Letting Go at the Edge of the Abyss

The journey involves clearing the thorny forest of the mind to find the door leading into one’s true self, the only path that leads to non-self (anatta) and meditative concentration.

On New Year’s Eve, in the silent meditation hall, the temple bell rang softly, like a sigh from heaven and earth. A dim oil lamp by the window cast flickering shadows on those seated in full lotus posture. Some closed their eyes, others pressed palms together, but all listened intently to the Master amidst the sacred atmosphere of the turning year.

The Master began with a gentle reminder: “Today is New Year’s Eve. As promised, I will teach the fourth part of the Four Foundations of Mindfulness. This teaching is for those who have practiced diligently for a long time and seek results. Please be deeply reverent, fully focused, and pray for the Buddhas’ blessings.”

Among the listeners were practitioners of twenty years, forty years, and even many lifetimes. They had heard the Master repeat seemingly simple truths: cultivate morality, accumulate merit, and perform good deeds without attachment to credit. He explained, “If we do good deeds while clinging to our achievements, we can never enter our true selves. Yet, without doing good deeds, we lack the blessings necessary for meditative concentration. Therefore, we must generate vast merit, yet remain free from pride.”

In the deep night, some recalled difficult days: cleaning toilets during festivals, picking up trash, planting trees, and making offerings through sweat and tears. They did all this without claiming credit. Yet, deep within, everyone wondered, “When will we finally find ourselves?”

The Master spoke slowly, as if reading their thoughts: “We are currently in a dense, thorny forest. Everywhere we touch, we get scratched or entangled. We must take a knife and clear it out, leaving no room for thorns to regrow. If we clear too slowly or miss the roots, thorns sprout behind us. Once cleared, we see an open space. Through our merit, compassion, humility, and lack of attachment, flowers bloom abundantly there. Our mind becomes filled with fragrant blossoms, free from thorns and delusions. This is inner peace, bliss, and happiness.”

Then, the Master paused, his gaze piercing each person: “In that vast garden, there are bamboo groves, plum blossoms, queen of the night flowers, and dahlias. The beauty intoxicates us. But among these blooms, there is only one door leading into your true self. People fail to recognize it. Zen masters speak in metaphors, but listeners still cannot find it. Today, I will speak plainly.”

A senior disciple, who had meditated for hours and experienced states of “luminous emptiness,” felt his heart tighten. He thought he had achieved mindfulness, perhaps even approaching meditative concentration. But the Master said, “Many reach this state of inner purity, yet gain nothing. They wander aimlessly until death, often carrying dangerous wrong views. In that beautiful garden, there is one door to your true self. Everything else leads to dead ends that are useless and perilous.”

He asked tremblingly, “Master, my mind feels pure, empty, and bright. Is this my true self?”

The Master smiled kindly: “That is a dangerous dead end. It sounds like Zen wisdom, but you are stuck there. After death, spiritual sickness may arise. Some rest in their hands, feeling calm, only to suffer brain damage later. Others watch delusions arise, calmly guarding them, eventually losing their sanity. These are also dead ends.”

The hall fell utterly silent. Many realized they stood before an abyss. They had generated merit, kept precepts, and meditated, yet still had not found the door.

The Master continued gently: “Your true self is right here in your mind; it is not far away. But without sufficient conditions, you cannot find it. With just a little karmic blessing, skill, and intelligence, you can discover yourself in this very pure mind. Where does this intelligence begin? It begins with recognizing your own faults. Only the wise and brave can see their errors. Those who acknowledge their mistakes will eventually find themselves.”

The disciple bowed his head, tears streaming down. He remembered times he insisted he was right, blaming others while ignoring himself. He vowed silently, “From now on, I will know my own faults.”

The Master added: “There are three factors for finding yourself. First, negative karma from countless past lives diminishes through repentance and keeping precepts. Second, wholesome blessings increase through three fundamental attitudes: reverence for the Buddha, compassion, and humility, along with diligent accumulation of merit. Third, practice meditation correctly, with proper method and posture.”

He then taught about breathing: “When breathing in, know you are breathing in. When breathing out, know you are breathing out. Do not control it. Learning this may take months or years. When the mind settles, awareness gathers at the base of the spine. But knowing the breath is still the ego. Eventually, you must skillfully let go of this knowing. Leave only the clear breath—uncontrolled, unguided, and unknown.”

A young disciple in the back row asked hesitantly, “Master, if I let go of knowing, I fear falling into the abyss.”

The Master smiled brightly: “It is like clinging to a cliff edge above a chasm. Below lie crocodiles or rushing waters. You grip a small ledge tightly. That final grip is ‘knowing.’ Please let go of it too. Will you fall? Heavy beings fall; light ones do not. I am so light, the wind blows me away; I do not fall.”

The assembly laughed softly, tension easing. The Master clarified: “The pure mind is like a funnel, wide at the top, narrow at the bottom. You reside in the wide opening, resting in emptiness or breath. Only the brave who let go completely—without controlling, resting, or knowing—will drop through that tiny hole. That is your true self.”

The senior disciple suddenly understood. He closed his eyes, releasing all the states he had clung to. He let go of knowing, let go of resting, leaving only the clear, gentle breath in and out. Naturally, like a door creaking open, he felt something close and familiar in his belly and chest—an abstract sensation, separated from his true self by a hair’s breadth.

After that night, he no longer lingered in the beautiful gardens of his inner world. He continued generating merit without attachment, practicing repentance, keeping precepts, and seeking his true self daily. Gradually, delusions dissolved, and his mind became peaceful and stable. He realized the path to non-self (anatta) has only one entrance: find yourself, then let go of everything, including the sense of knowing, to fall into that miraculous door.

**The Meaning of the Story**

The lesson Venerable Thich Chan Quang wishes to convey is this: To attain meditative concentration and enlightenment, one must find “oneself”—the only door leading to non-self (anatta). To do so, one must generate abundant merit without attachment to credit, uphold morality, practice repentance, and meditate correctly. Do not stop at states of purity or emptiness, for they are merely dead ends. Have the courage to let go of knowing and the ego, falling into your true self, where there are no more delusions or cycles of birth and death.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang