By
sister initiate Han Yun, San Jose, California, U.S.A
Because
I was initiated a long time ago, fellow initiates often ask me what
it was like practicing with Master in the early years of Her Truth-sharing
mission. Many have the illusion that we lived an unworldly life of round-the-clock
meditation with practically no intake of worldly food. On the contrary,
our spiritual life at that time was monotonous, yet it was the most
fulfilling period of my life. It might have been a nightmare for Master,
though, because the few of us who were Her disciples at the time were
quite young. Our naivete and ignorance often resulted in creating problems
rather than helping. Yet, Master taught us with the greatest patience.
It was as though a professor from a graduate school had been assigned
to teach at the kindergarten level. No one but a person with infinite
love could have taken on this difficult task.
I,
for one - a new initiate and a newcomer staying with Master at Hsintien
in suburban Taipei, was the epitome of traditional social habits and
customs. Not only was I ill-tempered, stubborn, reckless, emotional
and agitated in speech, I also craved the luxuries of life, showed no
interest in labor, and had little tolerance for others. Despite my shortcomings,
however, Master edified me patiently and gave me intensive training
through Her example in speech, action, and daily life. She once acknowledged
that Her earliest disciples were the most difficult to teach, requiring
blood, sweat and tears on Her part; how right Master was!
When
I first moved in with Master, I often heard fellow practitioners speak
of Her as a Buddha (Enlightened Master), but She appeared to be an ordinary
person, one with great wisdom who seemed to be unknowing of everything.
Moreover, She did not appear in the form of a majestic Buddha that we
often read about in the scriptures. She did not put on airs and was
extremely cordial. Initially, She had no attendants; She did everything
Herself. There were even times when She served the disciples instead
of the other way around. When we forgot to retrieve the clothes hung
out to dry on the balcony on the top floor, Master did it for us. When
She noticed that we had kicked off our covers, She tucked them in for
us. Very often, She prepared delicious meals for us as well.
Master
usually addressed us in a heart-warming way as "my children".
Although She took great care of the few disciples at the time, She did
not pamper us. We led highly disciplined lives. Besides holding meditation
sessions every morning, afternoon, and evening, Master also taught us
how to cultivate a garden and grow vegetables. I had never used a hoe
in my life, and my arms often felt sore after I had worked for a short
while. So I quickly found an excuse to slip away, the thought of which
fills me with shame even today. While we learned how to grow vegetables,
Master also taught us some other little skills in daily life that would
help us sustain ourselves when away from modern civilization. That was
how She took care of Herself in every aspect of life during Her spiritual
practice in the Himalayas. She frequently reminded us not to rely too
heavily on material civilization. "Impossible" and "no
way" are two negative terms that do not exist in Master's dictionary.
And She trained us to survive in any situation.
Of
course, Master's abilities are far greater than these. She can build
houses as well. In the early times, we once lived on a piece of land
where there was a dilapidated house leveled almost to the ground. Master
was able to build a simple house on the remaining foundation and walls.
She did everything Herself, mixing concrete, laying bricks, plastering
walls, setting up wooden frames, hammering big nails, and even doing
the plumbing. The incredibly mighty power generated from Her petite
physical frame was enough to put tall and sturdy men to shame. She even
single-handedly set the wooden beams in place, a strenuous task that
was a challenge for even the strongest of men, requiring the raising
of Her arms to hammer the nails home.
In
the beginning, several earnest disciples pitched in to help, but the
result was such a disaster that Master had to redo the work. The disciples
were causing more trouble than rendering help. Eventually, we could
only watch by the side, at the most serving as assistants, fetching
tools like hammers, scissors, and nails. Unbelievably, however, we made
mistakes in even such small matters. Very often, we fetched nails of
the wrong size, or got the wrong tools because we did not hear Master
correctly. We were "hopeless cases!" Fortunately, no problem
could prevail over our almighty Master. Very soon, a small but exquisite
"White House" (a house painted in white) was manifested before
us. Had we not seen it with our own eyes, we would not have believed
that it was the work of this petite lady.
