Exhortation to Cultivation

During the New Year, it is customary in the countryside to slaughter pigs and sheep. At the final feeding, the pig eats with such gusto, completely unaware that this is its last meal in this life. Having lived a lifetime of idleness, it grew fat but lost its life. The more ignorant the beast, the less awakened it is. Humans are no different. All of humanity's disasters lie plainly before our eyes, glaring and utterly unconcealed. Rely on a mountain, and the mountain collapses; rely on water, and the water flows away; rely on people, and people flee—nothing is reliable. Yet amidst rising calamities, people still find the heart to travel and sightsee, admiring mountains, waters, and snow, indulging in merriment whenever possible, much like the pig enjoying its final supper. Where, then, lies the difference between humans and pigs?

Do not think that a lifetime is long—that is an illusion. To celestial beings, it is merely a matter of minutes or days. Do not believe yourself still young—the path to the underworld knows no distinction between old and young; the gray-haired seeing off the black-haired is a common occurrence. Do not assume you are safe—many who encounter great disasters were once very confident individuals. Only when confined to their beds, unable to move, do they shed tears of regret, but by then it is too late.

Having encountered the Dharma, yet still failing to awaken, still unwilling to strive diligently in practice to change the fate of birth-and-death sorrow—what remedy remains for such people? Those who are addressed should recognize themselves. If they remain unaware, they are truly as foolish as pigs. And if they know yet refuse to change, what more is there to say?