坚持的是原则还是偏见
圣严法师

坚持原则,是指自己所坚持的,也会为其他人所接受;不仅现在的人可以接受,未来的人也可以接受,甚至过去也曾经被人接受过,这才叫做原则。如果我们能够放下我执,不以自我为中心,任何事情都能看得开、看得淡、放得下,而且能够包容所有的人、所有的事,自然而然就不会有偏见,当然就没有烦恼了。

待人处世的过程中,“坚持原则”本来是正常的,问题是:你所坚持的究竟是原则?还是自己的偏见?

如果对任何事都坚持自己的想法才是对的,坚持要用自己的做法,只管自己,别人的建议和商量,都不愿接受,也不愿意为任何人改变,不替别人设身处地着想,到最后可能于人于事都会造成伤害。你以为这是坚持“原则”,其实不是!你所坚持的,不过是个人的偏见,这就是“我执”。

坚持原则,是指自己所坚持的,也会为其他人所接受;不仅现在的人可以接受,未来的人也可以接受,甚至过去也曾经被人接受过,这才叫做原则。

做人有做人的原则,做事有做事的原则。做人的原则首先要“保护自己”,可是保护自己并不表示要伤害他人;考虑自己的同时,也要尊重他人,自己受益,也希望对他人有帮助,秉持彼此互惠互助的立场,这种原则才是对的。

做事的原则,应该要以大多数人的利益为考量,如果所坚持的原则,是出于自私或为了少数人,或贪图一时的方便,这就是偏见,就是执着。

但许多人经常分不清到底是“择善固执”,还是把个人的偏见当成了原则?其实,只要观察别人对这件事情的观感,就能判断出究竟是偏见还是原则。

如果你的想法和做法,让每个人都觉得受不了、很痛苦,每个人都觉得那是错的、有问题的,只有你认为是对的,那很可能就是偏见。能够符合每一个人或是多数人共同的的想法和意愿,那才是原则。

原则并不是一成不变的,它会随着时间或区域环境的不同而有所改变,唯一不变的是:一定是为众人着想,能够为大家所乐于接受的。

执着偏见的人,就是我执太重。我执会带给我们很多烦恼,因为自我意识太强,自我中心太坚固,就会坚持自己的性情或想法,全身如同刺猬般长满利刺,“棱角”很多,动则伤人,而无法圆融待人。

所以有人说:“做人处事要内方而外圆”,“内方”就是原则,“外圆”就是不伤人。虽然在心里有一定的标准,可是当需要变通的时候,也不要执意不变,食古不化。必须要有一些善巧方便,观念想法适时地转一个弯、换个角度,或是多用同理心、柔软语,这样才不会让人觉得你很难相处,事情才容易成就。

时时提醒自己“内方外圆”的原则,也是化除我执的方法之一。更进一步说,如果我们能够放下我执,不以自我为中心,任何事情都能看得开、看得淡、放得下,而且能够包容所有的人、所有的事,自然而然就不会有偏见,当然就没有烦恼了。

How do we purify our bad karma? First, we must understand that our bad karma is the result of this life and previous lives. If we don’t recognise what we are doing is bad, then it is difficult to purify. All Buddhas have different qualities. In order to help us, Buddhas manifest different qualities. For example, Vajrasattva is suitable for purification. You can also chant the Medicine Buddha mantra. Theoretically, whatever your practise, if you practise properly, you will also be able to purify, it will also work. Prostrations, prayers to the Three Jewels… all will help us. The main thing is, we need to work on our mental disposition, and not just rely on mantras. If your motivation is not correct, even if you recite many thousands of Vajrasattva mantras, it may not be effective for your purification.

— Dagyab Rinpoche

Everything’s Made of Mind
by Norman Fischer

The teachings about mind are perhaps the most precious, profound, and foundational in Buddhism. Without some understanding of the expansive concept of mind described in these teachings, it’s hard to appreciate the full context of Buddhist meditation practice and the enlightenment promised as its ultimate goal.

The Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana, an important text in Far East Asian Buddhism, begins by saying that mind — not only mind in the abstract but the actual minds of sentient beings — “includes within itself all states of being of the phenomenal world and the transcendent world.”

In other words, mind isn’t just mental. It isn’t, as we understand it in the West, exclusively intellectual and psychological. Mind includes all the material world. It also includes the “transcendent world,” which sounds odd. Isn’t it commonplace to think of Buddhism as having, refreshingly, no idea of the transcendent, which sounds like God? We are told that Buddhism is practical and down-to-earth, a human teaching for human beings. It’s about calming and understanding the mind in order to put an end to suffering.

This is certainly true, and is the dominant theme of early Buddhism. But in contemplating what mind is, later Mahayana Buddhist pundits teased out huge and astounding implications embedded in the early teachings.

They began by distinguishing two aspects of mind — an absolute aspect and a relative, phenomenal aspect. These, they said, are both identical and not identical. So mind (not only in the abstract, but also my mind, your mind, the mind of all sentient beings) is at the same time both transcendent and not.

This means that the transcendence isn’t a place or state of being elsewhere or otherwise: it is here and now. Mind and matter, space and time, animate and inanimate, imaginative and real—all are mind. Mind can be both absolute and phenomenal because it is empty of any hard and fast characteristics that could distinguish one thing from another. It is fluid. It neither exists nor doesn’t exist. So, strictly speaking, it isn’t impermanent. It is eternal.

In effect, mind equals reality equals impermanence equals eternity. All of which is contained in the workings of my own mind and that of all sentient beings. So this little human life of mine, with all its petty dramas, as well as this seemingly limited and painful world, is in reality the playing out of something ineffably larger and grander. As Vasubhandu, the Indian Yogachara (Mind-Only) sage, writes in his famous Thirty Verses, reality is simply the transformations of mind.

This is staggering, baffling, and heady. What does it have to do with the inescapable fact that I definitely feel as if I am suffering? My mind may be empty, eternal, transcendent, and vast, but I still experience my life unhappily. What to do?

We could pose the question like this: If my mind is mind, and mind is reality, what is the relationship of my unenlightened mind, the cause of my suffering, to the enlightened mind that puts suffering to an end?

From a psychological and logical point of view, enlightenment and unenlightenment are opposites. I am either enlightened and not suffering, or unenlightened and suffering, and these certainly feel to me like vastly different states. But the teachings on mind assert that enlightenment and unenlightenment are in actuality not different. They are, fundamentally suchness (and the word “fundamentally” — meaning “at bottom,” at their core” — is important here). “Suchness” is a word coined in the Mahayana to connote the mind’s perfect appearance as phenomena. When we receive phenomena as suchness, we don’t experience what we call suffering — even if we suffer!

What we call suffering, and experience as suffering, isn’t actually suffering. It is confusion, illusion, misperception, like seeing a snake that turns out to be merely a crooked stick. Suchness is the only thing we ever really experience. But since we mistake it for something painful and dangerous, we stand apart from it. We see ourselves as its victim, and so are pushed around by it, although in truth there is nothing that pushes, nothing that can be pushed, and no reason in the first place to feel pushed. Reality is not, as we imagine it to be, difficult and painful. It is always only just as it is: suchness.

But lest we project suchness to be something we can reach for or depend on, something other than what we are and see all the time in front of us, we are reminded that suchness isn’t anything. It is a mere word, and the limit, so to speak, of verbalisation. It is a word proposed for the purpose of putting an end to words and concepts whose mesmerising effect on us is the real source of our initial mistaken perception. Since all things are equally and fundamentally suchness, there is literally nothing to be said. Even calling it suchness.

