The Three Teachings Converge into One: The Path of the Mortal and the Saintly is the Same

Poetry:

Fishing in the clear stream brings a sense of tranquility; in stillness, observing the fish allows one to contemplate the vastness of the world.

Only when the water is still can all things be seen; only when the mind is clear can one attain true understanding.

As winter deepens, the climate in Jiangnan, though mild, is temperate with the first hints of northerly winds and the clearing of snow. Several snowfalls, like scattered jade, have washed away the dust and clamor of the past, leaving the Qingxi River even more pristine and clear, its white waves like ribbons winding around Qingxi Town. The white walls and black tiles on both banks are covered with a thin layer of snow, like a veil of white gauze. The once picturesque willows and bridges are now replaced by withered willows drooping with frost, their bare branches reflected in the water, capturing the essence of winter's desolation in the cold current. Nourished by the frost and snow, the riverside vegetation sheds its lushness, revealing its resilience: reeds, draped in frost and snow, stand tall against the wind; plum blossoms begin to bloom on the banks, their sparse shadows casting shadows and releasing a subtle fragrance; occasionally, a cold bird skims the water, its snowy feathers touching the surface, while fish hide deep within—a scene of serene and solitary beauty on the Jiangnan winter waters, perfectly capturing the profound sentiment of "an old man in a straw hat and raincoat, fishing alone on a snowy river."

Life in the Su family courtyard continued smoothly and orderly, adhering to the family tradition of combining farming and scholarship. Every morning, Su Wenyuan would rise to teach the local children, meticulously explaining Confucian principles. The sound of reading aloud under the window, accompanied by the north wind, was even more melodious. Liu Shi managed the household chores, spinning thread, weaving cloth, and tending the vegetable patch. Newly harvested dried vegetables hung under the eaves, and warm soup simmered on the stove, making the poor courtyard warm and cozy in the cold winter. Su Qingxuan would rise at cockcrow, sweep the courtyard, clean up the remaining snow on the steps, burn incense, read books, cultivate his mind, observe his heart at dusk, and sit quietly every night until his breath turned to frost, never slacking off for a moment.

Since comprehending the Doctrine of the Mean and inheriting his family's tradition of combining farming and scholarship, the young man's cultivation has become increasingly steady and harmonious. He is not fixated on rote memorization of classical texts, nor is he bound by rigid mental techniques and qi circulation. Instead, he integrates the moderation and balance of the Doctrine of the Mean, the benevolence and compassion of Confucianism, and subtly the Taoist principle of following nature into every movement and stillness of his daily life. In his interactions with others, he is impartial and unbiased; in his observations of things, he is neither attached nor deluded; in his self-cultivation, he is neither hasty nor impatient. The gentle and mellow aura emanating from him has become increasingly restrained and profound. Though lacking any sharpness, it possesses a reassuring presence, making one feel as if embraced by the warm sun even in the midst of a cold winter wind, clear and serene.

The villagers of Qingxi Town respected him even more. Now everyone knew that the young Su was a born Confucian scholar, pure of heart and extraordinary innate talent, displaying the demeanor of a gentleman even at a young age. Even the town's learned old scholar, seeing him walk through the snow, his clothes spotless, his bearing serene, would stop and admire him, saying, "A young man who has attained enlightenment, his heart is like a still pool, his future is limitless." When neighbors occasionally asked for his help with trivial matters, Su Qingxuan always treated them with impartiality, helping those in need without arrogance or pride, earning him the respect and love of the entire town.

It happened to be a day off, and Su Wenyuan didn't have to teach or lecture. After practicing a set of health-preserving exercises in the morning, he felt warm all over. He opened the window and saw that the snow had cleared, the sun had broken through the clouds, the warm sun spread across the ground, and the north wind had subsided. The world was quiet and clear, a perfect time for fishing in the cold stream and meditating in peace. He gently called Su Qingxuan over, his eyes smiling, and said, "Qingxuan, there are no classes today. The snow has cleared, the sky is bright, and the cold stream is quiet. Come with me to the Qingxi River to fish for a while. It will be good to leave the study for a while, to cultivate your mind and spirit amidst the cold mountains and waters, and to contemplate the principles in the still, cold waves."

Upon hearing this, Su Qingxuan bowed and replied, "Your son will obey your command, Father."

The father and son quickly tidied themselves up, took two simple bamboo fishing rods, a bundle of fishing line soaked in cold oil, several homemade bamboo floats, a small jar of bait made of rice bran and wheat bran, two light bamboo stools, and Su Wenyuan also took two plain-colored cloaks and draped them over the father and son. They then slowly walked out of the courtyard and along the Qingxi River towards the depths of the withered willows and cold shade.

As we traveled along, the winter scenery along the riverbank unfolded before our eyes. The river water was crystal clear, with pebbles covered in a thin layer of frost and fine sand streaked with remnants of snow. A few tiny fish, barely an inch long, darted freely between the rocks, their tails swaying, appearing and disappearing without a care in the world, undaunted by the cold water. On the banks, withered willows swayed gently, their frosty branches drooping into the water. A gust of wind would cause them to sway lightly, shaking off the remaining snow and scattering its reflection on the surface, creating ripples. In the distance, fields were blanketed in snow, a silver-white expanse. Farmers sat with their doors closed around their stoves, free from the labor of farming—a scene of tranquil winter countryside. Closer by, a villager occasionally appeared, wearing a straw raincoat, paddling a boat on the river. The creaking of the oars was clear and melodious, a picture of serene beauty amidst the winter chill of a Jiangnan water town.

