Saint Mo on Meditation
On the twenty-first day of the ninth month in the year of Jiachen, Instruction by the Saint Mo (Mo Zhen Ren)
默真人训：
Fellow cultivators, I have been instructed to descend to this planchette to discuss the Scriptures with you, sit in Meditation, and to impart this teaching. In gathering the spiritual energy to aid transcendence, I have been moved to share my own journey with you, in the hope that this will aid guide you to the correct path of cultivation.
Before I began my cultivation, I drifted through the illusions of the mundane world, beset by attachments and worries of gain and loss. Yet, due to karmic causes spanning three lifetimes, my innate goodness was not extinguished. I studied various doctrines extensively, adhering primarily to Confucianism as my foundation, with aspirations to cultivate virtue, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world. However, repeated setbacks and unfulfilled goals left me discouraged and disheartened. It was at this low point and state of despair that I sought refuge in Tao Yuan to learn about cultivation. Only after taking refuge did I understand the karmic causes of my three lifetimes.
Reflecting on my earlier ignorance of the Great Dao, I realized I had harbored good intentions without knowing their origin, assuming all people were the same. Little did I know that virtuous thoughts arise from seeds sown by compassionate deeds in previous lives. Because of this, at critical moments, I awoke as if from a dream, avoiding the abyss of hell. Though I did not fall, I still did not understand why – only feeling that certain actions were incorrect. Had I proceeded, the suffering inflicted on the poor and destitute would have been immense, and my conscience could not bear it. Such acts were unbefitting of a benevolent person.
As a result, I lost favor with those in power. Once the mind is fixated on gain and loss, the fluctuations of circumstance – coldness and warmth – arose, illusions clashed, contradictions surged. My heart stirred, I was unsettled and found no peace. I consoled myself with the lofty teachings of Confucius and Mencius, but such comfort was fleeting. The torment of gain and loss persisted, proving difficult to eradicate. Through these trials, I came to see that my previous learning had been superficial – useful for composing essays with swift elegance, yet inadequate and lacking for real, true practice.
I then turned to Buddhist sutras and scriptures/classics of various teachings, only to feel adrift in a vast, boundless ocean, unsure of where to anchor and rest my heart. Returning to Confucian teachings, I found them familiar, yet unillumined. It was not until I contemplated Confucius’s words, “I wish to speak no more,” that I awakened. I realized I had read but without true understanding, nor had I applied the teachings in practice. Thus, I began working on self-reform—admitting faults, reflecting on them, and discerning their nature.
At first, I blamed my words and deeds on external circumstances – the result of circumstances or the lack of benevolence and righteousness in others. But upon introspection and calm reflection, I questioned: Were all these truly others’ faults? Were my own faults merely reactions, insignificant in comparison? Caught between self-justification and half-hearted repentance, I remained confused, deluding myself into believing I was making progress.
When I sought cultivation, I trembled upon reading the Four Vows, not daring to ask fellow cultivators how one could possibly fulfill them. How could someone like me, lacking virtue and ability, achieve such lofty aspirations and with Heaven as witness? Later, while attending the planchette sessions and meditating in silence, moments of awakening, illumination and self-awareness arose. With each insight, I felt profound shame for my past delusions. Upon hearing the teaching – “All that came before cultivation is as though dead yesterday; all that comes after is as though born today” – I experienced a great enlightenment, sweeping away all illusions.
During meditation, I felt a cool, tranquil comfort within; my mind grew serene, free from restless thoughts. Unaware of my own tranquility, it showed on my countenance. That evening, while attending the planchette session, the Sage Fú Sheng remarked, “Jìngzǐ is joyful—this is commendable.” He added, “The wise err by excess, the foolish by deficiency; both should contemplate deeply.” After the session, fellow cultivators congratulated me, asking what had transpired. I replied, “There is joy, but it has passed.” When they did not understand, I recounted my realization, and all marveled at the depth of my practice and gained insight into the stages of cultivation.
On another occasion, the Compassionate Buddha Ji descended to impart teachings. Suddenly, a thought arose in me: “In the past, I studied Buddhist sutras without grasping their depths, yet I recited the Great Compassion Mantra diligently – what merit has it borne?” After the session, Buddha Ji bestowed this verse:
“You’ve read the Amitābha Sūtra, Thoroughly Recited the Great Compassion Mantra— As you sow, so shall you reap. Sutras and mantras embody compassion, But how do they resolve karmic debts? Illuminate your original heart— The doer bears the consequence.”
