The Required Preparation for Zen Practice Before Enlightenment (March 30, 2025)

Shi Ruyuan: I am grateful for the blessings bestowed upon me by the master these past few days, which have enabled me to abide in samadhi whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. On the first night after meeting the master, during seated meditation, an inconceivable phenomenon occurred within samadhi. As soon as I sat down to meditate, there was an instantaneous "boom" in my head, as if a large mass of energy flow had been expelled. My mind felt utterly empty, as if something had struck my head forcefully, causing me to be shaken out of samadhi. On the second and third days, my body remained immobilized within samadhi, unable to exit it. On the third night, I was so excited I couldn't sleep at all, and I began to worry: if the next few days continued like this, what would I become? During these days, the roots of my thighs also became sore and swollen, my eyes felt too heavy to open, and though I wanted to get up and walk, I simply couldn't move. When I did manage to stand up, I felt unsteady and floaty, afraid I might fall, as if my cerebellum had lost its balancing function.

On the fourth day, I felt slightly better and could move a bit; the soreness in my legs also subsided. Around eleven o'clock at night, while in samadhi, a powerful stream of energy surged out from my nostrils, shaking me out of samadhi. At that moment, I sat quietly to regain my composure, recalling the master's instruction: "Don't just sit; engage in appropriate activity, practice walking meditation, and investigate the Tathagatagarbha within the encountered states." So I rose to practice walking meditation. While contemplating that all dharmas born from the Tathagatagarbha are illusory, I suddenly felt the Dharma meanings revolving incessantly in my mind. I wanted to exit samadhi, but my body and mind were not under my control. I couldn't perceive the external six dust realms (objects of the senses); only the sound of the Buddha's name kept spinning and playing in my mind. Such profound resonance and experiential realization truly defy verbal expression; they can only be experienced or understood within deep samadhi. Those with shallow concentration cannot perceive them.

The above are the resonances and experiential realizations over the past few days. Now I have recovered, feeling physically and mentally light and at ease, able to contemplate the Dharma meanings normally. The doubts or answers arising in my mind now appear increasingly clear and distinct. Even when going to the toilet, doubts arise uninterruptedly: "Who is the force dragging this wooden-like aggregate-body of mine to the toilet?" "How does this force function and manifest its wondrous utility upon the material shell of sentient beings?" While eating or drinking, I involuntarily ask: "Who is the one sustaining these activities of the aggregates—raising my hand, lifting my foot, dressing, eating, drinking, holding a bowl, picking up chopsticks?"

Comment: Shi Ruyuan's spontaneously arising doubts are very powerful. If a bodhisattva's conditions are sufficiently ripe, they can be fully realized. Investigating them requires no effort at all; it's a matter of a single layer of paper. If she can continuously sustain this doubt within the mind of the manas (the seventh consciousness), her Chan (Zen) practice would be no less than that of many Chan masters of the Tang and Song dynasties. This is because the Chan practice before enlightenment is identical across all eras—there are no updates, no changes, nor can its standard or level be lowered. The only difference is that Shi Ruyuan, practicing with me, has learned too much about the Tathagatagarbha Dharma, and it's been presented too plainly. She doesn't need to spend much effort organizing and systematizing it; she relies more on external support, showing a clear lack of self-power. Ancient Chan masters, however, learned relatively coarse Prajna principles, far less numerous and detailed. Consequently, they had to investigate more diligently, relying more on self-power, thus developing profound wisdom. Explaining things too plainly is detrimental to a disciple's Chan practice; it easily leads to intellectual understanding, hindering the disciple's path and the arising of wisdom.

Shi Ruyuan said: "Contemplating that all dharmas born from the Tathagatagarbha are illusory." This statement is learned language, external speech. It does not constitute contemplation or investigation; it belongs to thinking, pondering, and understanding within samadhi. Without having realized the Tathagatagarbha, without knowing how the Tathagatagarbha gives birth to all dharmas, it's impossible to know precisely how all dharmas are illusory. There is no evidence to make such a statement. This is called reversing cause and effect, or imagination. It results from failing to use the manas to sustain doubt.

Later, the doubts arising for Shi Ruyuan are like a single layer of paper—easily pierced—directly pointing to the central point, pointing to the target of realization, pointing to that moon which never disappears. This relies entirely on her samadhi power. Her wisdom power is insufficient, but her samadhi is very deep and continuous, unbroken even if pulled, undisturbed even by demons, unbroken by anyone. Therefore, at this time, she does not use the conscious mind (mano-vijnana, the sixth consciousness) to resolve the doubts—through reasoning, guessing, imagining, or analyzing. If her concentration were slightly shallower, and she employed the conscious mind, she might resolve the doubt effortlessly, breaking the conscious mind's doubt, but the doubt of the manas would remain unbroken.

Precisely because Shi Ruyuan did not use the conscious mind to resolve the doubt, but only used the manas to investigate honestly, the doubt that seems like a layer of paper to an enlightened person remains impenetrable to her. This is solely because her wisdom is insufficient; she is too earnest, cutting no corners. Within such deep and continuous practice, it's difficult to cut corners. When the manas itself is heavily burdened with doubt, it simply doesn't give the conscious mind a chance to resolve it.

Therefore, as long as the practice is deep and the manas is heavily laden with doubt, even if the Dharma meanings are explained extremely plainly, intellectual understanding can be avoided. Even if the secret meaning is explicitly stated, because doubt remains, the manas will still investigate, prove, and verify through practice, not allowing the conscious mind to merely believe and understand intellectually. In this way, as long as the practice is sufficient and the manas harbors doubt, previous intellectual understanding can transform into realization. What was plainly understood Buddhist doctrine becomes a proof question: knowing the answer but requiring a process of seeking the solution. Within the genuine process of investigation, the bodhisattva nature matures, thereby giving rise to the merit and wisdom of the Path of Seeing.

Unintentionally, Shi Ruyuan's account clearly reveals the method and process of Chan practice. It also unmistakably points to the target of Chan investigation—it almost states it outright; the finger pointing to the moon is glaringly obvious. Yet, even so, it remains useless for many; they cannot grasp the clue. What is the reason? They do not cultivate blessings; their merit is severely insufficient. Their samadhi power is inadequate; even conscious guessing is difficult for them. Even if they manage to guess, it's inaccurate and has no real impact on their body and mind; afflictions still arise as before.

Most importantly, they lack the renunciation mind of the Hinayana and cannot arouse the bodhicitta of the Mahayana. For them, Buddhist practice and realization constitute only a small part of life; many worldly affairs still occupy important positions. The manas does not value practice; how can genuine effort be produced? Each person practices and experiences for themselves; one cannot substitute for another. Therefore, explicitly stating the final result of Chan practice is of no help to others. Intellectual understanding is already difficult enough; realization is utterly impossible.