1. Growth in the Rainy SeasonIn August in the Northern Hemisphere the heat is extreme and the rainfall abundant; while all things grow vigorously, they also helplessly endure the torment of the extreme weather.Buddhism has the tradition of the 'rains retreat' (varsa). During this hot and humid season, even wandering monks find a place to settle down, escaping the heat while reflecting on and settling the experiences of the past year.The classic of Chinese medicine, the Huangdi Neijing (Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon), says: 'The three months of summer are called the season of flourishing and beauty. The qi of heaven and earth communicate, and all plants flower and bear fruit. One should go to bed late and rise early, not weary of the long days. Keep the will free of anger, let the countenance bloom in radiance, allow the qi to vent outward, as though what is loved lay outside oneself. This is attunement to the summer qi and the way of nourishing growth. Opposing it injures the heart; in autumn one will be stricken with intermittent fever, and there will be little to draw upon for the autumn harvest.'The meaning is this: summer is the season when all things grow and the vegetation flourishes in lush beauty; the yin and yang qi of heaven and earth mingle, and every plant flowers and fruits. In this season a person should retire late and rise early, following nature, not resenting the hot and lengthy daylight. Keep the emotions steady, do not grow easily angered, and, like nature itself, maintain a radiant state. Disperse the yang qi and any resentment, as though drawn outward toward what is loved, keeping the heart joyful. Because summer is the season of growth, one should fully accord with the law of growth. To act against it is to injure the 'heart'; in autumn one easily contracts the disease called jie-nue (intermittent malarial fever). Autumn is the season of harvest; if summer is not spent in accord with growth, then autumn yields little harvest.In the process of growth, all things require sunlight and rain. Summer is precisely the season when sunlight and rain are most abundant, but it is also the most restless season. Under blazing sun and flooding rain, people, affected by the extreme natural conditions, become irritable and quick to anger.The process of growth is often also the process in which things bring about their own undoing. Growth means change; it means needing more space; it means easily coming into conflict and friction with the people and things around us. If not well managed, thriving growth becomes the beginning of disaster.Thus the plants that grow in accordance with the laws of nature bear full and ripe fruit in autumn. Those that defy the laws of nature and cannot grow smoothly reap nothing at all in autumn.So too with people. Growing is a joyful thing, but along the way there is much trouble and friction; one must break through barrier after barrier until at last one is transformed into a new self.Spring passes and autumn returns; every year nature has its summer. In a lifetime a person has countless summers, for we never remain permanently in a single state. As our life experience and knowledge change, our minds continually grow.In a static state a person does not easily grow; growth always occurs alongside difficulty and change. Difficulty and change are like the sunlight and rain of summer: they nourish our growth while testing our capacity to endure.To keep our inner growth positive, we need the attitude of the 'rains retreat'—amid the intricate changes and manifold challenges, to become still, see clearly the essence of things, and, in settling and reflecting, break through the obstacles within our own hearts. Only thus can we be transformed into a new self.2. Change and the Unchanging Original IntentionWhat is the original intention (chu-xin)? Should it be kept unchanged?The only unchanging fact of human life is that people are forever in a state of constant change. All things live on without ceasing; not one moment of the self is the unchanged self. The self of the past is already past. The self of the present, in the future, will also become the past. The self of the future, in the future to come, will again become the past.We often say that someone has changed, but rarely do we say that we ourselves have changed. That is only because we have a knack for living in the present, a knack for wrongly merging our past, present, and future selves into one. We ourselves are changing at every moment, although for everyone there is more or less a little something that is not easily changed. But even what is not easily changed is relative; no person possesses something that is never changed. The so-called 'unchanging' only means that change in certain respects is less obvious, but it is by no means unchanged.The 'original intention' is a concept drawn from Buddhism, from the Huayan Sutra, the 'initial awakening of the mind' (chu-fa-xin), or the initial resolve to seek bodhi. I am not a Buddhist; my understanding of Buddhism is only half-baked. I question whether the Buddha truly advocated never changing the original intention. The Buddha had already penetrated the truth that people are constantly changing; surely he also knew that the initial resolve would inevitably be continually adjusted according to concrete circumstances. Even a grand vow must, in actual practice, continually change.The process by which all things grow is precisely a process of continual change. From seed to sapling, from flower to fruit—what a great change! From child to adult, from youth to the aged, from healthy person to patient, from living person to corpse—where is the unchanging original intention?Only by accepting the changes in others and in ourselves can we adjust our state of mind at any time. To admit that the original intention changes is an objective fact; only then will we neither resent others for changing nor be entangled and stubborn when we ourselves change. To follow change is to be true to reality.By my own shallow experience of life, what I know to be hardest to change is human