The Intentional Process of Contemplating "The Song of Everlasting Sorrow"

Ru Chun: During this period, my main practice has been contemplating the five aggregates as suffering, empty, impermanent, and devoid of a self, with a greater sense of the suffering and impermanence. On New Year's Day, I happened to come across "The Song of Everlasting Regret." At that moment, I only felt that this story contained suffering and impermanence, and I didn't think much more about it, because I felt I shouldn't be distracted by observing worldly matters, so I let it go. However, the mental faculty (manas) unconsciously developed an interest in it. It seemed that images involuntarily drifted through my mind, and then I would begin to stare blankly. At that instant of staring blankly, it felt like the moment when iron and a magnet attract each other, as if the mental faculty and consciousness were two forces tightly stuck together. During that period of staring blankly, they were very focused and harmoniously transmitting, receiving, and interpreting information. Once the information exchange was complete, each understood the other's intent, and I snapped out of it, and the two consciousnesses separated again.

Commentary: Staring blankly is when one is thinking and contemplating, contemplating the suffering and impermanence contained within the poem. Who is thinking? It is the mental faculty (manas) and consciousness (vijñana), or one of them. If the thinking involves inner voices and textual content, it is the thinking of consciousness. If the thinking is deeper, without inner voices or text, and the content is vague and indistinct, it is the thinking of the mental faculty. For most people, it is often a combination of both, with consciousness doing more of the thinking. If the mental faculty is unfamiliar with the poem's content, but consciousness is very familiar, during the initial thinking, consciousness conveys the meaning it discerns to the mental faculty. The details of their coordination are generally unobservable and indistinguishable to ordinary people.

Ru Chun: Afterwards, the six consciousnesses cooperated again to understand the specific content and related materials within the story, and then provided feedback to the mental faculty. When they work together in such close coordination, it feels like the brain is filled with related images and information flying around, impossible to shake off. Initially, it feels very chaotic, very vague and unclear, and I can't make sense of it. After a while, it automatically becomes clear and understandable, meaning consciousness has understood the mental faculty's intent.

Consciousness, attending to one thing, neglects another. Whether sitting in meditation, reading sutras, or doing housework, I cannot concentrate on anything; I keep getting distracted. When talking to people, I am inattentive and perfunctory. For several days, I couldn't focus on anything, deeply feeling the domineering and stubborn nature of the mental faculty. When it decides to do something, it clenches tightly and refuses to let go, adhering to the six consciousnesses, forcing them to cooperate and first fulfill its will; otherwise, you cannot do anything else well.

Commentary: The images appearing in the mind come from the mental faculty. After it learns the story's content from consciousness, it simultaneously understands and flashes images based on that understanding. There are also thoughts flashing back and forth, but consciousness is not very clear about what those thoughts are. When the mental faculty becomes interested in this issue, it prompts consciousness to cooperate and think along with it anytime, anywhere. Consciousness becomes distracted, and thus cannot do things well.

Ru Chun: So, this morning, I started to conceive it in my mind while busy with other tasks. At noon, I began to write, and continued until past 3 PM. The writing was very slow and laborious. I felt time passing very quickly, completely immersed in it. From the time I started writing in the morning until I finished in the afternoon, I had no mind to eat, felt neither hungry nor tired, didn't want to move, and didn't need to use the bathroom. After finishing writing, I wanted to eat something, but found the act of chewing and swallowing food too tiring, so I only drank some soup.

Today, I did nothing else, only wrote these two short essays. I felt both fulfilled and a bit awkward. The fulfillment came from spending the whole day doing what the mental faculty was interested in, leaving it quite satisfied and content. The awkwardness likely stems from the fact that usually the mental faculty and consciousness are highly unified and harmonious. This time, consciousness was somewhat passive and forced, as if it was dragged back by the mental faculty to do the work. It felt a bit unaccustomed and unwilling, finding it awkward, passive, and rigid.

Commentary: Conception and writing involve both the mental faculty and consciousness; they have a division of labor and cooperation. When consciousness can comply with the mental faculty, the mental faculty feels at ease and is quite satisfied with the work results. Even after finishing writing, it remains immersed and doesn't want to do other things. Ru Chun is able to clearly distinguish between the mental faculty and consciousness. This demonstrates excellent insight wisdom, indicating good meditative concentration (dhyana) and a very subtle and meticulous mind. Without meditative concentration, this would likely be impossible. Those who self-study Consciousness-Only (Vijñapti-mātra) without systematic and correct theoretical guidance remain confused to this day, unable to distinguish between consciousness and the mental faculty, let alone observe the mental faculty. Their theories are already vague, so nothing else can be discussed. This shows that a person's merit, virtue, and causal conditions for learning the Dharma are very important.