From Mind to Earth, True Environmentalism

The degradation of the modern environment is not merely an external or natural phenomenon. The true significance of environmental protection lies in an awakening of life value. Without an educational foundation that fosters the understanding of mutual coexistence between humanity and nature, it is impossible for us to bring about any real improvement for the Earth. The root of such value is the mind. If our environmental efforts are not grounded in a view that recognizes the sameness in sentient beings and the phenomenal world, and that all phenomena arise interdependently from oneness, then environmentalism may devolve into superficial rhetoric, ultimately becoming preoccupied with trivialities and ending in haste without lasting impact.

From its inception, Buddhism has inherently embodied principles of environmentalism. The Buddhist way of life has always emphasized coexistence and ecological harmony—not as a reaction to environmental crisis, but as a natural expression of its worldview. Our advocacy of vegetarianism, simplicity, prudence, and meditative practice are themselves fundamental expressions of environmental consciousness. Without a basic cosmology that informs our understanding, many so-called environmental actions risk becoming mere slogans or tedious formalities.

In the Chan tradition, equal value is placed on daily labor and seated meditation. The purpose of diligent meditation is to strengthen both our understanding of the path and our contemplative discipline, enabling us to respond skillfully and responsively to circumstances in everyday life. In Chan, understanding and practice are observed inseparably. It was for this reason that Chan Master Baizhang established the principle: “A day without work is a day without food.” Master Baizhang himself delighted in manual labor, tirelessly engaging in farming and physical work, often surpassing his disciples in vigor. On one occasion, his disciples, out of concern for his exertion, hid his tools to force him to rest. Master Baizhang responded, “I have no virtue—how could I burden others?” Unable to locate his hoe, and thus unable to work that day, he chose to abstain from food entirely, thereby establishing a monastic spirit and essence that continue to define the Chan tradition.

Reflecting on the founding of Ling Jiou Mountain, it is likely that few know how it truly began. More than thirty years ago, this place was barren wilderness. During that time, I fasted while carrying sand and stones to build the first small shrine, providing a shelter for disciples engaged in retreat. Some senior disciples were present and may still recall those days. Interestingly, the more I fasted, the more my strength increased. At that time, there were no roads in the mountains—through sheer perseverance, paths were slowly paved. This is how Ling Jiou Mountain came to be.

From the time of the Buddha to the patriarchs, we have indeed been left a legacy of teaching through example—a tradition of mindful labor. As Ling Jiou Mountain now enters its fourth decade, what spiritual heritage can we transmit? I believe it is precisely this spirit and essence. In Buddhism, environmental protection is not a matter of public slogans but of genuine, heartfelt practice.

In the past, we also organized activities for cleaning up forest, river, and beach. Many people participated, picking up litter with heartfelt conviction. Both the environment and our minds benefitted from these efforts. A disciple once asked me, frustrated, “How can we possibly clean everything?” I replied, “Just do it.” Environmental work may never be finished, but what matters is—what have you done? We speak of “Compassion and Chan.” Chan is the awakened recognition of karma and causality. Compassion is caring for each moment, attentively and with love—cherishing one’s own life while enabling others to cherish the path they’ve walked. Planting a tree or picking up a piece of trash—these are small yet dignified offerings, sacred and meritorious in their own right.