(Minghui.org) As a young child, I watched my mother start practicing Falun Dafa, which inspired me to begin my journey of cultivation as a young adult. Now 40, I have been practicing for 22 years.
I was born in the 1980s. From a young age, I’ve been interested in traditional Chinese culture. I’ve always felt an inexplicable fondness for ancient architecture and the attire of people from long ago. It all felt familiar to me, and reading good essays often moved me to tears. Back then, I used my heart to think, rather than my brain.
I remember once reading in a book that people use their brains to think. I wondered, “That doesn’t seem right—don’t I think with my heart?” Perhaps I was the one who was wrong! After that, I found that I, too, had begun to use my brain to think.
In the early years after I began practicing Falun Dafa, shaped by my family environment and limited contact with society, I was very innocent. I was relatively indifferent to fame and fortune, and I had little grasp of the complexities of human relationships or worldly affairs.
At the same time, I relied on my mother—a fellow practitioner—as if she were a sturdy tree, so I felt I was practicing quite well and was doing all the three things we are supposed to do. Looking back now, I realize that my cultivation of the heart was insufficient then. I was simply moving forward, relying on the small amount of innate, untainted innocence and foundation I was born with.
My mother later passed away, and I had a child of my own. I faced many trials and tribulations, but I persevered, albeit stumbling along the way. Here, I’d like to focus primarily on my cultivation journey over the past five years.
In China today, it is hard to fully grasp the extent of its corruption without immersing oneself in it. How can practitioners—especially young practitioners—who live and work in this society day after day avoid being tainted by this highly materialistic world? It is very difficult. Not only must they avoid being tainted, but they must also cultivate themselves back to their true selves. And in the process, they must save sentient beings—it is truly difficult. But I know this is the path I must take.
In 2021, I failed a major test of my character, just as a fellow practitioner described in “Twenty-Six Battles: The State of Fa-Rectification Seen in a Dream.” I felt too exhausted and wanted to rest. So I gave up on passing the test and chose to avoid the conflict rather than overcome it.
I wondered why, after all these years of cultivation, have I still not overcome these trials? The key was that, over the years, I had not been genuinely, solidly cultivating.
On the surface, I’d been doing the three things, but deep down, I hadn’t truly changed—my human notions were still very strong. I know I’ve fallen short, but cultivation can’t come to a standstill; I have to keep moving forward on this path.
On this journey back, different attachments are attempting to block my path.
Jealousy and Arrogance
The first attachments are jealousy and arrogance. The conflict that arose with a person at work was meant to help me let go of some of my attachments, especially jealousy. But instead of facing the conflict head-on and turning this negative karmic connection into a positive one, I avoided it and distanced myself from this person.
Not only did I fail to eliminate the jealousy I was supposed to cultivate away, but it actually grew stronger. It became intertwined with arrogance, a combative spirit, and resentment, and it almost took control of me. For quite some time, I was arrogant and looked down on others.
I found myself thinking that I wasn’t like this when I was young—how did I become so self-righteous? Later, while reading Journey to the West, I noticed that the Monkey King was incredibly humble and modest when he first set out to seek the Tao. Yet, he eventually wreaked havoc in Heaven and proclaimed himself the “Great Sage Equal to Heaven.” Why such a stark contrast? It’s because he came to believe that, having mastered the “72 transformations” and gained the ability to traverse the heavens and the earth, he had become truly extraordinary.
I am much the same. Back in my youth, I had no particular skills to speak of, but now, in middle age, I’ve developed strong professional expertise and, as a result, I’ve come to see myself as someone quite remarkable.
Master taught us in the Fa:
“This person usually seems pretty good, and when he doesn’t have many abilities in ordinary human society, he cares little for fame and self-interest. Once he becomes well-known, though, oftentimes he is easily interfered with by fame and profit. He will think that he still has a long way to go in life, and he still wants to make every effort to achieve some goals of everyday people.” (Lecture Three, Zhuan Falun)
Later, by repeatedly memorizing the Fa and cultivating my heart, this jealousy gradually weakened. Whenever it surfaces now, I can generally catch it. This process was described in detail in a 2024 article “My Experiences While Eliminating My Deep-Seated Jealousy.”
The Attachment of Fear
One night in early 2024, I had a dream in which I found myself standing before the entrance of an ancient temple. I saw a flock of chickens on the left side of the path, while on the right, there was—to my horror—an incredibly thick, long black snake.
Terrified, I turned and fled, but the massive black snake came flying after me. Just as it was about to reach me, I jolted awake, shaking with fear. A day later, I learned that on that very same night, a fellow practitioner had been arrested while distributing truth-clarification materials near my home.
At the time, I felt a sense of guilt primarily because my own dimensional field was not pure, that it was lacking compassion, and a fellow practitioner ended up being persecuted near my home.
After that, I intensified my efforts to send forth righteous thoughts, yet my fear only grew stronger. All sorts of negative thoughts kept intruding into my mind—in particular, a fear of the surveillance cameras found everywhere on the streets, in alleyways, and even on the smart locks of people’s homes. This fear severely hindered my ability to save people, which causes me great distress. Even though I repeatedly recited the Fa, the fear remained intense.
