In the Explanation of the Sequential Dharma Gates of Dhyāna Pāramitā, Master Zhizhe (aka Zhiyi) first describes ten imperfect motivations for practice, and then explains that the most proper and highest standard for practicing Chan is to give rise to the Four Great Vows. Although the ten imperfect motivations are not as complete, that does not necessarily mean they are entirely bad.
For example: “The tenth motivation is to practice Chan in order to transcend the suffering of aging, illness, and death, and to attain nirvana.” Whether in Chan practice or in learning Buddhism in general, I believe that a large number of people, especially the monastics, begin practicing because of this kind of motivation. They deeply feel the suffering in the world and experience that suffering in their hearts, and therefore feel the need to practice. Through the process of learning, reflecting, and practicing, they gradually discover that there are even better motivations for practice. Thus, their original aspiration transforms over the course of practice. This is actually quite good. Feeling suffering and wishing to be free from suffering can be a very powerful source of motivation.
Historically speaking, why did the Buddha leave home and became a monastic? In fact, there were already signs from his childhood. For example, he once saw a farmer plowing a field. As the hoe turned over the soil, small insects emerged and were immediately eaten by sparrows flying down from the sky. Then he saw those sparrows later being eaten by hawks swooping down from above. Most people would simply regard this as a natural part of the food chain, but the Buddha deeply felt the suffering of all sentient beings.
Later, the Buddha went out through the four city gates and witnessed old age, illness, and death. When he saw an old person, he thought, “One day I too will grow old.” When he saw a sick person, he thought, “One day I too will become ill.” When he saw a dead person, he thought, “One day I too will die.” Witnessing all the suffering of aging, illness, and death, he felt the suffering deeply.
Finally, he encountered a śramaṇa (ascetic). Seeing the practitioner’s serene demeanor, he realized that through practice, a person could attain such a state of peace and liberation. A deep sense of aspiration then arose in him.
On another occasion, the Buddha attended a festive banquet and saw people drinking, singing, and indulging in pleasure. In the end, many of them became completely intoxicated and collapsed onto the ground, sleeping wherever they fell. Seeing the palace maidens and guards who were normally elegant and dignified lying drunk in such an undignified state, the Buddha felt deeply dissatisfied with palace life. He realized that this too was a form of suffering.
Gradually, the thought arose within him: “Human life is filled with suffering; therefore, I must practice.” The Buddha not only recognized his own suffering, but also saw the suffering of all sentient beings and wished to help them become liberated from this pain.
When Master Sheng Yen was young, he experienced the flooding of the Yangtze River. After the waters receded, many corpses surfaced on the water. He also lived through times of war. Sometimes he would hear gunshots in the streets, and upon going outside, he would see soldiers lying dead on the road. Because of these experiences, Master Sheng Yen developed a very deep awareness of the impermanence of life.
Many people start to practice because they deeply feel the suffering inherent in life and wish to become free from it.
If we take a step back to look at ourselves, why do we practice? Some people may think, “Not at all. My income is sufficient, my spouse treats me well, my children are loving and respectful, and my life is comfortable and happy.” There is nothing wrong with thinking this way; it simply means that one feels relatively content and fulfilled. Our perceptions and experiences of life truly differ from person to person.
Suppose we were Prince Siddhārtha in the Buddha’s time, living in such a magnificent palace, surrounded by attendants and beautiful princesses, enjoying a life without material lack, would we feel suffering? Most people probably would not. They wouldn’t even have enough time to enjoy all the pleasures.
There is no absolute standard for “suffering.” It largely depends on one’s spiritual maturity and wholesome roots. If one’s wholesome roots are mature enough, then even ordinary, everyday experiences can reveal the truth of impermanence, and one can perceive the fleeting nature of life through small things. But without this kind of awareness and observation, when people see the sick, the elderly, or the dead, they simply think, “That’s what happens to other people, which has nothing to do with me.” They feel that they themselves are doing perfectly fine, and since life is short, they should hurry up and enjoy it more.
The mindset of “Life is short. Play more.” has in many ways become the modern way of thinking. But for someone who has embarked on the path of spiritual practice, the attitude becomes: “Life is short. Practice more.”
Is suffering a bad thing? That depends on our perspective. If we believe that life is simply about being happy, playing more, and enjoying ourselves, then of course suffering seems undesirable. But if we have a keen and sensitive awareness, if we can see suffering, experience suffering, and truly recognize what suffering is, then our motivation for practice will become strong.
Without sufficient motivation, even something as simple as leg pain during meditation can defeat us. We may think, “Why should I endure this pain in my legs? There is no suffering in my life at all. The only time I suffer is when I meditate! So why should I meditate?” Therefore, there must be a deeper motivation supporting us from within, something that makes enduring this discomfort meaningful and worthwhile.
We should reflect on how our way of seeing things and thinking about them differs from that of the great masters of the past. These masters did not become revered teachers and patriarchs without reason. They possessed deep aspiration and motivation. Their way of observing the world and understanding life is precisely something we can learn from.
