Samatha and Vipassanā (Calm and Insight)
Samatha (Calm): The cessation of deluded thoughts.
Vipassanā (Insight): The direct and true observation of all phenomena.
Through frequent cultivation of calm and insight, one can realize the nature of “dhātu” (elements or domains), come to know the various types of dhātus, and awaken to their distinctions.
Dhātu (Elements/Domains):
Refers to boundaries, domains or categories. The sūtra says:
“In the world, there are various domains. According to one’s thoughts, one becomes attached to them. According to each attachment, people speak differently.”
Calm (Samatha):
Means stopping—stopping at the truth and remaining unmoved.
It is named based on its function of halting.
It also means ceasing deluded thoughts—bringing mental agitation to rest.
Insight (Vipassanā):
With regard to form (rūpa), one contemplates the arising of form and the cessation of form;
With regard to feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness (the five aggregates),
one observes the arising and cessation of consciousness.
This is called “observing phenomena according to reality” (i.e., observing dhammas as they are).
If one observes phenomena as they truly are,
then one no longer follows after form, feeling, perception, volition, or consciousness.
Not following leads to non-attachment;
non-attachment leads to non-bondage;
non-bondage results in the realization of Nirvāṇa:
“My birth has ended, the holy life has been fulfilled, what had to be done is done, and I shall not be reborn again.”
Calm and Insight Together:
Calm subdues deluded thoughts, like polishing a mirror.
Once polished, the mirror is free of defilements (this is the cutting off of afflictions),
and is able to reflect all images (this is the realization of truth);
this is precisely insight.
True calm and true insight are ultimately not two:
the nature of reality is quiescent—this is calm;
the nature of reality constantly illuminates—this is insight.
Therefore, true insight must be tranquil, so insight is itself calm;
true calm must be clear and luminous, so calm is itself insight.
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In the 5th century CE, the Indian mathematician Aryabhata used the function jya (which later became known as sine) in his treatise Aryabhatiya to represent the relationship between an angle and the length of its opposite side. This is one of the earliest systematic records of the sine concept in history.
During the Middle Ages, Arabic mathematicians translated the Indian term jya as jiba, which was later misread as jaib (an Arabic word meaning “chest” or “cavity”). Latin translators then rendered jaib as sinus in Latin, meaning “bay” or “curve.” This is how the term sine came to be used and retained in mathematical language.
In the 18th century, the mathematician Euler introduced the symbolic notation for the sine function, such as sin(x), incorporating it into the framework of modern mathematics.
Then, in the early 19th century, Fourier developed his theory of Fourier series, demonstrating that any periodic function can be expressed as a sum of sine and cosine waves.
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The rate of change of the slope of the sine wave’s tangent line is:
-\sin(x)
Between 90° and 0°:
• The slope, \cos(x), decreases from 1 to 0;
• The rate of change of the slope, -\sin(x), increases in magnitude from 0 to -1, meaning that the tangent becomes increasingly steep in a downward direction.
Using this accelerating descent of the sine wave from 90° to 0° as a metaphor for the rise and fall of societies, especially the phenomenon of increasingly rapid collapse toward the end, reveals a striking philosophical parallel.
In this interval, the curve is not only declining—it is doing so at an increasingly rapid rate.
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The trajectory of societal decline follows a similar pattern:
Early-stage decay (90° → 60°):
• Financial strain emerges, but the overall structure of society remains intact;
• The “slippage” begins, yet awareness is low;
• The slope is slight, but the direction has changed—decline has begun.
Mid-stage breakdown (60° → 30°):
• Social tensions intensify;
• The response is sluggish, reforms fail;
• The slope increases—decline becomes more obvious.
Late-stage collapse (30° → 0°):
• The old system quickly falls apart, giving way to a new cycle;
• The curve approaches vertical descent—the transformation is most dramatic.
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Poetic Summary:
A lingering chill of spring—neither winter nor spring;
The wood has rotted, yet the wall stands—the form remains, the spirit has departed;
Waters long gathered form a deep pool—now the dam is on the verge of bursting.
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And now the question:
Where are we now?
A question that echoes not only through history—but through every generation, every institution, every moment of introspection.
“How should one view illness and suffering through the lens of the Dharma?”
In this world, there are two forms of dependence: dependence on existence and dependence on non-existence — both arise from grasping at contact. Because of this grasping, one clings either to existence or to non-existence.
If there is no such grasping, the mind is not entangled with conditions. It neither clings nor abides, and it does not give rise to the sense of “I am suffering” merely because suffering arises; nor does it give rise to the sense of “I am free from suffering” merely because suffering ceases.There is no doubt or delusion about this, and one knows it directly without relying on others.This is called Right View, the Right View taught by the Tathāgata.