So my suffering, as real as it seems to me, is delusional. But it’s a powerful delusion! Its very structure is built into mind, and therefore my personal consciousness. Since its shape and location (these words are metaphorical: mind has no shape or location) is the same as that of enlightenment, to which it is identical, and since both are empty of any grounding reality, my delusion can’t be gotten rid of. How can you get rid of something that doesn’t exist? Trying to get rid of it will only make matters worse. Besides, to get rid of my delusion is to get rid of my enlightenment, which is my only hope!

In a famous metaphor, Mahayana teachings liken the relationship of delusion to enlightenment to that of a wave and the ocean. The wave is delusion, full of motion and drama. It rises up, crests, breaks, dissipates, and gathers strength to drive again. With my eyes on the wave, I see it as real.

But the wave isn’t anything. There is no such entity as “wave.” There is only water, in motion or not. Wind acts on water to make what we call a wave. If the wind stops, the movement ceases and the water remains quiet. Whether there are waves or no waves, water remains always water, salty and wet. Without wind, the water is quiet and deep. But even when wind activity is strong on the surface, deep below water remains quiet.

Mind is like this. It is deep, pure, and silent. But when the winds of delusion blow, its surface stirs and what we call suffering results. But the waves of my suffering are nothing more or less than mind. And even as I rage, the depths below remain quiet. Life is the wind. Life is the water. As long as life appears as phenomena there will be the stirrings of delusion. Delusion is in fact the movement, the stirring, of awakening. My ocean mind is inherently pure and serene, always. When I know this, I can navigate the waves with grace.

The Awakening of Faith, the text I referred to above, offers an even better analogy. A man is lost. He is confused about which way is north and which way south. He has a place he is trying to go but because of his confusion he can’t get there. He feels disoriented and deeply uncomfortable. He has that sinking feeling of being lost, of not being in the place he wants and ought to be. But then he suddenly realises there actually is no north or south — that these are just names people give to this way or that way, and that, no matter where he is, he is in fact here, where he has always been and will always be. Immediately, that man no longer has a feeling of being lost.

Likewise we are lost when we don’t settle our lives in suchness. Misperceiving the wholeness of our mind, we see confusion and lack, which naturally gives rise to desire. We desire a destination, a state, that will bring us peace. But we don’t know how to get there. We feel lost, ungrounded, desperate for road signs.

“Delusion” is the place we are fleeing. “Enlightenment” is the destination we seek. But it is a false destination. The path and all its teachings are like north and south, names for various directions that have some provisional value but in the end only confuse us if we take them as real in a way they are not.

Since people need maps and directions when they feel lost, enlightenment is proposed as a destination some distance from delusion. The teachings are serviceable, if provisional, navigation aids to point us in what we believe to be the right direction. But after we have gone on long enough to have calmed down a bit, we see the truth: there is nowhere to go and no way to get there. We have been there all along. In Mahayana Buddhism this is called original enlightenment, or tathagatagarbha — the Womb of Suchness.

This same point is made in a famous parable in the Lotus Sutra, an important text of Chinese Buddhism. People are lost. They hire a caravan leader who takes them to what turns out to be an illusory city, where they find some respite. Somewhat refreshed, they are then told by the caravan leader that this is not and has never really been their destination. The destination is endlessly far ahead. In effect there is no destination; they have always been where they wanted to go. But if the caravan leader had told them this at the outset they would never have believed him.

Now lets get practical. Given all this, what does what we think of as enlightenment actually amount to? Are these teachings proposing, as they seem to be, that we give up practice altogether and somehow suddenly leap out of what we experience as suffering, by some kind of mental magic trick? That we somehow will or think ourselves into enlightenment?

No. The entire culture of practice (including meditation but also study, dharma relationships, ritual, and much more) is necessary. But not in the way we thought it was, not as a way to make things different. Rather, we practice to shift our understanding of our lives. In effect, as The Awakening of Faith puts it, “The process of actualisation of enlightenment is none other than the process of integrating the identity with the original enlightenment.”

