The eighty thousand subtle practices

1. THE ETHICS OF THE SAINTS ARE LIMITLESS

In the sutras we chant, we have often heard of the "three thousand modes of deportment" and the "eighty thousand subtle practices". These are the deportment and subtle practices spoken of for the Buddha, for the great Bodhisattvas and for the Saints of the Sangha. Here, we who practise need to grasp two things firmly: outward deportment and inner ethics.

As for deportment, in the Vinaya we have studied twenty-four chapters on deportment, while the deportment of the Saints is described in the sutras as numbering three thousand. As for ethics, we have examined only the basic ethical qualities, in about thirty lessons. Even that much is enough to make us feel it is hard and demanding. Yet for the Saints, ethics is expressed in "eighty thousand subtle practices".

So how many is "eighty thousand subtle practices"?

We know that one muôn is ten thousand. "Eighty thousand subtle practices" means eighty thousand subtle practices, eighty thousand points of ethics. Compared with the ethics of the Saints, then, we still have quite a distance to go.

Although this lesson closes the subject of the Psychology of Ethics, it is also the beginning of a whole life of practice, the beginning of the many lifetimes of practice to come; it is a lesson that points us towards a new stretch of road, a new cultivation that is harder and more demanding. We must grasp it firmly so as to strive not only for this life and the next, but for the eighty thousand lifetimes after.

This lesson gives us the chance to admire the character of the Saints, and helps us understand more about their deportment and ethics. Besides the main ethical qualities, a Saint in Buddhism must also achieve a special kind of conduct. Although we know we can never do it as they do, we still try to apply it bit by bit, to understand more deeply and to see the greatness and loftiness of the Saints, of the great Bodhisattvas in the Dharma.

First, let us speak about deportment. Oai is dignified authority and nghi is bearing. Deportment is the outward gestures that express the dignified authority, the beauty and the serenity of a practitioner. When describing the deportment of the Saints, we often hear of the "three thousand modes of deportment". So what are these "three thousand modes of deportment"? Have we ever heard each of the modes that make up the "three thousand" listed?

In fact, these "three thousand modes of deportment" have never been listed in any text. But relying on wisdom, we can examine for ourselves and understand what they are. We should understand that, with a pure and clear inner mind, a practitioner controls outward gestures very closely and carefully, so that a pure, dignified and beautiful deportment shines out… There is an aesthetic element in this, or, going further, it is an art. This art comes from wisdom.

For example, an artist who studies aesthetics and art does not necessarily have meditative concentration or wisdom, even though they too feel beauty and aesthetics deeply, and so find inspiration, emotion and creativity. Whereas a person who has attained wisdom and pure meditative concentration always shows aesthetic and artistic abilities. That is also one of the reasons why Zen masters often write poems, and write quite good ones.

It is the same with deportment and gestures. Ordinarily, if the mind is not pure, our walking and standing may not look good. Looking at people who walk and stand beautifully and solemnly, we can know their inner state. They are decent people, with ethics and wisdom. All deportment is created by the wisdom of pure meditative concentration. For example, when we are standing, we cannot see ourselves and do not know how we are standing. Only an outsider looking on can tell whether we are standing properly. But when we practise, and the mind has come to control the body, we know for ourselves whether our body is standing in a proper posture. It is the same when sitting, even when squatting: when the mind is controlling the body, it is still different. So, sitting alike and walking and standing alike, a person whose mind is pure and controls the body is quite different.

Some people wonder how one can tell whether a practitioner's mind has become pure. It is quite simple. No supernormal powers or miracles are needed: we only need to watch them walk, stand, sit… with the body under control, and we know this person is pure, even though they are not trying to control it. This is very remarkable. We should know that deliberately keeping the body's form beautiful is not right. That is only the tip of the practice of meditative concentration, not its root. If we deliberately strike a pose with the body, we are only going to the tip. Here, we do not deliberately arrange the body; we just hold to a correct method, the mind is concentrated, and from within that concentration wisdom shines out and controls the body very naturally.

For example, a person who recites the Buddha's name knows only how to recite the Buddha's name, but within that concentration a wisdom emerges that controls the body. So, although they are still intent on reciting, each of their steps is dignified and light. Or some people bow to the Buddha very beautifully. The reason is that the person has a pure inner mind. It is this pure, clear inner mind that controls every small gesture and creates a deportment that is unhurried, beautiful and solemn. Whether in a place with no one or among many people, they still know for themselves whether their body is in a proper posture and gesture.

