Diogenes of Sinope
Born in Sinope (in present-day Turkey) in 413 BCE, Diogenes is said to have died in Corinth in 323 BCE. In Athens, he had no fixed residence, living instead in a large grain-storage jar (pithos) made by a potter. All his possessions consisted of this jar, a cloak, a staff, and a bread bag.

On one occasion, when someone mocked him for being “so poor that he lived in a jar,” he replied:

“At least my house will never collapse, and I pay no rent.”

Alexander the Great once visited him after hearing of his reputation, and found him resting in the sunlight. Alexander said:

“I am Alexander the Great. Is there any wish you would like me to grant?”
Diogenes looked up and calmly said:
“Yes—please step aside; you are blocking my sunlight.”

Later, Alexander remarked:

“If I were not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.”
When Diogenes heard this, he replied:
“If I were not Diogenes, I would still wish to be Diogenes.”

One day, Diogenes saw a young boy drinking spring water with his hands, using no vessel at all. Diogenes paused for a moment, then immediately threw away his own wooden cup, saying:

“This child has surpassed me in living simply.”






A trivial incident caused the bhikkhus of Kosambi to quarrel endlessly. Some bhikkhus sided with a teacher well-versed in the Vinaya, while others followed a teacher well-versed in the Dhamma. The two sides argued without cease. They even ignored the Buddha’s attempts to mediate. Knowing that they would eventually realize their error, the Buddha left them and went alone to a secluded forest to spend the rains retreat.

During the retreat, a large elephant and a monkey once took care of the Buddha.

When the monkey saw the elephant serving the Buddha, it too decided to imitate the elephant and offer some service. One day, while swinging through the trees, the monkey found a beehive. It broke off the part of the trunk holding the hive, placed the hive on some leaves, and offered it to the Buddha. The Buddha accepted the gesture, but the monkey hid nearby to see if the Buddha would eat the honey. Seeing that the Buddha did not touch it, the monkey came over, turned the hive over and over, trying to figure out why the Buddha was not eating. It discovered insect eggs in the hive, removed them, and offered the hive to the Buddha again. This time, the Buddha ate the honey.

When the lay followers of Kosambi understood why the Buddha had left, they refused to make offerings to those bhikkhus. Only then did the bhikkhus realize their foolishness, reconcile with one another, and make peace. But the lay followers insisted that they admit it was their fault that drove the Buddha away; otherwise, they would no longer treat them with the same respect as before. The lay followers urged them to beg the Buddha’s forgiveness, but by then the Buddha had already gone, and it was still the middle of the rains retreat. That retreat turned out to be a time of hardship and scarcity for the bhikkhus.

After the retreat ended, Ānanda and many bhikkhus went to find the Buddha, expressed their remorse, and assured him they understood their mistakes, pleading for him to return. The Buddha then went back to Jetavana Monastery in Sāvatthī. When the monks at the monastery saw him, they paid homage and admitted their faults. The Buddha admonished them, saying: “Life is impermanent. You must stop quarreling, and you must not speak or act as if you will live forever.”

Those who understand that “quarrels lead to ruin” put an end to quarrels.

Those who are blind to this truth will continue to quarrel endlessly.





“Unattached to pleasure, unmoved by pain.” — Saṃyukta Āgama, on right wisdom and right mindfulness, and the awareness of all sensations.


Observe one’s own mind as it truly is:
When there is a mind with greed, one knows as it truly is, “My mind has greed.”
When there is a mind without greed, one knows as it truly is, “My mind is without greed.”
Likewise, when there is a mind with hatred, delusion, distraction, or concentration, one knows as it truly is.

Contemplating the mind as the mind:
When there is a mind with greed, one knows there is a mind with greed;
when there is no mind with greed, one knows there is no mind with greed.
When there is a mind with hatred, one knows there is a mind with hatred;
when there is no mind with hatred, one knows there is no mind with hatred.
When there is a mind with delusion, one knows there is a mind with delusion;
when there is no mind with delusion, one knows there is no mind with delusion.
When the mind is distracted, one knows the mind is distracted;
when the mind is undistracted, one knows the mind is undistracted.
When the mind is vast, one knows the mind is vast;
when the mind is not vast, one knows the mind is not vast.
When the mind is exalted, one knows the mind is exalted;
when the mind is not exalted, one knows the mind is not exalted.
When the mind is concentrated, one knows the mind is concentrated;
when the mind is not concentrated, one knows the mind is not concentrated.
When the mind is liberated, one knows the mind is liberated;
when the mind is not liberated, one knows the mind is not liberated.
— Saṃyukta Āgama, Scroll 12, Sūtra No. 299






My elder cousin Wanzhou once told this tale:

In Jiahe County lived the wife of a humble farming household. Whenever she visited her parents, she would ride a donkey. The beast was strong and gentle, knowing the road by heart and needing no hand to guide it. When her husband was busy and could not see her off, she went alone without mishap.

