Search
Products meeting the search criteria
《觀心集》
作為一名心臟專科醫生，本書是作者多年來在光明日報寫專欄文章的結集。 在書中，可以讀到作者關於治療病人的分享，也可以讀到他自己成為病人的體驗。 作者也從西方醫學談到自然療法及禪修的力量，也從..
"Lotus and Mud" illuminates the interdependent nature of existence through its central imagery, guiding readers to approach life's contradictions with the Middle Way's balanced perspective. This philosophy carries both profound depth and practical significance, reminding us that while we aspire toward the sublime, we must also embrace and understand the seemingly imperfect—for it is these very elements that make wholeness possible.
The essay "Wind and Tree" examines the relationship between the mind and the external world through the imagery of wind and tree, revealing how our mental states interact with perceived phenomena. At its core, it explores the dialectic between "mind" and "emptiness," offering insight into finding inner peace amidst an ever-changing world.
Written with poetic economy, this essay illuminates life's deepest questions. It moves beyond philosophical abstraction to practical wisdom, reminding us that life's value resides not in duration but in depth of meaning—a truth realized only through the twin lights of wisdom and compassion.
This collection of poetic verses encompasses explorations of life's essence, perspectives on birth and death, meditation practices, and profound inquiries into Buddhist philosophy. Through these writings, Venerable Jicheng not only demonstrates his deep understanding of the Dharma but also conveys the wisdom of meditation and life's meaning in concise yet potent language.
The deeper meaning of "simplicity" is not about external simplification, but about internal wisdom and awareness. Through focus, right thoughts, wisdom, and practice, one achieves the unity of body and mind, the harmony of movement and stillness, which is also the life attitude and practice goal pursued by diligent Zen practitioners.
This poetic verse uses simple language to sketch a Zen-inspired landscape painting, yet within its lines, it reveals the profound wisdom of equality and non-duality. Using the metaphor of mountains and waters, the verse progressively unfolds the spiritual journey from "not being deluded by external circumstances" to "forgetting both self and objects," ultimately reaching a state of "unobstructed emptiness." It calls on people to return to their inner selves and realize the Zen state where "mountains and waters blend naturally into emptiness."
"Contentment means accord with conditions" captures the essence of true adaptability. This is no aimless drifting but wise discernment of causes and circumstances—neither forcing outcomes nor resisting reality, until the undisturbed mind mirrors all phenomena without distortion, attaining that noble state where "freedom from want becomes one's true adornment."
The poem "Heart" uses concise yet profound language to delve deeply into the exploration and realization of the "heart." Through the imagery of "listening to water," "listening to sounds," "listening to music," and "listening to the Dao," the poem guides readers into an inner realm that transcends words and senses. Centered around the concept of "soundlessness," it unveils the Buddhist ideas of "emptiness" and "self-nature."
Venerable Master Taixu was not only a profoundly insightful Buddhist thinker but also a dedicated practitioner committed to the revival and reform of Buddhism. Throughout his life, he tirelessly worked to propagate the Dharma and restructure the Sangha system, leaving a lasting impact on the development of modern Buddhism.
Reading this chapter is like beholding an old oil lamp flickering in the vast corridor of history. From the yellowed pages emerges the figure of Master Hongyi—not in the solemn majesty of a high monk, but as a pure educator, whose very life embodied the deepest meaning of the word "education." The warmth flowing through these words allows us, in this restless age of 浮躁人心 (turbulent hearts), to touch the most authentic essence of true teaching.
At the heart of this work lies the principle that "daily life itself is spiritual practice." This perspective shatters conventional stereotypes of Buddhism as confined to mountain monasteries, proposing instead that the Dharma should permeate ordinary existence. Whether in interpersonal interactions or social service, every moment becomes a field for cultivation—enhancing Buddhism's practicality while making it more relevant to modern needs.
Master Hongyi's life—from the pinnacle of artistic achievement to the depths of Dharma—was a journey of awakening beyond material glory. His poetry, calligraphy, paintings, and musical compositions were unparalleled, yet he resolutely relinquished all worldly attainments, donned monastic robes, and devoted himself entirely to the Dharma and precepts.
Though the mind wanders and life distracts, persistent effort gradually stabilizes awareness. When coupled with static practice, sustained dedication eventually yields seamless mastery—unifying body-mind and inner-outer realms is no impossibility.
The belief in "inherently pure mind-nature and intrinsic Buddha-nature" was once universally acknowledged—not just in Zen but throughout Buddhism and society. Zen practitioners relied on this right view, ensuring their practice had clear direction, free from blind striving.