For example, when something makes it necessary to run (a house on fire, say), if we quietly watch many people running, we will know who practises, who has mindfulness and who has lost mindfulness. Some run flat out, no longer aware of anything; some are very quick but still keep calm, easy, dignified, with the body under control. Looking, we know that this person's mind is very good, still aware of the whole body even in a hurry.

Or take climbing trees. In the precepts the Buddha forbade monastics to climb trees, because when climbing a tree it is hard for a practitioner to keep a decent posture. Especially in ancient times, when monastics only wrapped their robes around them, any slip while climbing would look very bad. But because a certain bhikkhu, chased by a tiger, did not dare climb a tree and was eaten by the tiger, the Buddha amended the rule: a practitioner may climb trees when there is no alternative. Even so, when climbing a tree, a person who controls the body is still different from one who does not; a person with deportment is still different from one without. Though both climb, grasp and move along the branches, the person whose mind is clearly aware and pure still has ease, dignity and beauty, quite unlike a person whose mind is not pure…

All of this is called deportment. So what are subtle points of deportment?

Subtle points of deportment are very small gestures that we are able to control, such as the look in the eyes, the smile, the sound of the voice and so on… For example, the gaze of a pure person is usually calm, looking at the right place, in the right spot, just enough, neither staring nor darting about. The look of the eyes also has its own deportment. When we talk to someone, we have to look at each other. But when the eyes look, they give off electricity. If two people keep gazing fixedly at each other it is very uncomfortable, because then two currents of electricity clash. So when we talk, we only glance at the person in front of us and then move our eyes elsewhere. That is the skilful way to manage our gaze. Or, when talking, we look only at places that are proper to look at. Suppose that while we are talking, the other person has to open a wallet to take out money: we must turn our eyes away. If someone deliberately looks deep into our eyes while talking and we cannot avoid it or look elsewhere, we should look back, but with a compassionate mind. If the current from their gaze meets our eyes, broad and open and not resisting, they will not feel uncomfortable. That is deportment, the subtle deportment of the gaze.

The smile too has its deportment and subtle points. In some cases a faint smile, a light smile, is enough. Sometimes we give a bright smile, sometimes we burst out laughing aloud. That is, we must know how amusing the story or the setting is, and give everyone a suitable smile. If the story only deserves a faint smile and we guffaw, we lose our deportment. In dealings with people we must know restraint and self-control, and not lose composure over funny stories. But when people are telling a funny story, to show ourselves cold is also not right. In every case we must be harmonious and measured, to suit the story and the people. When lay Buddhists come to the temple, even if they are not people we know, even if it is not our duty, we should bow or smile to show the compassion of a practitioner towards lay Buddhists. If we meet lay Buddhists we do not know and take no notice of them, treating them as strangers, that is a great mistake. Many practitioners make it. Especially in temples with large communities, we often see that the monks receive only the lay Buddhists they know.

Even the sound of the voice is the same. A person with clear awareness will control and adjust their voice so that it is just right, gentle to hear and also with something serene about it. If the sound of a person's voice has notes that are too high or low, not fitting together harmoniously, we know this person has not yet adjusted their voice and has not yet controlled a pure mind. The voice is a very subtle kind of deportment. Listening to a person's voice, we can judge their ethics. For example, a person who is very handsome on the outside and from a rich family, but whose tones in speech are not well balanced, we know that person's ethics are not yet careful, and body and mind are not yet under control. Or those who have a naturally pleasing voice (not one made pleasing by affectation) are very good people.

Beyond the deportment of the eyes, the smile, the voice…, we find deportment for still smaller gestures. For example, the deportment of the fingers. When we talk to others, or even when we sit alone, if we do not control our fingers we make very funny gestures: sometimes twisting the hem of our robe, sometimes tearing paper and dropping it on the floor, sometimes scratching the table top absent-mindedly, and so on… These things are so subtle that they slip out of our control, so we must be careful. If we have control, we will know what is right to do. For example, when sitting listening to the Dharma, some people rest their chin on their hand beautifully and easily, because they are in control. But others rest their hand so that they look sleepy, or discontented, or weary of life.