One day, she set out from her parents’ home later than usual. The sky was heavy with clouds, the moon hidden, and she could not tell one direction from another. Suddenly, the donkey, contrary to its gentle nature, grew wild, dashed forward, and plunged into a thick sorghum field, leaving her quite lost. All through the long night it wandered, until at last she found herself before a ruined temple where two beggars lodged beneath the eaves. With no way to return, she stayed there until dawn.

The next morning, the beggars escorted her home. Her husband, torn between shame and anger, resolved to send the donkey to slaughter.

That night, in a dream, a voice spoke to him:
“In a former life, this donkey was a man who once stole your money. You sent men to seize him, but he fled. In your wrath, you ordered that his wife be bound and kept overnight. Now, reborn as a donkey, he suffers for his theft; and by carrying your wife to that ruined temple, making you wait in vain, he has repaid the debt for his wife’s detention. The cycle of cause and effect is now complete. Why invite yet another knot of enmity to bind you in the life to come?”

He woke in fear, repented, and let go of all thought of revenge. That very night, the donkey died.

—Ji Xiaolan, Yuewei Caotang Biji




Fallacy?
Parents cherish their children deeply—caring for their nutrition from the moment of pregnancy, showering them with love after birth, accompanying them to various interest classes in kindergarten, and guiding their academic and professional development through middle school and university. From preparing a marital home and a new car for them, to helping nurture and raise the third generation, parents give far, far too much for their children.

This devotion is not only material but also spiritual. From both perspectives, there is a clear and willing devotion and sacrifice from the older generation to the younger. From a cause-and-effect standpoint, these children are, in relation to their parents, the true creditors. Yet no one wishes to acknowledge such a relationship in terms of debt and obligation.

Thus, we spend our lives thinking of, caring for, protecting, forgiving, and endlessly loving our greatest creditor—right up to the very end. Is it a fallacy to say that the greatest creditor is one’s child?

One extra note: Anyone who thinks this claim is a fallacy has most likely been a debt collector for quite some time—without even realizing it.




In childhood, one recites the Buddha’s name with innocence;
in youth, with intention;
in adulthood, with seeking;
in middle age, with purity;
in old age, with sincerity.

Sincere recitation of the Buddha’s name need not wait until old age.
Pure recitation need not wait until middle age.
Yet reciting with seeking, with intention, and with innocence is an inevitable path.



“Craving is completely and forever extinguished. Hatred and delusion are completely and forever extinguished.”
— Saṃyukta Āgama (Saṃyuktāgama Sūtra)

Cease killing, cease stealing, cease sexual misconduct, cease false speech, cease intoxicants.
To cut off one defilement is to purify one aspect.
If even one is not cut off, defilements will not cease, and the cycle of rebirth will not end.
Without the right conditions, it is difficult to give rise to a heart of remorse.
Without remorse, change is not possible, and one’s life may pass in vain.
Defilements are none other than bodhi (awakening).
Defilements themselves are conditions (for awakening).





Those who cling to sensual pleasures, indulge the six sense faculties, eat without moderation, and are lazy and lacking in diligent practice —
they are easily overcome by defilements, like a weak tree blown over by the wind.

Those who delight in renunciation, guard the sense faculties, are moderate in eating, possess faith and apply energetic effort —
their minds remain unshaken and unmovable, like the wind cannot move a rocky mountain.

⸻Based on the Chinese translation of Dhammapada, Chapter 9, Verses 7–8




Reciting the Buddha’s Name to Resolve a Grudge
(Translated from Ji Xiaolan’s “Notes from the Thatched Abode of Close Observations”)

In Lijia Village, there was a peasant woman who delivered meals to the fields twice a day, morning and evening. Each time, she would see a young woman following her erratically—sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. She asked the other women who delivered meals with her, but they all claimed to have seen nothing. This made her fearful, and she lived in constant anxiety.

Later, that woman gradually began following her home. She never entered the house, but lingered around the courtyard or by the walls. If the peasant woman moved toward her, the ghost would retreat step by step. If she returned to her original spot, the ghost would approach again, never too close, never too far. The peasant woman eventually realized that this ghost must be a former enemy.

One day, summoning her courage, the woman stood at a distance and asked the ghost, “If you have something to say, speak it directly! Why do you keep following me like this, neither near nor far?”

The ghost replied, “In a past life, you and I were both concubines in a wealthy household. You grew jealous of the master’s favor toward me and falsely accused me of having an illicit affair and stealing. The master believed your slander and locked me away, and I died in grief and despair. I’ve come to claim your life in return. But in this life, you have been extremely filial toward your mother-in-law, and thus kind deities have protected you. I have not been able to approach. That’s why I follow you daily, looking for an opportunity to act. But after careful observation, I see little hope of vengeance. If you could invite a monk to perform a ritual to deliver me from this suffering and help me reincarnate, our karmic feud would be resolved.”

