There are different types of mindsets in meditation practice: the “intense burst” type, the “inconsistent” type (i.e., diligent for a day, lazy for ten), and the most effective of all—the “steady stream” type. We should aim to be like the steady stream. Practicing with the attitude of “letting go” allows us to practice in a relaxed, rather than tense or forceful manner. When we are too tense or forceful, it’s hard to sustain the effort consistently over time.
In Master Sheng Yen’s book Discourse on and Experience in Chan, following the chapter on “letting go,” the very next chapter talks about “tuning the instrument.” This means adjusting the strings—not too tight, not too loose. Being too tight becomes the “intense burst” type, while being too loose risks becoming the “inconsistent” type.
Shifu also mentioned a type of practice called “No-Matter Chan.” It means that one appears diligent on the surface—sitting in meditation when it’s time, eating when it’s time, doing laundry when it needs to be done—everything follows a set routine. This often describes a lifestyle like being on solitary retreat or attending a seven-day Chan retreat, where there’s nothing particularly demanding to do, or it may refer to someone who is already retired and living what they believe to be a life of practice.
Living this way, simply for the sake of practice, may seem quite stable and peaceful. However, once they interact with others, they may suddenly find: “How did all my cultivation disappear!” Just talking to someone or getting involved in some activity can lead to friction. And once there’s friction, the temper flares up—and all sorts of afflictions arise along with it.
This kind of situation—where everything seems fine when nothing is happening, but falls apart once “matters” come up—often indicates that one’s practice is only superficial. In other words, during meditation, one might appear to be sitting properly and looking very calm and stable, but as soon as they get up and interact with others, their so-called cultivation vanishes.
Why does this happen? It’s likely due to one or more of the following conditions:
- Being in a “neutral” state (無記) — This means you’re not sleeping, and you’re not actively using the meditation method either. You’re just sitting there, with nothing happening, feeling very comfortable. But no matter how long you sit like this, your practice won’t progress.
- Being in a “dullness” state (昏沈) — Every time you sit, time seems to pass quickly, and before you know it, the session is over. You don’t even notice how time passed and mistakenly believe you meditated well. In reality, you may have been half-asleep. This subtle dullness is often hard to detect on your own.
We need to reflect for ourselves: “I meditate, I practice—so why does all my effort seem to fall apart as soon as I finish sitting? Why do I encounter friction whenever I interact with others?” We can examine ourselves and ask: “Am I practicing this kind of No-Matter Chan?”
There’s another type of practice that Shifu compared to “climbing a rope.” In this scenario, practice feels like climbing a rope—you keep climbing and climbing, but halfway up, you feel tired and relax your grip, and then you fall. After resting and regaining some strength, you climb again, but before reaching the top, you get tired again, rest, and fall once more… and so it keeps going—up and down, up and down. Practicing like this doesn’t yield results either.
What kind of situation is this? It’s when most people practice diligently only during meditation, but once the session ends, they think, “Well, I’m not meditating right now, so there’s no need to keep working hard.” They feel it’s reasonable to stop applying the method, to stop observing their body and mind. “I’ve finally finished sitting—of course I should enjoy life a little!” Thinking this way is just like what Shifu described: climbing a rope, getting tired, pausing to rest, then climbing again—only to fall back once more.
All of the above are mindsets we should not have when engaging in diligent practice.
I often use the metaphor of “a glass of water with sand.” Our mind is like this glass of water, and the sand represents our delusions.
How can we make the sand settle so that the water becomes clear and drinkable? We can’t forcefully or quickly press the sand down to the bottom—the more you try to push it, the more it stirs up, and the murkier the water becomes. The only effective way is to let the glass sit still, undisturbed, and allow the sand to slowly settle.
Our delusions arise because we keep agitating the mind—disliking certain thoughts stirs it up, and so does clinging to the ones we like.
The only way is to neither reject nor cling to the thoughts, but allow them to settle gently on their own. And this settling process shouldn’t happen only during meditation— we should let the mind settle throughout our daily life. We must keep practicing not to agitate the mind.
The metaphor I use—”a glass of water with sand”—is actually similar to Shifu’s “climbing the rope” analogy. Both are meant to convey the same core message: We must apply effort both on the cushion and off it. In the end, everything we’ve been saying boils down to this one sentence.
