Heart-to-heart practice.

By Buddhism Now on 25 April 2023 • ( 0 )

Heart-to-heart practice.
發心修行章 발심수행 장

Korean Zen Master Wonhyo (617 – 686)

If you can renounce your own pleasure, you will become as trusted and respected as the sages.
If you can undergo that which is difficult, you will become as respected as the Buddha.

High mountains and lofty peaks are where the wise reside.
Green pines and deep mountain valleys are home to those who practise.
When hungry, such people pick fruit from trees to calm their empty stomach.
When thirsty, they quench their thirst with water from a stream.

Although you do not retire to the mountains to cultivate your mind, you should strive with all your energy to perform good deeds.

One hundred years pass like the blinking of an eye, so why don’t you practise?
How long is a lifetime?
Can you afford to neglect practice, wasting your time on leisure?

Some people, in spite of their outstanding ability and wisdom, choose to live in the busy atmosphere of the city.
All the Buddhas feel pity and concern for such people.

Other people, although they have not yet developed a deep practice, still choose to stay in the contemplative atmosphere of the mountains.
The sages feel a great joy when they see such people.

There are those who are skilled and learned, but do not follow the precepts.
They are like those who are told of a cache of jewels but do not get up and go to it.

There are those who practise steadfastly but lack wisdom.
They are like those who want to go east but mistakenly walk towards the west.

The actions of a wise person is like steaming grains of rice in order to make a bowl of rice.
The actions of those who lack wisdom are like steaming grains of sand in order to make a bowl of rice.
Everyone knows how to eat and drink in order to satiate their hunger; but no one seems to understand the method of training — the way to transform the ignorant mind.

Practice and wisdom must exist side by side. For they are like the two wheels of a cart. Likewise, helping oneself and helping others are like the two wings of a bird.

If you absent-mindedly chant for your donors over the morning offering of porridge without understanding the meaning, you should feel ashamed to face those who give alms.

If you chant during the lunchtime ceremony without attaining the essence of the words you utter, won’t you be ashamed to face great people and sages?

One who violates the precepts and yet wishes to help others is like a bird with broken wings that puts a turtle on its back and tries to fly.

If you’re still not free from your own faults, you will not be able to free others of their faults.
So why do you who violate the precepts receive that which is provided by others?

It does not benefit you in the least to merely maintain your physical body if you neglect to practise.
And all your concern for this transient, fleeting life will not preserve it.

If you’ve set your sights on the virtue of the great masters, you must endure even the longest hardships.
Once you’ve set out for the Lion Throne, you must forever leave all your desires behind you.

When the cultivator’s mind is pure, all the devas bow in praise of him.
When a follower of the Way loves lasciviousness, the good spirits leave him.

At death, when the four elements of the body scatter, you cannot preserve the body and remain in it any longer.
Today evening has already arrived; tomorrow morning will soon be here.
So, practise now before it is too late.

Worldly pleasures are unsatisfactory.
Why do you greedily cling to them?

Enduring joy can be won through a single effort in patience; why won’t you practise?

Words, such as these written here, go on and on, yet clinging attachment does not come to an end.
“I’ll do it next time” — such words go on and on, yet you fail to put an end to clinging.
Clinging goes on and on, yet you fail to renounce worldly matters.
Your mind is filled with endless devious plans, yet you do not make up your mind to put an end to them. “Today will be different,” you say, yet you continue to perform evil actions every day.
“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” you say, yet few are the days when you really do something good.
“This year will be different,” you say, yet your defilements are without end.
“Next year I’ll do it,” you say, yet you don’t grow in wisdom.

The hours pass, and too soon a day and night are over.
The days pass, and soon it’s the last day of the month.
The months pass, and suddenly another new year has come.
The years pass, and in the blinking of an eye, we find ourselves at death’s door.
A broken cart cannot be driven.
When you’re an old man, you cannot begin to practise.
When you lie down, you will succumb to laziness.
And when you sit, your mind will be overwhelmed with stray thoughts.

For many lifetimes, you have failed to practise, passing your days and nights in vain.
Having lived many lifetimes in vain, will you again fail to practise during this lifetime?

This body will inevitably come to an end; who knows what body you will have next time?

Isn’t this an urgent matter?
Isn’t this an urgent matter?

Master Won-hyo (617-686) was one of the greatest scholars of Korean history. Born in a simple family, he wrote 240 works, only twenty of which survive today. His philosophy revolved around unity, the interrelatedness of all things in the universe. He is supposed to have carried a drum with him which was inscribed with the words: “Only one who is not disturbed by anything can go beyond birth and death.”

There is an interesting story about his enlightenment: In those days, many monks went to study in China. Master Won-hyo and his friend Ui-sang (620-660) set off on the long, arduous journey expecting to be away for a very long time. One night they lay down to sleep in a cemetery. During the night, Won-hyo awoke and, feeling thirsty, he felt around for something to drink. Nearby, he found a vessel full of cool water and gulped it down grateful to satisfy his thirst. In the morning, when he awoke, he found a skull lying near his sleeping place. He realised that the delicious, thirst-quenching water of the previous night was rainwater which had collected in a skull. He was shocked at the interrelatedness of all things and thereby attained spiritual awakening. He returned to his homeland without ever completing his journey to China.