nature, not the original intention. I prefer to understand and accept the changes of others at the level of human nature. Human nature, through tens of millions of years of evolution, has changed remarkably little.My profession keeps me constantly witnessing the fickleness of human nature. When seeking medical help, patients and their families are most sincere in their attitude and lavish in their flattery. When treatment succeeds, the patient's gratitude toward the doctor rises a notch higher. When treatment fails, the fine attitude shown at the time of seeking help changes greatly; only a few, whether treatment succeeds or fails, treat the doctor with courtesy. More people, not seeing a satisfactory result, grow displeased. Some, even worse, reveal a fierce side they had formerly hidden.Should I reproach those who sought my help for changing their original intention? If I reproached them for this, I ought no longer to study or practice medicine, because a doctor's life must inevitably be lived in this state.I can only understand and accept everything at the level of human nature.No person's original intention is unchanged; my own need not be unchanged either. An unchanging original intention is immature; mental maturity is itself achieved through the continual changing of the original intention. Adjusting one's original intention in light of the 'large sample' one encounters in reality is the reason and wisdom a person must possess. But broadly keeping certain fundamental principles unchanged is also the mark of a person who is 'reliable' and 'mature.'3. Those Who Bear Burdens Should Also Bear ComplaintsWhen a person reaches the prime of life, in the family, in daily life, and at work, we inevitably occupy a central position. The young and old, the women and children at home depend on us for their living. At work we are the mainstays; difficulties are always pushed onto us, the middle-aged and young.Even more daunting, complaints also accumulate upon our heads. In family meetings and work meetings, we receive a great deal of grievance and complaint. Because we are the ones who do the most, we are also the ones most criticized.At such times a person easily grows resentful and nurses quiet hurt, feeling that, having toiled to the point of exhaustion, we are in the end denied and slandered by those we have exhausted ourselves serving.I am going through all this; many people much like me are going through it too. There are frequent 'struggle sessions' directed at us.To understand and accept all this, we can only rely on understanding and tolerance of human nature. Those who need our help must be the vulnerable people we love or serve. A butterfly cannot fly across the sea; they are only frail butterflies, lacking the ability to cross the ocean. They may need to borrow our wings to cross it; and when they grasp our wings, we sometimes make them a little less comfortable.What we ought to reflect on is ourselves, not condemn others. For condemning others is of no avail; these others are our spouses, our children, our parents, our patients, our clients, our friends. Were it not for the various karmic connections, they would not be in the same boat with us.The giver is the stronger party; the receiver, first of all in dignity, easily becomes the weaker party. The giver should lower himself, not raise others up. Because the old are already aged, the young still need to grow, and women, children, and the infirm have weaknesses that cannot be changed. They need our help, but they also need dignity. We have the duty to give them both help and dignity, the duty to accompany them, to play their games, and to make them happy.This has nothing to do with fairness or unfairness; it is wisdom that human beings must learn in order to exist in this world. At one stage of life we always play the caregiver, and at the next the one cared for. Only when, while playing the caregiver, we play it well, can we, on the day we become the one cared for, be worthy of enjoying others' thorough care.4. Keeping Distance and RestraintI have known my revered teacher for more than twenty years; we are as close as father and son. I often help him settle certain matters. Whenever money is involved in the process, my teacher insists on settling accounts with me; however much I refuse, he will not agree.Once my revered teacher said to me: 'Zhiyuan, even close brothers keep clear accounts. I know your heart, but do not refuse me. One day, when you reach my age, you will understand why I do this.'The affection between teacher and disciple remains as close as ever to this day, and I have gradually come to understand why my teacher acts this way. For a relationship between two people to last, there must be appropriate distance and restraint over one's own conduct. My teacher was demonstrating to me the way of being of 'the friendship of the noble is bland as water, while the friendship of the petty is sweet as wine.'Even among close relatives, appropriate distance and restraint should be kept. Mr. Qian Zhongshu said that between people it is like hedgehogs together: too far and they are cold, too close and they wound one another.Confucius said: 'Only women and petty men are hard to nurture; keep them distant and they resent you, keep them close and they are insolent.' I feel that by his standard I cannot guarantee I am not a petty man, because I am not sure I would not have the emotions of 'resentment' or 'insolence.' Even Confucius's own remark seems itself to be 'resenting'; it shows that being a noble who neither 'resents' nor is 'insolent' is rather difficult.So I think the best state in getting along with others is the way my teacher demonstrated to me. Everyone wants their own space and freedom; when two people walk too close and too intimately, distance disappears, and they inevitably intrude upon each other's space, interfere with each other's freedom, and sometimes even damage each other's dignity. What was originally a fine relationship will also be ruined.Only by keeping a certain distance and restraint can one obtain lasting affection and friendship.