Thus, one who awakens to their true nature transcends all worldly dualities—impermanence, suffering, non-self, and impurity (the four correct views of the mundane world) as well as permanence, bliss, self, and purity (the four inverted views)—and realizes the absolute truth of eternal bliss, true self, and purity.
During Chan’s golden age, its expedient methods, entry points, and realization were all vividly expressed, though historical records often lack systematic organization. The teachings were fully present in the instructions of Chan masters and scattered throughout classical texts—the challenge lay in how to synthesize them.
The nature of reality is as it is; the mind is inherently pure. Hence, Zen practice is nothing more than manifesting the essence and function of the originally pure mind—not seeking, not grasping, not eliminating, not adding. Yet, it is also not a return to an original substance or divine Self. All this is simply the unique characteristic of the Dharma: non-self and lack of inherent nature—nothing more.
Awakening in the Buddhist path entails realizing selflessness (anātman) and essencelessness (niḥsvabhāva). The conceptual understanding of these truths must first be established through study and reflection, forming an unshakable conviction before one can cultivate wisdom accordingly. The development of wisdom within śamatha is vipaśyanā, and through this insight, direct realization arises.
Ordinary people can practice Zen. Indeed, all can practice, provided they apply themselves earnestly and consistently. Without these qualities, even the finest teacher, the most profound method, or the loftiest "talent" remains a fleeting illusion—impermanent and devoid of true substance.
Since the truth contemplated is selflessness and emptiness (śūnyatā), as insight matures, not only is the observed phenomenon seen as empty, but the observing mind also realizes its own emptiness. When both subject and object are empty, emptiness is simply emptiness. Subject and object dissolve; all is empty—not only formless but devoid of inherent nature and mind itself.
My Buddhist journey started with folk religion before encountering the Dharma's depth. Taking refuge and ordaining under Venerable Zhu Mo, then receiving full ordination in Taiwan with Venerable Yin Shun as preceptor clarified core Buddhist principles for me. But meeting Master Sheng Yen became the pivotal turn from theory to embodied wisdom—Zen practice bridged understanding and experience.
In Malaysia, we've conducted over fifty silent retreats and thirty-plus annual life retreats. Maintaining this continuity has proven crucial—it builds enduring foundations, reflecting Master Sheng Yen's visionary approach. Despite his busy schedule, he consistently held annual retreats, understanding that steady, long-term commitment stabilizes Zen's transmission.
When teaching in the West, I must simultaneously understand local cultural contexts while bridging Eastern and Western perspectives. During a retreat in Poland coinciding with the Qixi Festival (Chinese Valentine's Day), I explained traditional Eastern views on love. Similarly, I've discussed the Ghost Festival, Ullambana, and concepts like Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva and hell realms - not to demand acceptance, but to foster cultural exchange.
Regarding the mindfulness movement and spiritual therapies, Chinese Zen maintains its essential character while adapting to contemporary needs. Our priority remains making authentic Dharma accessible. Modern secular mindfulness programs, stripped of religious elements, have become society's go-to solution for psychological distress.
Master Sheng Yen consistently emphasized the paramount importance of faith in practice. Genuine spiritual progress, he taught, begins with great faith (mahāśraddhā), from which arise great diligence, profound inquiry, and vast vows. This foundational faith cannot be manufactured through imagination—it must be grounded in direct experiential realization. As practice deepens, each genuine experience reinforces this faith, creating an upward spiral of confidence and commitment.
Those new to meditation or śamatha-vipaśyanā (止觀) practice must first harmonize posture and breath. Among the most universal methods is breath observation, where counting or following the breath serves to steady the mind. Counting each inhalation and exhalation (數息觀) or simply fixing attention on the breath's natural flow (隨息) provides concrete, practical techniques—especially effective for scattered minds or those besieged by wandering thoughts.
From this clear seeing of impermanence and non-self, one recognizes all phenomena as fundamentally unarisen and naturally pacified. All apparent existence is established upon emptiness—arising and ceasing through conditions. Thus every manifestation is but a provisional appearance, seemingly real when encountered yet ultimately insubstantial.
In daily life, we may notice that our thoughts are numerous and move rapidly. However, this awareness is often superficial, limited to the coarser and more easily detectable thoughts. When we begin practicing methods of stillness and concentration, we first learn to withdraw the mind, preventing it from chasing after external objects through the five senses, and instead turn our attention inward. At this point, we see even more clearly the countless thoughts swirling within.
