The Heavens Look Down: A Lesson from the Fish Pond

The late afternoon sun cast a pale golden light across the temple courtyard, tracing the shadows of swaying bodhi trees. It was a beautiful, tranquil temple, with a shrine to Avalokiteshvara above and a wide fish pond below. Thousands upon thousands of fish of every color and kind swam there, their tails flashing and glinting beneath the surface of the water. From time to time, a visitor would buy a loaf of bread, break it into small pieces, and toss them in. Instantly, the surface of the pond would erupt as the fish scrambled upward, mouths snapping wildly, water splashing everywhere. The young boy standing beside the Master had his eyes glued to the fish, crying out with delight: "There are so many fish, Master!"

The Master smiled, looking at the boy and then at the pond, and said in a warm, gentle voice: "Up above, the celestial beings and bodhisattvas look down at us just the way we are looking at these fish right now, my child." The boy stood dazed, gazing up at the deep blue sky and then back down at the pond, his face full of confusion: "But then what can we do? We're just standing here watching—there's nothing we can do about it." The Master nodded: "That's right, we just stand and watch. Out of compassion, we might toss them a few pieces of bread, but that's all we can do. The fish must follow their own karma. Whatever causes they have sown, those are the fruits they must bear. It is very hard for us to intervene."

Standing there, watching the mindless fish eagerly fighting over every crumb of bread, the Master's thoughts turned to the human world. More than seven billion people on this planet, each with their own destiny, their own karma. The celestial beings and bodhisattvas, even with their vast supernatural powers, could never follow each individual person to guide and care for them all. There are simply too many! In a single city like Saigon, with six or seven million people, could they keep watch over everyone? No. Only those with a good heart, with wholesome roots, who make the effort to come to the temple on Sunday mornings to listen to the dharma and practice meditation—only they receive the celestial beings' attention. The rest, the vast majority, are left to drift along the current of their own karma. Whatever causes they sow, those are the fruits they reap, and they must take responsibility for themselves. To intervene in a human being's life, to save this person or transform that one, is an exceedingly rare occurrence.

In a cozy room, a Buddhist layperson raised a doubt, his voice tinged with skepticism: "Master, does that mean the bodhisattvas and the Buddhas are not all-powerful? Why can't they save all sentient beings?" The Master looked around, his eyes kind yet serious: "The Buddha spoke of the three things even he cannot do, and one of them is that he cannot save beings whose karma is fixed. And the number of sentient beings in this entire realm of existence—the Buddha himself cannot know them all." Then the Master explained slowly: "The Lotus Sutra gives this example: take all the grains of sand in the Ganges River, and turn each grain into another Ganges River; then take all the sand of all those rivers, and only then can you count the worlds of the Buddhas in the universe. Scientists today say something similar: only by counting all the sand on every beach in the world could you number the stars in the universe. It matches exactly what the Buddhist scriptures said thousands of years ago. Such numbers are beyond our imagination. Sentient beings teem everywhere—from ants, crickets, and grasshoppers, to snakes, fish in the ocean, cattle, pigs, tigers, and human beings. Among all those countless beings, only those who are exceptionally good-hearted, exceptionally outstanding, receive the attention and moment-by-moment guidance of the celestial beings and bodhisattvas. The rest are left to cause and effect (karmic law). And those who are left behind—they are beyond counting!"

The Master paused to take a sip of tea, then continued, his voice growing deeper: "Therefore, whoever explains the law of cause and effect (karmic law) to others, speaking to everyone they meet about karma, karmic obstacles, and retribution, so that people come to believe, come to feel reverent fear, come to know how to practice and to do good and avoid evil—that person gains immeasurable blessings from merit. The Buddha taught that someone once asked: 'Is there anyone who is not a Buddhist who can still reach the heavenly realms?' The Buddha replied: 'In ninety-one eons, I have seen no one—except for one person who spoke well of cause and effect (karmic law).' Only that person was able to reach the heavens. Because that person saved the multitudes, saved those whom the celestial beings and bodhisattvas had overlooked, helping them understand cause and effect (karmic law) so they could gradually become outstanding people themselves."

Another layperson wondered aloud: "Then what if all of us went out to teach the dharma?" The Master laughed and shook his head: "Then war would break out even sooner! Each person teaching their own version, forming factions and sects, fighting with each other faster than any war of guns and weapons. So teaching the dharma carries the greatest merit, but it should be channeled through a few legitimate sources. As for everyone else, we can support the dharma teachers, invite people to come and listen, share good dharma talks with others—that, too, is spreading the Dharma."

The Master's gaze grew distant as he recalled a story about Indra, the king of the gods. A saint, a great bodhisattva with tremendous power, yet even he must arrange all things according to the karmic cause and effect of sentient beings. His work is extraordinarily delicate and complex. It is like parents with two children—one kind but foolish, the other clever but cunning—already enough to give them headaches. The king of the gods must arrange the entire world, relying both on karma and on each person's character and opportunities. Some kings are raised up to stabilize a nation for twenty years, after which they will turn corrupt and must be replaced. The calculations are so complex that anyone who was not a saint would surely go mad. Once, when the Buddha was absorbed in meditative concentration in a mountain cave, Indra flew past and stood in attendance. After they spoke, he said: "There have been many times I wished to come and pay respects to the World-Honored One, but I have been so busy!" That single phrase—"so busy"—is enough to show how immense his work must be.

The Master looked around the hall and spoke slowly: "In the heavenly realms, there are both saints and ordinary beings among the celestial beings, but saints are very numerous. In the human realm, ordinary beings are many and saints are few. Those saints usually hide themselves, living humbly, blending their light with the dust of the world, hard for anyone to recognize. Indra, the king of the gods, and Maitreya bodhisattva are both bodhisattvas in the heavenly realms. The dharma assembly of Maitreya bodhisattva draws all the celestial beings and saints up there. That is why this world is so often overlooked. One hour in the heavenly realms equals several years in the human world. Those beings are absorbed in their practice and study, listening to the dharma, so they do not return to save sentient beings."

The Master added: "Once, I gave a dharma talk at Tuong Mai Temple in Hanoi. The talk was about health and longevity. I stood and spoke for a full hour and a half. When I paused, I looked at my watch and was astonished. I said: 'Wait, I thought I had only said a few sentences—how has an hour and a half already passed?' I looked at the clock again: it was indeed an hour and a half. I had to dedicate the merit and come down. Only then did I ask my disciples: 'Today's talk was rather short, wasn't it?' One of my female disciples hadn't noticed, because she had been busy chatting. But for me, the time had flown by in the blink of an eye. That is what one hour in the heavenly realms feels like."

The hall fell silent. Each person reflected on their own small place in the vast universe. The lessons about cause and effect (karmic law), about personal effort, about practicing diligently to become an outstanding person—these slowly sank into every heart. No one can save us except ourselves, but if we know how to listen to the dharma, to do good deeds, and to spread the law of cause and effect (karmic law), then that is truly the path of light.

The Meaning of the Story

This story reminds us of the limits of the celestial beings and bodhisattvas in saving sentient beings, emphasizing the importance of cultivating ourselves, sowing wholesome causes, and above all, the immeasurable merit of spreading the law of cause and effect (karmic law) to save the multitudes. Each of us must awaken to live a virtuous life, without relying on outside protection.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thich Chan Quang