Traveling through time and space.

Chapter 18: The Broad Hearing of the Land of Hearing - "Learning from Various Sects and Learning from the Strengths of Many Dharmas"

After bidding farewell to the Snow Mountain Monk, I embarked on a new journey. As time passed and the seasons changed, I arrived at a prosperous Buddhist city—Pasifika. Within this city, various Buddhist sects flourished, temples and pagodas stood in abundance, and the streets were a common sight for practitioners in monk's robes and pilgrims.

Upon arriving in Pataliputra, I was immediately struck by its rich Buddhist atmosphere. Within the city stood the magnificent Precious Wisdom Monastery, a gathering place for eminent monks from across the land. It housed a rich collection of Buddhist texts, encompassing works from numerous different schools. I decided to stay there and delve deeper into the mysteries of other Buddhist traditions, further broadening my horizons in practice.

The Sutra Library at Baohui Monastery felt like a treasure trove of knowledge. Rows of bookshelves were filled with densely packed volumes, ranging from ancient Theravada texts to the treatises of emerging sects. I first turned my attention to the writings of the Madhyamaka school. The Madhyamaka school emphasizes the concept of emptiness, and its profound analysis of the selflessness of all things was eye-opening. I immersed myself in Nagarjuna's Madhyamaka-karika. The wise verses, such as "Neither arises nor perishes, neither is permanent nor ceases, neither is the same nor is different, neither comes nor goes," seemed to me to understand at first, but I found them profoundly profound.

To better understand Madhyamaka thought, I actively sought out Madhyamaka scholars and monks at the Sutra Academy for exchange. In the academy's garden, I met a distinguished monk named Kong Xing. With a thin face and penetrating eyes, he possessed a unique perspective on Madhyamaka teachings. I asked him about the relationship between the Madhyamaka concept of "emptiness" and the conventional and ultimate truths. With a smile, Kong Xing sat down on a stone bench and patiently explained: "Conventional truth is the superficial perception we perceive, while ultimate truth is the emptiness that transcends appearances. The two are not in opposition but interdependent, like the moon in the water and the moon in the sky. The moon in the water is the manifestation of conventional truth, while the moon in the sky is the essence of ultimate truth. Only through insight and contemplation into conventional truth can we gradually realize the emptiness of ultimate truth." His explanation gradually dispelled my doubts, and I felt as if I had seen a path to deeper Buddhist wisdom.

During my conversations with Venerable Kong Xing, I was filled with a thirst for new knowledge and excitement. However, this exchange of ideas was not without its challenges. When I attempted to integrate certain Madhyamika perspectives with my previous studies of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra, I encountered considerable confusion. For example, regarding practice methods, the Yogacarabhumi Sutra emphasizes the gradual advancement of spiritual attainments through meditation and contemplation of objects, while the Madhyamika school focuses more on breaking through attachment through contemplation of emptiness. These two divergent paths of practice sparked a fierce conflict within me.

I often find myself lost in contemplation in my meditation room, a constant inner struggle. On the one hand, I deeply understand that the Yogacarabhumi Sutra is the foundation of my practice, providing me with a systematic framework and methodology. On the other hand, the Madhyamaka school's concept of emptiness is like a key, unlocking another door to my understanding of Buddhism. Amidst this conflicting emotion, I began to reflect on the purpose of my practice and my pursuit of the Dharma. I realized that while each Buddhist school has its own emphasis, the ultimate goal is to guide sentient beings to liberation from suffering and the attainment of nirvana. This inner reflection has gradually allowed me to let go of my attachment to sectarian differences and to embrace a more inclusive and open mindset, absorbing the essence of each.

As my studies at Precious Wisdom Academy deepened, I heard that a Buddhist conference on inter-denominational Buddhism was about to be held in the city. This grand gathering would bring together eminent monks, scholars, and laypeople from various sects to share their respective teachings, practices, and insights. With great excitement, I signed up to attend the conference.

