People often ask me: what exactly is the principle behind “good deeds bring good results, and evil deeds bring evil results”? Why does giving to the poor lead to future returns? This is precisely what Yogācāra (the Consciousness-Only school, Vijñaptimātratā) explains. I have shared the reasoning behind karmic retribution with many fellow practitioners before. For example, people say that if I give money to the poor, I will definitely become wealthy later—but what is the principle behind this? Yogācāra will give you the answer.
However, this is not something you arrive at by casual thinking; it must be derived step by step, almost like working through a mathematical proof. Phenomenally speaking, when I give my money away, the money is gone—I am poorer. Why would it come back again? On what basis is it said that if I punch someone in this life, in the next life he will punch me back, or may even beat me to death? What is the underlying principle?
You may say this is karmic cause and effect, but in real life we often see that good people do not live long, while bad people seem to live forever. In this way, does the Buddhist statement “good brings good results, evil brings evil results” really hold? Why? Is it just upheld by frightening people with stories? We often see Buddhist magazines filled with such stories. Yes, those stories may indeed be true—but what is the principle behind them?
If there were no principle and only stories, who would not be able to write them? Just find a mediocre writer who could fabricate countless such tales. But the key question is: what is the principle? This is exactly what Yogācāra philosophy explains, and it does so with impeccable coherence. Unfortunately, there is no time today to explain it in full. Perhaps when we later talk about actual practice, I will have the opportunity to go into it.
This brings us to another crucial question: does nirvāṇa really exist? Can life be liberated? Yes, life can be liberated. As I mentioned earlier, if all appearances are manifestations of the mind, and if the mind itself can remain unmoving, then when you turn inward to discover its essence—when you observe the mind with the mind—you will find that the true nature of mind has no real arising or ceasing. When the mind itself directly realizes that it has never truly arisen or ceased, this is called “awakening” or “enlightenment.”
When we describe this experience, it may sound as if we have discovered something that does not arise or perish. But that is not the case. If you were to discover a “thing” that does not arise or cease, that would once again fall into duality. In fact, realizing the nature of mind is what is called “self-illumination” (svasaṃvedana), something extremely difficult to capture in language.
The doctrine of Tathāgatagarbha (tathāgata-garbha, Buddha-nature) also addresses these issues. It explains how one can use both theory and method to directly recognize one’s true nature. In Chan Buddhism, this is called “awakening” or “sudden enlightenment.” In Tibetan Buddhism, practices such as Dzogchen (the Great Perfection) and Mahāmudrā (the Great Seal) likewise aim at discovering the nature of mind. In essence, it is simply the mind discovering itself—what it truly is, what its most fundamental state is, and what it is like when it remains unmoving.
Of course, in Chan Buddhism there are many expressions such as: “movement itself is non-movement, and non-movement itself is movement,” “afflictions are precisely bodhi,” “sentient beings are none other than Buddhas,” and “saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are entirely the same thing.” Why can one say this? The Tathāgatagarbha theory is precisely concerned with these points, and these principles are utterly unassailable. Logically, they are completely coherent; in practice, they are also fully realizable. Countless noble ones throughout history have actually realized this.
Some people ask, “Why does not Buddhism, like science, produce evidence to prove this to everyone?” As mentioned earlier, in Buddhism there is no such thing as shared verification. What science calls shared or public verification is rejected in Buddhism, because there is no such thing as true shared verification. Therefore, realization such as awakening can only be illumination by one’s own mind—it is called individual direct realization, or pratyātmavedanīya (self-verifiable).
It is just like when you fall in love with someone—only you truly know it. Others may roughly guess whom you love by observing your behaviors: your eyes are always on her, you care about her deeply, you keep buying her flowers, and perhaps you even give her a huge “pigeon egg” (a big diamond). We can only infer from these external actions, but the actual feeling of loving her in your heart is something no one else can directly experience.
Enlightenment is exactly like this as well: it is an inner realization experienced within one’s own mind, something others simply cannot directly experience. This is what creates the distinction between noble ones and ordinary beings. It is not the kind of so-called “public verification” claimed by science. Nowadays, people often demand that Buddhists produce some tangible proof—like science does—to demonstrate their realization. This is impossible.
As a result, many frauds appear, because you have no way of knowing what, if anything, they have actually realized internally. If you do not want to be deceived by frauds, then you must study and practice for yourself. If you practice according to these teachings—such as the Tathāgatagarbha theory —over time you will gradually discover that nirvāṇa truly exists.
Let me briefly summarize. Just now we answered three crucial questions in Buddhism: Is there saṃsāra ? Yes. Is there karmic cause and effect? Yes. Is there nirvāṇa? Yes. If these three principles are thoroughly understood, then since there is saṃsāra , we must take responsibility for our next life. And since there is karmic cause and effect, our actions naturally acquire boundaries and restraints—otherwise, we will inevitably face retribution.
Therefore, the impact on real life is this: a genuine Buddhist practitioner will certainly become a kind person. This is because kindness is not merely being good to others; one will discover that, at its deepest level, kindness is being good to oneself, while at the same time benefiting others—creating a win–win situation. Moreover, in the process of searching for the mind, many kinds of joy arise. One kind of joy comes from karmic cause and effect; another arises from meditative absorption (samādhi) that develops while investigating one’s own mind.
Wow—when a person’s life becomes profoundly joyful because of Buddhism, I must make one thing very clear: I am talking about real Buddhism, not superficial Buddhism. If it is merely superficial, it simply cannot be sustained. When we talk about practice and realization tomorrow, we will discuss the fact that although the theory is perfect, practitioners encounter many obstacles in the actual process of realization.
However, for a Buddhist who truly enters practice, that kind of joy is simply beyond words. In this very life, he or she will become deeply happy and fulfilled. If nirvāṇa truly exists, then by persevering one will discover the nature of mind and attain the joy of liberation. Others may not notice anything at all—on the surface, such a person may appear entirely ordinary.
Yet the joy tasted within is truly beyond description. As Master Xuanzang said, “It is like a person drinking water—only he himself knows whether it is cold or warm.” This experience is just like drinking water: only you know its taste. And this is something that can indeed be attained. Therefore, clearly understanding and personally realizing these three questions brings immense joy to our present life, our past lives, and our future lives.
—Excerpted and compiled from The Buddhist Worldview and Modern Life
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