Drenched in sweat, I knelt silently, wordless for an hour. My fellow cultivators assumed I had attained enlightenment, but in truth, I was tormented by a hidden regret unknown to others – a karmic entanglement that had caused suffering displacement of another family’s wife and children. I had once excused myself with legalistic reasoning, priding myself on righteousness and impartiality, unaware of my own bias, selfish motives. Only after entering cultivation, through silent reflection and repentance, did I felt deep remorse and the weight of this guilt. The Buddha Ji’s teaching struck deep. My silent questioning was one of repentance and striving to make amends.
Later, the Compassionate Buddha Ji laughed—”Hā hā hā hā píng”—bestowing these five syllables. After an hour of contemplation, I understood: The first “hā hā” meant redemption was possible, signifies the possibility of making amends; the second “hā hā” signified it would not be easy to achieve. Mentally interpreting the hour as a year, I vowed to seek out the affected family, doing my utmost to care for the affected family and treating them as my own, and I also vowed to perform 100,000 additional good deeds in silent atonement. No one else knew of this – others only saw me performing charitable acts, being careful in word and deed, and diligently cultivating, as is proper for a cultivator, unaware of its significance and pivotal role in my cultivation journey for attaining the Way.
In Tao Yuan, meditation encompasses both internal and external cultivation. The teachings include the transformative principles of innate primordial qi, accessible and communicated only through spiritual inspiration. The mundane practice of post cosmic cultivation begins with meditation and its complete achievement also culminates in meditation. The key essence of (sitting) meditation lies in stillness, tranquility and silence – how are these achieved? It is achieved through cultivating, refining, nurturing, stabilizing, awakening, purifying, and illuminating the heart. These are not mere terms but the very stages of experience by of immortal and buddhas on the path to attaining enlightenment.
Each cultivator’s journey differs- shaped by constitution, environment, karma, and education. Like a diamond hidden within stone, every person possesses a spark of brilliance, yet its size and clarity vary. How do we cultivate, nurture, and awaken so that the enlightened become even more so? Even with the same effort, the results differ. Our task is to polish it, to reveal its radiance through cultivation. No fixed formula exists; understanding arises through and depends on personal reflection, guided by time, space, circumstance, karmic conditions and opportunity.
When I first began cultivating, I too sought a prescribed path. But I questioned: If the Patriarch commanded me to emulate Confucius, could I endure poverty and obscurity? If told to follow the Buddha, could I renounce wealth and family, or endure bodily sacrifice? The miracles of Jesus and the saints – admirable, yet beyond my capacity. And of all the experiences of the immortals and Buddhas of the Six Shrines in Tao Yuan, which could I emulate and truly achieve their level of cultivation, refinement, enlightenment, and clarity? Which Buddha or immortal’s unwavering resolve and commitment to their vows, unyielding through life and death, could I attain in their merit and fruition? I could do none of these.
Yet the truth is this: A single phrase from the teachings and scriptures, truly and deeply understood, steadfastly practiced, can lead to the Way and enlightenment. But could I do this? Could I constantly scrutinize and examine my every thought, word, and deed, discern clearly, correct faults, and strive for goodness? Could I persevere in self-reform? In my practice, I often felt riddled with flaws, faults and grave errors. From fear to remorse through repentance, I entered a period of great discomfort and for a time, the struggle was unbearable. Yet beyond that stage, true progress began. I reflected: Even with making great vows, I fell short.
What have we truly accomplished since entering cultivation? What good deeds have we achieved? What have we done that ordinary people cannot; to comfort ourselves? What about the unwavering resolve akin to the immortals – the peace of mind and conduct of the immortals and Buddhas? Can our understanding and wondrous abilities truly connect with the heart and align with the subtle – the Divine? Questions about the circulation of qi, the clarity of spirit, and so on – are we truly sincere in our practice, or are we led astray by desires, mistaking the natural for the correct? These questions demand honest examination – not indulgence in complacency, arrogance or despair. We should not become proud with a little progress, nor discouraged by long periods without achievement. There are progress and accomplishments we may not recognize and may come unseen nor self-evident. Yet moments of realization dawn suddenly. All is transformed through tranquility and silence, revealing itself in time. In this, one comes to know.
Note: Saint Mo was named Du Bingyin (杜秉寅) (courtesy name Bingyin, styled Binggu),
and lived to the age of sixty-eight.