Pecking Simultaneously from Within and Without

Every practitioner, before attaining the Way, is like an unbroken egg. When this egg should be broken, and how to break it, is truly a great art with much subtlety. If the timing of breaking is chosen wrongly, the result is a mangled, ruined egg—unfit even to eat, let alone capable of producing a chick. Relying entirely on external force to break the egg usually produces only a mangled egg, good for nothing at all.

Therefore, cultivation mainly depends on oneself; external force only needs to provide a bit of warmth. The transformation within must be done by oneself—one must change oneself. Those who do not wish to become mangled eggs and wasted material should not rely too much on others' support. Some people, having studied for only a short while—while the egg is still raw and hard—demand that their master quickly guide them to enlightenment. What could such a person awaken to? Whatever they awaken to is useless; they are simply wasted material. If a raw egg, barely warmed through, is impatiently cracked open, at best it can be stir-fried and eaten—it will never amount to anything.

When the life within the eggshell gradually matures, there are various signs. In the end, the chick will certainly peck through the shell by itself. Only when it truly cannot peck through, at the very spot where its beak is about to crack and tear the shell, does external force easily break it open—and thus life is successfully born, strong and vigorous, with tenacious vitality.

The birth of a chick is, for the most part, the result of its own effort, with a small part owing to the external warmth of the environment and the hen's care.

Cultivation is the same: for the most part it depends on one's own diligent effort, with a small part owing to the master's teaching and help.

In the past, when the patriarchs guided their disciples, they would peck from within and tap from without simultaneously, with the timing mastered perfectly. Why? Because the patriarchs were true patriarchs and true Chan masters, genuinely possessing the Way—not only the power of the Way but also the eye of the Way, perceiving the finest detail, capable of observing a student's capacities and teaching accordingly. Students in those days were fortunate, extremely fortunate. Unless the thirty-seven aids to the Way had been cultivated and the six pāramitās fulfilled, a Chan master would never make his move. The disciple's Dharma body and wisdom life were of the utmost importance; they never showed off, and their sense of responsibility was very strong.

If someone guides people carelessly, with the suspicion of merely making up numbers, you should know for yourself that such a person does not possess the Way, and it is safest to stay away. Protect your egg well, and do not let it be broken casually. Whoever wants to break it open on their own initiative, refuse them all the same.