45: Chapter 45 He is self-reliant

Lu Mingyuan stayed in Bianliang for seven days.

Every day at the hour of mao, he entered the Prayer Hall to chant the Buddha's name with the congregation until the hour of chen. In the afternoons, he borrowed Pure Land sutras and commentaries from the Scripture Pavilion. At dusk, he sat alone by the Life-Release Pond, staring blankly at the moon's reflection in the water.

During those seven days, he chanted the Buddha's name no less than thirty thousand times.

Every single time, it was the phrase "namo amituofo." Every sentence was as light as dust, submerged in the waves of voices from hundreds of people. Yet, he gradually discovered that those six characters had begun to take root in the depths of his heart—not as a principle, but as an existence as natural as breathing.

When walking, his footsteps followed the rhythm of the Buddha's name; when sitting in stillness, his heartbeat echoed its rise and fall. Even as he fell asleep at night, that sound continued to reverberate in his subconscious, like the coming and going of a distant tide.

But a question still remained in his heart.

On the morning of the eighth day, after the morning lessons concluded, Lu Mingyuan requested an audience with Huiyuan.

The old monk received him in a quiet room behind the Scripture Pavilion. The room was extremely simple, containing only a couch, a desk, and a prayer mat. On the desk lay a copy of the 'Amitabha Sutra' and a green oil lamp; there were no other possessions.

Lu Mingyuan sat cross-legged on the prayer mat and bowed deeply, his forehead touching the ground.

"This Disciple has a doubt and humbly requests the Master's guidance."

Huiyuan raised his eyes and waited quietly.

"Master," Lu Mingyuan said, "the Pure Land School speaks of salvation through Other-Power. Amitabha Buddha's forty-eight vows and the promise of rebirth through ten recitations rely entirely on the Buddha Power for guidance, not on one's own Self-Power cultivation. If this is truly the case, then are the practices of sentient beings—keeping precepts, cultivating concentration, developing wisdom, practicing Chan, and realizing the Dao—not entirely meaningless?"

He paused, his voice deepening slightly.

"This Disciple set out from Heyin and, through three years of bitter cultivation, achieved Foundation Establishment. I visited Longhu to learn talisman arts, ascended Wudang to comprehend Sword Intent, climbed Qingcheng to clarify the heart pivot, and entered Shaolin to contemplate Chan mysteries. Every step was walked by myself, and every realm was cultivated by myself."

He looked at Huiyuan.

"If, in the end, one only relies on a single Buddha's name and depends entirely on Other-Power for rebirth, then what was the point of these three years of trekking?"

Huiyuan did not speak.

The old monk simply looked at him silently, his gaze as clear as autumn water. After a long while, he reached out and pushed the 'Amitabha Sutra' on the desk toward Lu Mingyuan.

"When the benefactor read this sutra, did you ever take note of a certain sentence?"

Lu Mingyuan opened the scripture.

Huiyuan said, "'All Buddha Tathagatas are the Dharma-realm body, entering into the thoughts of all sentient beings.'"

Lu Mingyuan was stunned.

"Where does the benefactor believe Amitabha Buddha to be?"

"In the Western Paradise," Lu Mingyuan replied.

"How far is it from this land?"

"The sutra says: beyond a hundred thousand billion Buddha-lands."

Huiyuan nodded slightly.

"Then, when the benefactor chants the Buddha's name, are these hundred thousand billion Buddha-lands within the benefactor's heart, or outside the body?"

Lu Mingyuan opened his mouth to answer but found no words.

Huiyuan said, "The benefactor just said that every step was walked by yourself and every realm was cultivated by yourself. This poor monk asks the benefactor: Who is the one walking? Who is the one cultivating? And who is the one chanting the Buddha's name?"

"It is this Disciple."

"Then who is the Disciple?"

Lu Mingyuan fell silent.

Huiyuan asked no more. He simply closed his eyes and gently flicked his prayer beads.

In the quiet room, there was only the faint sound of the beads clicking against each other. Click, click, click.

After an unknown amount of time, Huiyuan opened his eyes.

"Has the benefactor heard of the origin of the term 'Other-Power'?"

Lu Mingyuan shook his head.

"The first patriarch of the Pure Land School, Great Master Huiyuan, formed the White Lotus Society at Donglin Temple to aspire for rebirth together. At that time, someone asked: If rebirth in the West relies entirely on Buddha Power, what use is Self-Power?"