Every small point like this is deportment. In the life of practice, it is very hard to count them all. The figure of "three thousand modes of deportment" is only a symbolic figure. We should also note that those "three thousand modes of deportment" are what genuinely shines out from a pure inner mind, and not deliberate posing or affectation. Simply control the mind, and naturally our body will become beautiful. People with wisdom are usually people who always keep their deportment.

"Eighty thousand subtle practices" is the same. It is only a symbolic figure for the very many subtle practices of the Saints, which we can hardly count in any concrete way. Tế means fine or subtle; subtle practices are the ethical qualities that shine out very deeply even in small matters. It is wisdom of the utmost sharpness that has mastered clinging to self, and so produces countless subtle ethical qualities in dealing with living beings.

If we compare it with tactful behaviour, we will understand what subtle practices are. In our lives we have met many people whose manner is very tactful. They are very quick-witted in every situation of dealing with others. They can guess the mood of the people in front of them and behave so that those people are not upset. They are very refined. And the more refined they are, the more tactfully they live.

Tact and subtle practice differ slightly. Tact belongs to polite behaviour. If a person is polite outwardly but has no ethics within, we call him only a polite, cultured person. A person who behaves politely outwardly and has ethics within is a person with subtle practices. Even so, though we have not yet attained subtle practices, we must try to behave tactfully with everyone. People who live tactfully are usually very skilful and perceptive, able to guess others' wishes, so they do not upset them, and sometimes even bring everyone unexpected joy. In life, if everyone behaved tactfully towards each other, how pleasant life would be!

For example, when closing the door of a room, we should do it gently (even when there is no one in the room). That belongs to deportment. But the act of closing a door gently becomes ethics when someone is sitting in the room talking with us. Because that gentleness shows respect for the other person. If there is still someone in the room and we shut the door very hard, it means we are irritated, angry or looking down on them.

We Vietnamese have customs that show tact in dealing with others. For example, when a guest comes to visit, we must not sweep the floor, because that act shows an attitude of driving the guest away. If we really need to sweep the house, we must ask permission first, to show respect for the other person.

In tactful behaviour, sometimes there is the sincerity of ethics, and sometimes it is merely a show, an outward politeness according to the customs of each region and each country. So we must have understanding, and not be careless and make blunders in dealing with people. If we go to Japan, France, America…, we will come across tactful words and ways of behaving, but in fact they are only habits, a feature of their culture of social interaction.

For example, when we dial a wrong phone number, the person at the other end will tell us: "You have a wrong number." If we say sorry, that person will answer: "You're welcome." Translated into Vietnamese this means "Không có chi" (it's nothing). But if we take it word for word, the sentence means "You are still welcome." It is a courtesy phrase said out of habit, but in reality, sometimes, the heart does not feel that way.

Or when someone is talking with us and cannot hear clearly, they will ask: "Pardon?" (Please forgive me). That is, they do not take the view that we spoke wrongly or hard to hear, but take the fault on themselves, saying the fault is that they could not hear. That is a fine feature of the Western culture of social interaction. At such times, we should not think they are really at fault.

Understanding this, we will not be surprised when watching a clip from a foreign film: on a bus, a young man who is sitting stands up to give his seat to a pregnant woman. He has just stood up and the woman has not yet sat down when a Black man comes from somewhere and sits right in that seat. The young man says very properly: "Sir, this seat is not yours." But the other man loses his temper and swears. The young man asks: "Pardon?", and at the same time takes off his glasses, asks the woman to hold them for him, and beats the other man up.

So, though still very polite, still using the word "Pardon" to the other man, the young man was still ready to hit him as a warning.

Not to look far, in our own country too there are many regions that are very polite and tactful in behaviour, but in reality it is only culture. For example, when we visit a Northern family just when they are eating, we will be invited very warmly: "Please join us for the meal, sir! Please join us for the meal, madam!", although by then the rice pot is completely empty and they do not get up to fetch an extra bowl or pair of chopsticks. If we do not understand and promptly sit down at the tray, we will cause difficulty for the host.

