Traveling through time and space.

Chapter 17: The Profundity of Hearing—Exploring the Mysteries of Classics and Resolving Mysteries Through Speculation

After leaving Vaishali Monastery, I journeyed to Kusinara. This city, renowned as the site of the Buddha's nirvana, exudes a solemn and awe-inspiring atmosphere. Within the city stands an ancient temple, the Temple of Silence. Its walls, vines of time woven through them, seem to tell of past Buddhist events.

I settled into a quiet temple, immersed daily in the vast expanse of Buddhist scriptures. As my studies deepened, I encountered increasingly obscure passages. Once, while studying a passage from the Yogacarabhumi Sutra, the complex meaning and profound implications left me mired in a fog. The text's explanation of "mind and consciousness" was woven with a myriad of terms, and I read it over and over, yet I could never quite grasp its meaning.

At this moment, I thought of the monastery's Sutra Library. It houses commentaries on texts by eminent monks and masters throughout the ages. Perhaps I could find the key to unraveling my doubts. I entered the library with great anticipation. The air was filled with the distinct aroma of aged paper and ink. In the dim light, I wandered through the shelves, searching for a commentary on the Yogacarabhumi Sutra. Finally, I found one by a renowned ancient Indian scholar.

Returning to my meditation room, I opened the commentary as if it were a treasure, studying it word for word. However, the explanations were quite profound, and I still struggled to understand many parts. So, I decided to seek out several highly learned senior monks at the temple to discuss the matter. In the temple courtyard, I found Senior Monks Huiming and Wuzhen walking in meditation. I respectfully asked them for guidance on the confusion I had encountered while studying the commentary.

After pondering for a moment, Brother Huiming said, "Junior brother, the key to this passage's explanation of 'mind and consciousness' lies in understanding the difference between their nature and function. You see, the mind is able to store, the intention is able to change, and the consciousness is able to distinguish. Although the three are different, they are interrelated." Brother Wuzhen then added, "It's like the relationship between water and waves. Water is the nature of the mind, waves are the manifestation of consciousness, and consciousness is the recognition and understanding of the waves." Their explanation was like a bright light, which gradually cleared the fog in my heart.

During my conversations with fellow practitioners, I meticulously took notes, recording their insights, my own reflections, and key points from the scriptures. Over time, I gradually developed my own study method. I categorized the scriptures by themes, such as "Theory of Mind and Nature," "Cultivation Methods," and "Achievement Realms." I then organized the relevant annotations, my own understandings, and my questions within each topic. This way, whenever I reviewed or encountered a new question, I could quickly find relevant resources for in-depth research.

As my understanding of the sutras deepened, I heard that the temple was about to hold a debate. Practitioners and scholars from all over the world would be attending, offering a golden opportunity to test my knowledge and deepen my understanding of the Dharma. With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, I signed up for the debate.

On the day of the debate, the temple square was packed with monks and scholars. The sunlight bathed them in a solemn and dignified scene. The topic I was assigned was "How to Achieve the State of No Self." My opponent was a learned scholar from the south, his eyes sharp and his profound knowledge evident.

The debate began with the other party challenging me, "If you say there's no self, then who is practicing? Who is attaining enlightenment?" I took a deep breath and replied, "Practice and enlightenment aren't about a specific self. Rather, under the convergence of causes and conditions, the five aggregates of the body, following the Buddhist teachings, gradually break free from attachment to the self." The other party then pressed, "Then how do you explain self-awareness during practice?" I pondered for a moment and replied, "Self-awareness isn't about being aware of a specific self, but rather observing the arising and passing of thoughts, the arising and treatment of afflictions. This observation is the function of Buddhist wisdom, not a function of the self itself."

During the debate, we engaged in a back-and-forth, tit-for-tat exchange. Each question-and-answer session was a battle of hearts and minds. Sometimes, I was momentarily paralyzed by a sharp question; other times, I was able to respond deftly, drawing on my profound understanding of the classics and my own insights. The audience erupted in gasps and applause.

During my debate with this scholar, I also underwent a profound inner transformation. Initially, I worried I would lose and be laughed at. This obsession with fame and victory made me nervous. But as the debate progressed, I gradually focused on exploring Buddhist principles and gradually let go of my inner attachments. I realized that the purpose of debate isn't to win or lose, but to gain a deeper understanding of Buddhism and refine my own ideological system.