"How did Great Master Huiyuan respond?"

"He pointed to a lamp and asked the crowd: How many feet can the light of this lamp illuminate?"

The crowd replied: No more than ten feet.

"He then pointed to the moon in the sky and asked: How many feet can the light of this moon illuminate?"

The crowd replied: It illuminates all under heaven.

"Great Master Huiyuan said: The mental power of sentient beings is like a lamp; the Buddha Power is like the moon. If the lamp relies only on its own light and refuses to turn toward the moon, it will never illuminate more than ten feet. If the lamp turns toward the moon, then the moon enters the lamp, and the lamp becomes the moonlight."

The old monk looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"When that lamplight turns toward the moon, does the benefactor think it is the power of the lamp or the power of the moon?"

Lu Mingyuan was lost in thought.

"It is... the lamp's will to turn toward the moon, and then the moon shines upon it. The Power Of Will and the power of illumination—both are indispensable."

"Correct," Huiyuan said. "Other-Power is not an external force; it is the Power Of Will of 'the other' entering the heart-field of the 'self.' Without the will of one's own heart, Other-Power has no door to enter; without the illumination of Other-Power, the light of one's own heart is limited. Other-Power and Self-Power are essentially not two separate things."

He paused.

"The benefactor's three years of trekking—every step was Self-Power. But what was it that made the benefactor take that first step?"

Lu Mingyuan's heart jolted.

It was the night the flood entered the city, when he met Xuanweizi in the ancient temple. It was that old Daoist priest who taught him the Classic of Purity and Tranquility and led him into the Dao.

If not for Xuanweizi, he would still be a scholar by a cold window in Heyin City.

That was Other-Power.

"When the benefactor studied talismans at Longhu Mountain, if Immortal Master Yushu had not permitted you to enter the pavilion, if the Pavilion Keeper had not guided you, and if the Ancestral Masters of past generations had not left behind their scriptures, could the benefactor have realized the talisman arts on your own?"

No.

"When the benefactor comprehended the sword at Wudang Mountain, if not for the protection of the Sword Intent from past generations in the demon suppression map, and if not for Jiang Yichen's hundred bouts of tempering, could the benefactor have formed your own path of the sword?"

No.

"When the benefactor clarified your heart at Mount Qingcheng, if not for Daoist Songyun's nine hundred years of questioning, and if not for Perfected Master Changkong's gift of the sword and jade pendant, could the benefactor have seen the path ahead on your own?"

No.

"When the benefactor practiced Chan at Shaolin, if not for Jingchen's thirty-seven years of sweeping leaves, if not for Hui Ke's seventy-two years of the fist and broom, and if not for Zen Master Huijue's midnight enlightenment, could the benefactor have found a place to rest on your own?"

No.

Huiyuan's voice was extremely soft, yet it was like a heavy hammer of a thousand pounds, each word striking Lu Mingyuan's heart.

"The benefactor believes those three years of trekking were entirely Self-Power. But beneath every step you took, there were paths paved by countless predecessors; before every realm you faced, there were lamps lit by countless teachers and friends."

He paused.

"Within the benefactor's Self-Power, there has long been countless Other-Power."

Lu Mingyuan remained speechless for a long time.

He lowered his head and looked at the string of prayer beads in his hand. On the agarwood, the two characters for "resting is..." lay quietly in the morning light.

He suddenly remembered the night he crossed the river in Chapter 23, when Wang Meng asked him: Do Immortals in their cultivation still care about these trivial matters of the human world? He had answered: The Dao is in the human world, not in the heavens.

But at that time, he had only thought of the "human world" as the trivial affairs of Mortals. He had never considered that the meals and bricks of those Mortals had paved the road beneath his feet; that the talismans, swords, and scriptures of those ancients had lit the lamp before his eyes.

His "Self-Power" had always been standing upon the shoulders of countless "Other-Powers."

Without Xuanweizi leading the way, he could not have entered the Daoist gate.

Without Immortal Master Yushu opening the pavilion, he could not have read the talisman scriptures.

Without the Sword Intent of past generations in the Wudang demon suppression map, he could not have comprehended the sword of protection.

Without Daoist Songyun's nine hundred years of questioning, he could not have found his own path.

Without Jingchen's thirty-seven years of sweeping snow, he could not have seen the meaning of "that moment."

Without Hui Ke's seventy-two years of the fist and broom, he would not have understood "being one with the fist."