Therefore, whether one suffers or not is determined by the mind, not by the body.
“Extreme prosperity leads to decline.”
Looking at it from the experience of catching the flu, illness strikes like a landslide but recedes like pulling silk—within just half a day, the symptoms had already worsened significantly.
In the I Ching, Tai (Peace) is the 11th hexagram, immediately followed by Pi (Stagnation), the 12th. It takes only one step to go from Tai to Pi, but 62 steps to return from Pi to Tai.
So the phrase “stagnation ends in peace” is more of a comforting saying. In reality, it’s usually “prosperity ends in stagnation”—and it happens very quickly. Recovery, on the other hand, is painfully slow.
Karma is like a wheel carrying passengers home,
The six realms of rebirth are like stations where all meet.
Rushing out early and returning late, we still follow old ways,
Drifting along, another day passes without progress.
Countless lifetimes of accumulated wishes, one moment of meeting.
Once a single thought arises, all phenomena follow their destined course.
After countless lives of yearning, a single moment brings us together.
Once a thought is born, all things unfold according to fate.
When the Buddha was residing at Jetavana Monastery, offered by Anathapindika in the Jeta Grove, there lived a widower who had lost his wife early and lived a life of mutual dependence with his only son. Over time, their situation worsened, and they became increasingly poor and destitute. Eventually, they both decided to go to Jetavana and request the Buddha to allow them to renounce the world and seek the path together. The Buddha, moved by compassion, agreed to their request.
Since the son was still quite young at the time, the Buddha ordained him as a śrāmaṇera (novice monk), while the father became a bhikṣu (fully ordained monk). The son accompanied the father on alms rounds, and they entered and left together, making it convenient to look after one another.
One day, while they were returning from alms rounds in a nearby village, night began to fall. The young śrāmaṇera had heard that wild beasts often roamed the area after dark, and he became very frightened. He urged his father to walk faster, but the elderly bhikṣu was too old to keep up. The boy anxiously supported his father, fearing for their safety and eager to return home quickly.
When they reached a fork with three paths, the novice pointed to the middle one and said, “This way is shorter, let’s take this path!” But the elder monk replied, “We don’t usually take that route; we’re unfamiliar with the terrain, and it’s already very late. If we get lost, it will be a case of ‘more haste, less speed.’”
The novice, unable to understand his father’s caution, accused him of overthinking and insisted on taking the shortcut. The elder, however, was firm in his decision to take the familiar path. A quarrel broke out between father and son. In a moment of desperation, the boy pushed his father, not realizing that the elder monk, caught off guard, would stumble and fall. His forehead struck a large rock on the ground, and—tragically and unexpectedly—he died on the spot.
The young novice, overcome with fear, left his father’s body and hurried back in the dark. The other monks were surprised to see him return alone and asked, “You and your father went out together this morning. Why have you returned alone? Where is your teacher?”
The novice, trembling and tearful, recounted the entire incident and then broke down in loud sobs. The monks were shocked and outraged, accusing him of a grave offense: “Unbelievable! You’re a young child with such a dark heart—you’ve committed the great evil of killing your teacher and father!”
They immediately brought the novice before the Buddha. The Buddha, calm and compassionate, said, “Though the novice’s father and teacher has died, the novice had no intention to kill him.” Turning to the boy, the Buddha asked, “Did you kill your father and teacher?”
Terrified, the novice replied, “World-Honored One, I truly had no intention of harming my father. I only pushed him out of urgency. I never thought he would fall and die.” Again, he broke down in tears.
The Buddha comforted him gently: “Yes, young novice, I know you had no evil intent to kill your father. In fact, this is not the first time that such a tragic incident occurred without malice in your past lives.”
The assembly, hearing this, realized there must be a karmic cause behind the event and asked the Buddha to reveal it. The Buddha then spoke:
“In an incalculably distant past, there lived a father and son who shared a household. One day, the father fell gravely ill and lay bedridden. Unfortunately, mosquitoes and flies constantly harassed him, causing him great distress and making it impossible for him to rest.
He asked his son to help drive the insects away. The son stayed by his side, frequently fanning the bugs off. But the insects were ignorant and relentless; as soon as the fanning stopped, they returned in swarms. The son grew increasingly frustrated and eventually, in a fit of anger, grabbed a stick, intending to kill the pests the next time they landed.
Soon, a large number of flies and mosquitoes landed on the father’s forehead. The ignorant son struck them forcefully with the stick. To his shock, the insects scattered unharmed, but his blow had fatally struck his father.
At that time, the son had absolutely no intent to kill his father. Bhikṣus! That father who was accidentally killed by his son is now this novice, and the son who struck the blow and caused his father’s death is the current elderly bhikṣu. Because there was no evil intention in that past life, the karmic retribution is now repaid similarly: the father has once again died by his son’s unintentional hand. Such is the cause-and-effect relationship between them.”
