You may remember the overseas Chinese practitioner living in Japan who visited us last time; he very much enjoyed listening to my explanations of the Heart Sutra. But the Heart Sutra is not something that just anyone can explain. One of my disciples reads Buddhism in Plain Terms every day and said, “You can read it at a profound level or at a simpler level. The meanings Master explains within it are extremely profound.” In fact, the same applies to our understanding of the Heart Sutra, the Great Compassion Mantra, and many other Buddhist scriptures. Anyone who expounds Buddhist scriptures must have the spiritual state of a Bodhisattva. Many great Dharma Masters may have been Bodhisattvas in their previous lives who returned to this world, which is why they are able to expound the scriptures. But not every Dharma Master is able to do so. If the teachings are explained incorrectly, one may create negative karma of speech.
When I explain Buddhist scriptures to you, I integrate them with Buddhism in Plain Terms tailored to our everyday human life, which is why I frequently draw upon the teachings of the Heart Sutra. My main purpose is to help you integrate these teachings comprehensively so that you truly understand the Heart Sutra. With just a few lines from the Heart Sutra, I can explain the truths of the universe to you. Let me give you a simple example. In the Heart Sutra, you often recite the line, “Form is emptiness; emptiness is form.” I like to explain this through analogies. Take “emptiness is form”, for example. If something is hollow or invisible, does it actually exist? Yes, it exists—take bacteria, for example. You might say we human beings are empty—after we die, we are empty, right? But while we are alive, aren’t we human beings? Let me give you another analogy: consider a wooden fish—a Dharma instrument made of wood. It is hollow inside, isn’t it? Yet when you strike it, it produces a distinct sound. Does it have sound? Yes. Is it hollow? It is hollow. Why can it produce sound? Because a physical object exists—and that is just like “emptiness is form.”
By the same token, what is meant by “form is emptiness”? Think about it: take a solid, tangible object. Using the example I just shared, the hollow wooden fish produces a sound that seems very real and tangible. But looking at it the other way around, if I use a piece of solid wood to represent “form”—representing physical, tangible objects in this world—this “form” is solid wood. It is still a piece of wood, isn’t it? But can it produce that same resonant sound when struck? No, it cannot. What I am trying to tell you is this: everything your eyes see and everything your ears hear may appear to be real on the surface, but in essence, it is empty. This is where one’s spiritual state comes into play. What is a spiritual state? It is the state attained within your mind. Those with a higher spiritual state can see further ahead, and only those who can see further ahead will understand what they should do in the future.
“Form is emptiness” can be understood like this: from the time you are born into this world, you realise, “One day, I will inevitably die. With such a short time in this human realm, what should I actually be doing?” A person who thinks like this has, in truth, begun to see that “form is emptiness.” Conversely, what does “emptiness is form” mean? It means seeing through the nature of things. When you see through the illusions of the human world, haven’t you come to see their emptiness? You may think, “I’ve come to terms with everything. I understand it now. I no longer seek anything from this world. There is nothing more I long for or want to pursue.” Yet something tangible still remains. Take marriage as a simple example. You may feel that your marriage no longer has any meaning, but you still have your children and your family. Doesn’t “emptiness” then become “form” again?
What is “form”? It means that there is still this cycle at work. For example, when couples argue, one person may become so angry that they wish the other would just die. But if that person really collapsed, you certainly would not be able to let go. When you are consumed by hatred, you might say, “I hate them so much!” Yet if something actually happened to them, you would immediately become concerned and unable to let go. Think about it: hasn’t “emptiness” become “form” once again? That is why I tell you not to allow your feelings for another person to cross certain boundaries. Once they do, they will create attachments and concerns within you. If your love is based purely on Buddha-nature—for example, the kind of love taught in the Buddha-dharma—and you do not cross those boundaries, your heart will not be stirred. But once you cross that line and personal feelings become involved, then if something happens to the other person, you will immediately become emotionally affected. This is another example of “emptiness is form”.
This principle is not easy to understand. Let me give you an example. In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong can make himself invisible. When he transforms into a fly and sees that the Tang Monk has been captured by a demon, he becomes anxious and reveals his true form. The same applies to you. On the surface, you may say, “I’ve seen through it all. This family doesn’t matter to me anymore. My children have grown up, so I can stop worrying about them.” But can you really stop worrying? Can you truly let go of your family? Even when your children are grown, you still worry about them. And if something goes wrong with your own health, can you really put your mind at ease? You cannot.
To see this world accurately, one must understand feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness. What do these four aggregates mean? They refer to what you feel, what you think, what you act out, and what arises within your consciousness. When the sutra says that none of these aggregates are different from emptiness, what does it mean? It means that all feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousness are fundamentally empty. In other words, what you think may seem real, what you feel may seem real, and what you possess may also seem real, but you possess these things only temporarily. This is because your physical existence is merely a temporary coming together of the Five Aggregates, and the Five Aggregates are empty.
Let me give you a simple example. If your very existence is ultimately empty, then are the things you possess truly real? Aren’t they illusory as well? Imagine a child playing with a doll and saying, “Here, let me peel an apple for you. I’ll give you a banana too.” Can the doll actually eat them? A human being is formed through the coming together of the Five Aggregates, which are empty by nature. Therefore, everything a person possesses is ultimately empty as well. Just as the little doll is empty, so the apple and banana you feed it are empty too. They exist only within the scenario you have imagined. Since the person who gives rise to these thoughts is themselves ultimately empty, the thoughts they produce are also empty. This is what is meant by empty thoughts. Do you understand? Once the person is gone, aren’t the thoughts they once had empty? Once the person is gone, aren’t all the ideas they once conceived empty as well? Ultimately, none of these things has an enduring existence.