All that we have just said belongs to tactful behaviour. If we want to turn tactful behaviour into subtle practice, we need only add sincere love and respect. Love comes from compassion; respect comes from humility. Both are rooted in the basic ethical qualities we have studied. Because we love and respect people, we have beautiful, subtle ways of behaving that do not upset or hurt others. A person in the Way, when the mind is pure, full of love and respect for others, has a very bright mind. They can see through our state of mind and treat us appropriately, skilfully, gently, attentively and deeply. That is called subtle practice.

For those who have compassion, wisdom will appear. For compassion is the cause and wisdom is the result. We should not think that concentration will give rise to wisdom. Without compassion, concentration still cannot give rise to wisdom. For example, a person who sits in meditation and attains concentration can still fall into vacancy, clinging to emptiness, or a blank neutral state. But if that person contemplates compassion and love for living beings, then out of that concentration wisdom will appear. In the same way, in life, when we love everyone, our understanding naturally brightens. And only when we truly love are we entitled to understand people. This is a law set by the heavens and the Buddha, and it is also cause and effect. Only when we love someone are we entitled to understand them. If we do not love, we will often think wrongly and often criticise their weaknesses. For example, when we look at lay Buddhists coming to visit the temple, because we have love we will care about them and understand the hardship of the difficult journey they made to come to the temple. From that we will give proper attention: seeing to their meals, arranging a place for them to rest…

It is always so: only when we care do we understand others. It is love that makes us care, and it is care that gives us wisdom and a deep understanding of people. So it is no accident that we say compassion gives birth to wisdom.

In the book Cặn bã ký ức ("The Dregs of Memory"), Uncle Hai Như Sanh tells a story: Once, on a bus, he took out a bottle of medicated oil to rub on himself. Seeing a woman with a small child staring at the bottle, he knew she needed it too, so he handed her the bottle and told her to use it. She was delighted, because since morning she had felt chilled and unwell, but had no oil to rub on. When she finished and handed it back, he opened the bottle and rubbed a little more on himself, then closed the cap and gave the bottle to her.

This is where the "eighty thousand subtle practices" show. If, when she handed it back, he had not taken it but simply given it to her, she would have thought that he saw she was poor, toil-worn and dirty, and so did not want it back. Then he would have hurt her. Taking the bottle back and rubbing on a little more before giving it shows that he gave to her out of sincere feeling, out of kindness, esteem and goodwill, and not out of fear of dirt or of catching illness. To help someone without hurting them: that is the skilful way of behaving of a wise person.

It is the same when doing good deeds. Lay Buddhists should be discreet and respect everyone; never help others with a little rice or a few clothes and then advertise it in the newspapers everywhere, because doing so shows we do not respect others and robs the good deed of its meaning. People will think we help them for fame and gain and not out of love. Helping others must be discreet and tactful; that is subtle practice.

2. THE STANDARDS OF COUNTLESS SUBTLE PRACTICES

Knowing the law of karmic results clearly, and thoroughly filtering out the selfish mind, is the starting point of the eighty thousand subtle practices. For when we know this clearly, we will be able to do very good things for people even in situations that are not easy. Life is often very complicated, and we must behave reasonably on the basis of the law of cause and effect.

For example, although the temple is still poor, when monks and nuns need help we are ready to give it within our means. Of course, helping monks and nuns is no difficulty, because we take from the permanent property of the temple to help the Sangha of the ten directions, so it is not wrongdoing, and we need not think twice. But there are also cases where lay people attached to the temple fall into difficulty, and we cannot bear it and take temple money to help them. Then we have broken the rules. The bhikkhu Vinaya does not allow a practitioner to do that. But if we do not help, we will be very uneasy. In such awkward situations, we must think and find a way to justify what we do. First, we must find their service and take it that this is a person who has done service to the Dharma and so deserves this money. Second, if that person has done no service, we can justify it by saying we should sow a connection so that they become indebted to the temple. Who knows, from this life to the next they may come into the temple to do voluntary work, and through it learn the Dharma and practise.

To devise every kind of way and reason to take temple money to help a lay person: these are subtle practices within the mind. We think about cause and effect and must know about cause and effect, know about merit and the depletion of merit, and not do good deeds in order to seek merit. We should also never think that giving always brings merit. On the contrary, sometimes merit is even depleted if one does not give in the right way. So we justify ourselves within cause and effect so as to be at ease that we have not done wrong and that the other person is not so very bad, though in truth this is also a depletion of merit.

