(Minghui.org) Encouraged by my mother, I started to practice Falun Dafa in 1998. I was in high school at the time, and the other practitioners considered me a “young Dafa disciple.”
I had a great deal of schoolwork, so I only occasionally did the exercises with my mom, and I read Zhuan Falun when I had time. My understanding of the Fa principles was fairly shallow and superficial.
After July 1999 when the persecution began, most young practitioners my age in our area gave up the practice. I kept practicing, thanks to my mom’s continued encouragement, and, when I had time, I helped print truth-clarifying materials, put up flyers, and so on. I also went to group Fa study with my mom and sent forth righteous thoughts while others clarified the truth to people face to face.
Fellow practitioners often praised me, saying, “It’s great that you still keep practicing! If only my own child could be like you.”
Because of these positive compliments, I became a bit complacent about cultivation, feeling that, even though I wasn’t that diligent, I was still cultivating. In my mom’s words, I could be said to “have caught up with the progress of Fa-rectification.” She meant to motivate me so that I wouldn’t backslide, but I took it as something to be smug about.
After I left China, I was able to cultivate as one-body with other practitioners. Later, my husband also obtained the Fa. Encouraged by his enthusiasm as a newcomer, our cultivation seemed to go well, and we also did the three things practitioners are supposed to do.
I felt my cultivation was improving through tests and letting go of human attachments. On the surface, I was quite diligent. However, my lingering problems due to not cultivating solidly for a long time began to surface.
I seemed to be tested over the same things again and again. The state I was in when I was doing the exercises and sending forth righteous thoughts wasn’t good, either, and I had trouble making a breakthrough. In particular, when I shared with other diligent practitioners, I always felt I was somewhat different from them, but I couldn’t identify what the differences were.
Once while I was sending forth righteous thoughts at midnight, I asked Master for a hint as to my fundamental attachment.
I had a dream that night. It was during the Republican era, and I was the leader of a pack of street children about 14 or 15 years old. Thinking it was boring in town, I said that we should leave town for fun.
An old man said to us, “You mustn’t do that. It’s chaos out there. If you go, it could cost you your life.” I didn’t say anything against his warning, but thought to myself, “You don't want me to go, but I will anyway. I’m not listening to you at all.”
I snuck into the Japanese army barracks with a boy and stole two uniforms. The boy was courageous. He climbed up on a truck, sat on the front of it, and pretended to give orders: “You, go up there! You, come over here!” I was just standing there, watching him. When I woke up, I heard a word in my ear: “Cunning!”
I couldn’t figure out what it meant at the time, and only recently did I begin to understand Master’s hint. The concept of being “cunning” embodies a cluster of notions and negative traits from the old universe, like being devious and deceitful, to protect oneself by following the crowd out of fear. It’s a false self, which can interfere with my cultivation in many ways. Sometimes, it is deeply hidden, making my cultivation superficial without solid substance, and I was not even aware of it.
For example, to cultivate forbearance, I tried to keep calm and paid attention to cultivating my speech in daily life. Even though I cannot say I maintained my xinxing each time, I was trying to do well.
This year I was doing odd jobs in a hotel and ran into “workplace bullying” for the first time. I knew it was a test, so I made up my mind to maintain my xinxing to show the peaceful kindness of a Dafa practitioner so that I could better clarify the truth about Falun Dafa to my coworkers, who all knew that I was a Dafa practitioner.
So, no matter how the abusively my coworker treated me, including yelling at me, slamming down the account book, and picking on me for no reason, I kept a smile on my face, remained calm, and worked even harder. Sometimes, I could clearly feel that the negative entities behind her were getting more distressed and helpless.
The test went on for about two months, and gradually, she began to change and stopped bullying me. Later, when I went out to buy some food, she said, “Sister, it’s cold outside. Here, wear my coat.” It was truly a miraculous turn around. I couldn’t have handled the situation like that if I wasn’t a Dafa practitioner.
I felt I had made much improvement in terms of cultivating forbearance—until I came across another incident which helped me realize my hidden problem of being “cunning.”
One day, both my husband and I were late for the outdoor group exercises. He got there a little earlier than me, and when I arrived, I noticed that his movements were slower and out of sync with the others. I frowned and was upset with him.
After doing the exercises, people began leave for group Fa study, but two practitioners stayed behind with me, waiting for my husband to finish the last exercise.
“How much longer is he going to take?” one of them asked.
Deep inside I began to criticize my husband, thinking: “You should have tried to be in sync with the others even though you were late. You didn’t consider the one body, just yourself. Now that everyone has finished, you should at least stop and see what everyone else is doing. Aren’t you being self-centered? You appear to be diligent, but is it just for show?”
After everyone left, I started arguing with him, with no regard for forbearance, as I felt I was right.
Afterwards, I wondered: “Why is it that I can overcome tests in dealing with everyday people, but I treated my husband differently and accused him of behaving ‘just for show?’ Isn’t he also a mirror for me to reflect upon myself? Do I also do things ‘just for show’ in cultivation?” I was shocked when I had this thought.