The peasant woman said, “My family is poor. How could we afford to host a ritual for you?”

The ghost replied, “Yes, your family is indeed poor. But if you sincerely recite ‘Namo Amitabha Buddha’ ten thousand times, that too can deliver me.”

The woman asked, “How can simply chanting the Buddha’s name deliver a ghost?”

The ghost answered, “Ordinary people chant with distracted minds, so their efforts don’t resonate with the Buddha. But if one chants as if in the presence of the Buddha, gathering and focusing the scattered mind, then the results are different. A loyal subject or a filial child already moves the gods and Buddhas through their sincerity. Each utterance of the Buddha’s name reaches across the Three Realms. For such people, the power of chanting is equal to reciting scriptures or performing confession rituals. You are a filial daughter-in-law—I believe that with your sincerity, your chanting will resonate with the Buddha’s power.”

The woman believed the ghost’s words and began chanting with devotion. With each utterance of this woman, the ghost bowed westward once. When the woman had completed ten thousand recitations, the ghost vanished.

This tale was often told among the elders of Lijia Village. Sincere filial piety and faith in reciting the Buddha’s name—these truly have power.







Observing precepts. Emptiness. Mindfulness of the Buddha. Non-attachment. Reading the Pratyutpanna Samādhi Sūtra. Namo Amitābha Buddha.




From Huainanzi – Lessons for the Human World:
“Those who accumulate hidden virtue will surely receive visible rewards; those who perform good deeds in secret will surely earn a shining reputation.”

In reverse, it can be expressed as:
“Those who diminish hidden virtue will surely suffer hidden retribution; those who commit blatant wrongs will surely gain an infamous name.”

Therefore, if a person acts without virtue and others are unaware of it, he may still unknowingly suffer karmic consequences. But if someone does wrong openly and brazenly, he will certainly become notorious and publicly condemned.


In Huainanzi, Chapter on Human Affairs, it is written:
“Those who cultivate hidden virtue will surely receive open rewards; those who practice good deeds in secret will ultimately gain a good reputation.”

In reverse, it might be said:
“Those who harm hidden virtue will suffer hidden retribution; those who commit blatant wrongdoing will be known for their evil name.”

Therefore, sometimes a person may lack virtue without even realizing it, and unknowingly bring misfortune upon themselves. But if someone commits wrongdoing openly and brazenly, they are bound to become notorious and condemned by all.





Merely relying on worldly wisdom and clever reasoning to discern matters in daily life will only lead to the growth of wrong views, fueling greed, anger, and delusion. How, then, can one escape the fate of samsaric rebirth?

Some people, though they accumulate virtue and do many good deeds, still cling to attachments and make distinctions in their minds. With such heavy attachment, they too cannot escape the cycle of rebirth.

However, if one can awaken to the wisdom of non-form (formlessness), practice good deeds with a mind of non-attachment, keep body and mind pure, and stay free from discriminating thoughts—aspiring to be reborn in the Pure Land and to learn the Dharma—then one will be reborn in the Buddha’s Pure Land and attain ultimate liberation.

— From the Sutra on the Buddha’s Teaching of the Adornment, Purity, and Equality of the Great Vehicle Infinite Life (also known as the Larger Sukhāvatīvyūha Sūtra)


“‘Non-practice’ is called the practice of prajñāpāramitā (the Perfection of Wisdom). Prajñāpāramitā cannot be attained. The bodhisattva cannot be attained; practice cannot be attained; the practitioner, the dharma of practice, and the sphere of practice likewise cannot be attained. This is called the bodhisattva, the mahāsattva, practicing the ‘non-practice of prajñāpāramitā.’ Because all conceptual fabrications cannot be attained.

From the very first arousing of the bodhicitta, a bodhisattva should learn the dharma of emptiness, of non-attainment. Because this bodhisattva applies the dharma of non-attainment, he practices giving, morality, patience, vigor, meditation; and because of the dharma of non-attainment, he cultivates wisdom up to omniscient knowledge — all in the same way.

Where there are two, that is called ‘attainment.’ Where there are no two, that is called ‘non-attainment.’

Eye and form are two; up to mind and dharma are two; up to anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi and Buddha are two. This is called ‘two.’

Non-attainment does not arise from attainment; non-attainment does not arise from non-attainment. Attainment and non-attainment are equal — this is called non-attainment.

The bodhisattva, the mahāsattva, should study within this dharma of equality of attainment and non-attainment. The bodhisattva, the mahāsattva, studying prajñāpāramitā in this way — this is called the non-attainer, free from fault.”