The Difference Between Running and Slow Walking
In ancient traditions, there is often the idea of “stilling and walking in quietude,” which emphasizes abiding and observing rather than striving and strengthening. The difference between running and slow walking does not lie primarily in speed, but in the origin, motivation, and state of the mind.
Running is often driven by clear goals: to become stronger, healthier, to live longer, or to surpass and improve oneself. Behind such intentions, there is usually a sense of “I” exerting effort—an attachment to “I must become better.” As a result, during running, this sense of self is often continuously reinforced.
Slow walking, or meditative walking, is different. It is not aimed at achieving a particular outcome, nor at proving anything. Instead, through walking slowly, the mind ceases its outward striving, loosens its grip on the body, and no longer keeps generating thoughts of “what I should become.” In slow walking, the mind more readily settles and becomes still, and one can more clearly observe the arising and passing of thoughts, as well as the formation and dissolution of attachments.
Running tends to strengthen the sense of “self,” whereas slow walking moves toward letting go of it—one leans toward pursuit, the other toward release. This is the most fundamental difference between the two in terms of spiritual practice.
Instead, it makes a more demanding claim that renewal may begin precisely at the point where hope appears to have been exhausted. That claim cannot be verified in the way modern sensibilities often prefer. It remains, at its core, an article of faith. But it is also the reason Easter continues to be observed long after many other inherited traditions have faded. In dark times, it offers not a guarantee, but a reason – however slender – to believe that darkness need not be final.—-Peter Kurti is adjunct associate professor of law at the University of Notre Dame Australia.
All sentient beings, all creatures, all spirits—
whoever is born will inevitably die.
In the end, all come to exhaustion and cessation.
There is no life that does not end in death.
All classes of sentient beings, once life arises, will ultimately die.
Each follows the course of their karma,
and the fruits of good and evil are borne by oneself.
— Saṃyukta Āgama (《杂阿含经》)
Once, the Buddha was residing at Jetavana, the Grove of Prince Jeta, in the garden of Anāthapiṇḍika at Śrāvastī.
At that time the Buddha told the bhikkhus: In a past age, the devas and the asuras went to war. The asuras were victorious and the devas were unable to withstand them. The army of Śakra, the lord of the devas, was defeated and scattered in retreat. Filled with fear, he drove his chariot northward, returning to the heavenly palace.
On the way they passed a forest at the foot of Mount Sumeru. In that forest were nests of garuḍa birds, and many young birds were inside them. Śakra feared that if the war chariots and horses passed through, the young birds would be trampled and killed. So he said to the charioteer, “Turn the chariot back. Do not kill these young birds.”
The charioteer replied, “If we turn back, the asura army pursuing us from behind will surround us.”
Śakra said, “I would rather turn back and be killed by the asuras than allow the army to trample and kill these living beings.”
The charioteer then turned the chariot southward. When the asura army saw from afar that Śakra had turned his chariot around, they thought it was a battle strategy. They became greatly frightened, their formations broke apart in confusion, and they fled in all directions, retreating back to the palace of the asuras.
The Buddha said to the bhikkhus: That Lord Śakra is the sovereign king of the Thirty-three Heavens. Because he possesses a compassionate heart, he is able to subdue the army of the asuras with his power and virtue. You bhikkhus, having already developed right faith in the Buddha’s teaching and having left the household life to practice the path, should likewise cultivate compassion constantly and praise the virtues of a compassionate heart.
When the bhikkhus heard what the Buddha had taught, they were filled with joy and practiced accordingly.
Saṃyukta Āgama, Volume 42
(Translated by the Indian Tripiṭaka Master Guṇabhadra during the Liu Song dynasty)
This discourse is commonly known as “The Sūtra on Śakra’s Compassionate Mind” (also called “The Story of Śakra Not Killing the Young Birds”).
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When people read good books, their minds are often coarse and restless, unable to sink into quiet reflection and silent understanding. Even with words such as “I” (吾) and “body” (身), almost everyone reads them in a vague and confused way.
If one can recognize that the “I” can make use of the body, but the body cannot be the “I,” then one will understand that the “I” is the master, and the body is the guest.
The master endures through immeasurable ages, neither born nor dying.