The emptiness of the Five Aggregates is, in essence, what is meant by “neither perception nor non-perception; neither thought nor absence of thought”. What does this mean? I do not dwell on a thought, but that does not mean the thought never arose. These are philosophical principles, and they are very profound. Let me give you another example. Suppose you are at a party and plenty of food has already been laid out. You are hungry, but no one else has started eating yet. Naturally, you want to eat, don’t you? But you do not dwell on that thought, because no one else has started eating and you cannot simply begin eating on your own. This is “non-thought”. Yet “not the absence of thought” means that it is not as though the thought of eating never occurred to you. It did occur to you, but you chose not to dwell on it. So did you think about it or not? The thought arose, but then you let it go, which is as though you had not thought about it at all. The principles of the Buddha-dharma cannot be explained in just a sentence or two. They are philosophical and extremely profound. You need a certain depth of understanding of the principles of life before you can truly understand the Buddha-dharma. Not everyone can understand it. In the past, I did not explain the Buddha-dharma to you at such a profound level because, back then, you had barely been exposed to it.
Sometimes a thought arises, yet it is almost as though we never thought it at all. For example, when you are arguing with someone and they insult you, you may immediately think of an insult in return. Did you think it? Yes. But you did not say it aloud, and then you let the thought go. This is “not the absence of thought”. In fact, you have already answered them back in your mind. The moment has passed, and you feel better, so why let the words come out of your mouth as well? Why must you say them aloud? Some people simply curse silently in their hearts and let it go. Those with a relatively higher spiritual state may say, “It’s all right, it’s all right,” even when someone has treated them badly. They might still have a fleeting grumble inside, but an insult will never pass their lips. This is called guarding one’s speech—keeping a firm watch over what comes out of one’s mouth. This too is a form of cultivation. If someone cannot restrain themselves and simply has to say what is on their mind, it shows a lack of cultivation; if they insist on saying it out loud, they are acting at a very low level. If you have true capability, let the thought pass in your mind without speaking it aloud. What you keep to yourself is effectively “absence of thought amounts to non-thinking”. Did I think it? Yes, the thought arose, but because I didn’t voice it, it amounts to not thinking, and the matter simply blows over. Once words leave your mouth, as the old saying goes: “Spilt water can never be gathered back.” During an argument, once hurtful words have been spoken, you cannot take them back, and you are left slapping yourself in regret. Some of you can fully relate to what I mean, because words often slip out of your mouth before you have thought them through. The moment they are out, you say, “Did I really say that? I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” But the words have already left your mouth, and there is no way to take them back.
As your cultivation improves, even if you disapprove of someone, you can simply keep the thought to yourself. You might think, “Why is this young woman behaving like that?” Just smile and say nothing. Can’t you do that? Once the thought passes, it is “not the absence of thought”: it is not that the thought never arose, but you did not dwell on it or act upon it. You did not say anything, and you took no action. This is part of learning how to conduct yourself. If you can truly apply the Buddha-dharma to the way you conduct yourself, you will naturally become a better person and cultivate Buddhism well. If you cannot conduct yourself properly, you will not be able to cultivate Buddhism well either. This is why I ask every one of you to be sincere, honest, and disciplined. Only those who conduct themselves sincerely and properly can cultivate Buddhism well. How can someone who is glib and does not conduct themselves properly expect to cultivate Buddhism well?
Many people have a thought and later, when someone asks them about it, they wonder, “Did I say that?” It feels as though they did, yet also as though they did not. In fact, the words were already spoken in their mind, but because they were never voiced, it seems both as though they were said and as though they were not. This is the state of “thought yet not thought”. For example, suppose your husband scolds you at home and you think to yourself, “What’s wrong with this old man again? Has he been possessed by a spirit?” The thought has arisen, but did you actually say it? You said it inwardly, but not aloud. Isn’t this “thought yet not thought”?
You must remember: we need equality and a mind free from discrimination. What does equality mean? What does it mean to have a mind free from discrimination? It means regarding everyone equally. As I look at all of you sitting here now, I regard you all as equal—as though you were all the same age, the same gender, and of the same character. This is what is meant by equanimity. When Bodhisattvas save sentient beings, they first regard everyone equally. However, in practice, if you repeatedly do wrong, or if you pray to the Bodhisattvas and then continue committing unwholesome deeds, then you yourselves have broken that equality; it is not the Bodhisattvas who have done so. Bodhisattvas treat everyone equally when they set out to save sentient beings. Let me give you a simple example. When I help all of you, I initially regard you equally and see you all as good people. But if you do not respect your Master or cultivate diligently, then it is you who disrupt that equality and undermine the equanimity taught by the Bodhisattvas.
Only by having a mind free from discrimination can you attain equanimity. In other words, whether I see a man or a woman, I regard them in the same way; whether I see someone old or young, I regard them in the same way. You all possess the Buddha-mind and are all Bodhisattvas, so I hold no preconceived notions about any of you. That is what it means to have a mind free from discrimination. How do we overcome our own discriminating mind? By recognising that everyone is equal. You should regard everyone sitting here today in the same way—everyone is equal.