From “Seeing Through” to “Being Seen”
For a long time, I believed that awakening meant seeing through. Seeing through fame and fortune as fleeting, through love and hate as morning dew, through this body as dust returning to dust. So I repeated the words of the Diamond Sūtra to myself: “All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows, like dew and lightning.” The world is illusory; attachment is suffering. If only I could let go, if only I could I believed I could reach inner peace.
That path sounded wise, even beautiful — like a person in a dim room, diligently polishing the mirror of their mind, trusting that if they wiped long enough, light would eventually shine in. But after much polishing, I faced a disheartening fact: I could not make it shine. The more I tried to “dwell nowhere,” the more I obsessed over whether I was “dwelling.” The more I tried to subdue my mind, the more restless it became. I was like someone tugging at their own hair, trying to lift themselves off the ground — exhausted, yet going nowhere.
Then I came across another ancient book — Ecclesiastes. A sentence struck me like cold water, yet also like a dawn ray: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Centuries ago, King Solomon — who had tasted every wisdom, pleasure, and achievement — had already walked this road to its end. His conclusion: it was all “striving after wind.”
The Diamond Sūtra showed me the emptiness of the world,
but Ecclesiastes showed me the emptiness of myself.
It wasn’t only wealth, status, or relationships that were vain — the very “self” that sought enlightenment was frail, unreliable, helpless. I finally realised:
Right in that moment of admitting my powerlessness, I touched a different kind of awakening — not “I see through”, but “I am seen.”
Ecclesiastes does not end with vanity. After exhausting every effort “under the sun,” it points above the sun, saying: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”
This is not a cowardly retreat, but a complete turn. Like a sailor lost at sea, exhausted from rowing, who finally admits he has lost his way — lays down the oars, looks up, and sees his Father standing on the shore, waving, waiting for him to come home.
The awakening of the Diamond Sūtra is “waking up”. The eyes of wisdom open, seeing all phenomena as empty — thus letting go of attachment and attaining liberation.
But the awakening that comes through grace is “coming alive.” It is a rigid, self-sufficient life — which thought it could live on its own — being touched by a personal, loving Creator, roused from the death of self‑reliance, and held in an everlasting embrace.
⛰️ self‑awakening
- 靠悟性 — by one’s own insight
- 终点 — an impersonal truth
- 心境 “all fades, so I am calm”
🕊️ grace‑awakening
- 靠领受 — by receiving mercy
- 终点 — a personal Father
- 心境 “all fades, but You never fade — so I have peace”
I once thought that letting go of all attachments was the final destination.
It is not that I can “dwell nowhere” —
but that He promises: “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5)
It is not that I can “produce a pure mind” —
but that He gives me a new heart, and puts a new spirit within me. (Ezekiel 36:26)
The world’s vanity is real. My weakness is real.
But His love is also real — and more enduring, more substantial, than both.
This is the road I have walked:
from the mirror of the Diamond Sūtra, seeing through all phenomena;
to the end of Ecclesiastes, admitting utter vanity;
and finally, in the grace of the Cross, lying down in peace.
If you are weary from that road of “trying to wake up by yourself,”
perhaps this is the moment to hear the call:
“Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.”
but that I finally discover: I have never been forgotten — not by this world, nor by its Creator.
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