Notes Beside the Bamboo Window — Third Collection, Part 14

Someone asked: those who attained awakening through Chan investigation fill entire volumes of biographical record — why, then, is it so rare to hear of anyone attaining awakening through Buddha-recitation? Ah! Such people certainly exist — you simply have not encountered them. And besides, once a Chan practitioner has grasped the truth, he never makes noise about it to draw attention to himself; only once the dragon spirits and heavenly guardians themselves push him forward does his reputation finally resound, and his name come to be handed down to later generations.

Consider: had the Sixth Patriarch, who received the mind-seal from the Fifth Patriarch at Huangmei, never happened to blurt out his own subtle insight about the flag and the wind, he would have remained nothing more than an ordinary man watching over a hunter's nets. Had Master Qingsu, who received Master Ciming's own private confirmation, never happened to encounter Master Congyue over a dish of lychees, he would have remained nothing more than an idle old man within some monastic community. How, then, would you ever have come to know of their attainment at all?

How much more so, then, for one who sincerely, genuinely recites the Buddha's name, whose aspiration is to leave this Sahā world entirely and seek rebirth in the Pure Land with real diligence, every single thought as urgent as though putting out a fire on his own head — even should such a person have already awakened to the Amitābha of his own original nature, realized the Pure Land of his own mind, and yet remained hidden his whole life long, never once stepping forward — how could you possibly know of him either? All those who attain the highest of the highest grade of rebirth are, without exception, truly awakened people — the biographical Records of Rebirth are not a book one can afford to leave unread.

There are monks who fail to be filial to their own parents, and I hold them severely to account for it. Someone objected: "Having already left home and cut off worldly attachments, to reproach him for this would only stir up his own emotional bonds again!" Ah! What kind of talk is this? The Great Filial One, the World-Honored Śākyamuni himself, repaid his own parents' kindness across countless kalpas, and it was precisely through accumulating this cause that he attained perfect enlightenment. The Brahma Net Sutra says: "Though the precepts number in the ten thousands, filial devotion is their very root." The Contemplation Sutra says: "Filial support of one's parents is the genuine cause of pure karma."

There have been those among the ancients who built a hall specifically to care for their own mother, and those who carried their own mother on their back while begging for alms — never once did such devotion prove a burden of attachment. Why, then, should someone who has already cut off attachment to his own parents go on to cultivate close ties with donors instead, exchanging gifts without pause, and dote on his own disciples more than his own flesh and blood? This is treating strangers as family while abandoning genuine family, casting off one attachment only to take up another in its place — how thoroughly upside down this is! And to accept offerings from every direction, living warmly clothed and well fed and secure, while sitting idly by as one's own parents suffer cold and hunger and utter loneliness — if such a person's own conscience can truly rest easy with that, then let him do as he pleases.

Su Mingyun said: "Whoever rebels against his own parents, or shows contempt for the spirits, will be struck down by thunder." Thunder, of course, cannot possibly strike down every single person of this kind — but there are times when unforeseen calamity does befall them regardless. Mingyun's words were meant to instill fear in wrongdoers, and yet there are many who escape thunder's own reach entirely, and so in the end his words fail to instill real fear at all.

And yet retribution for evil deeds comes by many different paths: some die of an incurable illness, some are executed under the law, some are killed by tigers and wolves, some drown, some burn, some die by blade or by axe, some by poison, some crushed beneath collapsing walls or falling stones — the retribution is the same in every case. Killing a person with a club is no different from killing with a blade — must every single case of retribution really come down from the sky as thunder? And besides, some retribution comes within this very life, some in a life yet to come; some falls upon the body in this world, some upon the spirit in the world below. Do not say that whoever escapes thunder's own strike has therefore escaped judgment entirely.

Master Zhongfeng's own admonitory verses say: "If Chan investigation must always wait upon finding some teacher or friend, I can hardly guarantee your whole life's effort will not come to nothing." He also says: "Even should Bodhidharma and Śākyamuni themselves stand before you, to seek intimacy with them is already to fall into a fixed rut." These are words of the most exquisite, essence-like truth. And yet they must not be spoken to those of lesser capacity — should such a person cling to these words and act entirely on his own authority, no longer recognizing the benefit of genuine companionship at all, this same essence would turn into poison instead.

Choosing a friend is not difficult — finding a genuine friend is what proves difficult. Those who associate with one another merely over food, drink, and material wealth are bad companions; those who encourage each other toward good and restrain each other from evil are good companions. But one who opens the correct path of practice for me, reveals to me the very highest teaching, and serves as my own lamp, my own eyes, my own guide, my own physician-king — such a person is a truly good and wise companion, one from whom I ought not to be separated even for a single day.