The Glass-Chewing Man and the Lesson on Mistaken Practice

Under the blazing sun of a summer noon in the countryside, laughter echoed through a wide thatched house. Several men sat gathered around a table of rice wine, sipping and chatting animatedly. Beside them, a boy of about ten crouched quietly in a corner, his eyes fixed on the adults, occasionally glancing at the thick glass cups filled with clear white liquor.

That boy was me, back when I was small. That day, my father had friends visiting from the village. They drank and talked from noon until evening without pause. Among them was a man aged thirty-five to forty, with a sturdy build and dark skin, speaking in a loud, resonant voice. He drank quickly, cup after cup, yet remained sober, his face rosy and alert.

At some point, perhaps slightly tipsy, he picked up a thick glass tumbler—the kind used for iced tea—still full of ice and liquor. No one paid much attention. Suddenly, he brought the glass to his mouth and bit into it with a distinct crunch. The boy in the corner startled, eyes widening. The man chewed voraciously, the sound of shattering glass crackling in his mouth. Everyone froze, stunned into silence. Yet he continued calmly, chewing the entire glass, rim to thick base, leaving no fragment behind. After swallowing it down, he simply picked up another cup of wine and drank, his expression unchanged as if nothing had happened. The whole table stood paralyzed, some with bulging eyes, others pale-faced, unable to utter a word.

This event stayed with me forever. A human being could crush an entire glass tumbler without injury, without bleeding, without pain. It seemed miraculous. But for anyone else, swallowing even a tiny shard might require emergency surgery. Same action, same deed, yet one person remains unharmed while another faces disaster.

From this story, I began to reflect on spiritual practice. In Buddhism, there are countless methods, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Some people practice incorrectly yet still succeed, attaining realization or entering meditative concentration. Others follow the exact same path but fall ill or lose their sanity. This confuses many, who struggle to distinguish right from wrong.

Once, I spoke with a fellow practitioner, also a junior disciple of mine. He followed a method I saw as flawed. I warned him:

"Your practice method has errors."

He immediately countered:

"But I follow a teacher who is very successful. If it were wrong, how could my teacher have succeeded?"

I smiled and replied:

"Is stealing right or wrong? Obviously, it is wrong. Yet some thieves succeed, never caught or discovered. Others are arrested instantly. Success despite error is common. If every mistake led to immediate failure, this world would have become paradise long ago, and no one would dare do evil. Precisely because some evildoers prosper, people doubt the law of cause and effect (karmic law). If every bad deed brought instant retribution, no one would dare act wrongly."

My friend fell silent, contemplating. He realized that one person’s success does not validate the correctness of their method. Some err yet succeed; others err and suffer harm. It is like the glass-chewing man. One can eat a whole glass unharmed; another needs emergency care for a single shard. The difference lies in physical constitution, individual nature, and luck.

Therefore, we must not be complacent in our practice. Do not imitate others just because they seem to succeed despite errors. Nor should you assume your practice is correct simply because you feel no illness yet. Problems may appear immediately, or they may accumulate silently for years before erupting. Like the glass-eater, today seems fine, but tomorrow, or ten years later, something might go wrong. Spiritual practice is a lifelong journey requiring careful steps, thorough study, and deep understanding—not blind imitation based on seeing others’ apparent ease.

Looking back at the story of the glass-chewing man, I learned a precious lesson: Never use another person’s luck as a guide for yourself. Each individual has a unique constitution, circumstance, and karma. What is safe for one may not be safe for another. Similarly, in practice, know your own capacity. Walk the righteous, solid path rather than rushing toward novelty and risking losing yourself.

The Meaning of the Story

The tale of the glass-chewing man and my conversation with a fellow practitioner remind us that mistaken practice may yield temporary success, but this is mere luck, not a natural law. Do not hastily imitate others who seem to attain enlightenment or supernatural powers through incorrect methods. Each person has a unique foundation, capacity, and karmic connection. The essential task is to practice correctly, adhering to the true Dharma. Build upon the roots of ethics, precepts, and merit first, then proceed to meditative concentration. Slow and steady is better than fast and dangerous. One person’s success is not the measure of a method’s validity. Always remain mindful and wise on your path of practice.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang