and the slightest sign of uncertainty is enough to make us restless. We keep ourselves busy and act like lifeguards, being in a state of constant vigilance and always anticipating disaster. Even if we take a physical rest, our mind remains unsettled between hope and fear. Many people even calculate to the point of being paranoid. When things go smoothly, we hope that the prospects remain rosy but we fear they will not. When things go wrong, we fear that they may get worse but we hope not. We cling to everything in life and intend to safeguard what we have. If under usual circumstances we are already neurotic, imagine how panicked we might be when encountering real misfortunes.

We live as if carrying a heavy stone on our head—whose weight can almost crush us — and the world dwindles to only problems. When we experience difficulties, we will perceive ourselves all the more as the world’s most unlucky and wretched person. This mental state of self-pity amplifies our sense of justification to blame, to criticise, and to take revenge. As we do so, we forget life in itself is changeable and somewhat chaotic, filled with joy and sorrow. To make it more orderly or predictable is simply a vain attempt even if we dedicate our entire life to it. Therefore, Buddhist practice is meant to help us learn loosening-up, drop confrontation, accept uncertainty, and live with complete openness. Some call this mental state “the great ease of the mind.”

One of the most important things you can learn right now is how to recognise a passing mental event, remain in the present moment and allow the mental event to dissolve. Are you aware that you can actually do that right now? When you begin to experience the separation that exists between the mental event passing through your mind and the actual mind itself, your Pristine Mind, then you begin to see for the first time that you do truly have the option to choose your experience. You learn how to do just that, and it changes your life.

-- Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche 

禅的艺术境界

文｜ 朱光磊

儿时观看宋明的文人画，不禁为其中轻妙高远的气象所吸引。层峦叠嶂的山川，云雾迷绕。不是溪水旁就是山崖边，或许能找到仰望自然的老者，一副幽闲的样子，很是惬然。我颇为迷恋于这番云水山石，总以为吴地丘陵，不够壮观，需到齐鲁之地，岱岳之间抑或能够寻觅此番景象。

后来我远涉华夏山川，领略了不少秀美的风景，然而依然寻访不到画中的文士气韵。渐渐发现，这种精神蕴涵在中国古代历来的艺术形式之中，不但是山水画，连人物、植物、鸟兽鱼虫的绘画中，也含蓄了这种莫名的美感。甚至于书法、古玩、雕塑、诗文等诸形式，都融汇了这一股灵秀之气。这种感受若向外在的实物寻求，是终身难以如愿的。古人的艺术，是将其心境中的情感通过描绘实物来加以展现。所呈现的艺术品，已经不再是现实的。那是艺术的真实，艺术的真实高于自然的真实。

虽然略有所悟，只是中国古代文人的艺术真实又不似于西洋人的艺术真实。我能在西洋画中领略到作者生命欲望的冲动，有痉挛似的痛苦，有满足后的平静，有对自然的热忱，还有对生命苦难的谴责。然而，我寻不到中国式的艺术精神，她与上述这些都不相同。

当我读到《指月录》中一则禅机说：“青青翠竹尽是法身，郁郁黄花无非般若”的刹那，才仿佛若有所悟。翠竹与黄花都是表法，荡相谴执，无有自性。然而，并非因为无自性就消极对待了。法身是本体的有，般若是根本的空，在此处汇集在一起。需如龙树菩萨三谛偈所言：“众因缘生法，我说既是空。亦为是假名，亦是中道义。”佛法言出世间法不离世间法，万法具足空假中三面。因此，人所面对的价值世界，将完全由一心之念所造。此心无善无恶， 无所不包又无所包。因此，在世俗社会中所普遍认可的生命欲望的冲动，在禅的境界里完全遭到消解。愤恨命运的不公，或者积极进取的冲动，或者对于自然力量的赞美，在禅观中都是识心之执的表现，乃一念无明的产物。因此中国的艺术不会去表现生命的冲动，反而要将冲动内敛甚至消解。冯友兰说中国哲学是“负”的精神，西洋画月亮是靠浓彩描绘，中国画月亮是靠留白，由周围的云彩来衬托其无，从无中而体现出自身的美来。整个场景都是和谐的整体，相互之间层层相应，气运流通。禅对万物进行般若玄智的关照，既不取相也不离相。物我一体，主客相融。正如禅师青原行思所云：参禅之初，看山是山，看水是水；禅有悟时，看山不是山，看水不是水；禅中彻悟，看山仍然是山，看水仍然是水。禅的艺术境界， 就在于看山仍然是山，看水仍然是水。