After hearing the Buddha’s explanation, the young śrāmaṇera understood the karmic connection between himself and his father. He realized the infallible law of cause and effect, diligently cultivated his practice, and eventually attained the fruit of Arhatship.
(Adapted from the Sutra of Wise and Foolish)
In the “Sutra of Five Types of Suffering”, it is said that the relationships between father and son, husband and wife, siblings, family members, friends, and servants are bound by five kinds of karmic ties. If not for one of these five causes, such relationships would not come into being.
1. Enemy karma (resentful ties): For example, a father and son who end up killing one another due to past animosity.
2. Debt collection: A parent may have owed debts in a past life, and the child comes into this life to collect them—perhaps manifesting as a spendthrift who squanders the family’s assets.
3. Repayment of debt: The parent was the creditor in a past life, and the child comes to repay that debt—he may support his parents materially without genuine affection or respect. The extent of the support corresponds to how much debt is being repaid.
4. Fulfillment of vows: The child has vowed to return out of gratitude and karmic affinity, showing true filial piety and reverence.
5. True companionship: In past lives, they were Dharma companions or like-minded practitioners who reunite again in this life.
These five karmic reasons account for the various family and social bonds we encounter in life.
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The Fool and the Salt
Once upon a time, there was a foolish man who, for the first time, went to a dinner party with a wise friend. The host was very hospitable and prepared many delicious dishes. One particular dish was especially tasty, and the fool couldn’t stop praising it.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he asked the wise man, “Why does this dish taste so good?”
The wise man replied, “Because it has just the right amount of salt—it’s seasoned perfectly.”
The fool thought to himself, “Ah, so the secret is the salt!” When he returned home, he immediately asked his wife to cook a meal—but with no other ingredients, just as much salt as possible. He thought, “This time it will taste even better!”
As expected, the food turned out so salty it was completely inedible. Frustrated, the fool exclaimed, “How come it tasted so good when others added salt, but when I added so much more, it turned out terrible?”
This story comes from the Bai Yu Jing (The Sutra of One Hundred Parables). It is simple, yet deeply meaningful.
In Buddhist teachings, “salt” can be seen as symbolic of divine power or superficial conditions, while the proper combination of ingredients, cooking time, and the overall preparation process represents the complex mechanism of karma.
People in the world often focus only on appearances: “Someone attained enlightenment because they worshipped the Buddha,” “Someone became wealthy because they burned incense,” “Someone got lucky because they went on pilgrimage.” But they fail to see the long path behind it—years of virtuous deeds, accumulation of merit, and perhaps even the planting of wholesome karmic seeds over many lifetimes.
The karma we cannot see is the true source underlying all phenomena. Divine power (or external blessings) is merely a supporting condition—it can help good outcomes arise, but sometimes appears ineffective—not because the Buddha lacks compassion or power, but because the karmic causes have not yet ripened.
The Venerable Śāriputra asked the Buddha:
“If a good man or good woman wishes to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā (Perfection of Wisdom), how should they practice?”
The Buddha replied:
“If one wishes to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā, they should make this aspiration: ‘I now vow to seek unsurpassed, perfect enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings and to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā.’ Yet while cultivating, one should not become attached to the notion of cultivation; while delivering sentient beings, one should not hold the concept of beings being delivered; while attaining enlightenment, one should not cling to attainment; and while teaching the Dharma, one should not be attached to the act of teaching. All dharmas are like illusions, free from all characteristics—this is called Prajñāpāramitā.”
Original Text (English Translation)
At that time, the Venerable Śāriputra said to the Buddha:
“World-Honored One, if a good man or good woman wishes to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā, how should they learn it?”
The Buddha told Śāriputra:
“If a good man or good woman wishes to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā, they should give rise to this thought: ‘Now, for the sake of all sentient beings, I vow to seek Anuttarā-Samyak-Saṃbodhi (unsurpassed perfect enlightenment), and to cultivate Prajñāpāramitā.’
Though they cultivate Prajñāpāramitā, they do so without the mark of cultivation;
though they liberate sentient beings, they do so without the concept of sentient beings being liberated;
though they attain enlightenment, they do so without the notion of attainment;
though they teach the Dharma, they do so without clinging to the act of teaching.
All dharmas are like illusions, detached from all characteristics—this is called Prajñāpāramitā.”
Citation
• Scripture Title: Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra
• Scroll: Volume 200
• Translator: Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang of the Tang Dynasty
• Source: Taishō Shinshū Daizōkyō (Taishō Revised Tripiṭaka), Vol. 5, No. 220, pp. 944c–945a