"Where have you come from?"
"I do not know."
"Where are you going?"
"I do not know."
"Do you not know?"
"I know."
"Do you know?"
"I do not know."
One day, the Buddha was teaching on the impermanence of life in Alavi. The Buddha said: "Please contemplate death with mindfulness present: life is uncertain, death is certain, and one day everyone must face death."
The Buddha also admonished the assembly to always maintain mindfulness and perceive the true nature of life. He also warned the assembly: "Just as a person holding a stick or spear would not be at a loss when facing enemies and other poisonous, dangerous animals, a person with mindfulness of death will also maintain mindfulness in the face of death and will therefore be reborn in a good realm." Many people could not grasp the meaning within, but a sixteen-year-old weaver's daughter clearly understood the Buddha's profound intent. After the teaching, the Buddha returned to Jetavana Monastery.
One day, the Buddha observed the world through his divine eye and understood that the conditions for that girl to attain Stream-entry were ripe, so he again went to Alavi to teach. When the girl heard that the Buddha and hundreds of Bhikkhus had again arrived to teach, she also wanted to go listen to the Dharma. However, her father urgently needed some weaving spindles. She thus quickly tied the spindles and went out to find her father, intending to hand these spindles to him. On the way, she paused for a moment at the edge of the assembly listening to the Dharma.
The Buddha knew the girl would definitely come to listen to the Dharma. The Buddha also knew that the girl needed to hear the Dharma before going to the weaving machine, rather than coming to listen after leaving the loom. Because her life was about to end, and where she would be reborn was still uncertain. Therefore, when the young weaver's daughter appeared at the edge of the listening assembly, the Buddha gazed attentively at her, and when she noticed the Buddha gazing at her, she put down her basket and respectfully approached the Buddha. The Buddha then asked her four questions:
"Where have you come from?"
"I do not know."
"Where are you going?"
"I do not know."
"Do you not know?"
"I know."
"Do you know?"
"I do not know."
When the assembly heard her answer the Buddha's questions this way, they all thought she was being disrespectful to the Buddha. The Buddha then asked her what her answers meant.
She said: "World-Honored One! Since you know I came from home, I thought your first question was asking what my past life was, so I answered: 'I do not know.' The second question asked where my future life would be reborn, I answered: 'I do not know.' The third question asked if I knew that one day I would die, so I answered: 'I know.' The final question asked if I knew when I would die, I answered: 'I do not know.'" After the Buddha heard her explanation, he praised her explanation. She also attained Stream-entry after listening to the Buddha's teaching.
Then, she continued on to the house where the weaving machine was. When she arrived, her father was sitting in the weaver's seat, asleep. At this time, her father suddenly woke up and accidentally pulled the shuttle. As a result, the tip of the shuttle hit the girl's chest, causing her to die on the spot, and she was reborn in Tusita Heaven. At this time, her father was heartbroken, his face covered in tears, but he also understood the impermanence of life. He went to see the Buddha and requested permission to join the Sangha. From then on, he became a Bhikkhu. Not long after, he attained Arahatship.
Most people in the world are blind, only a few understand the True Dharma; just as only a few birds escape the net, only a few people are reborn in a good realm.
---The Weaver's Daughter Who Understood the True Nature of the World
A bhikṣu does not make a living by crafts or skills, thinks little of gains and offerings, tames the sense faculties, is liberated from all phenomena, abandons the household and wanders, does not cling to anything as “mine,” and is free of all desires. Such a person has already subdued Māra and wanders alone. This is called a bhikṣu.
Attain the true reality of the equality of all dharmas. This statement in Buddhism means realizing that all dharmas (all phenomena) in the universe are essentially equal and non-differentiated, and aligning with this absolute, true state of ultimate reality.
Moral Shame and Moral Dread
Once, in the city of Savatthi, there was a wealthy man named Bahubandhika. After his wife passed away, he decided to become a monk. However, before renouncing the household life, he first built a monastery complete with a kitchen and storerooms. Only then did he take along furniture, kitchen utensils, and a large amount of rice, oil, butter, and other necessities, and go to the monastery to become a monk. Whenever he wanted to eat something, he would have his servants cook it for him. Therefore, although he had become a monk, he still lived the life of a wealthy man.
The Buddha admonished him: "I have always advised you to live a pure and simple life. Why did you bring so many belongings with you when you became a monk?" Hearing this, he lost his temper and shouted loudly: "Fine! Buddha, now I will do exactly as you say!" After saying this, he took off his robe and asked the Buddha: "Is this the way you suggest I live my life?"
Seeing his reaction, the Buddha admonished him again: "Bhikkhu! In a past life, although you were an evil spirit, you still possessed a sense of moral shame and moral dread (fear of doing evil). Now that you are a monk, how have you lost your moral shame and moral dread, and are so brazenly exposing your upper body?"
After hearing the Buddha's admonition, he realized his mistake. His moral shame and moral dread fully returned. He admitted his fault and earnestly begged the Buddha to forgive him. The Buddha then admonished him: "Being bare-chested is improper. Not wearing clothes cannot make you a strict and disciplined monk. As a monk, one must abandon ignorance."
After hearing the Buddha's admonition to Bahubandhika, the other monks faithfully accepted and practiced the Buddha's teachings, and thereby attained the First Fruit (stream-entry).
