RETREAT REPORT BY M.I.C. | Getting The Buddha Mind

I began the retreat in an exploring mood. I do not consider myself as serious a practitioner as my wife. But somehow I felt a little bit jealous when she talked about her retreat experiences. Seven days of four hours sleep, six meditation periods a day, no outside contact or talking, must be an adventure for anyone. If she could last through it with her poor health, why can’t I? Sitting uninterrupted for forty minutes seemed to be an impossible task for me. I adjusted the mattress, the position of the cushion, and my poor legs, hoping to find a torture-free combination. There is no doubt, I can positively claim to be the most frequently moving object in the meditation hall. Shih-fu asked me to calm myself by concentrating on counting the breath. I started to apply the method to my breathing, but my mind did not begin to settle down until after supper.

After the evening lecture about five minutes into the evening meditation, a certain sensation of warmth diffused from the abdomen towards the upper body. I felt the acceleration of heartbeat, the blood vessels around the knee area flowing in pace, and, most important, all pain vanished without a trace. As a cat sunbathing in winter, I would not think to move my body even a tiny bit. My body and mind felt so great. I began to consider that the half-lotus might be one of the most natural postures to assume. “Is this the experience of Ch’an?” l kept on asking myself. If it was, then I must use the most advanced method, the kung-an “Wu, ” to investigate. I must be close to the door of Ch’an, otherwise such high and jubilant emotions would not arise at all. I remembered Shih-fu’s Intermediate Class lecture on kung-ans. I cried out “Wu” soundlessly with all my heart. To my surprise, nothing happened. In deep frustration, I incorporated a nasal sound of “Wu” to each exhalation. The sound of “Wu” did not lead me anywhere, but definitely attracted the blows of Shih-fu’s incense board on my shoulder.

An incomplete experience is worse than no experience at all. I spent most of the second day thinking of my previous experience and trying to in vain to retrace the steps. Could I have lost the way to Ch’an completely? The only sensation that reminded me of the excitement was the piercing pain in my knees. I told myself that even if I did not recover the state of mind I had yesterday, I definitely had conquered the fear of pain once and for all.

When I was idling around the tea stand the next morning during the rest period, I noticed a framed Heart Sutra with seal-block print on the wall. I squeezed behind the teapot trying to identify all the Chinese characters. The phrase “hsin wu kua ai,” no discrimination and no burden of mind, caught my sight. I said to myself, “If there is no discrimination and no burden, what else could exist in the mind? Nothing!

Nothing! Nothing!” I pondered on this sentence for about fifteen minutes before the meditation period. As sitting progressed, I used no method but the sentence and searched for an answer. My breathing gradually became refined. I felt cool and comfortable as each inhalation became a sting of icy water. That coolness settled down my body much more, but the sense of doubt of having nothing in the mind grew stronger. There must be something wrong. I felt a warmth before, and now the cooling sensation may guide me in the wrong direction.

I must have shown great doubt on my face when I was interviewed by Shih-fu. The first thing he said was: “What’s happened?” I told him about the sentence and the cooling experience. I asked him what could exist in the mind besides discrimination and burden. He replied indirectly by saying that there must be something else in my mind and probably I had the wrong keywords. The correct one should be: “What is Wu?” I continued sitting with even greater doubt. I worked on, and was bored by the kung-an, but nothing happened. My thought was stuck on the sentence from the Heart Sutra.

Suddenly, a tremendous sense of emptiness overcame my mind. I suddenly felt that my heart was lost. That was the same kind of feeling I experienced when I lost my best friend in high school to pneumonia. That emotion was much deeper than sadness. I decided to quit thinking but I could not help it. I was desperate. I must consult with Shih-fu again. I asked him impatiently, “What have you done with me?” followed by, “Where is my heart?” Since Shih-fu was the only person to whom I talked in the past few days, he must know where my heart was. He sensed my irritation and urgency and tried to persuade me logically by explaining the two types of heart loss-pure physical sensation or a temporary mental condition. “Work on Wu” was his final advice to me.

