The Difference Between Practitioners of the Dharma-Ending Age and Ancient Cultivators

The closer we get to the Dharma-ending age, the thinner sentient beings' merit becomes and the shallower their good roots, to the point that in the cultivation and realization of the Buddha's Dharma, gradually there are many who talk about principles but few who penetrate them, many who understand the Way but few who practice it, and those who can genuinely attain realization through cultivation are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Liezi said: “大道以多歧亡羊，学者以多方丧生。” When one's study of the Dharma is too scattered and chaotic, because one cannot go deep, one fails to see the main thread and the proper order. In cultivation, the more one knows, the less one realizes, because without meditative concentration (samādhi), genuine realization is impossible; whereas extensive listening and broad learning do not require meditative concentration to acquire intellectual understanding of much Buddhist Dharma—but actual realization is out of the question. Modern people are unable to cultivate meditative concentration, and if no one expounds correct principles to more sentient beings, they will everywhere engage in extensive listening and broad learning, studying theories that are not in accord with the Dharma; when even the principles guiding realization are wrong, realization becomes even more impossible.

What we should most go and study are those cultivators of ancient times—we should investigate how they cultivated the Way and how they applied effort. Did they all learn piles and piles of theory and then, with eloquent gushing speech, debate everywhere, or preach everywhere with flowing eloquence, taking on the role of teachers of others? Without having any realization oneself, how could one teach others to realize? Why would one wish to be a teacher of others? Is there not, in this, that mind of self-manifestation? We see that the ancient sages and worthies, even after attaining the Way, remained humble and low-key and continued their own cultivation; they would not lightly occupy a mountain stronghold or take up the staff of Dharma transmission handed down by their masters. Because they were without self, and had self-knowledge: with so many sages and worthies propagating the Dharma, sentient beings could surely be delivered; if one's own Way was not yet firm, why insist on forcing oneself to the fore? Modern people are just the opposite—regardless of whether it is the Way or not, as long as they can come out on top, that is fine.