我们能够从艺术作品中品赏出那独具匠心的气 运。从中可以反观作者的禅意。王维诗作《终南别业》就是个极好的例子。“中岁颇好道，晚家南山陲。兴来每独往，胜事空自知。行到水穷处，坐看云起时。偶然值林叟，谈笑无还期。”此诗全无雕饰，浑然天成。尤其是“行到水穷处，坐看云起时”两句，尤被人称道。诗人由兴致而往来，也不知道心里有何快意的事情，独自信步漫游。他沿着溪水而行，或许他的注意力在于水中嬉戏的鱼儿，或许是流水本身的晶莹，只是他已经走到了溪水的尽头，已经无路可走，无物可观。按常理，应是大为扫兴的事情，定然穷途而返。全诗妙在“坐看云起时”，诗人虽在赏景，却是赏而不赏，并没有被外物牵扯着走。当流水已尽的时候，不妨寻找他物来看，只要自性清净，何处不是菩提？可以设想，即使此时没有云彩，诗人也可以颇有兴致的观赏一块山石。下文中，诗人又同山间老人谈谈笑笑，把回家的时间也忘了，这是何等自由惬意。整首诗描写的场景如同一幅幅山水画，充满着无尽的禅机。与其说是诗人在讲述自己的一次闲游，还不如说诗人在自述恬适的心境。外法的清高淡远全在于主体自己一心所感，其存在的价值是感受主体所赋予的，这是天人合一的境界。虽然外法具有种种的美，但是需要知道它是无自性的，无论多美，都不能起执，心随其所转就是迷；虽然万法无自性，但又是自己一心所现，闭目无视，充耳不闻，也是执。形如枯槁，心似死灰的苦修并不是禅的意趣。禅的玄妙在于活泼泼的，于念无念，于相无相的当下现实之心。后来禅师马祖道一将其阐述为“平常心”，说道：“要眠即眠，要坐即坐”，就是要此心不执著，任其自然，无所追求。

最初，佛祖拈花，迦叶一笑。教外别传，唯一心相应，非语言文字所能道断。禅宗里面具有许多公案和话头，即不去直接言说何为佛性，如何成佛，而要求法者自己了悟。所谓如人饮水，冷暖自知。成佛不向外求，外法只能促成机缘，自性无尽宝藏具足，何不内求？禅宗公案上所记载的都是禅师的接应机锋，他们通过绕路说禅的方式来促使求法者顿悟。这些机缘充满了禅理，是绝美的艺术形式。我们通过审美，在刹那间忘却了自我，空诸一切，心无挂碍，和世俗生活暂时绝缘。这点灵明，静观万象，万象如在镜中，各得其所。这是空灵淡泊的审美情趣，依仗于此，我们或多或少能够感悟到这股清淡的禅意。

禅宗的思维深深影响了中国人的艺术精神。严羽在其《沧浪诗话》中说：“诗为禅客添花锦，禅是诗家切玉刀。”禅于诗境结合得如此紧密，在诗中的表达能将诗歌雕凿精致，意境深远。苏东坡记载吴道子得梦神授画佛云“吴生画佛本神授，梦中化作飞空仙。觉来落笔不经意，神妙独到秋毫颠。”禅的这种心理状态，激发艺术创作的灵感，这正是艺术家苦苦追寻的东西，不期然造就了任性挥洒的画风。国画中的山水人物，也颇具禅风。山水的气质和人物的闲静浑然一体，自然天成。其实，何尝是诗歌与绘画多融通禅意，一切中国的艺术都沉浸在禅的意趣之中。我们倘若能够留心观察，定会有不小的收获。

禅的意趣成就了一座雄伟的艺术宝库，我们遨游于其中，既能获得艺术思想方面的有益启迪，又有助于通过艺术形式来了解佛法，使心灵得到洗涤和升华。

Whoever denies the cause-effect relationship of actions is an adherent of the view of nihilism, and goes from bad to worse. Those who have started on a bad journey will never find deliverance from unwholesome situations and will drive happy existences farther and farther away. 

