The Mind, Clear as a Mirror

In the past few days, I started translating Messages from Inner Earth and plan to complete it before my trip to Shandong, after which I'll upload it to my blog. If our publishing house in Hong Kong runs smoothly, I hope the book can be published soon. Of course, I'll let things take their natural course and do my best along the way.

The original author, Ji Wufan, genuinely seems to be a professional firefighter. He has no reason to fabricate anything. Even though his writing style may have been "enhanced," I realized from the preface that each paragraph needs to be carefully revised before translating. This is essential to convey his true intentions accurately. So, I’ve decided to rephrase and refine the original Chinese text before translating it, resulting in both a revised Chinese version and a translated English version of the book.

In these early days of translation, I’ve had some remarkable dream experiences. Since I can’t determine whether they are connected to the book, I won’t go into details. However, I’ve noticed that despite having no formal job at the moment, I’m in a productive state of mind, able to work for about 16 hours a day, and enjoy peaceful walks after meals. Although my current situation may appear challenging, I can clearly feel my energy rising. I constantly remind myself to engage in activities that boost my energy, not those that drain it.

In our “Walking Together” WeChat group, we’ve been discussing life and spiritual practice a lot recently. Some people think it's about not taking lives, eating a plant-based diet, and doing good deeds. Others believe that the key is to renounce worldly desires and retreat from society. Still, others think that reaching a state where the "five poisons" and "four hearts" no longer affect you is the ultimate goal.  I initially agreed with the latter view, but today, as I was writing Chapter 6 of Messages from Inner Earth, one sentence changed my mind.

In this part, Buweiluo, the inner-earth being, jokes with Ji Wufan, saying: "These days, whatever you want to ask, I'll tell you as long as I'm allowed. Whatever you enjoy, I can provide. There's nothing you can imagine that I can't do. And if I can't, I'll call you big brother..." In truth, inner-earth beings are nearly immortal, their age far surpassing Ji Wufan's, yet he still made this lighthearted joke. The author reflected here, realizing: It turns out that whether they are aliens more advanced than humans, they are still living beings, not cold machines or lifeless stones.

I italicized this line and sat there for a while, reading it over and over.

If spiritual practice is about keeping one's heart "unmoved by anything", then how can one truly experience life? How would we be different from machines or stones? If the human soul is eternal, then my higher-dimensional true spirit, being such a powerful deity, why would she come to the human world to experience the warmth and coldness of life? Why would she endure such a dramatic life, experiencing so many joys and sorrows, the complexities of human nature, and must rise again after countless humiliations and storms? I once regarded "remaining unmoved" as a goal worth striving for, but it is not an easy thing to achieve. I am still often overwhelmed by tears, attachments, and longing.

But today, I wonder, if we truly become "unmoved", wouldn’t we be like machines or stones? Then, wouldn't living be merely taking up space and resources on earth? Even the inner-earth beings, who have existed for millions of years, developed a civilization, and have almost achieved immortality, are unwilling to become like machines or stones. Yet, we humans, with our mere hundred-year lifespan, make it our life’s goal to become such lifeless entities— like machines or stones—isn’t that a bit ridiculous?

I know that my questions always find answers quickly, and this time was no different. Suddenly, I remembered a quote I shared in our group this morning from Chuan Zheng, which seems to be the perfect answer to my current doubts: "Having a mind like a clear mirror means cultivating a mind that reflects everything with clarity, embracing all without getting attached to anything.."

This, then, is the truth that the Buddha intended to convey to me: everything, when taken to the extreme, becomes excessive. We are born as humans to experience this world. Those who cultivate themselves to the point of becoming like stones or wood will soon be taken away from this world because, to the world, they serve no further purpose. But what, ultimately, does a meaningful life look like? It is having a mind as clear as a mirror, able to reflect everything you see and illuminate all things. How vast such a perspective must be! Only by experiencing the full range of emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness—can you truly understand and observe the world and fulfill your life's purpose. And only by being free of attachment can you maintain clarity of mind, navigating the bustling world without gathering a single speck of dust.