The Plum Is Ripe: No Need to Seek Elsewhere
In Chan Buddhism there is a koan called "the plum is ripe."
Da Mei, a disciple of Master Mazu Daoyi, asked Mazu: "What is the Buddha?" Mazu answered: "The very mind is the Buddha." Hearing this, Da Mei was immediately enlightened. A few years later, Mazu wanted to test whether Da Mei had truly understood, so he sent an attendant to say to Da Mei: "Master Mazu's teaching has recently changed." Da Mei asked: "How has it changed?" The attendant replied: "The Master now says: 'Neither mind nor Buddha.'" Da Mei answered: "That old man is confusing people. Let him talk about neither mind nor Buddha; I simply hold that the very mind is the Buddha." The attendant reported back to Mazu, who approved, saying: "The plum is ripe!"
Chan says that when deluded, the master ferries one across; when enlightened, one ferries oneself. The Sutra of Forty-two Sections says: "Do not trust your own thoughts; your thoughts cannot be trusted. Only when one has attained the fruit of an arhat may one trust one's thoughts." The arhat is the highest fruition of Hinayana Buddhism; when a person has cultivated to the arhat fruition—that is, reached the stage of the awakened one—he has perfect wisdom, and all his thoughts accord with the Noble Eightfold Path, so "one may trust one's thoughts." Master Da Mei's answer has a flavor of "only when one has attained the arhat fruition may one trust one's thoughts."
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I had always entertained the idea of going back to take the college entrance exam once more, attend medical school again, and study under a famous teacher. But throughout the pandemic, the global medical establishment's judgment of the situation and its research on treating COVID-19 were nothing special. Although I lack all kinds of dazzling titles, after reading for so many years, my assessment of problems seems no more far-fetched than theirs. Going back for another medical education would merely waste ten years of my life. Today's medical schools could teach me little new; I can completely perfect myself through self-study.
Having thought this through, I felt much lighter. Of course I do not dare arrogantly claim that my level is far above others, but to say I am far below them would not be true either. Moreover, after this experience I roughly understood that among the experts and scholars within the system, I fear there are still mostly old slickers who draw a salary without working and are skilled at maneuvering, or political opportunists; those who can settle down to read and do scholarship are rare. I doubt there are many in the medical world who have read more widely than I have. To spend my precious life following them in doing things I do not like would be a huge waste and a torment to myself. On the contrary, someone like me who has escaped from the cage can freely read and research according to his own wishes. To envy others is truly not to know one's own blessings. What I have always diligently pursued is precisely true knowledge, nothing else.
The COVID pandemic shattered the last lingering illusion in my heart. Having read for so many years as a free person, I did not know that I was already in the state of "the plum is ripe." Now I may as well be a bit presumptuous and consider myself to have entered the state of "the plum is ripe"; henceforth I need not seek elsewhere, but can devote myself entirely to feeling out my own path forward. How many people in China can, like me, from the age of twenty onward, read "full-time while supporting the family part-time" until forty, and probably continue so for the rest of their lives?
Having abandoned this plan, I only want to further simplify my life and peacefully and freely live my idyllic life of farming and reading. Even academic achievements, which I used to care about a little, need no longer matter; let everything follow its natural course.
If in my life I really research something of practical value, then my research results will certainly endure because of their practicality. If what I research in my life is merely something worthless, then it is better to let it naturally perish rather than force it. This also avoids "error being passed down and harming the world," which would make me uneasy even in the netherworld.
I cannot entirely deny the significance of today's social institutions, but to say this stuff is of great value would not be true; I fear it does more harm. Most institutionalized things in our society are merely humans spinning cocoons around themselves. To reduce a person back to a real natural being, these encumbrances are completely superfluous. And to alienate humans from the natural state into what they are today may be the greatest blunder of human civilization, not any achievement. How many people's happiness has been strangled by society? How many people have been forced by so-called "civilization" and "the system" into being unable to survive without telling lies, so hypocritical that even they cannot accept themselves? Therefore it is better for me to maintain the state of an authentic natural being.
Tao Yuanming's "Returning to the Fields and Garden" is beautifully written: "Young, I was never suited to the vulgar ways; my nature loved the hills and woods. By mistake I fell into the net of dust, and went away for thirteen years. A caged bird longs for its old forest; a fish in a pond thinks of its former deep pool. I will open wasteland on the southern moor, keep my simplicity and return to field and garden. My homestead covers more than ten mu, with eight or nine thatched cottages. Elms and willows shade the eaves behind; peach and plum stand before the hall. Dimly I see the distant village; faintly rises the smoke from the hamlet. Dogs bark in the deep lane; cocks crow on top of the mulberry. My courtyard is free of dust and turmoil; my empty room has ample leisure. Long imprisoned in a cage, I have now returned to nature." I fear that deep down everyone is "never suited to the vulgar ways"; among those who live by routine in this society, how many have no element of resignation?
The hardest thing in life is precisely to return to the authentic state of "my nature loved the hills and woods" and reach the stage of "the plum is ripe," no longer needing to seek anyone's approval or support from outside, only needing to devote oneself to doing what one likes.
In Zhuangzi, "Autumn Floods," there is this passage:
Hui Shi was prime minister of Liang, and Zhuangzi went to see him. Someone said to Hui Shi: "Zhuangzi is coming; he wants to replace you as prime minister." Thereupon Hui Shi was afraid and searched the state for three days and three nights. Zhuangzi went to see him and said: "In the south there is a bird called the yuanchu; do you know it? The yuanchu rises from the South Sea and flies to the North Sea. It rests only on the parasol tree, eats only the bamboo fruit, and drinks only from the sweet spring. Once an owl got hold of a rotten mouse; as the yuanchu flew past, it looked up and cried, 'Hoot!' Now, do you want to use your state of Liang to hoot at me?"
A life that has lost sincerity and freedom is just like the rotten rat meat Zhuangzi spoke of: the owl that gets it thinks it a treasure, while the yuanchu disdains it. If one truly wants to pursue scholarship, it is probably better not to be within the system. Because whether collectively or individually, within the system it is truly too hard to be single-minded and not to tell lies.
Mr. Wang Guowei wrote in his Notes and Comments on the Poems of the Masters: "Those since ancient times who have accomplished great undertakings and great learning have invariably passed through three stages: 'Last night the west wind withered the green trees; alone I climbed the high tower, gazing to the horizon's end'—this is the first stage. 'My girdle grows looser and looser, yet I never regret; for her I am wasting away'—this is the second stage. 'I sought her in the crowd a thousand times; suddenly I turned my head, and there she was, where the lanterns faded'—this is the third stage."
Whether or not one accomplishes great undertakings and great learning, by and large everyone may pass through these three stages. After long searching, one will one day turn toward the inner path of not seeking from outside.