Another standard that creates countless subtle practices is a pure mind in meditative concentration. Ordinarily we live with a pure mind, but when something comes up that needs an immediate response, it must show itself as ethics, even in a very small matter. That is called subtle practice. There are lay Buddhists who are very perceptive and thoughtful. They need only sit and talk with us for a very short while and they know at once what we need, and bring it to offer the next day. We can learn such things from them in how we behave. In life, when facing someone, we should notice and care about their necessary needs, even if they are very small. For example, when we are halfway through a meal and someone comes home late, we must not sit still and go on eating, but must hurry to fetch a bowl and chopsticks and invite them to eat with us. If we let that person quietly sit down at the table, we have treated them without feeling, without love and respect, without care, and without tact and politeness. Such small things are called subtle practices, a deep love and respect for everyone.

Remember that ethics always makes us work hard. Only selfish people have an easy life. So if we want to live an altruistic life, we must accept toil and hardship. Each word and each action of ours must carry our love and respect to others. Once we care about others' needs in order to help them, the tree of ethics in our hearts begins to flower and bear fruit.

One more thing to mention is our attitude in dealing with people. For example, a practitioner must be earnest and proper, and must not be careless so that others look down on him. But if we are always earnest, the atmosphere becomes very tense. So we must balance those two attitudes, those two ways of living. A teacher is often strict with his disciples so that they strive to study and practise well. However, to be strict all the time is not in keeping with the Way. There are times when teacher and disciples must be cheerful and joke together so that life is less tense.

In life, some events that come up are simple and easy to handle, but others are complicated and hard to handle, where a slight deviation is enough to make us resolve them wrongly. So, case by case, we must behave with delicacy.

On this we should follow the example of the Buddha. We remember that the first time the Buddha went back to visit the royal palace, when he went in to see Yasodhara he let no one go with him except two disciples who had attained the Way. For he foresaw that this was a very awkward situation, and that Yasodhara would not be able to contain her emotion. Before going in, he instructed the disciples: "Monks, leave it be if Yasodhara embraces the Tathagata." Then the three of them went in. It was just as he had foreseen. Meeting again the husband whom she had always loved and revered, after so many years of separation and longing, she could not hold back her emotion, and embraced him, weeping bitterly. The Buddha stood calm and did not react. The two disciples stood quietly to one side. The scene was truly moving, truly sacred, and extremely tactful and deep. If at that moment the Buddha had cried out, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!", her love and longing of so many years might have turned into resentment and hatred. Then the wife would have felt insulted. But it was his tactful behaviour that moved her. After so many years apart, her longing and affection had not been cast off but had been respected, and she felt her heart grow warm. The Buddha's way of behaving moved her heart and later she went forth. This is subtle practice, the Buddha's very fine way of conducting himself. Of course, he could behave in this way only because no one else was going along. Before a large crowd, for him to let Yasodhara embrace him like that would not have been fitting, as so many people might think ill of him. The two disciples who went with him had realised the Way and understood that their teacher's mind was still pure, so there was nothing for them to worry about. So he handled everything very beautifully and originally. This is one of the Buddha's subtle practices.

Another story also bears out what we have just said. It is how he converted a farmer who was a Brahmin.

When the Brahmin was handing out rice to his ploughmen, the Buddha was also standing there holding his bowl, waiting. The farmer did not give him any and said:

• Venerable sir! I plough my field, so I have food to eat; you too should plough a field, and you will have food to eat.

This was an insulting remark. In such a case we would flare up, be irritated, or, even if we did not say anything, walk off sadly. But the Buddha remained very calm and said:

• The Tathagata also ploughs, and the Tathagata also has food to eat.

He went along with the Brahmin's reasoning and did not oppose it. Hearing this, the man said:

• You say you plough and have food, but where do I see the furrows? Where do I see your oxen and your yoke?

The Buddha answered:

• The Tathagata ploughs in the field of his own mind. The pair of oxen is the power of diligence, the yoke is the precepts, the whip is the control of the inner mind.

Having heard this, the Brahmin understood, was filled with respect for him, and expressed his admiration and asked to make an offering. But then the Buddha refused, saying:

• It cannot be, for the Tathagatas of the three times never accept offerings after speaking the Dharma. It would be like selling the Dharma for a living, which is wrong livelihood.

Having said this, he took his bowl and went elsewhere.