Practice, then, is both a sudden (we have flashes of insight) and a gradual (it develops over a lifetime) identity shift. We stop seeing ourselves as the child of our parents, a poor lonely soul in a difficult world, with various conditioned imperfections, drawbacks, desires, and hopes, most of which remain unfulfilled. Instead we have confidence in our original enlightenment, which is and has always been at the centre of our lives, despite our limitations and pain. The Awakening of Faith: “The state of enlightenment is not something that is to be acquired by practice or to be created. In the end, it is unobtainable, because it has been there from the very beginning.”

This teaching about mind reminds me of a conversation I had with my mother toward the end of her life. She was dying. I knew it, everyone in our family knew it, but we didn’t talk about it because my mother didn’t like to think about it. But once, when we were having bagels and lox at a little deli near where she lived, she said to me, casually, as if it were a matter of mere curiosity, “What do Buddhists think happens after you die?”

“Well,” I said to her, “it depends on who you think you are. If you think you are just this body and mind, just these memories and experiences and relationships and thoughts, then death is very bad news. Because when you die you will lose all that. But if you think you are also more than this, something you don’t understand but somehow feel and have confidence in, then when you die that something — which was never born and so can’t die — never goes away. And that would make it easier and happier to die.”

I am not sure my mother got any comfort from those words. As I recall now, she looked more bewildered than comforted. But perhaps what I said did help toward the end, when her consciousness faded and her mind was quiet.

Certainly, the intention of the great Buddhist teachers who over the centuries have detailed these teachings on mind is not only to comfort us. They offer us these teachings on what mind really is to give us a sound basis for a way of practice that can transform our lives, and the world.

Norman Fischer 18.

We are living in a fragile environment, and it only takes one wrong step to send our beautiful lives tumbling down the hill. Therefore, with every single step that we take, we have to be fully aware and mindful. With such an attitude we can foster happiness and work to fulfill our purpose for being in this world.

— Zurmang Gharwang Rinpoche

自性自度
文|行彻

佛在开悟之后,宣说了自己所发现的真理和方法,这就是著名的缘起定律。

这个定律具有如下三个特征:第一是常住,是永恒如此;第二是法住,是必然如此;第三是法界,是普遍如此。就如《杂阿含》第296经:“若佛出世,若未出世,此法常住,法住法界。”意思是,不论佛出现在世间,还是不出现在世间,这个道理都是普遍存在的。

一、因缘定律

这个因缘定律是说,人生宇宙当中的任何事物,都依各种因素和条件的存在而存在。任何东西都不是无缘无故就能存在的,也不是永恒而独立的存在。如果这些因素和条件分散了,这个事物也就随之瓦解了。这也就是所谓“诸法因缘生,诸法因缘灭。”比如说,一颗种子种下去,必须加上土壤、阳光、水分、人工等助缘,才能发芽、成长、开花、结果。随着因素、条件的变化,这些事物必然有发生、发展、变化和熄灭的过程。

因此,世间万物都是因缘和合而存在的。因,是因素; 缘,是条件。任何人命运的好坏,都是需要各种因素条件聚合起来才可以。同样,要想过上幸福的人生,就必须在心田里面种上快乐的种子。日常生活中,必须做正确的事,这样就不必为未来果报到来而发愁了。“善有善报,恶有恶报。”这是世间普遍的法则,也就是因缘定律。

二、自作自受

不过,不论是善行善报,还是恶行恶报,事实上,一切都是唯心所造的。心灵就像一块肥沃的土壤,在这块土地上种杂草和种庄稼,其因缘果报都是不一样的。但有一个共同原则,就是凡是因缘和合的存在,都是无自性的。一切都没有永恒不变,没有独一无二,没有主宰, 所以是无常和无我的。认识了事物无常和无我之理,就自性自度 – 行彻 – 知道一切善恶、好坏都是自己造成的,没有任何人强加,只有自己才是自己命运的主人。只有认识到这个道理,才能清醒地把握自己人生的方向,领悟生命的意义,如此才能踏实而轻松自在地生活。

