Ven. Shi Ruyuan's Summary of Contemplative Practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) (2025-9-20)

Ven. Shi Ruyuan: Let me summarize my practice over the past year and most of this year. At first I practiced the contemplation of the body as impure among the four foundations of mindfulness. Gradually I began naturally contemplating everyone's physical body, and I came to see that no matter how young and strong a body may be, it is just that impure—even my own body is impure in the same way. While contemplating, when people beside me spoke to me, I could not hear them; the sounds seemed to be very, very far away, and my head felt dazed, as if in a dream—I simply had no mind to listen. Yet the sound of the Buddha's name kept arising in my mind, and I could not suppress it even if I tried. The purer the mind became, the lighter and more relaxed the head felt, and the contemplation of the Dharma principles would not be interrupted. As soon as the mind settled down, the recitation of the Buddha's name became continuous; I could even hear the cars outside and the appliances at home, and every sound seemed like the sound of the Buddha's name. The fewer thoughts I had, the clearer the Buddha's name in my mind became—unstoppable, and I could not even turn my thoughts away from it.

Now, generally when I wake up in the morning, I first sit up and quietly listen to the sound of the Buddha's name for a while. Then I get up, wash my face, brush my teeth, and sit in meditation. While washing and brushing, the Buddha's name in my mind continues without interruption, and at that time I turn my contemplation to the impurity of the body. I contemplate a person's whole process from birth as an infant, through childhood and youth, to young adulthood and middle age, and finally to old age, lying in bed awaiting death. Death is so painful: when the last breath is cut off, only the out-breath comes and no in-breath enters; immediately after, the eyes glare and roll back white—that is how my father passed away. When he passed, it was as painful as Master described in the Dharma teachings, like a turtle having its shell torn off while alive. The painful process of my father's death is deeply imprinted in my mind; sometimes as soon as I sit down and think of this, my father's white bones appear in my mind, and then the white bones shatter and disappear.

 Therefore I made a great vow to diligently study the Dharma teachings taught by my benevolent Master Shengru. When I first began hearing the Dharma, I did not know how to practice. My elder brother and sister-in-law told me that if I did not understand, I should just recite the Buddha's name well. From that time on, I recited the Buddha's name with a seeking mind, but even after several years of recitation, my mind still gave rise to wandering thoughts. It was only after I had the good fortune to encounter the Dharma teachings of my benevolent Master Shengru that I underwent a very great transformation.

In 2019, because my father broke his leg in a fall, I went to care for him for over four months, during which I often visited a nearby monastery to draw near the Three Jewels. My greatest good fortune was that the monastery's master invited Master Shengru to confer the bodhisattva precepts upon the fellow practitioners, and I received the bodhisattva precepts together with them. My guiding master said my karmic conditions were extraordinarily good, that I could meet a great good teacher to receive the bodhisattva precepts. On the day Master Shengru conferred the bodhisattva precepts on us, I felt the Master's blessing power was inconceivable: my body became fixed and unable to move, and my mind felt empty and vacant—a feeling I had never experienced before.

Afterwards, whenever I read Master Shengru's Dharma teachings, I could still smell a fragrance after returning home. After some more time, whenever I read Master Shengru's Dharma teachings, I could smell the fragrance—even reading the teachings on my phone, I could smell it. The fragrance was not the smell of burning incense; it was an indescribable fragrance, one I had never encountered in this world. At the same time, a fragrance also arose from my own body, and several times fragrance also emanated from the gaps between the teeth on the left side of my lower jaw and from my mouth.

When I sit in meditation morning and evening, I first observe the breath a few times, but after a while I unconsciously forget it and involuntarily turn to contemplating the Dharma principles. There is one thing I do not understand and would like to ask my Master: when I sit and contemplate the Dharma principles, my mind is awake and clear, so why is it that when I recite the Śūraṅgama Mantra, halfway through I become unaware of everything? It is as if half-asleep and half-awake. Reciting with eyes open feels tiring; reciting with eyes closed, halfway through it is as if I have fallen asleep, and when I wake up I am still reciting, but I do not know which section I have reached, so I have to start over from the beginning. Sometimes I have to repeat this four or five times before I can recite it through; but if I read from the book, I am perfectly clear and awake.

Comment: When contemplating the Dharma principles, the six consciousnesses need to cooperate—especially the mind consciousness, which must cooperate in deliberating on the Dharma principles. The mind consciousness is in an active state, leading the first five consciousnesses to be active together, and so a person is awake and not drowsy. At such times the mind consciousness employs its wisdom; with wisdom there is no drowsiness, without wisdom there is drowsiness. So when one becomes drowsy, one should rouse one's spirits to think through a question, and one will awaken from the drowsiness. When reciting the Śūraṅgama Mantra, once one has become familiar with the mantra, the mind consciousness no longer needs to deliberate or be active, and it settles into stillness and quietude; thus one can easily and unknowingly sink into drowsiness, or else enter samādhi. When the mind consciousness is not used, it weakens, and the person abides in samādhi. When there is samādhi, if one insists on making the six consciousnesses become active, one will of course feel fatigued. When one recites the Buddha's name and emerges from samādhi, reciting aloud again will also feel tiring, and reciting mentally will also feel tiring. Reciting the mantra follows the same principle.