A Cold Splash of Water at the Gate

A practitioner believed he had already attained realization, but thanks to a teacher who splashed cold water on him, saying, "You are still standing outside the gate," he woke up and escaped a life of madness.

Night fell over the mountains and forests. Cold wind slipped through the leaves and found its way to the pillars of the temple. In the main hall, golden lamplight glowed upon the Buddha statue, and the whole assembly sat in complete silence, listening to the teacher's warm, deep voice. In that solemn atmosphere, the teacher spoke of something that softened every heart: the danger of believing one has already attained realization.

People often hear the saying, "The butcher who lays down his knife becomes a Buddha," but the teacher explained that this is merely a symbol of encouragement. The journey from an ordinary person to the noble stages is long beyond measure. If becoming a saint were easy, the world would already be full of saints. Precisely because it is so difficult, practitioners easily give rise to arrogance, imagining that some small attainment means they have realized the path—and then they regress, or even fall into madness.

The teacher looked around, his voice growing deeper: "Many people practice until their spiritual perception opens and they see things strange and new, and then they decide they have attained realization. Without a teacher to certify it, without anyone to guide them, such a person will surely go mad. Or, if they are unlucky enough to meet a teacher without clear eyes who hastily confirms them, saying, 'You have practiced so well, you are already awakened,' then those very words kill the person."

Then the teacher told a story slowly: "Long ago, there was a disciple who practiced with great diligence. Through the passing years, his mind and heart gradually settled, and there were moments when space itself seemed to brighten and his heart felt light and free. He secretly rejoiced, believing he had reached something sublime. Then one day, full of pride, he came before his teacher to describe what he had realized."

"The teacher listened quietly until the end, then said calmly: 'My child, you are still standing outside the gate. You have never once stepped inside the house of the path. Your spiritual perception may have opened, but to speak truly according to the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), you are still an ordinary person.'"

The disciple froze, his face turning pale. It felt as though a ladle of cold water had been thrown straight into his face, dissolving every trace of pride. He stood motionless, unable to speak a word. But within that piercing cold, he suddenly understood one thing: without this teacher, without those seemingly harsh words, he would have remained lost in illusion forever, and would have pushed himself into the abyss of madness.

The teacher paused, gazing across the assembly: "Therefore, if a teacher splashes cold water in your face and tells you that you are still standing outside the gate, that is a great blessing for you. But if you lack such blessings from merit, and you practice on your own, see your spiritual perception open, and declare yourself realized, that person will certainly go mad."

"The road ahead is still very long. To hear many teachings and to understand them is only one part in a million of true practice. Someone once came to the teacher and boasted, 'Venerable Sir, I have listened to so many of your dharma talks.' The teacher only smiled. The person added, 'And besides, I have also listened to many teachings by other venerable masters.' The teacher smiled again. Because no matter how much one hears and understands, it remains only one part in a million on the vast, endless path."

The teacher's gaze drifted far away, as if looking toward some distant horizon: "From now on, whoever feels they have heard much and understood much, remember that it is only one part in a million. Never boast. Hearing and understanding are still very little. One must transform the karma of mind, the karma of speech, and the karma of body. And transforming the karma of mind is the loneliest journey of all, because no one can examine your mind and heart—only you yourself can know. It is a silent battle, fought with no one at your side, where it is easy to lose heart and easy to give up. One must bow before the Buddha and pray for his blessing and protection, so that through that divine power one can hold on to wholesome thoughts."

"Then, when the mind and heart have been transformed, the mouth will follow, speaking words that are kind and graceful. The body will do only what is good. Yet even if one transforms all three karmas, one is still a good ordinary person, oriented toward the noble stages. To enter the noble stages, one must practice meditative concentration. There is no other way."

"But meditative concentration must be practiced in the right way. One must find an enlightened teacher. If you have not yet met one, keep praying—for some it takes a few months, for others ten years. And when sitting in meditation, one must sit in the full lotus posture, with the two palms, the two soles, and the abdomen gathered into one point, so that the mind can come to rest. One must know the whole body, relaxed and unmoving. That is the foundation."

"Then one must contemplate the body as impermanence (anicca) and the mind as non-self (anatta). Even with meditative concentration, without this contemplative reflection, one cannot realize the noble stages. One may possess supernormal powers and float in mid-air, but without practicing meditative concentration in the right way, one remains an ordinary person."

The teacher paused, his voice filled with earnest feeling: "Therefore, if any of you who are practicing see your mind and heart grow bright and pure, do not rejoice too quickly. Remember that the path is still very long. Seek out a true teacher, or if you have not yet found one, keep praying. Never declare that you have attained realization. For that single thought alone is enough to make you fall into the abyss."

As the night grew deeper, the mountain wind kept blowing, but within the heart of each listener there arose a feeling of being refreshed, as if sprinkled by a ladle of cold water full of compassion. They understood that practice is not the work of a single morning or evening, but a long journey requiring humility and unceasing diligence.

The Meaning of the Story

The lesson Venerable Thích Chân Quang wished to convey is this: never believe you have already attained realization, for the path of practice is still very long. Hearing and understanding the teachings is only one part in a million. One needs good teachers and good spiritual friends, must pray for the Buddha's blessing and protection, and must always keep a mind and heart of humility and diligence, so as to avoid arrogance and regression. True practice means transforming the three karmas, practicing meditative concentration in the right way, and always contemplating impermanence (anicca) and non-self (anatta).

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang.