From Dream of the Red Chamber:
Baoyu had already seen her. Quietly, he walked up and looked her over from head to toe. Tilting his head in thought, he smiled and said, “I’ve seen this young sister before.”
Everyone laughed and said, “There you go again with your nonsense! When could you have seen her?”
Baoyu laughed and replied, “Though I haven’t seen her before, it feels as though I’ve seen her somewhere. I can’t help but feel deeply fond of her.”
When you see a person—or even a small animal—and feel an instant liking, a sense of affinity, or a deep sense of connection and concern, it is almost certain that in a past life, you shared a close relationship: they may have been your parent, sibling, spouse, relative, teacher, or friend.
Because sentient beings are shrouded in ignorance and bound by attachment, they endlessly revolve in the cycle of birth and death, unable to see the origin of their suffering.
Thus have I heard:
At one time, the Buddha was staying at the Jeta Grove, in Anathapindika’s Park, in the country of Śrāvastī.
At that time, the World-Honored One spoke to the monks:
“Sentient beings have been revolving in the cycle of birth and death since time without beginning, endlessly turning through the long night, without knowing the original cause of suffering.
Monks, when you see beings showing love, affection, or joy toward you, you should reflect: in their past lives, such beings have surely been our parents, siblings, spouses, relatives, teachers, or friends.
Because beings are covered by ignorance and bound by craving around their necks, they revolve through the long night of samsara, never knowing the source of their suffering.
Therefore, monks, you should train yourselves accordingly—with diligence and skillful means, cut off all forms of existence, and do not let them continue to grow.”
When the Buddha had spoken this discourse, the monks who heard his words rejoiced and faithfully practiced them.
(Saṃyuktāgama, Scroll 34, Sūtra No. 945)
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In the Tang Dynasty, there was a highly respected Chan (Zen) master named Baizhang Huaihai. He had been teaching the Dharma in the mountains for many years and had many disciples. One day, after giving a Dharma talk, an old man with a white beard approached him and said:
“Master, I am not a human being. I was the abbot here five hundred years ago. At that time, someone asked me: ‘Does a great cultivator fall into cause and effect?’ I replied, ‘No, he does not fall into cause and effect.’ Because of that answer, I was reborn as a wild fox and have remained so for five hundred years without liberation. Master, please give me the right answer to break free.”
Master Baizhang replied:
“A great cultivator is not blind to cause and effect.”
The old man immediately awakened. He bowed in gratitude and said, “I am finally liberated. I ask that the master perform a funeral service for me tomorrow at the cave behind the mountain and cremate the body of this old fox.”
The next day, the disciples did indeed find the corpse of a dead fox behind the mountain and, according to the master’s instructions, held a memorial and cremation ceremony for it.
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Interpretation and Meaning
On the surface, this story is about karma (cause and effect), but at a deeper level, it reveals:
• The former abbot was attached to the idea of “no karma”, denying the law of worldly phenomena (the world of arising and ceasing).
• His fall into the body of a fox for five hundred years symbolizes the consequences of misunderstanding the nature of non-arising and non-ceasing.
• Master Baizhang’s teaching that “a great cultivator is not blind to cause and effect” means that while a truly enlightened person has realized the nature of non-birth and non-death, they do not deny the reality of karma, good and evil, within the phenomenal world.
This reflects the Buddhist teaching of the Two Truths:
• Ultimate truth (paramārtha-satya): The realm of suchness, beyond arising and ceasing—where all dharmas are empty.
• Conventional truth (saṃvṛti-satya): The realm of appearances, where cause and effect are valid, and good and evil have consequences.
Just like a movie screen: the images are constantly changing—people are born and die, wind and rain come and go—but the screen itself remains unchanging, unmoving, untainted.
Our true nature (Buddha-nature, suchness) is like the screen, while the arising and ceasing of the world are merely passing images.
All things in the world do not have inherent existence; they arise due to causes and conditions.
For example:
• A flower blooms because of seeds, sunlight, water, soil, and other conditions.
