Practicing Like Waging War: Not Fixing Yourself, But Drawing the Sword to Cut Down Your Own Self

Do we come to the temple to beg, or to practice?

So many people come to the temple only to ask for wealth, for fortune, for children, for health. Yet there is a strange truth: some people ask and receive everything, while others beg endlessly and receive nothing. Some have not even finished asking – the moment the intention arises, everything arrives on its own. Why is this so?

But in truth, in this world, the proportion of people who ask and actually receive is low, not high. It is only slightly higher than the odds of winning the lottery.

Thầy Thích Chân Quang points out that whether we receive or not lies elsewhere – not in how much or how little we ask. It lies in the mind/heart and the mouth of each person.

The secret is in our words

Why does one person open their mouth to ask and receive, while another kneels and bows all day long and no one pays attention? Thầy explains: those whom "the gods listen to" are people who, their whole lives, have spoken only beautiful words – no cursing, no harsh speech. But those who habitually speak crudely and vulgarly frighten the gods, who dare not come near.

That person's mouth has been cultivated for many years, many months, speaking only beautiful things. No cursing, no vulgar words. And so when that beautiful mouth speaks, the gods listen. But the person whose every other word is vulgar – the gods are afraid of that person.

Because of this, when we grow accustomed to speaking beautifully, every sentence we utter becomes a mantra. There is no need for charms or talismans – a sincere, kind word arising from a pure mind/heart can change an entire situation; it can even transform a blessing spoken over a glass of water into medicine. Such is the power of speech.

Practice is not fixing – it is battle

Many people think practice means repairing – turning a bad mind/heart into a good one, like fixing a broken car. But Thầy says it plainly: practice is not taking out a wrench and tightening bolts. It is drawing the sword to strike. Striking whom? Striking oneself.

Practice is drawing the sword to wage a hard struggle – it is not repairing. It is not taking out a wrench, twisting and tightening, hammering away with a mallet. No – practice is drawing the sword to strike. Striking whom? Striking oneself.

Thầy tells the story of the Zen master Mazu Daoyi transforming a hunter. The hunter shot at deer, and Mazu said: "With one arrow, I can shoot a whole herd." The hunter's heart of compassion was stirred, and then the master said: "If you understand this, why not turn back and shoot yourself?" The hunter immediately broke his bow, knelt down, and asked to become a disciple, later becoming the Zen master Huizang. That is the meaning of turning back to destroy the very mistakes within our own mind/heart.

This battle may last ten years

Do not expect practice to be quick. Someone may hear a dharma talk and reduce a little greed – but that is only a small greed. When something greater comes, when hatred runs deeper, we still lose. Thầy compares it to war:

This battle lasts ten years – we must prepare for this war for ten years before it is done. Given the stature of that commander who advances each step so firmly, this battle, even if we are skilled, will take ten years to win.

Practice is the same. To destroy a single affliction (klesha), it may take "ten years" before we truly triumph. Do not be quick to feel proud of yourself. A true practitioner knows they are fighting a difficult battle – sweating, weeping, even shedding blood.

Practice first, then ask

Before practicing, we beg for small, trivial things: asking for someone to love us, asking to win the lottery, asking for luck. After practicing, we ask for far nobler things: asking that the world be filled with love, asking that all beings be free from suffering (dukkha). Such prayers truly "move the heavens."

Practice first, and only then make your requests. You will see that before practicing, your prayers were for petty, trivial things. But once you know how to practice, your prayers become altogether noble – they move the very heart of heaven.

Every prayer arising from a person who knows how to practice, who speaks beautiful words, is like an invisible flower scattered into the spiritual space, beautifying the whole world. Conversely, the harsh words of one who has not practiced are like flinging garbage into the spiritual realm, staining this life.

So today, when you come to the temple, kneel before the Buddha and pray. But pray with a practicing mind/heart, with beautiful words. Do not merely beg – transform yourself, fight against your old self. A kind word, a wholesome action – that is the greatest mantra for your life.