What Is the Correct Method of Contemplative Practice (Vipaśyanā-Caryā)? (Training the Manas)

Contemplation means observation—objectively observing. Simply put, it is to look single-mindedly, with undivided attention. It is not imagining, not deliberating, and certainly not analyzing or dissecting. Whatever phenomenon appears before you, just observe that phenomenon directly. Do not imagine what has not appeared; do not dissect or analyze; do not force the teachings you have learned to fit what you see; do not substitute any theoretical knowledge; do not allow yourself to be bound by any framework. To put it bluntly: you must "kill off" the mind consciousness—do not let it push itself to the fore, showing off with various theories, applying all sorts of learned knowledge, and then drawing conclusions through analysis without having observed anything at all.

Imagining what Beijing looks like versus walking to Beijing and seeing it directly—these are utterly different states; one could say the difference is as vast as heaven and earth. The latter is personal seeing, personal realization, direct verification; the former does not even count as sleepwalking—it cannot even be dreamed. Yet people flap their two lips, spittle flying, talking on and on grandly, striking the pose of a great theorist, writing books, even building up a reputation—when in fact they are nothing at all.

When the first Buddha cultivated, he had no theories at all and had learned no knowledge whatsoever. On what basis did he become a Buddha? By truthfully observing the various phenomena of the phenomenal world, observing them in direct perception, with a mind as fine as a hair. From the various phenomena of the world he discovered the truths and realities behind them; each time he discovered a truth, he summarized it, forming theories to guide later generations. Until he had realized the emptiness of both the Great and Small Vehicles, and kept emptying, continuously emptying—when there was nothing left to empty, he became a Buddha.

Now the master has taught too much Dharma, and the disciples have studied too much. Studying and studying, their minds have grown lazy; when they encounter a problem, they directly apply the theories they have learned, no longer willing to investigate and realize things for themselves. Theory has become an obstruction to the knowable (jñeyāvaraṇa). Were those theories summarized from your own cultivation? If not, how can you apply them everywhere? Your mouth keeps flapping away, but your legs cannot take a single step, and the destination can never be reached—and merely arriving "by mouth" does not count. Theory is meant to guide the direction and method of cultivation and realization, not to be displayed, not to disguise yourself, and not a means to acquire worldly empty dharmas and false dharmas. If you fall into the golden pond of theory, you will also suffocate to death. The Buddhadharma is not only good medicine; if you do not know how to use it or use it poorly, it becomes poison—illness upon illness.

Take the contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) on the fire ring as an example: how does one observe truthfully? Observe the fire ring carefully and single-mindedly—just observe and gaze at it; in plain words, just stare at it. Once meditative concentration (samādhi) arises, you will discover that the fire ring seems a bit unreal, not quite substantial. Continuing to observe, you will find that the fire ring no longer looks like a fire ring. Observing further, you discover that the fire ring is actually a torch, or merely a burning match head—where is there any fire ring? Finally, you contemplate the torch and the match head as empty too, contemplate them into nonexistence. The principle is the same.

The fire ring is still the original fire ring, the torch still the original torch; it is that after the contemplative practitioner's meditative concentration arises, the mind becomes refined and wise, and thus discovers the hidden subtleties and differences within. The mind's cognition changes: dharmas are emptied, objects are emptied, self is emptied, persons are emptied. Without meditative concentration, the mind is coarse and its cognitive power low; what one sees are all illusions, yet one does not know it, deceived by one's own vision—that is, deceived by one's own habitual cognition. In the past, one so resolutely believed that everything truly existed, and that oneself as a person especially existed; yet observing to the very end, one finds that not a single dharma in the world truly exists. To have deceived yourself like this for countless kalpas—should you not beat your breast and stamp your feet?

Contemplating the breath, contemplating the whiteness at the nose tip, contemplating fetal breathing, contemplating the white bones, contemplating flowers or grass—whatever you contemplate, contemplate in this way, and the result will be like this. When you observe that the contemplated dharma arises, abides, changes, and ceases—no longer real, illusory, empty—a small goal has been achieved. Do not add any imagination from the mind consciousness, any theoretical analysis; whatever the mind consciousness analyzes is useless. The road must be walked with your feet. Confine the mind consciousness and do not let it stir up trouble; use the manas to observe directly, observe immediately, observe simply. Use the manas to directly see the Way; the mind consciousness cannot see the Way.

Looking at the cases of the sages' direct realization, we know that however we analyze them, we only arrive at similar understanding—not what is seen, known, and felt in direct perception. The state derived from analysis differs vastly from the actual state of direct perception, sometimes being poles apart. What is analyzed may sound perfectly logical, may be described in the most dazzling terms, but after direct realization one would say, "So that's how it actually is"—overturning all previous imagination and cognition.

Being deep within the state of direct perception, seeing with one's own eyes and experiencing personally, one may not necessarily be able to express it clearly and accurately; whereas in the erroneous cognition (non-valid cognition) of the mind consciousness, though one speaks very reasonably, it is not actually so. It is like eating an apple: before eating it, all sorts of analysis, looking up materials, writing all kinds of papers and treatises, spouting eloquently, every sentence brilliant. After eating it, you know that this is what an apple tastes like, this is what it feels like. Only then do you know what the true flavor is, overturning your previous cognition—so you burn the papers with a match, for not a single sentence hit the mark; mere empty words.

What is the state of direct perception? Currently enjoying it, personally experiencing it, abiding in meditative absorption (samādhi)—no analysis, no deliberation, no imagination, no understanding needed; just directly feeling it. For many people's so-called enlightenment, they have never directly felt even a tiny bit of the state of direct perception, have no personal experience whatsoever, no actual realization at all—it is all imagined and understood by the brain. So one must still do the work and realize it directly. Before direct realization, do not take all the various analyses and understandings too seriously, and even less regard what has been understood and analyzed as enlightenment. The two are far too different to be spoken of in the same breath. No matter how much you learn or how much you deliberate, it is useless and of no benefit to direct realization. Better to directly do the work—only what is gained thereby is real.