• A flower withers because those conditions change or disappear.
Buddhism teaches:
“All phenomena arise from conditions; all phenomena cease when conditions are no longer present.”
This shows that all conditioned phenomena are impermanent, subject to birth and death, and only provisionally real.
Even though there appears to be birth and death, this is only superficial. Behind it lies a true nature that does not change with conditions, known as:
• Suchness (tathatā)
• Dharma nature (dharmatā)
• Buddha-nature
• Emptiness (śūnyatā)
• Unconditioned dharma
This “nature of non-birth and non-death” is not a tangible thing, but a state that transcends duality and the flow of time—neither born nor destroyed, neither coming nor going, neither existing nor non-existing.
One who is enlightened can function within the world of arising and ceasing while abiding in the realization of non-arising and non-ceasing—unmoved yet responsive, free yet compassionate. This is the true application of the nature of “no birth, no death.”
“If one does not kill, one will not feel fear.”
If someone, upon seeing other sentient beings, feels a sense of fear and has their hair stand on end, they should understand that in past lives, they must have killed or harmed other beings, which has led to this fear in the present life. Conversely, if in previous lives they never killed or harmed others, they would not experience such fear in this life.
The scripture says:
“Thus have I heard.
At one time, the Buddha was staying in the Jeta Grove, Anathapindika’s Park, in the country of Sravasti. At that time, the World-Honored One said to the bhikkhus:
‘Bhikkhus, sentient beings, through beginningless cycles of birth and death, have long been revolving in samsara, without knowing the origin of suffering.
Bhikkhus, when you see sentient beings and feel fear, with your hair standing on end, you should reflect:
‘In the past, I must have killed, harmed others, or been an evil companion.
Because of this, I have long revolved in the beginningless cycle of birth and death, without knowing the origin of suffering.’
Bhikkhus, you should train yourselves thus: eliminate all existence, and do not let it increase.’
After the Buddha had spoken this sutra, the bhikkhus, having heard what the Buddha said, joyfully accepted and practiced it.”
— Samyukta Agama Sutra, Scroll 34, No. 944
“There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know.
There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don’t know.
But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don’t know we don’t know.”-Donald Rumsfeld
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The Buddha asked his disciples, “How long is a human life?”—meaning, how long does human existence truly last?
The first disciple replied, “A few days.” The Buddha said, “You have not yet understood the Way.”
The second disciple answered, “The time it takes to eat a meal.” The Buddha again said, “You have not understood the Way.”
The third disciple said, “It lasts but a single breath.” The Buddha praised him, saying, “Excellent! You have truly understood the Way.”
Sutra of Forty-two Chapters — Chapter 17: Life Exists in a Single Breath
**The King and His Four Wives**
Once upon a time, there was a king who had four wives.
He loved his fourth wife the most, always giving her the finest clothes and the best food. He also adored his third wife and often took her to public events and parades. He cared for his second wife too, confiding in her whenever he faced problems or worries. But as for his first wife, he hardly paid her any attention and often forgot she even existed.
One day, the king fell seriously ill and realized his life was coming to an end. He began to reflect: after spending his whole life pampering his wives, who would accompany him in death?
So he asked his fourth wife, “Will you go with me when I die?”
The fourth wife replied in shock, “Absolutely not! As soon as you die, I’ll remarry.” The king was heartbroken.
He then asked his third wife. She said, “I’ll go with you to your grave, but no further.”
He turned to his second wife, who said, “I’ll take care of your funeral and settle everything—but I cannot go with you.”
At that moment, a faint voice spoke up. It was his first wife—whom he had nearly forgotten.
She said, “I will go with you, no matter life or death.”
Hearing this, the king wept bitterly, full of regret.
**Moral:**
- The fourth wife represents **wealth and pleasures**—what we pursue in life, but cannot take with us in death.
- The third wife symbolizes **status and fame**—which follows us to the grave, but no further.
- The second wife stands for **family and friends**—who can help with our final affairs but must eventually part from us.
- The first wife represents **our virtues and spiritual practice**—often neglected, yet the only thing that truly follows us beyond death.
This story embodies the truth of **impermanence (anicca)**—all worldly things are temporary; nothing lasts forever. Only our good deeds and cultivation are truly ours to keep.
**The Destruction of the Shakya Clan by King Viḍūḍabha**
After the Buddha attained enlightenment, his fame grew rapidly. He attracted countless disciples and earned the respect of kings and nobles alike. His clan—the Shakya (Shakya)—was a noble lineage residing in the city of Kapilavastu in India.
There was a powerful king named Viḍūḍabha, a descendant from the Buddha’s extended family. In his youth, he suffered humiliation because his mother was not of pure Shakya noble blood. This planted deep resentment in his heart.
When he grew up, he became king of the Kosala kingdom and resolved to take revenge on the Shakya clan. He led his army to attack Kapilavastu.
Upon learning of this, the Buddha was filled with compassion. Three times he sat beneath a withered tree at the border of the Shakya territory to block King Viḍūḍabha’s army. Seeing the Buddha sitting under a withered tree, the king asked in puzzlement, “World-Honored One, why not rest under a lush tree with ample shade?”
The Buddha replied, “Though this tree is withered, its roots are in the land of my people. I choose to suffer with them.” Touched by the Buddha’s compassion, King Viḍūḍabha withdrew his troops three times.
But ultimately, karma is inescapable, and even the Buddha could no longer stop him. On the fourth attempt, with a hardened heart, King Viḍūḍabha launched his assault and massacred the entire Shakya clan. Rivers ran red with blood, and countless relatives were slain. Nearly all of the Buddha’s kin were annihilated.
The disciple Ānanda, overwhelmed with sorrow, asked the Buddha, “World-Honored One, you possess great supernatural powers. Could you not have prevented this tragedy?”
The Buddha replied calmly, “Ānanda, the law of cause and effect is like iron—it cannot be defied, not even by a Buddha. In the distant past, the Shakyas poisoned a river to kill another tribe. The retribution they suffer today is not without cause.”
**Insight:**
This story profoundly illustrates the Buddhist principles of impermanence and unerring karma:
- Even the most powerful clan is subject to decline and destruction;
- Even one as compassionate and wise as the Buddha cannot override karma;
- All phenomena in the world are destined to decay, separation, and change—they are not to be clung to.
The Buddha, though faced with the annihilation of his own clan, met the tragedy with equanimity—an embodiment of his deep realization and practice of impermanence.
When I see someone with a noble and graceful appearance, I wish I could look the same.
But in a past life, I failed to endure hardships and insults — so what good is envy now?
When I see someone wealthy and prosperous, I wish I could share their fortune.
But in a past life, I did not practice generosity — so what good is envy now?
When I see someone blessed with long life, I wish I too could live a hundred years.
But in a past life, I caused too much harm — so what good is envy now?
When I see someone with a devoted and filial child, I wish I could have the same blessing.
But in a past life, I myself failed to honor my parents — so what good is envy now?
When I am deeply drawn to someone, longing to be with them day and night,
It is only because of a small, unsettled debt from a past life — clinging in delusion serves no purpose.
When I harbor resentment against someone, wishing never to see them again,
It is only because past debts remain unpaid — complaining and blaming are of no use.
Day after day, I gain and lose, yet in the end, I remain empty-handed.
Day after day, I see, hear, and feel, yet still drift in a haze.
It is better to turn to the Buddhist Scriptures and seek wisdom.
Learning and Beyond Learning:
The pursuit of truth to eliminate delusions is called "learning." When the truth is fully realized and all delusions are eradicated, leaving nothing further to cultivate, this is called "beyond learning."
In the Small Vehicle (Śrāvakayāna) tradition, the first three fruits are considered the stage of learning, while attaining Arhatship is regarded as beyond learning.
In the Great Vehicle (Mahāyāna) tradition, the ten stages (bhūmis) of the Bodhisattva are seen as learning, and the attainment of Buddhahood is considered beyond learning.