On the day of the exchange conference, the venue was packed, the atmosphere warm and solemn. Representatives from various sects took turns speaking on stage. Elders from the Theravada school expounded on the precepts and practice stages of original Buddhism; scholars from the Yogacara school expounded on the profound theory of the consciousness-only principle; and masters from the Pure Land school expounded on the extraordinary method of chanting the Buddha's name for rebirth. I sat in the audience, raptly listening to each speaker's speech, my pen constantly scribbling down their fascinating insights.

During the interactive session at the conference, I summoned the courage to stand up and ask a Yogācāra master about the relationship between consciousness and environment. Yogācāra holds that all things are manifested by the mind, so how can we determine the source and boundaries of consciousness? The master looked at me kindly and replied, "The source of consciousness is the alaya consciousness, which contains all seeds of good and evil. When conditions arise, it manifests all things. However, the boundaries of consciousness are difficult to define, as it is infinitely intertwined with the karma and causal conditions of all beings. The purpose of our practice is to transcend the constraints of consciousness by transforming the eight defiled consciousnesses into the four pure wisdoms." His response gave me a deeper understanding of Yogācāra thought and sparked further reflection on the relationship between consciousness and mind as expressed in the Yogacarabhumi Sutra.

During the conference, I met many like-minded eminent monks and scholars. Among them was a young scholar named Huiguan, who had extensive knowledge of various Buddhist schools and was adept at integrating the ideas of different traditions. We often met during breaks at the conference to share our spiritual experiences and insights into the Dharma. He told me that, like me, he had once been lost in the various schools, but through continuous study and practice, he discovered that as long as we adhere to the core teachings of Buddhism, all schools can be a support on our spiritual path. His words were deeply inspiring, and we forged a deep friendship.

However, when I returned to Baohui Monastery and shared my insights from the conference and my thoughts on integrating the ideas of various schools with some traditional practitioners of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra, I was met with skepticism. They argued that the Yogacarabhumi Sutra was a self-contained system, needing no reference to other schools. Excessive reference to other schools would only disturb practitioners and lead them astray. Their skepticism left me deeply conflicted. I understood their commitment to tradition, but I also firmly believed in the inclusiveness and diversity of Buddhism.

In this predicament, I once again returned to the Sutra Library at the monastery and re-examined the Yogacarabhumi Sutra and the other texts I had studied. I deeply reflected on the similarities and differences between the various schools regarding the state, practice, and fruition. I discovered that while each school differed in its methods of practice and theoretical formulation, in its understanding of the state, they all emphasized the insight into the impermanence, suffering, and emptiness of the world; in terms of practice, they all advocated the purification of body and mind through precepts, concentration, and wisdom; and in terms of fruition, they all aimed at the ultimate goal of liberation from afflictions and attaining nirvana. This in-depth reflection further strengthened my conviction, and I decided to continue respecting the foundation of the Yogacarabhumi Sutra while drawing on the strengths of various schools to inject new vitality into my own spiritual path.

During my time practicing in Huashi City, I found myself in a city thriving with Buddhist culture. I was immersed in the intellectual gathering place of the Precious Wisdom Monastery, experiencing the vibrant atmosphere of the collision of ideas from various schools, feeling as if I were immersed in the blossoming beauty of Buddhism. In terms of practice, I actively interacted with eminent monks and scholars from various schools, diligently studied the works of various schools, and amidst the clash and struggle of ideas, I constantly reflected and adjusted my practice methods, striving to incorporate the essence of each school into my daily practice. In terms of results, my perspective on Buddhism has been greatly broadened. My understanding of the Dharma is no longer limited to a single school, my thinking has become more flexible and open, and my inner spiritual realm has been further elevated through this diverse learning and reflection. Despite facing doubts and confusion, I know that these are inevitable trials on the path of practice. With this unwavering faith, I will continue to explore the vast world of Buddhism and strive towards higher levels of practice.