If
we could not build a house, perhaps at least we could do the simple
job of cooking! At that time, we ate only one meal a day. Since there
were only five or six disciples staying with Master, She let us take
turns preparing meals. She did not want us to become useless persons
who knew only how to eat but not how to cook. For quite some time, She
had to "enjoy" the "apprentice meals", often half-cooked,
too salty or tasteless, or awfully seasoned, that were served up by
Her dumb disciples. What a torture it was for Master, who was highly
skilled in the culinary art, to tolerate the stuff prepared by these
novices! Yet, I never heard a word of complaint from Her regarding the
food; She just ate whatever we cooked. To train us to become skillful
in everything, Master had to bear our terrible cooking.
This
was how She trained the disciples. The more we were afraid of something,
the more She demanded that we did it. The purpose was to help us overcome
our fears and build up our courage.
We
once lived on a hill in suburban Taipei where there were lots of giant
spiders. I, a city dweller, had never seen these ugly, disgusting, and
gigantic creatures before. One day, I was reading transcripts to Master
in Her room when an enormous spider suddenly appeared. She asked me
to bring an empty mug so She could catch the creature and release it
outside. When I returned, She suddenly changed Her mind because She
saw the fear written all over my face. She handed me the mug and sternly
ordered me to catch the spider. Though extremely reluctant, I had no
choice, since I could not disobey Master's instructions. I gathered
all the courage I could muster, repeating all the Holy Names I could
remember, and, with trembling hands, captured the creature with the
mug. I was truly scared, but this training was necessary. Before long,
I had become very skillful in this matter, and was no longer afraid
of spiders.
In
training the disciples, Master sometimes used very stern methods, so
that we could not run away from our weaknesses, but when handling helpless
animals, She was kind and tender. There are two incidents that I will
never forget. One day, a snake had crept into the house through the
crack beneath the door. We, the disciples, were very nervous. Someone
got a long-handled broom, and tried to sweep the snake onto a dustpan
before taking it outside. Since the broom had a long handle, our hands
were safe against the snake. However, all we had considered was our
own safety. No one had thought about the snake at all. We thought we
were adhering to the precepts by just sweeping it away without harming
it. Unexpectedly, Master reproached us for showing no compassion toward
the snake.
Master
explained that the body of the snake was so sensitive that we could
never get it into the bucket by sweeping it with a broom, because it
would struggle and twist vigorously while trying to escape. This would
only frighten and hurt the snake. How could spiritual practitioners
be so insensitive to the feelings of animals? Master asked a disciple
to bring a bag made of soft fabric, and placed it near the snake. When
the snake had crawled slowly into the bag, we tied the opening tightly
and took it outside where we released the reptile. Master really impressed
me with Her loving kindness for the snake and the wise way in which
She handled the problem.
The
other incident occurred at the Yangming Mountain Center. A fellow brother
had encircled a tree trunk with a steel wire and tightened it with a
pair of pliers. When Master saw this, She immediately asked the brother
to loosen the wire, and instructed that no one should ever put a steel
wire around a tree again. She could feel the pain of the tree trunk
when the steel wire was tightened around it, She said. Yet no one working
in the vicinity noticed this inappropriate action. In fact, no one was
aware that trees also feel pain before Master pointed it out. We had
thought that we were being kind enough to the trees by not felling them,
so putting a steel wire around the trunk was nothing serious. That is
the difference between an ordinary human and an Enlightened Master.
The love of ordinary humans is founded on their own viewpoints and so
is coarse and narrow-minded. The love of an Enlightened Master is based
on the fact that "all creatures are one"; it is thus considerate
and sensitive, and greatly compassionate in its universal empathy.
After
these two incidents, I realized for the first time that the love of
a human being can develop to such a refined and sensitive degree, to
the extent that one can even feel the pain suffered by animals and plants.
Before that, I had always thought that I was compassionate enough in
not killing animals and not cutting down plants; I had never considered
their feelings. Although my compassion has not become as considerate
as Master's, that was a starting point for me. Without Master as my
paragon, I might still be lost in the illusion that I am very compassionate,
and might never have developed my compassion to a higher degree.
Between
Master and Disciples
The
Early Years of My Spiritual Cultivation