What Is Actual Practice and Realization? (From the Observational Practice Log of Ruben)

As recorded: This morning during seated meditation, after adjusting my breath for a while, I felt it wasn't very smooth and lacked focus. Then, slowly reciting the Heart Sutra silently, I entered a state of cessation and contemplation (śamatha-vipaśyanā), and my mind became relatively settled. I then attempted to contemplate the incoming and outgoing breath. When my legs became numb and swollen, a sense of restlessness was about to arise in my mind, or distracting thoughts were on the verge of emerging. So I stopped contemplating the breath and slowly recited the Heart Sutra silently again, re-entering a state of cessation and contemplation, where my mind became relatively settled. 

When I got up to use the restroom, I felt this body is merely a "flowing" thing—where is there an unchanging bodily form? During the meal, looking at my family member sitting opposite me, I felt they were merely a dummy formed by the combination of eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and the five viscera and six bowels assembled on a skeleton. Yet she doesn't know she is such a dummy. I couldn't tell her about this feeling, fearing it might upset her. While eating, looking at the rice and vegetables composed of the four great elements in the bowl, I felt they enter my body and become part of it. The material body and material rice are no different—both are merely the four great elements, just like flowers on the balcony absorbing soil and water to grow into various plants.

Why then do we not consider the flower to be our own self? Why do we cling to a material body of four great elements as "me"? Why does each person's body look different? What is the relationship with my consciousness (vijñāna)? Stopping my thoughts here, I did not ponder further. I didn't want to force my previous learning into analysis. I should leave this question for the mental faculty (manas) to contemplate; only through continuous observation, investigation, and rumination does it gain "meaning~~thought". Carrying doubt fosters the desire to delve deeper. 

When I went out today and saw people walking towards me on the street, I felt their figures, movements, and speech were also those of an animated dummy. Yet they don't know they are dummies. Greeting an acquaintance at the door, staring at their forehead, I thought beneath it is a skeleton filled with the same stuff inside. It felt truly meaningless. Watching others speak, I felt the sounds of language they produced were merely collisions of air currents with the material lips, tongue, throat, and windpipe—not much different from people beating drums or tolling bells. The usual talk or arguments about right and wrong, truth and falsehood, beauty and ugliness hold little meaning. I didn't want to speak. I abided in the breath. (End of log) 

The above is a process of practicing the Four Foundations of Mindfulness (smṛtyupasthāna). In this process, the contemplative practice becomes increasingly profound and extensive, gradually expanding to every aspect and corner of daily life—from morning to evening to sleep—achieving uninterruptedness (ānantarya). The mind gradually detaches from worldly appearances, becoming increasingly empty. It is gradually replacing the bones of an ordinary being (pṛthagjana), shedding the shell of an ordinary being's womb. Persisting diligently like this, one day the carp will leap over the Dragon Gate and transform into a dragon. 

When the contemplative practice extends to every aspect of daily life and reaches uninterruptedness, it is the initial stage of samādhi. This samādhi contains both meditative concentration (dhyāna) and wisdom (prajñā), though it is not yet perfected and ultimate. The perfected and ultimate samādhi is the samādhi at the moment of enlightenment (bodhi), the samādhi of the purified Dharma eye (dharmacakṣu-viśuddha), the samādhi that severs the three fetters (tṛṇī saṃyojanāni), the samādhi of not falling into the three lower realms (durgati). Such contemplative practice is merely a process, a process of physical and mental transformation. In this process, the five faculties (pañcendriyāṇi), the four right efforts (samyakpradhāna), the four bases of psychic power (ṛddhipāda), the seven factors of enlightenment (sapta bodhyanga), the noble eightfold path (āryāṣṭāṅgamārga), and the four foundations of mindfulness (smṛtyupasthāna) gradually become fully perfected. When the conditions for realizing the path are complete, one will sever the view of self (satkāyadṛṣṭi), enter the stage of path realization, and attain the purified Dharma eye. 

Only this can be called genuine practice (sādhanā)—applied to every corner and aspect of life, applied to every mental thought, every action, every observance within the mind, applied to every step, applied meticulously and without haste to all the practices and necessary conditions taught by the Buddha, applied until afflictions (kleśa) do not arise and mental thoughts cease. Of course, what ceases are the mental thoughts of the conscious mind (manovijñāna). The mental faculty's (manas) contemplation of the Dharma never ceases; thought-moment follows thought-moment without interruption.

Therefore, the final seeing of the path (darśana-mārga) must be the mental faculty (manas) seeing and realizing the path. After realizing the fruit (phala), its mental thoughts are also uninterrupted; its transformed mental formations (caitasika) and mental factors are also continuously uninterrupted. The five kinds of coarse afflictions (pañca kaṣāya) are also eliminated without interruption. There is no switching back and forth between being a sage one moment and an ordinary being the next, nor is there a need for the conscious mind to force the mental faculty back into the cognition of emptiness and non-self. 

Realizing the fruit through the conscious mind is the opposite. When the conscious mind is clear, one is a good person. But when circumstances arise, the mental faculty follows the afflictions and manifests defilements. The six consciousnesses, unaware, follow along and create defiled karma. Afterwards, the conscious mind feels it was improper and again instructs the mental faculty to suppress the afflictions. But once suppressed, the afflictions have already arisen, the fault has already been committed, the unwholesome karma has already been formed, and the seeds have already been planted. What about the future? Thoughts of greed (rāga) keep appearing, thoughts of hatred (dveṣa) keep arising, one breaks precepts from time to time, gives rise to afflictions, creates unwholesome karma—what kind of sage is this? Although one later realizes the mistake and corrects it, this cycle repeats endlessly. What kind of path is this that is so unreliable, so mentally exhausting? When the conscious mind feels fatigued, it will no longer endlessly instruct the mental faculty. When the brakes fail, what are the consequences? 

Every Buddhist practitioner who has encountered the path to liberation should practice honestly, steadfastly, and down-to-earth, without a mindset of seeking shortcuts, deceiving oneself and then deceiving others. Paper ultimately cannot contain fire; a paper house cannot withstand wind and rain—it will be destroyed sooner or later. It's better to find a permanent abode of peace and cessation early on. This is the way of the wise.