Suddenly, I realized that my forbearance was conditional, that it varied depending in the person and the situation. When it came to everyday people, I could practice forbearance unconditionally.
While working on Dafa projects, when the coordinator occasionally criticized me, even though I didn’t say anything, deep down inside I was thinking, “It’s not entirely my fault.”
Sometimes I could feel a sense of distance between and this or that other practitioner, and if the other party did not respond kindly, I could maintain my xinxing and apologize, thinking that there must be some interference behind it. But deep down, I was also thinking, “I went through a lot, too.”
These examples indicate that I have failed to conduct myself on the basis of truly cultivating myself and letting go of selfish attachments unconditionally. My forbearance was “just for show,” and while I appear to be having forbearance, I expect others to behave the way I expect them to. Aren’t I behaving like the leader of the street children in my dream? I didn’t counter the old man’s warning, but I had my own plan.
Behind my forbearance on the surface, there are many human notions and attachments, such as feeling unsettled, concerns for “face-saving,” trying to steer clear of trouble for comfort, and so on. I have even less forbearance for my husband, especially when I think he is the one who is in the wrong.
My “forbearance” is only superficial, which may appear fine, but in reality, I have failed to cultivate myself by the same standard, which is a form of “cunning.” What only appears to meet the requirements is most misleading. I thought I was cultivating myself, but I failed to change fundamentally.
I remember listening to a story on the “Divine Culture” program called “Spit on My Face, I Let It Dry,” in which Chancellor Lou Shide in the Tang dynasty told his younger brother that if someone spits on his face, he should just let it dry, as enduring humiliation calmly with a smile was a better way to resolve a conflict.
I was stunned and kept shaking my head, saying, “No way. I could never do that, never.” Looking back, it wasn’t accidental that I heard that story.
After I realized my fundamental problem, I made up my mind to always look within when encountering any xinxing test that requires forbearance. If I fail to maintain my xinxing 100%, it must be the “cunning” false self acting up. If I dig deeper, I will definitely find the hidden human notions and attachments, so that I can eliminate them through cultivation.
This “cunning” also manifests itself in many other aspects. Once, while sharing with others at the practice site, Shun pointed out that I tend to give an impression of “playing nice” with everyone instead of actually sharing and saying what I thought.
To be honest, I didn’t agree with her at the time, as I had always followed a principle while sharing with others: It’s enough to “just touch on the point.” After all, one has to cultivate oneself. Besides, what I see might not be the fact and my understanding might not be right either, and if what I say is wrong, it could easily harm fellow practitioners. In addition, it is also cultivation not to impose my own views on others. It was not until later that I realized that my way of thinking was very wrong.
I remember that, after I told my husband about my dream, he felt that he was the boy who stole the uniforms with me, saying that he was not smart in that lifetime. After we stole the uniforms, he was feeling high and mighty, and as a result, he was shot in the head and killed. He was born with a hemangioma on his forehead in this lifetime and had it removed surgically, but it left a scar. “You were the one who egged me on, and I ended up getting killed. You should take the responsibility,” he said.
Reflecting on what Shun said and what I saw in my dream, it’s true that I didn’t get on the truck with the boy or warn him that he might get killed. I was just watching from a safe place nearby. It is the same as what Shun pointed out—that when I see fellow practitioners’ problems, I don’t point them out directly.
On the surface, I was “cultivating my speech” and not sticking to my own “ego,” but deep inside, it was human notions at work. Under the guise of being “nice” to others, I cunningly dodged my due responsibility or “troubles” and “conflicts,” which could actually put fellow practitioners in danger.
My concern that fellow practitioners might feel “hurt” hearing criticism has revealed my own dislike of being criticized, and that’s why I attached too much attention to how others feel. This “cunningness” is truly very cunning!
The key is not if we should share with fellow practitioners, but with what frame of mind and how we share with them. Our views might not always be right, but it may offer a valuable warning or a hint to others. In my case, if Shun hadn’t pointed out my problem, I might still be cultivating myself in a shallow and superficial way.
I’m deeply grateful to Master for his compassionate hint, as well as the sincere warnings from fellow practitioners, even though it has taken me so long to truly realize my problems.
Being cunning is indeed very harmful. On the surface, I was cultivating myself, but in essence, I hadn’t changed much at all. No wonder I felt a gap between me and those truly diligent fellow practitioners.
While writing this sharing article, I became more aware of many of my problems and still I feel there are issues at deeper levels, which need to be dug out and let go of through more Fa study and diligent, solid cultivation. I’m determined to abandon “cunning” and commit myself to true and solid xinxing cultivation instead of cultivation “for show.”
Thank you, Master! Thank you, fellow practitioners!
Please kindly point out anything improper in the sharing.
Copyright © 1999-2026 Minghui.org. All rights reserved.
Category: Improving Oneself
