By Venerable Shi Lian Yi from Norway
Translated by Charles Pycraft.
Deluded Without Knowing We Are Deluded: Reflecting Guru’s Teachings Back Onto Ourselves
On January 3, 2026, during the Saturday group practice at Seattle Leizang Temple, I stayed before my phone screen, listening word by word to Guru's discourse, and my heart was filled with the words "deep gratitude."
And deeper beneath that, a heartache.
At over eighty years of age, Guru continues to teach the essence of buddhadharma for sentient beings; even when his body is unwell, he still protects and nurtures the assembly with the dharma.
While in meditative absorption, with my mind unified with Guru, an inexplicable compassion suddenly arose, and tears flowed on their own.
This was not emotional stirring, but a natural awakening: Guru uses his very life to demonstrate the true path of cultivation.
In that day's discourse, Guru reflected the states he experienced during a week of illness, and many listeners may have felt confused: "Isn't Guru a Buddha? How could such states still arise?"
Some even gave rise to doubt, trying to find flaws or draw conclusions from Guru's experiences.
Yet to me, what we most need is not to speculate about the whys and the states of Guru's realization with ordinary emotions, but to take Guru's words as a mirror to illuminate ourselves.
For a cultivator, the most frightening thing is not external conditions, but being deluded without knowing one is deluded, while believing oneself correct and pressing forward relentlessly.
Guru explained that during that week, due to a viral infection, he became disoriented, unable to find his way home, and in a semi-conscious state arrived at a realm very close to the human world—the asura realm.
The beings there had ferocious appearances, and their food was horrifying.
A voice said: "Those here were cultivators in their previous lives. One wrong step, and one will arrive here. Between the human realm and the asura realm, there is only one wall."
Guru further said that within that realm, he saw many disciples of the True Buddha School.
This single sentence sent a chill down my spine and jolted me awake.
It showed that "cultivation" is not a protective talisman; identity, reputation, and seniority—none of these guarantee safety.
What truly protects us is precepts, mind, and a single thought that dares not become careless.
Our conduct must be reasonable, and aligned with the guidance of sages.
Guru also mentioned an asura woman who tried to make him stay and even challenged him to a contest of spiritual power. He repelled many weaker forces, yet with her he reached a stalemate.
Finally, she asked only one question:
"Do you really think you have never done anything wrong in this lifetime?"
Guru said this shocked him profoundly, and he immediately made deep repentance before his yidam Amitabha Buddha and Golden Mother of the Jade Pond.
I repeatedly contemplated this sentence. It is not meant to make us guess what Guru did wrong; rather, it brings every one of us back to ourselves:
Do you really think you have never done anything wrong?
Do you believe that everything you insist on, defend, and refuse to let go of is truly correct?
The most subtle trap in cultivation is often not obvious wrongdoing, but deviation born of "I think I'm right."
One deviation leads to many more; one moment of carelessness leads to carelessness everywhere.
By speaking this sentence aloud, Guru exposed the deepest blind spot in our minds: people often dwell in delusion without knowing it, mistaking delusion for the path.
What moved me even more is that Guru does not—because he is revered as a Dharma King, a Living Buddha—construct an image of being "perfect and flawless" that others can only admire from afar and not approach.
On the contrary, he chooses to face even his most subtle habitual tendencies and possible errors in the most honest way, with no concealment, and without justifying himself using any identity.
He took that sentence, "Do you really think you have never done anything wrong in this lifetime?" and turned it back upon himself, immediately repenting deeply before the yidam—this is not merely teaching, but a demonstration:
Most importantly, Guru truly returned to the "original ground," returned home.
Through his personal experience, he told us: On the path of cultivation, a mistaken thought may indeed occur, but as long as repentance is sincere, the road home is never severed.
Therefore, I am even more willing to understand Guru's manifestation as a warning:
Not for discussion, but to call us to turn back;
Not to prompt fault-finding, but to summon us to repent.
Tantrayana disciples must not view Guru's actions with a mind of slander or fault-finding, otherwise they may easily sever their own wisdom-life of the dharmakaya and commit the grave offense of breaking samaya. This I deeply believe.
Yet I also understand: not engaging in idle talk or slander does not mean blind following. True support and upholding lies in applying the root guru's teachings to oneself, guarding oneself with precepts and right mindfulness, safeguarding the bodhimanda with a pure mind, and allowing the true dharma to endure.
If this discourse only leaves us astonished or fearful, then Guru's intention has been wasted. If it enables us to awaken immediately and begin correcting ourselves, then we have truly benefited from hearing the dharma.
Guru's words seem to be telling us:
On the path of cultivation, the most important thing is careful stability—
do not rely on one's own views, and rely less on reincarnation history or past merits.
Treat each day as a beginner, honestly taking refuge, holding precepts, practicing, and repenting.
Bringing Repentance into Daily Life
First, repentance must be concrete, not slogans. Each day, set aside a fixed period of time to sincerely repent before the lineage root guru:
Repentance is not self-blame, but turning the light inward, transforming delusion into awakening.
Second, observing the precepts must be meticulous. The danger for cultivators often hides in the thought, "I think it's fine":
These may seem minor, but over time they become cracks leading to decline; if the cracks are not mended, the wind enters, and the mind scatters.
Third, when encountering situations, first observe yourself rather than rushing to judge others. When seeing chaos in the outer world, or the faults of practitioners, I first ask myself:
With this turning, the mind no longer scatters toward external conditions, and instead returns to the very root of cultivation.
I write these words not because I understand much, but because I am afraid—afraid of going astray without realizing it, afraid of forgetting my original aspirations, forgetting to repent, and forgetting the precepts.
It is precisely because of this fear that I more deeply understand the preciousness of Guru's compassionate manifestation: Guru is not asking us to pass judgment on him, but for us to turn back.
I am willing to turn the tears I have shed into a more grounded vow:
I also wish, within my limited capacity, to do my best to let Guru bear a little less hardship and enjoy a little more ease.
For a disciple's true support is not in words, but in cultivating oneself well: when I proceed more correctly and steadily, Guru has one less worry; when I create one less karma, Guru has one less burden to carry for me.
Guru teaches us with his life: On the path of cultivation, one wrong step may lead to many more; but as long as one is willing to turn back, repentance in that very moment is rebirth.
May we all keep this lesson firmly in our hearts: not taking Guru's experiences as mere stories, but as a warning bell; not as a reason to doubt Guru, but as a call to awaken ourselves.
In this way, Guru's compassionate manifestation can truly take root and become our genuine bodhicitta.
Om Guru Lian Sheng Siddhi Hum.