Last November, I suddenly felt an urge to memorize some of Master’s recent articles. I began by memorizing “Stay Out of Danger,” “The Ordeals Our Spiritual Discipline Faces,” and “Dafa Spiritual Practice Is Serious.”
As I recited them over and over, I discovered—to my surprise—that my fear gradually diminished, and the heavy burden in my heart lifted. I felt a profound, heartfelt sense of gratitude for Master. When I went out again to help save people, I found myself acting with greater rationality and wisdom, and my fear was no longer as intense.
The Attachment to Comfort
I’ve only recently realized the seriousness of this attachment, and I’ve discovered that it is, in fact, my fundamental attachment. It wasn’t until a few days ago, when I read “Cultivating Away the Attachment to Comfort” that I began to take notice.
When I first began cultivating, I didn't quite understand this passage of the Fa:
“If you are still unclear about what a Fa-rectification disciple is, you won’t be able to step forward in the current ordeal, and you will be led along by the human world’s pursuit of comfort and arrive at crooked understandings. Master’s heart has always been pained by those who have fallen, and the majority were ruined by that pursuit.” (“Fa-Rectification Period Dafa Disciples,” The Essentials of Diligent Progress II)
Looking back after all these years, I realize that many things I failed to do well stemmed from a desire for an easy life—a pursuit of comfort. When I first began practicing, I had just finished reading all of Master’s teachings.
My thought at the time was: “If the great elimination arrives, won’t I be destroyed? I must practice. Besides, the persecution is nearing its end, so I won’t have to endure as much suffering as my practitioner mother has had to go through. Cultivating is too arduous. I’ll just settle for being a sentient being in my mother’s realm.”
That was the mindset with which I entered the practice: a desire to avoid hardship, coupled with a calculating, opportunistic, and comfort-seeking attitude. Yet, all these years, I have consistently overlooked this desire for comfort.
While I have worked to eliminate other attachments—having recognized the harm they cause —this attachment to comfort has been nurtured within me almost imperceptibly. What is this “attachment to comfort?” It is the desire to avoid hardship and seek physical and mental ease—which runs counter to cultivation.
Why can only those in a human body engage in cultivation? Precisely because a human body allows one to endure hardship and, in doing so, eliminate karma. In this regard, I still lag significantly behind the fellow practitioners around me, and I need to cultivate more diligently to meet the standard.
These are the main attachments I’m currently aware of, but I feel that they are not enough. Behind these attachments, I always sense that there are modern notions, especially atheism. I’ve realized that the root of many of these attachments lies in atheism.
If I firmly believe that Master is right by my side, would I feel any fear? If I firmly believe Master has arranged my entire cultivation path, would I feel unbalanced and unfairly treated at times? If I firmly believe that a person’s entire life path is mapped out from the moment they are born, would I remain attached to my child’s future? If I firmly believe what Master has said about the importance of saving people, could I still remain complacent or seek an easy life? If I firmly believe I have reincarnated lifetime after lifetime solely to obtain the Fa, would I ever complain that cultivation takes too long? If I firmly believe that when others scold or strike me, they are actually helping me to improve, would I harbor any resentment?
Why, then, do I sometimes waver between belief and disbelief? Because I cannot see! To disbelieve simply because one cannot see—this is a sign of very poor enlightenment quality.
Therefore, studying the Fa, and studying the Fa well, are truly of the utmost importance. Only then can we avoid being tainted by ordinary society, purify ourselves of layer upon layer of corruption, advance in our cultivation, and truly do the three things well.
Saving sentient beings is something a Dafa cultivator must do and must do well. Although I have often stumbled on my own path of cultivation, and I fall far short of fellow practitioners who go out every day to clarify the truth, I am striving to do my best.
I would like to share two memorable experiences from my efforts to clarify the truth over the past few years. On one occasion, I spoke with a young man about how widely Dafa has spread throughout the world and the Chinese Communist Party’s persecution.
He listened quietly, clearly deeply moved. After I finished, he renounced his membership in the CCP’s affiliated organizations and, looking at me with clear, earnest eyes, asked, “Is there anything I can do?” I knew then that this soul had been saved.
On another occasion, when I was sharing the facts about Dafa with another young friend, he agreed wholeheartedly and said, “You know what? Something truly miraculous happened to me—I believe in reincarnation.”
He said that when he finished elementary school, he went on a trip with his father. When they arrived at Nurhaci’s tomb, he felt an overwhelming urge—an incredibly strong urge—to kneel down. While his father went off to look at other sights, he sneaked back to the tomb and stood there for a long time.
Hearing this young man’s story left me deeply moved. All sentient beings have been waiting for this very day through countless cycles of reincarnation, and if I fail to do my part well, I will truly be letting them down.
Some people were shocked when they heard the facts about Dafa and the persecution, saying they had never heard about it before. Others, who hadn’t been in touch for a long time, suddenly came to visit me—just to hear the truth.
These are some of the insights I’ve gained over the past five years and the little progress I’ve made. I am well aware of the vast gap between myself and my fellow practitioners who have been diligently cultivating without ceasing. But I will do my best. I will no longer be attached to time or to self, and I will not allow myself to sink into the quagmire of complacency. I must live up to Master’s arduous efforts to save us and live up to the expectations of all sentient beings!
（Submissions for the 2026 Minghui Mainland China Fa Conference）