然而,在现实当中,总有一些人觉得自己的不幸或者不如意,都是外在因素造成的,因此总是在抱怨等烦恼当中度过,认为自己的挫折和痛苦都是别人造成的,但事实恰恰相反,因为他们不明白,其实外境只是自心的显现。

一个人的苦乐遭遇,都不是偶然的,一切存在都必有它的先决条件,也就是一切唯心造。这些条件是自己的心造作出来的,制造苦乐的主因是自己,外在因素只是次要条件。那么,这个苦乐之报由谁来承受呢?还是自己,没有人会代为承受,这就是“善恶到头终有报,只看来早与来迟”的道理。

由此可见,世间最公平的莫过于因缘定律。不论相信与否,它都像空气一般环绕着我们。当遭遇逆境时,也许有人会抱怨说:“为什么这些倒霉事总发生在我身上呢?”可何曾想过,眼前的一切不幸难道会无缘无故地发生吗?善恶因缘,果报自受,即使我们可以否认它的存在,但因果依然会公平地执行,善恶赏罚,汇聚着我们善恶的数量,就像一个显示器,会如实地播放,丝毫不爽。这就是“种瓜得瓜,种豆得豆;一切祸福,自作自受。(《警世恒言》)”

三、自缚自解

在《楞严经》中,阿难尊者差点出事之时,佛陀派文殊菩萨把他救回来。于是,他跪在佛前痛哭流涕,真诚忏悔,觉得自己“一向多闻,未全道力”,虽然汇集了一肚子的学问,可在现实面前,还是经不起考验。这时候,他就向佛陀请教什么是实修的入门方法。佛陀因此提出了两种根本:什么是无始生死根本?什么是无始涅槃根本?也就是无始以来的生死痛苦是怎么来的?要想解脱痛苦,应从哪里入手?佛答:人之所以一直在生死轮回中受苦,众生之所以“作茧自缚”,就是因为心总向外“攀缘”,所以才认假为真,起惑造业,流转生死。 要想脱离痛苦,就必须认识到自己原本的觉性。首先找回自己的真心,才是人生中最重要的一件事,所以“解铃还要系铃人”。 当阿难开悟之后,道理是明白了,但要如何进入实修呢?要怎样入手修行呢?在开示实修之前,佛陀提出两种决定义:首先,辨别修行的动机,应该以怎样的用心来修行;其次,选择入手处在哪里,应该从哪个根门作为入手之方便。然后探讨这心是被谁绑住的,要如何来解开。所以“解结因次第,六解一亦亡”,事实上,这个心结,是自己绑起来的,所以还必须靠自己亲自来解 开。

四、自性自度

宋代有两位禅门的出家人,一个叫道谦,一个叫宗圆, 他们俩相约结伴外出行脚参禅。在半路上,宗圆由于感到很辛苦,所以曾经多次产生了退却的想法。道谦禅师只好安慰他说:“都已经下了参学的决心,也走到半路,你就不要轻言放弃了。这样吧,从现在开始,在路上如果有可以替你做的事,我会尽量为你代劳,但有五件事情我是帮不上忙的——穿衣、吃饭、拉屎、撒尿、走路。”这个时候,宗圆终于明白了,从此以后再也不说辛苦。俗话说:“天上不会掉下馅饼”、“世上没有免费的午餐”,这些都说明了“善恶业果,自作自受”的道理。 俗话说:“个人吃饭个人饱,个人生死个人了”,“公修公得,婆修婆得,不修不得”。生死大事,明心见性,别人丝毫代替不了,一切都得靠自己努力、自己承受才行。

Lotus 260.

A yogi’s mind will be distracted to various objects if he cultivates only special insight without developing a calmly abiding mind.

