The initial practice of the contemplation of true reality is the practice of the samādhi of true reality (bhūtatathatā-samādhi), contemplating that all dharmas are true reality. Practicing in this way can only attain a similar-emptiness samādhi state and obtain the states of various meditative concentrations; one still cannot realize the true wisdom state of the samādhi of emptiness. To realize the true state of the samādhi of emptiness, one must, within meditative concentration, carefully investigate the self-nature of true reality, find where He is, and observe His specific functions; only then can one realize the true samādhi of true reality.
In learning the Dharma, we must have the wisdom to distinguish similar teachings from genuine teachings, and the wisdom to distinguish the difference between understanding through intellectual comprehension and realization through realization. Do not take the method of intellectual comprehension as the method of realization; do not take the method of cultivating concentration as the method of investigating Chan; do not be satisfied with shallow levels of understanding without putting in the effort to deeply investigate the ultimate meaning with a sincere mind; and even more so, do not be content with gaining a little. Strive to be a bodhisattva of great resolve. Without the skill of actual practice, one can only play with words, without the merit and benefit of liberation. Those who have tasted the flavor of liberation know how free and at ease a liberated mind is—something they would not trade for any rare treasure in the world.
As for so-called actual practice, if it does not include the cultivation of meditative concentration—if one does not cultivate concentration—how can what is practiced be actual? Without meditative concentration, or when concentration is very shallow, there can be wisdom, but such wisdom is only wisdom at the level of understanding; there cannot be wisdom of actual realization. Wisdom at the level of understanding remains only at the mind consciousness's understanding of the Dharma; the Chan school calls this "emotional thinking and intellectual interpretation," the mind consciousness's conjecturing. As to what the ultimate meaning actually is, and why it is so—one does not know and does not realize it; one only knows the conclusion, without the process of proof.
Actual realization is precisely the process of proof, where the conclusion reached matches the established answer. This answer was given by the Buddha; the process of proof is each person's process of actual contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā). Without meditative concentration, how can one practice contemplation? How can wisdom arise? Although liberation lies in wisdom, and becoming a Buddha lies in wisdom, without meditative concentration, how can true wisdom arise? Some practitioners want only the final wisdom and do not want concentration—like someone eating who is interested only in the last pancake and does not want to eat the ones before it. Wisdom without meditative concentration is like that last pancake—talking about food does not fill the belly; one discourses loftily on an empty stomach.
People with insufficient wisdom often only like others' lofty discourses and grand rhetoric, unable to discern whether there is anything genuine in their bellies. In this way, one easily delays one's own progress on the Path, thinking that understanding all the dharmas means having realized them, having wisdom, and being able to attain liberation—when in fact one is still very far away.
The process of proving any dharma necessarily requires the personal participation of the manas. If the manas wants to know the definitive result, it must know the truth of the facts; and if the manas wants to know the truth of the facts, it must have evidence. Obtaining this evidence is an arduous process: not only must the mind consciousness laboriously collect evidence broadly and in fine detail, the manas must also give rise to deep questioning doubt, searching for evidence together, proving together, and confirming the evidence collected by the mind consciousness. This process is by no means easy—it is not something casually accepted like the mind consciousness does, approving of some dharma at will.
When the manas finds it, it overturns its previous knowledge, and thus the manas is touched and shaken, with extraordinary experiences of body and mind. Without this process, do not speak of actual practice and realization. Apart from meditative concentration, this process simply cannot be completed—do not speak of actual practice and realization then; it is merely a facade, mere lofty talk.
For the results of all dharmas, the Buddha has almost given the answers—for example, like a dream, like an illusion, like the moon in water, like an image in a mirror, like a mirage, and so on—all answers given by the Buddha. What is so remarkable about knowing the answers? It is the process of proof that reveals each person's true wisdom. The wisdom of understanding that cannot answer even one question in three—anyone slightly clever can obtain it; there is nothing remarkable about it.
Those unenlightened ordinary beings, because of their cleverness, strong comprehension, broad knowledge, and excellent writing and eloquence, can spend some time and write tens of thousands of words of discourse on how all dharmas are like dreams and illusions. But in these discourses, where are the traces of contemplative practice? Where are the traces of actual realization? Where is the process of proof? Yet some people happen to like such things, reciting them day and night—even if one is learned enough to fill five carts, what use is it?
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