If the observing mind grows steadily calmer, more stable, and one-pointed—simply maintaining this awareness—it can witness the natural arising and ceasing of thoughts with clarity and detachment. Unshaken, the observing mind sinks deeper, and even the most subtle layers of thought cannot escape its illumination. Deluded thoughts and wholesome thoughts are both merely thoughts—fleeting phenomena, born and vanishing according to their own causes. Thus, both are illusory.
Some reactions remain internal, manifesting only as bodily sensations or mental shifts without outward expression. In such cases, only the practitioner perceives them clearly, though their meaning or remedy may remain unclear. Guidance from an experienced teacher is then essential to discern the condition and apply appropriate adjustments.
For Zen, nirvana is not beyond samsara but within it. Birth and death are themselves the unborn. Realizing this, the Zen practitioner "directly assumes" awakening—here and now. No need to seek pure lands afar; wherever one stands is the pure land. No need to ponder past or future; the present moment is eternity.
Awakening is the penetrating insight into the emptiness of all phenomena, including the constructed self. No longer clinging to reality, permanence, or "I," one severs the engine of karma and rebirth—shattering self-view, eradicating self-love and conceit. The body-mind aggregate continues as a provisional appearance, but recognizing its illusory nature, one ceases to grasp or resist.
Of course, this "self-nature Buddha" remains at the level of principle and potential. Whether the realization is thorough depends on conditions. Thus, after seeing nature, one must nurture this insight through continuous practice—until mind and nature are perceived completely, perfectly, and roundly actualized.
Often, those who teach Buddha-recitation emphasize quantity—how many times one should recite, or setting daily targets of thousands or even tens of thousands of repetitions. As a result, practitioners focus on volume while neglecting the quality of their recitation. The outcome is distracted, mechanical chanting—what some humorously describe as "the Buddha’s name and wandering thoughts flying side by side."
Instead, consider prostration as an act of pure reverence: an expression of heartfelt admiration for the Buddhas’ perfect virtues, profound gratitude for their compassionate vows to liberate all beings, and deep appreciation for their tireless teaching that allows us to encounter the Dharma. Through their exemplary qualities, we mold our own practice, aspiring to emulate their great vows and deeds.
This dynamic application inherently involves observation. Active states demand heightened vigilance, lest external stimuli disrupt focus. When such luminous awareness strengthens, it functions equally in stillness and activity, gradually maturing into contemplative wisdom (prajñā).
Ideal slow walking feels anchored, fast walking effortless, and strolling serene—achievable when body and mind fully release tension. Yet fast walking also functions as a master's skillful means: deliberately intensifying pressure to corner practitioners into mental "dead ends," sometimes triggering breakthroughs. Here, speed carries urgency rather than ease.
Considering myself profoundly fortunate to have entered this sacred path, I earnestly hope readers may understand both the karmic conditions leading to monastic vocation and its societal value. May this understanding foster proper respect toward monastics, free from groundless criticism or malicious slander. It is with this aspiration that I take up my humble pen to write...
When I finally joined the society in my final year, my motivation bore no spiritual dimension—I simply sought to pad my extracurricular record for graduation. Yet membership brought weekly meeting obligations that I surprisingly enjoyed.
January 28, 1978—whether outwardly ordinary or remarkable—marked my life's pivotal transformation. With perfect serenity, I received the śrāmaṇera vows before over a hundred attendees, including family, students, and Buddhist leaders from across the region.
While no paragon of virtue, I've maintained proper conduct through Dharma influence—without which I might have strayed. When Buddhism needs willing hands, how could I withhold my service? However modest my abilities, the call to contribute proved irresistible, aligning perfectly with my deepest aspirations.
Whether traveling northbound from Johor Bahru or southbound from Kuala Lumpur, the bus will turn left at Exit 244 of the North-South Expressway and enter the Ayer Hitam Toll Plaza.
After passing the Ayer Hitam Toll Plaza, the bus will keep right and turn right at the traffic light toward Kluang.
Approximately 5 minutes after departing the toll plaza, passengers will see Zenxin Organic Farm on the left side of the road.
About one minute after passing Zenxin Organic Farm, you'll see Hempel Paint Factory on the right side of the road.
Soon you'll see the Felda Ayer Hitam sign on the left side. Inform the driver to stop at the upcoming roadside bus stop and prepare to get off.
This is the bus stop near Puzhao Temple. After getting off, keep left and walk along the road until you reach the traffic light at the three-way junction.
When you reach the traffic light at the three-way junction, you'll see Puzhao Temple on your right. Continue walking straight along the left side of the road until you see the temple's main entrance.
-483x303.jpg "(C08) Cross the road safely when reaching the temple's front entrance")
After arriving in front of Puzhao Temple, check for traffic carefully. When the road is clear and safe, cross quickly to enter the temple grounds.