He conducted himself very well, without a single flaw, at once patient and generous, yet keeping the necessary distance. That is subtle practice. If, after speaking, he had accepted an offering from someone who had changed his mind, he would have become very ordinary.

Another example also shows his perfect behaviour. When the Buddha began to be famous, followers of other paths grew jealous and plotted to harm him. They killed a girl and buried her body right in the Jetavana monastery to slander the Buddha and the Sangha. They raised the cry: "The monks at the monastery kill to silence people." Though the matter was so serious, the Buddha remained very calm and did not even discuss it. Some bhikkhus who had not yet attained the Way were worried and asked him. He said: "It looks like something, but it is nothing; in a few days it will pass." And so it was: after a short time, people naturally stopped believing that the Buddha and the monks had done anything wrong in connection with the girl's death. In that case, if he had reacted, or tried to explain and set the record straight, it would have made things more complicated. So he stayed silent, whatever people said or thought. That way of conducting himself was truly tactful and effective. That too is subtle practice.

In life, beings can hardly understand the conduct of a Saint, so they often criticise only according to their own narrow minds. In truth, there are things we simply cannot understand. So never use our own mental capacity and mind to judge the conduct of Saints. For a wise teacher, every act, word, cry or smile… is within their control. They know what they should do at that moment. This is not simple or easy to understand, so we must be humble and not hasten to criticise and judge. That is with teachers who have wisdom. With Saints we must be still more careful in judging. There are Zen masters who attained the Way whose words and conduct no one has been able to explain even now. It is said that there was a Zen master who attained the Way and at the end of his life sat in the lotus position and passed away properly and freely, yet throughout his years of practice he only ate meat and drank wine. We still cannot explain that attitude and way of life, yet we do not dare criticise it. Because he had deep meditative concentration, answered fluently in Zen language, and with his disciples was very strict.

For this very reason, when we want to criticise anyone for anything, we must be reserved and careful.

3. EACH VIRTUE HAS MANY BRANCHES AND LEVELS AND INTERWEAVES AND COMBINES WITH THE OTHERS

We know that each virtue has many branches and many levels, and interweaves and combines with other virtues. And it is this very complexity that creates deportment and subtle practices.

For example, loving-kindness, the love of living beings, has three branches. When we love living beings, we feel their pain: that is compassion. Loving living beings, we rejoice in their happiness: that is sympathetic joy. And loving living beings, we are able to forgive their faults: that is equanimity. (This word "equanimity", xả, does not mean giving up. Xả in the "four immeasurable minds" means "to forgive".) Loving-kindness also has many levels. At the shallow level it is only an aspiration: "I vow to love living beings." Because it is only an aspiration, when something happens we may still react sharply and not yet show love. At a higher level, we sit and contemplate every night, spreading love to living beings… The third level is when the mind enters concentration. In concentration we practise the samadhi of loving-kindness and compassion, spreading love to all living beings, although clinging to self is still there. And at the final level, as with the Buddhas and arhats, clinging to self disappears and loving-kindness becomes absolute.

Loving-kindness and compassion can combine with other practices. For example, loving-kindness combined with truthfulness shows in how we have spoken truthfully. We always speak truthfully because we love living beings. Or loving-kindness combined with an equal-minded heart shows in treating people properly. Because we love living beings, we treat them equally, without distinguishing rich from poor. Or loving-kindness combined with overcoming oneself helps us love everyone and hope that those who come after will be better than we are and say more original things than we do, so that the Dharma may develop more and more.

So one virtue, having at once many branches, many levels, and combining with other ethical qualities, creates countless subtle practices. We can combine gentleness and firmness. Gentleness shows in accommodating others. Firmness shows in holding to our own position. So by combining these two qualities, we will behave rightly according to the moment. There are times we must be gentle, and times we must be firm. That is the wisdom of subtle practice.

We can combine depth and letting go. Depth is refinement, knowing others well. Living with a deep person, we must be very careful in what we do and say. For with the slightest carelessness they know what kind of person we are: superficial, careful, clever or foolish, able to practise or not… But a deep person usually knows and acts as though he does not know; that is letting go. They know but do not cling to their knowing, and still care for and love everyone. If the Saints always knew and showed that they knew, we would never dare come near them. Here, knowing yet seeming not to know, being deep yet letting go, comes from a compassionate and pure mind. That too is subtle practice. So a person who does not yet have subtle practices, who is not yet discreet, often displays his understanding in front of everyone.