After a spirited debate, both I and my opponent ultimately gained a deeper understanding of the state of no self. After the debate, I received recognition from the elders at the temple, who recognized my significant progress in Buddhist studies. This was deeply encouraging, but I also knew I still had a long way to go.

At this time, I heard that deep in the distant snow-capped mountains, there lived a reclusive monk who was well-versed in the profound Buddhist teachings of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra and could offer unique guidance to practitioners. A strong desire surged within me to visit this eminent monk and delve deeper into the Buddhist wisdom of the land of enlightenment. So, I packed my bags, bid farewell to my fellow monks at the Silence Temple, and set out on my journey to the snow-capped mountains.

On my way to the snowy mountains, I encountered a sudden blizzard. The wind howled, and snowflakes fluttered down like goose feathers, turning the sky and the earth into a vast expanse of white. I struggled through the snow, the frigid air stinging my skin like a knife. My rations gradually ran out, and hunger and cold constantly tested my resolve.

Yet, my unwavering faith in the Dharma sustained me. Recalling the Buddha's perseverance in his practice under the Bodhi tree, despite countless hardships, I mustered the courage to continue. Finally, deep in the snowy mountains, I found the cave where the reclusive monk lived.

At the entrance to the cave, a young attendant stopped me. He looked me up and down and asked, "Why are you here?" I replied respectfully, "I heard that the eminent monk was here, so I came to seek the Dharma and hope to delve deeper into the wisdom of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra." After the attendant went in to inform the eminent monk, he allowed me to enter the cave.

Inside the cave, a senior monk sat upright on a boulder, an atmosphere of tranquility and peace emanating from his surroundings. I bowed to the senior monk, who smiled at me and said, "You've come this far after so much hardship, which speaks volumes about your devotion to the Dharma. What doubts do you have in your practice?" I shared with him my confusions about understanding certain scriptures during my practice at the Hearing and Accomplishment Land, my insights from the debates, and my inner attachments and worries.

The venerable monk listened patiently, then began to explain the profound Dharma principles of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra. He began by discussing the deeper meaning of "wisdom gained through hearing," pointing out that while I had accumulated considerable knowledge in my previous studies, I still lacked the ability to translate this wisdom into practical realization. He cited the snow on a snowy mountain as an example, saying, "This snow, like Buddhist knowledge, is useless unless it melts into water to nourish all living things. You must integrate the Dharma you have learned into every thought and action of your daily life to truly achieve the goal of the "bhumi" of hearing."

Under the guidance of the eminent monk, I began to reflect on my own practice. I realized that despite my diligent study in the monastery, I was sometimes still troubled by worries when faced with real-life situations, failing to truly apply Buddhist wisdom to them. For example, when interacting with others, I still occasionally felt anger over disagreements. When it came to distributing benefits, although I could persuade others to let go of their attachments, a subtle lingering greed still lingered within me.

During my time with the monk in the snowy mountains, I practiced meditation and chanted sutras with him daily, listening to his unique insights into Buddhist scriptures. He also set up special challenges for me, such as sitting in meditation in the snow to hone my concentration and endurance, and walking meditation without food to reflect on my hunger and craving for food.

During an ice cave meditation retreat, I sat alone in a frigid cave, surrounded by crystal-clear ice walls and a constant chill from all sides. Initially, I was filled with resistance to the cold and a yearning for warmth and comfort. But as time went on, I began to observe my thoughts. I realized that the cold was merely an external sensation, while my inner aversion and attachment to it was the true source of my suffering. Once I let go of this attachment, the cold seemed less unbearable.

Through this period of practice in the snow-capped mountains, I deeply felt the connection between nature and Buddhist practice, immersed in the pure yet harsh environment of the snow-capped mountains. The ice, snow, caves, and tranquility here all served as supportive conditions for my practice, bringing me closer to the true meaning of Buddhism. In terms of practice, through interaction with eminent monks, receiving their guidance and testing, I continuously refined my methods, striving to translate Buddhist knowledge into practical action, and achieved a qualitative leap in my inner insight and awareness. Regarding the fruition, my understanding of the "hearing attainment" stage in the Yogacarabhumi Sutra has deepened, my inner afflictions have gradually diminished, and my concentration and wisdom have further increased. However, I understand that this is only one stage in my spiritual journey. I will continue to pursue the insights I gained in the snow-capped mountains, exploring higher levels of Buddhist wisdom.