Without Zen Master Huijue's midnight enlightenment, he would not have dared to build a pavilion for himself.

Even sitting here at this moment, discussing with Huiyuan, was because predecessors had translated, carved, stored, and transmitted the scriptures, allowing him to read the line: "All Buddha Tathagatas are the Dharma-realm body, entering into the thoughts of all sentient beings."

On the path he had walked, not a single step was taken solely by himself.

"Master," Lu Mingyuan looked up, a very thin layer of moisture in his eyes, "then what does this Disciple's cultivation actually count for?"

Huiyuan looked at him, a trace of very faint compassion in his eyes.

"Has the benefactor ever wondered why it is these six characters, 'namo amituofo'?"

Lu Mingyuan shook his head.

"'Namo' means to take refuge with one's life, and it also means accomplishment," Huiyuan said. "Taking refuge in the Buddha is the accomplishment of one's own nature. When the benefactor chants the Buddha's name, your mouth speaks the Buddha's name and your heart dwells on the Buddha's realm. Is there any separation between the heart that can chant and the Buddha that is chanted?"

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes and silently chanted the Buddha's name.

namo amituofo.

namo amituofo.

namo amituofo.

Upon the seventh recitation, he suddenly "saw"—

It was not seen with his eyes, but with his heart.

The heart that could chant was transparent, clear, and boundless; the Buddha that was chanted was also transparent, clear, and boundless. The two were like water entering water, like space entering space, without any distinction.

It was not he who was chanting the Buddha.

It was the Buddha who was chanting him.

The Buddha was not in the West.

The West was in this heart.

The hundred thousand billion Buddha-lands were, after all, only within a single thought.

Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes.

"Master, this Disciple understands."

Huiyuan nodded slightly but did not ask "what do you understand."

Lu Mingyuan said, "Other-Power is not external; it is the virtue of one's own nature. Self-Power is not internal; it is the manifestation of Other-Power. Other-Power and Self-Power are like the moon and water—the moon is in the sky and the water is on the ground. The moon does not enter the water, and the water does not grasp the moon. But if there is no water, the moon's reflection does not appear; if there is no moon, the water's light is not thorough."

He paused.

"When chanting the Buddha, the heart that can chant is the Buddha being chanted; the Buddha being chanted is not separate from the heart that can chant. Heart, Buddha, and sentient beings—these three are without distinction."

Huiyuan smiled gently.

That was the first time Lu Mingyuan had seen him smile since they met.

The old monk's smile was very faint, just a slight upward curve of the corners of his mouth and a few fine lines at the corners of his eyes. But in that smile, there was an indescribable kindness, like the warm sun on a winter afternoon—not scorching, yet penetrating to the bone.

"Does the benefactor know a saying in the Pure Land School: 'The Amitabha of one's own nature, the Pure Land of the mind alone'?"

Lu Mingyuan nodded.

"I only know it today," he said. "Amitabha is not in the West, but in the hearts of sentient beings; the Pure Land is not in another place, but in the return of a single thought."

Huiyuan looked at him.

"Since the benefactor has realized this principle, do you still have doubts?"

Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment.

"This Disciple has one more question."

"What question?"

"If Other-Power is one's own nature, then in my future cultivation, should I chant the Buddha's name or should I cultivate the mind?"

Huiyuan did not answer directly.

He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open.

Outside the window was the Life-Release Pond, with the moon's reflection in it. The moon was in the center of the sky and also in the water.

"Benefactor, look at that moon."

Lu Mingyuan looked.

"Is the moon in the sky and the moon in the water the same moon, or two different moons?"

"The same moon."

"Then if the benefactor wishes to observe the moon, should you observe the moon in the sky or the moon in the water?"

Lu Mingyuan was stunned for a moment.

"Either will do," he said. "Observing the moon in the sky, one knows the essence of the moon; observing the moon in the water, one sees the image of the moon. Regardless of where one looks, what is observed is the same moon."

Huiyuan nodded.

"Chanting the Buddha and cultivating the mind are the same. When chanting the Buddha, the heart is on the Buddha, and the Buddha is the heart; when cultivating the mind, the heart is on the heart, and the heart is the Buddha. The two are essentially no different, only the point of entry is different."

He turned around and looked at Lu Mingyuan.