Or we can combine solemnity and joy. In life, if we are always solemn, it creates a heavy atmosphere. If a temple is too solemn and looks heavy, lay Buddhists will not dare come. But if we are always cheerful and casual, people look down on us. When they come to the temple gate, they will not know reverence or awe. So we must combine these two attitudes harmoniously.

Or a practitioner must be humble but not lowly or cringing. That too is an expression of subtle practice. When we meet others, we always respect them, but we never cringe or take the attitude of someone begging favours, because that is the attitude of a person who has lost his dignity. A person who has lost his dignity and often begs favours usually shows cringing before others.

4. MEDITATIVE CONCENTRATION AND ETHICS CANNOT BE SEPARATED

We should always remember: meditative concentration and ethics are two sides that cannot be separated. Cultivating ethics makes meditative concentration develop. And when meditative concentration develops, the wisdom within concentration makes ethics complete. The starting point of Zen is purifying the mind to make it wholly good. Vigilance about ethics is also the clear awareness that controls the mind. Conversely, clear awareness that controls the mind also creates virtue.

Some people, not understanding this, objected when they heard of practising ethics: "Ethics is relative, while Buddha-nature is absolute." People who argue like this have no experience of practice, because without ethics there is never meditative concentration. If someone is lucky enough, through merit from a past life, to have concentration today, that concentration will soon collapse. So our practice of meditative concentration must go side by side with ethics. Throughout a life of practice, we must cultivate meditative concentration and ethics together, favouring neither.

Of course, the concentration we speak of here is Right Concentration, the concentration that develops ethics. It is the exact opposite of the kinds of concentration that care only for oneself. In ethics there is an altruistic life, a life lived for others. Even in purity and solitude, we sit in meditation in order to save living beings who are sinking. If we cut down the time we spend on meditative concentration, it is for living beings. And when we are able to spare a lot of time for sitting meditation, that too is for the benefit of living beings. Every hour and every minute we sit in meditative concentration, in silence, in solitude, in loneliness that no one knows of, is for living beings. So meditative concentration is ethics. If we think we cultivate ethics in order to get this or that, we are already selfish, and have gone the wrong way on the Buddhist path. Or when we sit in meditation diligently in order to attain the Way, to become enlightened, we are also doing it for ourselves and not for living beings, which also means going the wrong way on the path.

So whatever we do, we must keep in mind that we do it for living beings and for the Dharma. Even when we enter a retreat hut, we remember that we enter the retreat resolutely and diligently for living beings, and not to win glory for ourselves. Once we do it for living beings, if our practice gains us nothing, we are not sad, and patiently carry on to the end. But if we practise for ourselves and gain nothing, we will be endlessly sad, and sometimes disappointment makes us break down halfway.

So how can we assess progress in meditative concentration?

To assess a person's progress in meditative concentration, we should look at their ethics. The result of a person's practice of meditative concentration shows in dealings with living beings that grow ever more ethical and more refined. If we see someone whose ethics develop more and more, whose subtle practices go deeper and deeper and whose deportment grows ever finer, we will know that this is a person progressing in meditative concentration. Conversely, if we see someone who sits in meditation a great deal but remains superficial in dealing with others, we know that person's concentration is not yet firm and may collapse.

5. NEVER BE SELF-SATISFIED WITH THE ETHICS ONE HAS ATTAINED

The last thing we want to say here is that we must never be self-satisfied with the ethics we have attained. For each virtue has many different levels of depth. Today we understand this level, but that does not mean we have fully attained that virtue. We should understand that the road from ethics to perfection, to the absolute, is a very long one, and not everyone can reach it. So we must never be self-satisfied.

On the contrary, we must admire the lives of the Saints in order to learn from and imitate them. Today the Buddha is far from us, but through the sutras and the old stories and tales of his subtle practices, we must reflect and ponder so that those good and right things, that deportment and those subtle practices, gradually seep into our hearts.

Subtle practices come from meditative concentration, so they are not easy for us to attain. So, when studying the lesson of the Eighty Thousand Subtle Practices, we must understand that it is a lesson for countless lifetimes to come.

Written in the spring of 2004

Thích Chân Quang