-- Longchenpa

The Return of Joy

by Jack Kornfield

There is an unquenchable human spirit born anew in each child. This spirit, which has carried Nelson Mandela and so many others through hardship and storms, can carry you. Inside you are a thousand generations of your ancestors, who learned how to survive storms and difficulties. Do not be afraid. You too will find your way.

Trust your ability to turn towards your difficulty with courage and compassion. Ground yourself in your body and find the temple

of healing within. By bringing your most beloved wisdom figures into your heart you will find help as you navigate conflict and loss. You will discover how to cultivate practices of balance and equanimity. And learn the art of forgiveness.

When you learn to navigate your difficulties with compassion and grace, you will also discover that joy will return. Your difficulties and sorrows do not define you — they do not limit who you are. Sometimes, during periods when your struggles overwhelm you or last for a long time, you can mistake them for your life. You become used to difficulty, you become loyal to your suffering. You don’t know who you would be without it. But your difficulties are not the end of the story, they are one part of it — they are part of your path to great love and understanding, a part of the dance of humanity.

When Siddhartha sat by the river at the end of the story by Herman Hesse that many of us read in high school, he finally learned to listen. He realised that all the many voices in the river comprise the music of life: the good and evil, the pleasures and the sorrows, the grief and the laughter, the yearnings and the love. His spirit was no longer in contention with all of life. He found that along with the struggles was also an unshakable joy. This joy can be yours as well. 

Maha Ghosananda taught all those he met — including in Cambodia, where almost every family suffered unimaginable losses during the genocide — that in spite of our difficulties, love can return. He taught how to meet sorrows with compassion and understanding, how to honour them, and, finally, how to transform them. It is important not to let your sorrows become your whole life. “When you go to a garden,” asks Rumi, “do you look at thorns or flowers? Spend more time with roses and jasmine.”

A Buddhist teacher and colleague, Debra Chamberlin-Taylor, tells the story of a community activist who participated in her year-long training group for non-Caucasians. This woman had experienced a childhood of poverty, trauma and abuse. She had faced the death of a parent, illness, divorce from a painful marriage, racism, and the single parenting of two children. She talked about her years of struggle to educate herself, to stand up for what she believed in. She described how she had become a radical to fight for justice in local and national politics. Finally, at the last meeting, this woman announced, “After all the struggles and troubles I’ve lived through, I’ve decided to do something really radical! I am going to be happy.”

No matter what you have faced, joy and renewal await your return. When you remember you can open your eyes to the mystery of life around you. Sense the blessings of the earth in the perfect arc of a ripe tangerine, the taste of warm, fresh bread, the circling flight of birds, the lavender colour of the sky shining in a late afternoon rain puddle, the million times we pass by other beings, in our cars and shops and out among the trees without crashing, conflict, or harm. 

Spiritual practice should not be confused with grim duty. It is the wonder born with every child. Maurice Sendak, the author of Where the Wild Things Are, depicts this spirit in the story of a boy who wrote to him. “He sent me a charming card with a drawing. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a postcard and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, ‘ Dear Jim, I loved your card.’

Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, ‘Jim loved your card so much he ate it.’ That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

Yes, we need to carefully navigate through hard times. But the whole world is also our temple, to be tended with love and dignity no matter what. As Martin Luther King Jr. exhorted us all, “If a person sweeps streets for a living, he should sweep them as Michelangelo painted, as Beethoven composed music, as Shakespeare wrote his plays.”

 

The world offers perennial renewal, in the grass that pushes itself up between the cracks in the sidewalk, at the end of every torrential rainstorm and in every newly planted window box, in every unexpected revolution, with each new morning’s light. This unstoppable spirit of renewal is in you. Trust it. Learn that it flows through you and all of life. The ultimate gift of our suffering is to teach us how to properly grieve, heal and learn compassion. But finally, we come to the realisation that at any moment we can step out of the body of fear and feel the great winds that carry us, to awaken to the eternal present. It is within our power to experience the liberation of the heart offered to all by the Buddha in these words:

Live in joy,

In love,

Even among those who hate.

Live in joy,

In health,

Even among the afflicted.

Live in joy,

In peace,

Even among the troubled.

Look within.

Be still.

Free from fear and attachment,

Know the sweet joy of living in the way.

May you be blessed.