— Kamalasila

What it Means to be a Buddhist
by Anam Thubten Rinpoche

As citizens of Earth, we have layers of identity that make us unique from those around us as well as affiliating us with certain groups. Religion usually plays an important role in forging our personal identity. In developed countries, you don’t necessarily have to subscribe to a particular organised religion, although the same is not true in countries where theocratic governments demand that their citizens pledge allegiance to a particular faith. Moreover, the law in these societies doesn’t permit people to convert from one religion to another — such governments often have a declared state religion that allows adherents from other traditions to join, but not the other way around.

Then there is Buddhism, which is in many respects a unique tradition. Some practitioners do not regard it as a religion, but more as a way of life, a journey to inner awakening founded by the Buddha. Many contemporary Buddhists will say that Buddhism is more Dharma than religion. Obviously, Buddhism in the West is evolving as a spiritual path that is non-dogmatic and values the internal development of love and wisdom over doctrine. This is a trend that is also beginning to emerge in Asia. It is simply a matter of time before it becomes more widespread.

There are now millions and millions of people across the world who identify as Buddhists. For many of them it is because they were born into a culture that itself identifies as Buddhist, although this does not mean that they automatically understand the depth of the Buddha’s teachings. Identifying as a Buddhist is a tricky business when one does not truly understand what Buddhism is. It must be more than worshipping statues, or visiting temples on holy occasions or when one seeks divine intervention in the midst of a personal catastrophe such as losing a loved one, falling ill, or encountering a serious mishap.

In the purest sense, to be a Buddhist means to be someone who follows the teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha, such as the Noble Eightfold Path. Some might say that taking the vow of refuge is a bona fide initiation that renders someone a Buddhist overnight. This makes the process sound quite simple. Usually, performing a refuge ceremony can be done in less than half an hour, but is the ceremonial repeating of the vows after a Dharma teacher and receiving a symbolic haircut sufficient for someone to be transformed into a new Buddhist? Most ordinations in the Buddhist tradition require preparatory steps before one can even become a candidate. And there must be proper intention and right understanding about the path that one is preparing to embark upon. Merely participating in such an initiation ceremony is not the complete rite of passage to becoming a true student of the Buddha.

There is also the danger of turning Buddhism into an “ethnic” religion — when someone becomes a Buddhist by the sheer merit of being born in a Buddhist country or culture. Buddhism is not an ethnic religion; the Buddha himself stated that caste and race are irrelevant in his sangha, or holy community. For him, what matters most is understanding the Dharma that he discovered. During his lifetime, the Buddha welcomed men, women, Brahmins, and “untouchables,” transcending all of these divisions in the world of his Dharma. This all-embracing spirit resonates with many people still considered “untouchables” in today’s India. When the celebrated Indian scholar, activist, and social reformer Dr. B. R. Ambedkar (1891–1956) was searching for a new spiritual tradition for himself and his fellow Dalits, in the end he found that Buddhism was the most appealing because its egalitarian philosophy would accept his people no matter their race or caste.

As Buddhists, we should not turn this identity into a barricade that separates us from so-called non-Buddhists. Instead, we can adopt this identity as a way of reminding ourselves that we are studying and practising the teachings of the Buddha. Then we will be able to feel unity with the rest of humanity, while remaining deeply committed to the Buddhadharma. Humanity is confronting many issues that no single country or group of people can deal with, such as rampant poverty, ecological crises, sectarian violence, and many more. I feel that this is an important time for all of us to make our best effort not to divide humanity, but to bring everyone together.

Our identities are not as permanent as they might seem. They can be constructed and deconstructed as we go through changes over the course of our lives. A friend of mine has a daughter who decided to undergo gender reassignment surgery. I met her a few years ago when she told her parents about her desire to become a man. Very recently, I met the same person again, except this time I related to her as him. Not only that, he took the vow of refuge from me. He now has this colourful identity in the eyes of the public, something like a transgender Buddhist dude. Similarly, in the United States, there are many Jews who choose to become Buddhists, some of whom refer to themselves as a “Jewbu.” There is a humour in it; it shows that our identities are not fixed like letters carved in stone. They have fluidity if we have the willingness to play with them and not to become too attached.

