The Monk Who Beheld the Buddha

A monk practiced solely by gazing upon the wondrous beauty of the Buddha. When he could no longer see the Buddha, he nearly fell into despair, yet in that very moment of deepest anguish, he awakened to the truth.

One afternoon at the Bamboo Grove monastery, golden sunlight spread across the gravel paths. A young monk sat beneath a tree, his eyes never leaving the figure of the Buddha walking slowly in meditation in the distance. As the Buddha walked, his golden robe fluttered gently in the wind, each step so graceful it seemed to blossom upon the earth. The monk, whose name was Vali, had eyes gleaming with fascination, as though beholding a marvel he could never tire of.

From the very first day he saw the Buddha, Vali's life had turned in an entirely different direction. Back then, he was merely a young man passing along a village road when he happened to see the Buddha standing beneath the shade of a tree. The evening light of that day suddenly became extraordinarily radiant, and he perceived a beauty so serene and sublime that he had never known in all his life. From that moment, he decided to become a monk, not because he had heard the teachings, not because he understood the doctrine, but simply because he wished to see the Buddha every day.

The life of a monk was truly austere. Each morning he carried his alms bowl to receive offerings, eating only one meal a day, and at night he sat in meditation beneath a tree. But to Vali, these hardships meant nothing. He did not need to hear the Buddha preach, nor did he need to grasp the profound teachings. Simply sitting and gazing at the Buddha, observing every line of his face, every gentle gesture, gave him all the strength he needed to continue. Once, an elder monk asked him, "Vali, today the teacher lectured on impermanence (anicca). Did you understand anything?" Vali smiled and replied, "I did not hear the teacher's lecture at all. I only looked at him. Looking at him, my heart feels peaceful, and I need to know nothing more."

The Buddha knew well the state of Vali's mind. Many times he reminded the assembly, "One who sees the Dharma sees the Tathagata. One who merely looks at my outward form, even standing right before me, has not truly seen me." But Vali still sat there, his eyes fixed upon the Buddha, unmoved. He was like someone entranced by a magnificent painting, never asking what the painter wished to convey.

Then one retreat season came, and the Buddha decided to go up a distant mountain for quiet practice, taking only a few close disciples. He did not allow Vali to follow. On the first day without seeing the Buddha, Vali sat dazed before the monastery gate. On the second day, he had no mind left for collecting alms. On the third day, he skipped his meal, only sitting and gazing toward the distant mountain. In the days that followed, he grew gaunt, his eyes sunken deep, his hands trembling. He tried to console himself, "Soon the teacher will return, and soon I will see him again." But the longing burned like a smoldering fire in his heart, growing fiercer with each passing day.

Three months dragged by endlessly. Vali had no strength left, no joy, no will to live. One afternoon, he dragged his heavy steps up a nearby mountain, where there was a deep and desolate cliff. He stood at the edge, gazing down into the dark void below, his heart aching with the thought, "What is the point of living if I cannot see the Buddha?" He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and prepared to throw himself down.

At that very moment, a gentle radiance suddenly appeared in the distance. Vali lifted his head, his heart nearly stopping: the Buddha was standing there, in the midst of the sunset, radiating the resplendent beauty he had always longed for. The Buddha's voice rang out, deep and warm, pouring into his soul like a stream of cool water:

"Monk with a joyful heart, steadfast in the true Dharma, attaining the realm of tranquility, your virtue clear as a still lake."

Vali forgot everything. He rushed headlong toward the Buddha, leaving behind the deep cliff, leaving behind his despair. As he ran, he heard the verse echoing in his heart. The moment the verse ended and his feet touched the earth, a wondrous feeling surged through his entire body. In that very posture of running, Vali attained the fruit of an Arahant, his mind completely pure, no longer entangled by anything at all.

From then on, Vali no longer clung to outward forms. He understood that the beauty he had once adored was only a shadow of the truth, and that truth alone is imperishable. He lived at peace in the world, his heart pure as a still lake, becoming one of the Buddha's most remarkable disciples.

## The Meaning of the Story

The story of the monk Vali teaches us that admiring outward forms can indeed be a doorway leading us onto the path, but it is only the beginning. What matters most is to see the Dharma, to understand the teachings, for only the teachings are the imperishable truth. One who sees the Dharma truly sees the Tathagata. The Buddha even used Vali's moment of utter anguish to help him attain awakening, showing us that even in our most desperate hours, if we know how to return to the true Dharma, we can still find liberation.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang.