Master
once said that the mountain and water spirits in the novel "Journey
To The West" were metaphorical allusions to spiritual practitioners'
attachment to scenic landscapes.
At
one time, resident disciples used to live in tents. But whenever
we settled down somewhere and the flowers and trees we had planted
were just beginning to bloom and grow beautifully, it was time for
us to move on again. Later we moved into caves that we built ourselves
and we were all excited, thinking that finally we would each have
our own little world. Many of us racked our brains for ways to beautify
our living quarters. When everything was almost in order, Master
sent an instruction, "Males and females are to switch living
areas." Suddenly we no longer had our very own personal caves.
When
we were about to don the new red and blue monastic clothing, Master
wisely and ingeniously reversed the concept that "red is for
women and blue is for men". Then, when we gave up our monastic
clothing, it marked an even greater breakthrough in our concepts
about spiritual practice.
Several
head resident disciples served different terms ranging from a day
to a week or two weeks to several months or years. This was another
way to break our attachments to fame and position. When we are unknowns,
we are not aware of our desire for fame and gain. But as soon as
we have them, we immediately become aware of them. The desire for
fame and gain lies concealed sometimes. For instance, some people
compete with others and are proud of their spiritual progress, of
eating only one meal a day, and of meditating all night without
the need of sleep. After they have practiced in this way for some
time, they may appear all-powerful in their spiritual practice when
in reality they have gained more and more obstinate pride inside.
We are very fortunate to have a living Master who does not hesitate
to break our ignorance and attachments in time.
Master
also used the kitchen as a classroom to let us understand that true
renunciation is possession without attachment. When we first joined
the monastic group, the kitchen was nothing more than a piece of canvas
stretched out over two big woks. Later when Master's artistic creations
brought in some money, She built a beautiful kitchen for us, all equipped
with modern cooking facilities and a sofa set. We were delighted that
we would no longer have to endure in the wind and rain. However, the
enjoyment lasted only a few months before we left for Cambodia, where
we went back to the old simple lifestyle but were as happy as ever.
Before
we followed Master, we thought that the ideal model of spiritual
practice was living a thrifty and simple life, looking sincere and
meditating diligently. When we first renounced lay life, we thought
that we would live in a quiet remote place to cultivate ourselves.
However, just as we realized deep down that simple living was the
most comfortable, unexpectedly Master pushed us back into the mundane
world to let us learn some more lessons. In order to be in tune
with society, we started to wear business suits and ties, which
was a big sacrifice for us because we had to give up what we really
liked. However, as time passed, we gradually realized that there
is no such thing as mundane life, that everything we encounter in
daily life is a lesson in spiritual practice. Again, we picked up
one by one the things that we had previously renounced.
We
know that Master prefers to dress simply, but in order to save sentient
beings, She wears beautiful clothes and jewelry, which is just like
being shackled. In renouncing the world yet remaining active in society,
She is truly the acme of perfection. Masters of the past sacrificed
their reputation, were condemned for being uncompassionate, let disciples
freeze in the snow, burned disciples' arms to erase their suffering
in hell, pretended to eat meat and drink alcohol, and were subjected
to disciples' criticisms and doubts - all for the purpose of breaking
their preconceptions about spiritual practice. We can understand the
painstaking efforts of these ancient masters. However, we doubt if
we can ever anytime or anywhere find another like the Supreme Master
Ching Hai, who has sacrificed Her own reputation and done many things
that other spiritual practitioners would want to renounce, just to
elevate our spiritual level.
Since
ancient times, all enlightened masters have stressed that spiritual
practice must entail three aspects: ordinariness, diligence and
enlightenment. For most spiritual practitioners, diligence has become
the yardstick for measuring spiritual progress while the other two
aspects have been overlooked. Only one who is truly enlightened
can be truly ordinary. That is why we say that a person of great
wisdom often appears slow. Only then can one be in the light while
in dirt. We cannot be ordinary when we still have preconceptions
about spiritual practice, when we are still afraid of others' comments,
and when we still live by other people's opinions about right and
wrong, and good and bad. Likewise, we also frame our Master within
our preconceptions. When Her actions fall outside of our preconceived
framework, we criticize Her relentlessly, forgetting that spiritual
practice is not perfect without ordinariness.
The
Lotus Sutra states very clearly that the Buddhas (fully enlightened
beings) can transform themselves into all kinds of beings, including
gods, ghosts, kings, officials, ordinary people, wives and servants,
in order to deliver sentient beings. As long as it benefits sentient
beings, the concept of being ordinary, low, does not exist. Master
has set an exemplary model of delivering sentient beings through
song, dance, musical compositions, chess, poetry, painting and clothing.
Indeed, She is the most realistic and perfect interpretation of
the Lotus Sutra.