Exhortation to Cultivation

As the New Year approaches, it's customary in the countryside to slaughter pigs and sheep. When feeding the pig its last meal, it eats with such gusto, completely unaware that this is the final supper of its life. Having idled away its entire existence, it grew fat but lost its life. The more ignorant the creature, the less awakening it possesses. Humans are no different. All of humanity's calamities lie plainly before our eyes, glaring and utterly unconcealed. Rely on mountains—they crumble; depend on rivers—they run dry; trust in people—they flee. Nothing is reliable. Yet amid rising disasters, people still find the heart to tour scenic mountains and waters, gaze upon snowscapes—playing when they can, reveling when possible—much like the pig enjoying its last supper. Where lies the difference between humans and pigs?

Do not think a lifetime is long—that is an illusion. To celestial beings, it’s merely minutes or days. Do not believe you are still young—on the path to the underworld, age knows no bounds; white-haired parents burying their black-haired children happens often. Do not assume you are safe—many who encounter great calamities were once very confident individuals. Only when bedridden and helpless do they shed tears of regret, but by then, it is too late.

Having encountered the Buddha’s teachings, yet still failing to awaken, still unwilling to strive diligently in spiritual practice to change the fate of birth-death sorrow—what medicine could possibly cure such a person? I speak of those who should know who they are. If they remain unaware, they are truly as stupid as pigs. Knowing yet refusing to change—what more is there to say?