"If the benefactor enters through chanting the Buddha, then chant the Buddha with one heart until the subject and object both vanish and the heart and Buddha become one. If the benefactor enters through cultivating the mind, then cultivate the mind with one heart until the mind is empty and the realm is silent, and the Buddha will naturally appear. Two paths, one destination."

He paused.

"Whichever path the benefactor takes is fine. Just do not forget—the destination is the same."

Lu Mingyuan bowed deeply.

"This Disciple has received your teaching."

Huiyuan accepted this bow.

By the time he straightened up, the old monk had returned to his prayer mat, eyes closed in a cross-legged meditative posture, as if entering samadhi.

"The benefactor may go now."

Lu Mingyuan stood up and walked to the door, then suddenly turned back.

"Master, I would like to ask one more thing."

Huiyuan did not open his eyes.

"That day in the Prayer Hall, when I first opened my mouth to chant the Buddha's name, at that moment, a thought suddenly occurred to me: It is not I who am chanting the Buddha, but the Buddha who is chanting me."

He paused.

"Was that real, or was it a deluded thought?"

Huiyuan's eyes remained closed, but his voice came through:

"When the benefactor chants the Buddha, you feel that the Buddha is chanting the benefactor; when the benefactor cultivates the mind, you feel that the heart is cultivating the heart. Who is the one who 'feels' that?"

Lu Mingyuan was stunned.

"Go now," Huiyuan said. "This poor monk cannot give you the answer. You must chant until that day yourself, cultivate until that day yourself, and see for yourself the original face of the one who 'feels.'"

Lu Mingyuan bowed deeply and exited the quiet room.

That night, Lu Mingyuan sat alone by the Life-Release Pond.

The moonlight was like white silk, and the pond water was like a mirror. He looked at the moon in the water and remembered Huiyuan's words: "The moon in the sky and the moon in the water are the same moon."

He took out that string of prayer beads and held it in his palm.

The agarwood was as warm and smooth as jade, every bead polished smooth by countless hands. Those hands included Huiyuan's, Jingan's, those of the past patriarchs of the Pure Land School, and those of countless unnamed practitioners.

Every one of them had once held this string of prayer beads.

Every one of them had once chanted this Buddha's name.

Every one of them had found their own place of rest within this Buddha's name.

And as he held it now, he also held the vows and practices of those people.

He suddenly understood: so-called Legacy is not just scriptures, lineages, and mind-seals.

It is also a string of prayer beads, a Buddha's name, and a "resting is...."

Countless people had held it, countless had chanted it, and countless had found rest.

And then it was passed into his hands.

He would also hold it, also chant it, and also find rest.

And then pass it on to the next one who comes.

In this way, a thousand years pass.

The next morning, Lu Mingyuan went to bid farewell to Huiyuan.

The door to the quiet room was slightly ajar. When he pushed it open, he saw the 'Amitabha Sutra' on the desk was open, specifically to the line: "All Buddha Tathagatas are the Dharma-realm body, entering into the thoughts of all sentient beings."

The old monk was not there.

Lu Mingyuan stood before the door and bowed deeply toward the empty room.

As he turned to leave the courtyard, Jingan came toward him.

"Layman Lu, are you leaving?"

Lu Mingyuan nodded.

Jingan took a letter from his sleeve and handed it over.

"Grand-Uncle Master Huiyuan asked me to pass this to you. He said the Layman's next stop could be Luoyang."

Lu Mingyuan took the letter and opened it.

There were only eight characters on the paper:

"White horse carrying sutras, Thunder Sound Relics."

His heart stirred.

That was the site where the Buddha preached the sutras—White Horse Temple.

"Grand-Uncle Master also said," Jingan added, "the Layman need not rush. When it is time to arrive, you will naturally arrive."

Lu Mingyuan put away the letter and pressed his palms together toward Jingan.

"Master Jingan, thank you for your hospitality these past few days."

Jingan smiled.

"If the Layman comes to Bianliang again in the future, remember to come sit in the Prayer Hall. Chanting the Buddha's name once is a meeting in itself."

Lu Mingyuan nodded and turned to walk toward the mountain gate.

After walking about ten paces, he suddenly stopped.

He turned back and looked toward the Prayer Hall. In the morning light, the great hall stood silently, the copper bells on the eaves chiming softly in the wind.

He suddenly wanted to chant the Buddha's name one more time.

So he stood still, pressed his palms together, and chanted softly:

"namo amituofo."

After finishing, he continued forward.

He did not look back.