If one diligently abides in emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness, and thereby becomes a refuge for all sentient beings who have no refuge, a place of reliance for those who have no one to rely upon, a protector for those who have no protector, a place of recourse for those who have nowhere to turn, a dwelling place for those who have no dwelling, and an island or shore of safety for those who have no island or shore; if one becomes a light for those who are in darkness, and becomes their ears and eyes for those who are deaf and blind—why is this so?
Good man, to abide in emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness in this manner, while acting for the benefit and salvation of such sentient beings, is to abide in the profound Perfection of Wisdom. And if one is able to abide in the profound Perfection of Wisdom in this way, one will swiftly attain unsurpassed, perfect, and complete enlightenment.
When the eye faculty, visible form, and eye-consciousness come together, “eye-contact” arises. The same applies to the ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind, forming the “six kinds of contact.” The scriptures say: “Dependent on the eye and forms, eye-consciousness arises; from the coming together of these three, contact arises. Along with contact arise feeling, perception, and volition.” Thus, contact is the first link in the process by which consciousness encounters an object, causing the mind to recognize and experience that object. “Contact” is the mental contact that occurs through the coming together of the sense faculty, its object, and consciousness; it is the pivotal point at which cognition occurs and feelings arise. Understanding contact helps one maintain mindfulness when the sense faculties encounter their objects, thereby cutting off the process that proceeds from contact to craving and grasping. With right mindfulness and clear comprehension, one does not grasp at signs or cling to their associated pleasing features, so that contact does not become a cause for craving and grasping. “When the six sense bases cease, contact ceases; when contact ceases, feeling ceases; when feeling ceases, craving ceases…”
If someone were to live for a hundred years, yet fail to understand the impermanence of the five aggregates and the truth of suffering and emptiness, such a life would have been lived in vain. — The Dhammapada, Chapter 8
A person may go for a very long time without experiencing the good results of wholesome deeds, and may also not yet suffer the consequences of unwholesome deeds. But sooner or later, the results of both wholesome and unwholesome karma will come to fruition. — The Dhammapada, Chapter 9
The body and mind are imbued with light.
Those who take delight in pleasing appearances are bound to experience sorrow.
Those who become attached to attractive forms will inevitably suffer distress.
Those who delight in pleasing forms will inevitably suffer distress.
A farmer from Gaoguan kept an ox. When his son was little, he played with it every day—climbing on its horns and pulling its tail—yet the ox never became agitated. Sometimes it sniffed the boy’s head or licked his hands, and the child showed no fear.
When the boy grew older, his family sent him out to tend the ox. When the boy left the house, the ox followed him; when he returned home, the ox returned with him. When the boy walked, the ox walked; when he stopped, the ox stopped; and when he lay down to sleep, the ox lay beside him. This continued for several years.
One day, the boy took the ox out to graze. Suddenly, the ox came charging home, its head and neck covered in blood. It leapt about and bellowed, striking the gate with its horns. When the boy’s father came out to see what was happening, the ox turned and ran back the way it had come. Realising that something terrible must have happened, the father ran after it with all his strength.
Out in the countryside, he found his son lying dead, his skull shattered. Nearby lay another man, sprawled across the road with his belly torn open and his intestines spilling out. A jujube-wood club had been cast aside on the ground. On closer inspection, the man proved to be a cattle thief from Sanguozhuang—a settlement notorious in Cangzhou as a den of bandits.
Only then did the father understand: the bandit had killed his son, and the ox had gored the bandit to death in revenge.
This ox possessed the heart and feelings of a human being.
There was also a merchant from the northwest named Li Shengting, who bought an exceptionally gentle and obedient horse. Yet whenever it encountered a white horse on the road, it would stop and stare at it closely, refusing to move on no matter how hard it was whipped. Sometimes, upon seeing a white horse in the distance, it would gallop after it, and even pulling hard on the reins could not restrain it.
Later, when Li mentioned this behaviour to the horse’s former owner, the man explained, “This horse was born to a white mare, and it is always searching for its mother.”
This horse, too, possessed the heart and feelings of a human being.
When I was eight years old, I heard the following story from my nursemaid, Nanny Ding.
A certain family owned a cow that had become lame and could no longer plough the fields, so they sold her to a nearby butcher. Her calf had only recently been weaned. When it saw its mother being slaughtered, it bellowed mournfully for several days.
After that, whenever it saw the butcher, it would run away. If it could not escape in time, it would crouch on the ground and tremble, as though pleading for its life. Sometimes the butcher deliberately chased it for amusement, never imagining that it mattered.
As the calf grew, it became large and strong, yet it remained as frightened of the butcher as it had been when young. Once its horns had grown hard and sharp, however, it waited until the butcher was reclining sideways on a bench. Then, with a single thrust of its horn, it pierced his heart. Immediately afterward, it fled.
The butcher’s wife screamed for everyone to catch the animal. But the people sympathised with the ox for avenging its mother, so they deliberately pursued it slowly and allowed it to escape. No one ever discovered where it went.
At that time, one of Nanny Ding’s relatives had killed a man but had escaped punishment through a general amnesty. This relative happened to live in the same alley as the murdered man’s son. Nanny Ding therefore quietly told him this story as a warning: when such a deep blood feud exists, one must not become overly familiar or behave playfully and without caution.
—Ji Xiaolan