Next morning we did walking meditation outside. Meditation in a jungle of flying caterpillars must be one of the most absurd things under the sun. But that morning I was in a different mood. I wanted to walk as slowly as possible. Since I lost my heart in the meditation hall, I must look for it outdoors. I looked intently in front of my feet. Bypassing green caterpillars, ants, leaves and tree branches on the path, a single white-edged black crow feather jumped into my sight. I said to myself that since my heart without feet could not crawl out of my body, it must have flown out somehow. This feather might be what I was searching for. I had a sort of secret pleasure when I picked the feather up. I held it gingerly in my palm and examined it very closely. I started firing these questions to my mind: “Why do you think this feather is your heart-because of no sensation of crawling? Why didn’t you pick up a caterpillar instead of a feather? Why?” I began to realize how discriminative I was.

Actually, everything is a reflection of my mind. My heart could be anything which I desired. Only an opened mind could lead to the state of no burden and no discrimination. When Shih-fu was gathering the answers to the question “Who is walking?” he got only one word from me, “Shih-fu.” I was really mad at him at that time. My answer to the second question, “Where are we going?” was, “To my mind.”

At lunch, I tried to follow Shih-fu’s advice to eat each dish as if tasting it for the first time. To my surprise, I did it effortlessly, as I kept telling myself that my heart was everywhere, everything is a disposition of my mind. That was the most hearty meal of my life.

After lunch when I was wandering around between the dining room and the meditation hall, I saw some people standing or sitting there aimlessly just like me. Oh, my God. There was a genial warmth rising from the bottom of my heart. Those people were born, grown, and educated the same way as I was. Why could I not share my heart with them? Why do I treat them coldly like this? The tears started to fill my eyes as the feeling grew. I had to face the wall then, because I was overwhelmed by guilt.

In the interview room, when I described my feelings, I could not control myself, and burst into tears. Shih-fu asked me to prostrate. I did it in an awkward way and kept on crying loudly. I asked myself where the guilty feeling came from, and why I had to cry. I had no answers.

I wanted to show him that feather so eagerly but I could not find it in my pocket anymore. Oh! I lost my heart again! No! My heart can be anything and it can reach anywhere. There was no need to carry that piece of feather anymore. Shih-fu smiled in such an understanding way that any explanation was unnecessary. He taught me that the emotion which I experienced was generated out of compassion. I should always guard and cherish it. I have never felt so grateful to anybody as I did to Shih-fu. He asked me to relax and take a walk outside. I followed his instructions.

When my emotion began to calm down, I noticed the world became so beautiful and friendly. The sky, the wind, the oak trees, and the grass all greeted me with smiles as if they were saying, “Welcome home, brother.” I was fortunate to see, to hear, to taste, to smell, and to touch them. I recognized them because we all came from the same origin. Standing under a pine tree, I lost the feeling of disgust for the caterpillars. I swore not to condemn the yelling crows again. I accepted them without reservation.

I joined the slow walking line with a smile. I felt so grateful to my fellow practitioners, yet I had so little to offer them. I cherished every moment to be with them.

While we were resting on the lawn, Shih-fu asked who could see the sun through the clouds. I looked very hard at the direction of the sun. I could not see it, but I sensed that ever-radiating warmth.

I continued to think about the unselfish sun in the meditation period. Then I felt both my body and mind start to drift away. What kind of a weird feeling it was! I wanted to say something, but I could not. The next thing I remembered was that I was riding along with a bright comet across the galaxy. The brightness, beyond description, shone through space and left no dark spot or shade in the universe. I could see the back of a leaf and internal organs of the caterpillar with ease.

I scanned through the valley of death and the words of Jesus came to my mind. I have seen the darkest corner of the valley. I had no fear of death at all.

I wanted to find where I was. I saw the stream of time-space continuum across the cosmos without beginning and end. I realized the true meaning of causation and the concept of karma. There were no conflicts or dilemmas to resolve. There were numerous folds of universes, with unique dimensions of infinite time and infinite space, in coexistence. Each set of the universe could be classified as either a sub-universe or co-universe simultaneously. They were not mutually exclusive, yet they could be distinctly and accurately defined as independent universes. All the characteristics found in one universe were transformable to another. Uniqueness transmuted into wholeness and wholeness transmuted into uniqueness in ascending order forever. I recalled a poem by William Blake: To see a World in a grain of sand And Heaven in a wild flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.My tears flowed out naturally with compassion. One moment was too long for eternity. I was reborn in absolute freedom. I prostrate to all sentient beings.

PREVIOUS: RETREAT REPORT BY D.W. | Getting The Buddha Mind
NEXT: RETREAT REPORT BY M.H. | Getting The Buddha Mind