Contemplating the Merit of Observing Precepts

Ru Chun: During the three-day New Year's holiday, I arranged for my family to return to our hometown for the holiday, and I stayed home alone. During these three days, I did not go out, did not speak, did not watch TV, did not answer phone calls or voice messages, did not get distracted, and ate one meal a day. Rising early, I would first boil water and light incense as an offering to the Buddha, then take my seat, recite mantras, read the Dharma teachings, and contemplate them. I often reviewed the Dharma teachings in the group from last year until now, re-examining the Dharma that my master taught in the past, introspecting on how my current thinking differs from before, and whether I have made progress. As for the questions my master asked that I previously did not understand, I now considered how much I could understand; when good insights arose, I wrote them down. When there was meditative concentration and a clear line of thought, I wrote with great absorption, and in the process of writing while contemplating, the meditative concentration deepened further. This process was wonderful, and time passed very quickly.

Because the manas had seized all the first six consciousnesses to work, being bound tightly by the manas, focused single-mindedly on one task and unable to do anything else, I could write for an entire afternoon without eating, drinking, or moving. Usually I was accustomed to the seven consciousnesses being lively and active, each busy with its own affairs; suddenly they all quieted down and worked together wholeheartedly on one thing. It felt utterly silent, as if the whole world no longer existed and was no longer my concern, leaving only the deliberation (manasikāra) and observation of the Dharma in my mind, as if it had transformed into a golden, glowing light channel, shining brilliantly. I forgot my body, forgot time and space. Perhaps this is the power of the manas—normally bound tightly by the five aggregates (pañca-skandha) body, occasionally experiencing such emptiness feels very refreshing.

Not going out during these three days was keeping the precepts, which means the six faculties having less contact with the six sense objects. When the precepts are kept well, meditative concentration naturally follows and improves; when meditative concentration is good, contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) also becomes strong; when contemplative practice is strong, wisdom also progresses accordingly. Therefore, keeping the precepts is the prerequisite and foundation for concentration and wisdom.

Assessment: When body and mind do not contact people, things, and affairs, it is not only the body keeping the precepts—more importantly, the mind is keeping the precepts. When the mind-ground does not think about or contact miscellaneous affairs, without tangled and scattered thoughts, and does not create defiled dharmas, this is fundamental precept-keeping. Such precepts effectively gather in and restrain body and mind, causing meditative concentration to arise, making deliberation and contemplative practice very effective, and subsequently wisdom arises. This directly corroborates the relationship among the threefold training of precepts, concentration, and wisdom. Many people who study Buddhism do not develop concentration and wisdom precisely because their minds cling to too many things, unable to let go of anything, wanting to contact and create everything, with the six faculties running wild, the six consciousnesses in disarray, and the mind-ground defiled. When the mind is not pure, studying the Dharma yields no results.