The guest changes form and appearance, sometimes leaving and sometimes returning.
It is like a traveler on a long journey: sometimes he rides in a boat, sometimes sits in a sedan chair, sometimes mounts a horse, sometimes drives a carriage. The vehicles change in many ways, yet the traveler himself does not change.
Boats, carriages, sedan chairs, and horses are the body;
the one who rides them is the “I.”
It is also like a person acting in a play: sometimes he plays an emperor, sometimes an official, sometimes a beggar. The roles change in many ways, yet the person himself does not change.
Emperors, officials, and beggars are the body;
the one who plays those roles is the “I.”
Speaking of a single body:
that which can see and hear belongs to the body;
that by which seeing and hearing occur is the “I.”
The body alone has birth and death. Therefore the eyes grow dim with age, and the ears gradually become deaf.
The “I” alone has neither birth nor death. Therefore although the eyes grow dim, that by which seeing occurs is not dim; although the ears become deaf, that by which hearing occurs is not obstructed.
(If one thinks that the acts of seeing and hearing themselves are the “I,” then one is mistaking a thief for one’s own son.)
Therefore, the noble person follows the greater principle, and the body can be used by the “I.”
The petty person follows the lesser aspect, and instead the “I” is used by the body.
— Anshi Quanshu (Complete Works of Anshi)
From the perspective of an awakened being (the Buddha), nothing in either the worldly realm or the spiritual realm should be clung to.
This reflects the Buddhist idea that all phenomena are empty and should not be attached to.
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1.
I view the position of kings and nobles as dust passing through a crack.
→ Power and status are extremely fleeting and insignificant.
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2.
I view treasures of gold and jade as ordinary bricks and stones.
→ Wealth has no inherent value and is not worth clinging to.
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3.
I view luxurious silk garments as worn-out cloth.
→ Material enjoyment is unimportant.
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4.
I view the entire great cosmos (the three thousand great thousand worlds) as a single small haritaki fruit.
→ Even the vast universe is not something worth clinging to from the perspective of enlightenment.
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5.
I view the water of the sacred Anavatapta Lake as oil used for anointing the feet.
→ Even sacred things are not objects of attachment.
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6.
I view the various skillful means of practice as a heap of magically conjured treasures.
→ Methods of practice are only tools, not the ultimate goal.
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7.
I view the supreme vehicle of the Dharma as gold and silk seen in a dream.
→ Even the highest teachings of Buddhism should not be clung to.
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8.
I view the path to Buddhahood as flowers appearing before the eyes.
→ The Buddhist path itself is dependently arisen and should not be grasped as something inherently real.
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9.
I view meditation (samadhi) as a pillar like Mount Sumeru.
→ Meditation is simply a stabilizing support for the mind.
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10.
I view nirvana as awakening in the morning or evening.
→ Enlightenment is not a mysterious state but something natural, like waking up.
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11.
I view inversion and correctness (right and wrong) as six dragons dancing.
→ Many oppositions are merely relative distinctions.
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12.
I view equality as a single true ground.
→ All things are fundamentally equal in essence.
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13.
I view the Buddha’s transformative teaching as trees growing through the four seasons.
→ Teaching and guiding beings occurs naturally, like the growth of nature.
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Core idea of the passage
In one sentence:
An awakened person does not cling to anything.
• Worldly things — power, wealth, pleasure → no attachment
• Spiritual things — teachings, meditation, even Buddhahood → also no attachment
This is because, in Buddhism:
All phenomena are empty and arise through dependent causes and conditions.
Translation:
Let compassion be the guiding principle.
Let skillful means be the method of practice.
Let the purification and orderliness of body and mind be the starting point.
Let the ultimate joy of the Dharma be found in transcending all appearances, extinguishing greed, anger, and ignorance, and entering the fundamental state of stillness—beyond birth and death.
Regard life and death as morning and evening;
Regard gratitude and resentment as dreams that vanish upon waking.
Do not give rise to worry, joy, sorrow, or anger due to external circumstances.
Knowing that life is fleeting, therefore seek that which is beyond birth and death.
— From Wenchang Dijun’s Yin Zhi Wen, “Upon First Hearing the Principles of Buddhism, the Roots of Goodness Begin to Sprout”