Cherishing Our Sacred Bond: How Helping Another Practitioner Improved My Character

(Minghui.org) I began practicing Falun Dafa in May 1999. Just two months later, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) launched its brutal persecution of the practice. Our environment for group Fa study and exercises was destroyed. I knew just a few other practitioners. However, in a chance encounter, I met a fellow practitioner. I would like to share a few moments from our time together, sharing and cherishing our sacred bond.

An Average Man

During the first lunar month of 2020, as the “Wuhan virus” pandemic (COVID-19) rapidly spread, my city implemented strict lockdowns. The authorities blocked roads and sealed off residential compounds. The atmosphere was filled with panic, and people acted as if the end of the world had arrived. Walking down the deserted streets, I felt a deep sense of sorrow. I knew that as a Dafa practitioner,

“The only thing you have a role in is saving people.” (“Teaching the Fa in the City of Chicago,” Collected Teachings Given Around the World Volume VII).

But how could I do that under these circumstances? My daughter, also a Dafa practitioner, told me that several large supermarkets were still open, so I decided to go check them out.

On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, I went to a large supermarket. It was cold inside, and eerily quiet, with very few customers. I walked over to the dairy aisle, placed a case of milk in my shopping cart, and—making a conscious effort to adjust my mask—spoke to the young sales clerk who was watching me. I said that wearing a mask was uncomfortable. “With the raging pandemic, there’s no other way,” she replied.

I stepped a bit closer, smiled, and said, “I have a great solution for you. Sincerely recite, ‘Falun Dafa is good, Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance is good.’ In addition, withdrawing from the Chinese Communist Party and its affiliated organizations will help you stay healthy and safe.” As I spoke, I handed her a truth-clarification amulet. She took the amulet and said shyly that she considered herself “the average man,” referring to a passage of Master’s teachings in Zhuan Falun (Lecture Nine, Zhuan Falun). I realized that she must be a practitioner. I smiled and said, “Then let’s not be ‘the average man,’” and left.

Six days later, when my family was studying the Fa together, I heard my daughter read the passage in Zhuan Falun,

“When a wise person hears the Tao, this person will practice it diligently. When an average person hears it, this person will practice it on and off. When a foolish person hears it, this person will laugh at it loudly. If this person doesn’t laugh at it loudly, it’s not the Tao.” (Lecture Nine, Zhuan Falun)

The practitioner’s words echoed in my mind. Was she being humble, or did she really mean so? I felt like visiting her again.

The next morning, I returned to the supermarket. She spotted me from a distance and called out, “I was just thinking about you yesterday, and here you are today! My wishes do come true.” When I got closer, she whispered, “I haven’t read Minghui Weekly for a long time. Are you able to get copies?” I promised I would get some to her.

As soon as I got home, I downloaded and printed the latest issue of Minghui Weekly. I also put a package together of truth-clarification materials for her, with a brochure and a flyer. Looking at the neatly wrapped package, I fell into deep reflection and was filled with self-reproach. Three years prior, I’d met another practitioner around my age. She warmly asked if I knew of other practitioners nearby, if I read Minghui Weekly, and if I took part in a Fa study group. Only after receiving satisfactory answers did she leave, satisfied that I was doing what I should as a cultivator. Compared to her, our gap in cultivation was large. Practicing for so many years, why hadn’t I cultivated a heart that naturally considers others first? I thanked Master for his compassionate enlightenment, so I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to help a fellow practitioner.

Early the next morning, I delivered the materials and told her, “I will come every week. Just let me know what you need.” She clutched the materials to her chest and whispered to me, as happy as a child, “These materials are so good. I would feel apologetic for the practitioners who worked so hard to produce them if they don’t reach sentient beings early. Please bring me more; I will distribute them at night after work.” I looked at her with approval and asked, “How many packages do you need?” She replied shyly, “I’m lazy, so let’s just start with twenty.” “No problem,” I said. “I’ll bring them to you as soon as I have them.”

On my way home, my heart remained agitated. Over the years, because of the attachment to comfort, I often made excuses when I missed sending forth righteous thoughts at midnight, overslept, or went back to bed after the morning exercises. I refused to face my laziness, but found reasons to cover it up and nurture it. The practitioner straightforwardly admitted her laziness, which showed me my own attachment. I realized it was the practitioner helping me, instead of vice versa.

“You Are Wrong”

I began delivering materials to this practitioner every week. About a year later, we arranged to study the Fa at my home once a week, which we continue to do even now, thanks to Master’s compassionate protection.

When we first started studying together, she saw me sit in the full lotus position, so she decided to give it a try, instead of sitting in the half lotus position. After less than half an hour, her leg slipped down by itself every few minutes, but she insisted on resuming the full lotus position until we finished reading Lecture One. She apologized for the disturbances, “I’ve been a distraction to you.” The next time we studied, she brought a silk scarf to tie up her left foot so it wouldn’t slide down. Her thoughtfulness for others moved me.

Last winter, it occurred to me that I could tie up my left foot like her while meditating in the full lotus position. I meditated for more than one hour but it felt like just one moment, with no pain at all. I thought it was a brilliant idea. For the next few days, I tied up my leg during Fa study, sending righteous thoughts, and doing the sitting meditation.

When I met the practitioner again, I happily told her, “Your method is good. It’s so comfortable!” She looked at me and said bluntly, “You are wrong.” I was startled. Why was I wrong? Then Master’s teaching came to my mind,

“Some people quickly uncross their legs once they begin to ache a little, and then they will move around to loosen them up a bit before crossing their legs again. That will achieve nothing whatsoever.” (Lecture Four, Zhuan Falun).

Although I didn’t take down my leg, I tried to avoid hardship, feared pain, and sought comfort. Wasn’t I just like the person that Master mentioned? I looked up at her and said sincerely, “Thank you. You are right; I was truly wrong.”

“Aren’t You Capable?”

On the afternoon of December 26 last year, the practitioner asked us to help bind a hand-copied version of Zhuan Falun. It was written neatly. That evening, during our family Fa study, my son-in-law read from her hand-copied book. Being a teacher, he meticulously checked every character as he read. When we finished, he said, “The practitioner wrote the character ‘neng’ (capable) incorrectly throughout the entire book.”

When the practitioner returned to my home for Fa study, with the character corrected, she said in embarrassment and sincerity. “I can’t believe it. I enlightened that Master was giving me a hint, ‘Aren’t you so capable (neng)?’ It was to expose my attachments to showing off, refusing to accept criticism, and being opinionated.”

After she left, I fell into deep thought. Wasn’t Master also trying to help me remove these same attachments in me? I have been practicing Dafa for over twenty years, yet the CCP’s propaganda of being “always correct” is still deeply rooted in my mind. It frequently surfaces when I am in society and within my family. I tended to boast about how well I do this or how good I am at that, and liked to show off my “capability.”

My elderly mother often commented to me: “You often see yourself as a flower, but everyone else as dregs.” I had never taken her piercing comment to heart. Only today did I finally wake up. I said to Master in my heart: “I was wrong. From now on, I will diligently cultivate Dafa solidly. I will cultivate my xinxing from every single thought, elevate myself through the Fa, and walk the final leg of my journey well.”

It has been over five years since my first encounter with this fellow practitioner. We have walked together, supported each other in saving sentient beings, and elevated together. In the limited time remaining for Fa-rectification, I will cherish this sacred bond that was arranged ages ago. On the path of assisting Master in Fa-rectification, I wish to form an indestructible one-body with my fellow practitioners, earnestly do the three things, and fulfill our historic vows.