The Process of Mindful Contemplative Practice on "Song of Everlasting Sorrow"

Ru Chun: My practice during this period has mainly been contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) on the suffering, emptiness, impermanence, and non-self of the five aggregates (pañca-skandha), and I have gained somewhat more insight into suffering and impermanence. On New Year's Day I happened to see "The Song of Everlasting Sorrow," and at the time I only felt that there was suffering and impermanence in this story. I didn't think much about it, because I felt I shouldn't be distracted by contemplating worldly matters, so I gave up on it and let it go. But the manas unknowingly developed an interest in it; images seemed to drift through my mind involuntarily, and then I began to space out. In that instant of spacing out, it felt like the moment iron and a magnet attract each other, as if the manas and the mind consciousness were two forces pressed tightly together. During that period of spacing out, They were extremely focused and tacitly transmitting, receiving, and interpreting information; once the information handover was complete, Their minds understood each other, and I came back to my senses, and the two consciousnesses separated again.

Comment: When one spaces out, one is thinking, pondering—pondering the suffering and impermanence contained in the poem. Who is thinking? It is the manas and the mind consciousness, or one of them. If there is an inner voice and textual content in the thinking, it is the mind consciousness thinking; if the thinking is relatively deep, with no inner voice or words, the content vague and indistinct, then it is the manas thinking. Most of the time, ordinary people think with both together, with the mind consciousness contributing the larger share of the thinking. If the manas is unfamiliar with the poem's content but the mind consciousness is very familiar with it, then at the initial stage of thinking, the mind consciousness transmits the meaning it has discerned to the manas. The details of Their cooperation cannot generally be observed by ordinary people, who cannot distinguish them clearly.

Ru Chun: Afterwards, the six consciousnesses cooperated to look into the specific content of the story and related materials, and then fed it back to the manas. When They were working together in such close cooperation, it felt as if the brain was full of related images and information flying about, impossible to shake off. At first it felt chaotic and very vague and unclear—I couldn't tell what it meant—but after a while it automatically became clear and intelligible; that is, the mind consciousness understood what the manas meant.

When the mind consciousness attends to one end, it cannot attend to the other. Sitting in meditation, reading sutras, doing housework—no matter what I was doing, I could not concentrate; my mind kept wandering, and even when talking with people I was careless and perfunctory. For several days I could not focus on anything, and I deeply felt the domineering nature and attachment of the manas. When He has resolved to do something, He grips it tightly and will not let go, clinging to the six consciousnesses so that they have no choice but to cooperate and first fulfill His will; otherwise you cannot hope to do anything else well.

Comment: The images appearing in the mind are produced by the manas. After He learns the story's content from the mind consciousness, He flashes up images while understanding it, based on what He has understood; there are also thoughts flashing back and forth, only the mind consciousness is not quite clear what those thoughts are. Once the manas becomes interested in this matter, He impels the mind consciousness to cooperate with Him in thinking about it anytime and anywhere; when the mind consciousness is distracted, one cannot do things well.

Ru Chun: So this morning I began conceiving the piece in my mind while busy with chores, started writing at noon, and wrote until past three in the afternoon. I wrote very slowly, and it was quite laborious; time seemed to pass quickly, and my mind was completely immersed in it. From morning until I finished writing in the afternoon, I had no appetite for food—I felt neither hungry nor tired, didn't want to move, and didn't need to use the toilet. After finishing, I meant to eat something, but chewing and swallowing food felt so exhausting that I only drank some soup and water.

Today I did nothing all day except write these two short pieces, and I felt both fulfilled and somewhat awkward. The fulfillment came from spending the whole day doing what the manas was interested in, so the manas was fairly satisfied and content. The awkwardness was probably because usually the manas and the mind consciousness are highly unified and in tacit accord, whereas this time the mind consciousness was somewhat passively and forcibly made to work, in the sense of being grabbed back by the manas to do the job—a bit unaccustomed and unwilling, feeling awkward, passive, and stiff.

Comment: In conceiving and writing, both the manas and the mind consciousness are involved; the two have a division of labor as well as cooperation. When the mind consciousness can accord with the manas, the manas feels pleased and is fairly satisfied with the results of the work; even after finishing the writing, He remains immersed in it and does not want to do anything else. That Ru Chun can clearly separate the manas and the mind consciousness shows very good wisdom of observation, indicating that her meditative concentration (samādhi) is also quite good and her mind rather fine and subtle—without meditative concentration this would very likely be impossible. Those who study Yogācāra on their own, lacking systematic and correct guidance in Yogācāra theory, remain muddled to this day, unable to distinguish the mind consciousness from the manas, let alone observe the manas; even their theory is vague, so nothing else need be said. This shows that the merit and conditions (puṇya-pratyaya) with which a person studies the Dharma are very important.