If the Buddha were alive today, what would he call himself? This question can be a koan and if you contemplate it long enough, you might lose lots of the identity that you’re holding onto right now. In short, we must treat the identity of being a Buddhist as sacred and use it with a deep understanding of what it entails. There is a dimension of reality in which we cannot be easily be placed into a pigeonhole of identity and the Buddha invited us to journey into that dimension unconditioned, unmade, and un-become. This is a realm in which we transcend the day-to-day notions of identity and are in touch with our unborn nature.

Just realising the meaning of mind encompasses all understanding; whereas knowing everything without realising the meaning of mind is the worst (ignorance).

— Jamgon Kongtrul Lodro Thaye

禅修就是读懂生命这本书
如孝法师

我们为什么要禅修?

是为了找到我们生命中最真切的那份感受。

我们的念头此起彼伏,带给我们的感受一半是快乐,一半是痛苦。这是因为上错了火车,这列火车把我们带入痛苦或快乐的境界。虽然外在的客观环境不断地变化,犹如白天和黑夜的轮转,但是我们内在的心情可以和这“火车头”永远地断开。

生命有内在和外在两个方面,我们成熟的标志就是由外在向内转化,寻求真实的生命意义和内在的觉醒,生命活得越来越有方向,越来越有底气。所以,禅修是内在的、对于自我深刻的认知。如果对内有所认知,我们就能够正确地知道该上哪趟车。比如,如果这趟列车是开往重庆的,而你的目的地是义乌,你就不会上错车。

我们要睁开双眼看清楚生命的快乐,让生命变得有意义,拥有主动而非裹挟的人生。无论外在是怎样的因缘,内在都要学会与自己的心互动。无论我们的年龄、身份或感受,都不能代表我们掌握了生命的主动权。

通过禅修,让我们的心变得充满活力,去除掉多年沉积下来的污垢。禅对于即将步入中年的朋友们来说非常重要。随着经历不断地增加,总有一天,我们感受到难以撬动生命的记忆,而这些深刻的记忆,不论是美好的,还是不美好的,终将占据我们的内在空间。通过禅修,为生命的内存清理出一些有效的空间。

大多数人不了解禅修,不知道禅修是世界上最简单、最有效、会给我们自身带来不可限量的利益的体验。如果知道禅修对生命的帮助,我相信所有的人都能够接受。通过禅修,我们的心会充满自在,无论伴随什么样的人生起伏,生命现象和变化,内心都会获得安宁和支撑,都能支撑我们和家人。

佛陀的伟大不在于发现了真理,而在于给了我们认识自己的方法,这是不可思议的。智慧在每个人的内心深处,我们要用心读懂自己生命的这本书,人生的一切都写在里面了。这样,我们原来拥有的一切会更加健全、完善,而现在的付出会变成一种享受。

我们不要怕苦,禅修不苦;不要怕难,禅修不难;不要怕没有结果,只要肯付出,一定会有结果。世间所有的事情,唯有禅修,是你种多少,就收多少;努力多少,一定得到多少。所以,我们要有方向、有信心,对生命要有高度的警觉,要培养这种警觉。

在忙碌的人生中,能够得到片刻的宁静,是我们过去世以及今世无量无边利益他人得到的果。从另一个角度看,尽管我们曾经做过善行,但如果不禅修,就好像把钱存在银行里而不花。我们要受用我们的人生,如果不用这笔资粮,我们的人生就没有内在的快乐和质量可言,就会很可惜。所以,我们要对禅修有信心。

All the suffering and joy we experience depend on conditions.

— Bodhidharma