This is the main entrance of Puzhao Temple. If you accidentally miss your stop, you may continue to Kluang Bus Terminal and arrange transportation (taxi / e-hailing) to the temple from there.
If traveling southbound from Kuala Lumpur via Federal Route 1, turn left at the Ayer Hitam intersection and proceed towards Kluang.
If traveling northbound from Johor Bahru via Federal Route 1, turn right at the Ayer Hitam intersection and proceed towards Kluang.
After crossing the Ayer Hitam intersection, drive for approximately 7 minutes until you see Zenxin Organic Farm on your left.
One minute after passing Zenxin Organic Farm, you'll see Hempel Paint Factory on your right.
Soon you'll reach a traffic light with Puzhao Temple on your right. Stay in the left lane and continue straight.
After driving about 500m, turn left at the traffic light toward the Department of Veterinary Services (DVS) Malaysia.
Perform a U-turn in front of the Department of Veterinary Services Malaysia and wait for the traffic light to turn green.
When the light turns green, make a gentle right turn and gradually merge into the left lane.
Stay in the left lane, reduce speed, and make a left turn at the Puzhao Temple sign to enter the temple grounds.
Whether traveling northbound from Johor Bahru or southbound from Kuala Lumpur, upon reaching Exit 244 of the North-South Expressway, turn left and enter the Ayer Hitam Toll Plaza.
After passing the Ayer Hitam Toll Plaza, keep right and make a gentle right turn at the traffic light.
After about 5 minutes of driving, you will see Zenxin Organic Farm on the left side of the road.
One minute after passing Zenxin Organic Farm, you will see Hempel Paint Factory on the right side of the road.
Soon, you will reach a traffic light where Puzhao Temple is located on the right. Stay in the left lane and continue straight.
After driving about 500m, turn left at the traffic light in the direction of the Malaysian Veterinary Department.
Make a U-turn in front of the Malaysian Veterinary Department and wait for the traffic light to turn green
Once the light turns green, make a gentle right turn and gradually merge into the left lane.
Stay in the left lane, reduce speed, and make a left turn at the Puzhao Temple sign to enter the temple grounds gradually.
Once the mind releases its hold on this seemingly real world and body, many burdens, defilements, and afflictions within begin to lighten. No longer panicked by the thought of losing everything in death, one faces it with greater composure.
"Prajñā is wisdom; pāramitā is perfect accomplishment or stages of practice. Practicing prajñā leads to perceiving the emptiness of the five aggregates, and its purpose is to liberate all suffering. Thus, perceiving emptiness is prajñā, while transcending suffering is pāramitā."
I remember when I first began studying Buddhism, this same monk would often lead evening chanting sessions beneath the bodhi tree, especially on Sundays. The devotees would gather to make offerings to the Buddha and the tree deity while the monk recited scriptures and gave brief, practical Dharma talks. His chanting was melodious, and his teachings were profound yet accessible. I often found myself deeply immersed in the recitations and benefited greatly from his words.
The functions of our six faculties and six consciousnesses are, in essence, the holistic functioning of the mind. When unified concentration is attained, the six faculties interpenetrate, and their functions become unobstructed. This is a highly advanced state of cultivation." Thus, even if suffering beings cannot cry out, Avalokiteshvara still perceives their anguish and manifests accordingly to offer relief.
Silent Illumination, championed by the Sòng dynasty master Hóngzhì Zhèngjué (宏智正覺), had faded in China but endured in Japan as "just sitting" (shikantaza). Master Shèngyán, through direct engagement with Hóngzhì’s teachings and Tang-era Chán’s living spirit, recognized this method as an ancient skillful means.
It is true that I enjoy drinking tea. It is true that I collect and care for teapots. And it is also true that I admire the profound artistry of the tea ceremony. But to say that I am "proficient" in it? That, I must deny. After all, to truly master any discipline or art is no easy feat—it requires meeting numerous conditions, many of which I lack.
I was already familiar with the huatou method, but the master’s detailed explanations gave me even greater clarity and confidence. As I immersed myself in practice, the huatou arose continuously—neither too tight nor too loose—and wandering thoughts ceased to arise. My entire being merged into the inquiry, the process clear and illuminated, the mind at ease as the doubt stirred by the huatou grew ever more pervasive.
The one who benefits most deeply during a Dharma talk is the speaker themselves. The act of teaching forces us to synthesize and clarify the Dharma, leading to profound personal realization. Sharing these insights with others becomes the greatest reward. This is why, when propagating the Dharma, I often find myself immersed in deep joy, as if bathing in an ocean of Dharma.