Traveling through time and space.

Chapter 13: The Challenge of Non-Samadhi-Dhyana ...

After a brief respite in that sacred spiritual realm, I hadn't anticipated the new challenges lurking beneath the seemingly calm surface of my practice, like surging waves, ready to swallow me up at any moment. I fell into a predicament of non-samadhi, and numerous meditative obstacles appeared like ghosts, making my spiritual path difficult.

It was a sweltering afternoon in a temple meditation room, as usual, as I prepared to enter a state of meditation. However, just as I was about to quiet my mind, memories of the past flooded back like a flood. Childhood play and play in the secular world, memories of joyful gatherings and partings with family and friends—images long forgotten—now flashed back with uncanny vividness. Meanwhile, worldly desires entwined my thoughts like vines. The craving for fame and wealth, the yearning for material comforts—those distractions I had thought I had long since banished—resurfaced with a resurgence. I struggled to focus, to banish these distractions, but they only grew stronger, like a playful child, ignoring my attempts to ward them off. Overwhelmed by these preoccupations, I felt as if I were lost in a howling wilderness, unable to find my way, unable to enter the tranquil state of meditation.

To overcome these obstacles, I decided to embark on a journey in search of the Dharma. I had heard that atop a distant snow-capped mountain, there lived a reclusive and venerable monk, well-versed in all Buddhist teachings, who might be able to point me in the right direction. So, I packed my simple bag and resolutely embarked on this arduous journey.

Along the way, I traversed dense jungles, thick with thorns that often scratched my skin; I crossed swift rivers whose icy waters threatened to sweep me away. After months of trekking, I finally reached the retreat of a great monk. It was a simple cave, with a biting cold wind and a blanket of snow outside. Filled with reverence and anticipation, I slowly entered. The great monk sat in meditation with his eyes closed, his face serene and calm, as if blending seamlessly with the icy landscape. I bowed respectfully and confided in him the difficulties I encountered in my meditation. The monk slightly opened his eyes, his gaze shone with profound wisdom. He slowly spoke, "The path to meditation is inherently full of obstacles. The obstacles you face are the result of unresolved karma and lingering attachments to the world. Only through deep introspection and diligent practice can you gradually overcome them."

Following the guidance of a great monk, I decided to practice asceticism to sharpen my body and mind and eliminate my inner attachment. I began sitting in meditation for long periods in the snow outside the cave, letting the cold wind whip at me and the snowflakes drift down. I reduced my food intake, subsisting on a minimal amount of dry food daily, attempting to control my desires. However, as my asceticism continued, my body gradually weakened, and my mind began to wander. I had thought this extreme method would provide a quick escape from my predicament, but it instead led me to a state of physical and mental exhaustion.

As I struggled agonizingly with the torment of asceticism, my good friend Ananda learned of my plight and journeyed to find me. Seeing my emaciated appearance, his eyes filled with heartache and worry. He approached me, gently helped me up, and said, "Brother, torturing yourself excessively like this is not the path to spiritual practice. While obstacles to meditation must be overcome, they should be approached with a calm mind, not blindly pursuing asceticism. The body is the foundation of spiritual practice. If this foundation is damaged, how can we expect to make progress?"

Ananda's words struck a sledgehammer, waking my murky mind. I began to reflect on my own behavior, realizing that in my pursuit of a breakthrough, I had been too eager, and had strayed from the true meaning of Buddhism. I recalled the teachings of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra: practice should adhere to the principles of moderation and balance. Excessive attachment and excessive restraint are neither the right path.

After returning to the temple, I adjusted my practice. No longer blindly pursuing asceticism, I tried to face obstacles to meditation with a calm mind. Whenever memories and desires surged into my mind, I stopped resisting and instead quietly observed their presence, observing their rise and fall like a bystander. I resumed my daily practice, focusing on inner peace and concentration during chanting and worship, no longer obsessing overly about achieving a state of meditation.

However, life at the temple wasn't all smooth sailing. As I struggled to adjust to my practice, some issues arose with temple management. The temple's supplies were running low, and some monks, believing I had consumed excessive resources during my previous practice, expressed resentment and complaints. I understood their concerns and complaints were well-founded; in these challenging times, every resource was precious. I proactively communicated with them, explaining my original motivation for practicing and offering to participate in the temple's resource management and preparations to compensate for any inconvenience I might cause.

In working with the monks to address material needs, I deeply appreciated the close connection between spiritual practice and daily life. Spiritual practice isn't about withdrawing from the mundane world; it's about applying Buddhist wisdom to every aspect of life. We discussed how to effectively utilize the temple's land to grow food and vegetables, and how to exchange and support supplies with surrounding villages. In this process, misunderstandings between me and the monks gradually dissipated, and our relationship improved.

At the same time, my relationship with the female practitioner also faced new challenges. As I struggled with my meditation difficulties and spiritual challenges, my time with her and my care for her became increasingly rare. While she understood my situation, she inevitably felt lost and lonely. And amidst my inner struggles and external pressures, I sometimes doubted and lost our relationship. I worried that my own spiritual challenges would affect hers, and even more so, that our relationship would become a hindrance to our mutual liberation.

Once, in a temple garden, we sat facing each other, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, seemingly sighing over our emotional entanglement. I looked into her eyes and honestly expressed my inner conflict and confusion: "Junior Sister, I'm currently facing a difficult time in my practice. I don't know if I can still give you the companionship and support you deserve. I'm even more afraid that our relationship will lose its way in this tide of practice." A flicker of sadness crossed her eyes, but she quickly regained her resolve: "Junior Brother, our relationship is built on our shared faith and pursuit of the Dharma. No matter what difficulties we face, as long as we work together, guided by the Dharma, we will overcome them." Her words were like a beacon, illuminating the dark corners of my heart and restoring my faith in our relationship.

During this phase of my practice, I deeply experienced the various obstacles to meditation that come with not attaining samadhi. These obstacles plunged me into inner confusion and bewilderment, and also allowed me to see the karmic obstacles and obsessions hidden deep within me. Regarding practice, I experienced a transition from blind asceticism to a return to a peaceful mind. During this process, I constantly reflected on and adjusted my practice methods, actively participated in monastic life and interpersonal relationships, and strived to find a balance between practice and daily life. Regarding results, although I haven't yet completely overcome the difficulties of not attaining samadhi, the inner growth and spiritual insights I gained from facing difficulties and setbacks are invaluable gains. I have learned to introspect and gain deeper insight into my own heart. In my interactions with others, I have gradually let go of my own attachments, and now approach those and things with a more inclusive and compassionate attitude. All of this has laid a solid foundation for my future exploration of higher realms of practice, like a spark of light groping in the darkness, faint but full of hope, guiding me forward on my long journey of practice.