Su Qingxuan followed beside his father, their boots crunching through the snow, the sound of them making a soft rustling sound. They observed the cold water, the frosty willows, the birds, and the snow-covered landscape, a sense of peace and tranquility washing over them. He had grown up in a water town, intimately familiar with the clear streams and rivers, but today, fishing with his father in the cold stream, his state of mind was different: no longer the playful frolicking of childhood, but an immersive experience, observing the coldness of the water, understanding the fish's quiet joy, and contemplating the principles of nature. The stillness of winter water surpasses the liveliness of spring, the fullness of summer, and the coolness of autumn; cold brings clarity, clarity brings stillness, stillness brings clarity—perfectly aligned with the essence of spiritual cultivation.

They arrived at a secluded, cold bay. The water was wide and the current gentle. The banks were covered in snow, and the withered willows cast deep shadows. Though devoid of green leaves, their branches were lush and numerous. Beside the bank, a winter plum tree bloomed with sparse flowers, its fragrance subtle and intoxicating. There was no hustle and bustle of the city, no noisy chatter of villagers; all was quiet except for the murmuring of the cold water. It was the perfect place for fishing. Su Wenyuan stopped, brushed the remaining snow off the bamboo bench, and said with a smile, "Let's do it here. The water is cold, the fish are still, the snow is pure, and the plum blossoms are fragrant. There is not a trace of worldly noise. It is the best place to fish for... 'the heart'."

Father and son sat down, wrapped themselves tightly in their thin cloaks, and Su Wenyuan skillfully baited his hook, cast his line, and the float gently landed on the cold water, floating steadily. His movements were unhurried and leisurely. He didn't fish for the catch, but rather to use the opportunity of fishing in the cold stream to calm his mind and cultivate his character, and incidentally guide his son, so that he could understand the profound principles of Confucianism amidst the cold mountains and thin waters, and increase his spiritual cultivation in the stillness of the snow and the leisure of the fish.

Following his father's example, Su Qingxuan carefully baited the hook, flicked his wrist, and the fishing line and float fell steadily into the cold water, splashing a few drops. Holding the fishing rod, he sat upright under the cold shade of a withered willow, his back straight as a pine tree, his eyes fixed on the float on the water's surface. However, his mind was not fixated on whether to fish or not, but rather on observing the water's patterns and examining his own heart as he followed the cold current.

The river's surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the cold sunlight, withered willow branches covered in frost, and the sparse shadows of winter plum blossoms—a play of reality and illusion, serene and dreamlike. Fish swam freely in the cold water, sometimes shaking their heads and wagging their tails, sometimes weaving among the rocks, sometimes gathering, sometimes scattering, carefree and oblivious to the people fishing on the bank, simply following their instincts, passing their days leisurely in the cold water. The water was cold, the fish were hidden, unhurried and calm, content with the water and the cold, their leisurely movements exuding a profound tranquility.

Su Wenyuan gazed at the fish swimming in the cold water and asked, "Qingxuan, look at these fish in the cold water. They swim leisurely in the frigid waves all day long, unafraid of the frost and cold, without any worries. Do you know why they are so happy?"

Su Qingxuan gazed intently at the fish swimming in the water, his voice clear and gentle, like the dripping of a cold spring on a stone, as he slowly replied, "The joy of fish lies in the cold water, in freedom, and in following their nature. Fish are born in water, move in water, and find joy in water. They are not afraid of the winter cold, nor do they avoid frost and snow, just as people walk on the path, stand on the path, and are at peace with the path. By following their nature, not going against their heart, not going against their nature, and not disturbing external things, they can attain the joy of freedom."

Su Wenyuan nodded slightly, his eyes showing approval: "Well said. The Confucian school says, 'Following one's nature is called the Way,' which means conforming to one's original heart and nature, not violating the Way of Heaven, not going against nature, not being attached to external things, and not being trapped by worldly noise. If a person can follow his original nature and guard his original heart, he will be like a fish in cold water, with no worries in his heart, finding joy in himself, and even in the cold winter, there is the warmth of spring."

He paused, then said, "But think about it more carefully. Fish swim in cold water all day long, yet they don't know what water is; people walk on the road all day long, yet they don't know where they are. Fish don't know water, yet they can live in harmony with the water and survive in its coldness; if people don't know, they are easily distracted by external things, lose their sense of self in the pursuit of fame and fortune, and become resentful in the heat and cold. This is the difference between people and fish."

Su Qingxuan listened quietly, his fingertips gently stroking the bamboo fishing rod. The rod was slightly cool, but it couldn't dispel the warmth in his heart as he pondered his father's words. The joy of the cold fish is innate, a blissful, untroubled natural joy, without thought, desire, or attachment, unafraid of the cold, and unconcerned about life. Humans, on the other hand, possess intelligence, thought, and pursuits. They can understand the Way, yet also stray from it; they can guard their hearts, yet also lose them. The cultivation of a Confucian scholar is to clearly see one's own nature, to know where the "Way" lies, and to guard one's heart, so that amidst the frost and snow of winter and the chaos of the world, one remains unperturbed and unconfused, like a fish in cold water, free and at peace.

Gazing at the cold fish in the water, he suddenly thought: People are busy all day long, chasing fame and fortune, worrying about gains and losses, troubled by wealth and status, anxious about poverty and lowliness, disturbed by human relationships, and confused by right and wrong. Some are even trapped by the cold and heat, and resent the weather, like puppets bound by silk threads, unable to be free or at peace. At its root, it is because they have lost their true selves, gone against their nature, and become attached to external things, forgetting their true selves.

The cold-water fish is not greedy for wealth or fame, nor does it worry about fortune or misfortune, nor fear life or death, nor is it afraid of frost. It simply follows its nature, swimming in the cold water, and finds peace and happiness. If a person could be like the cold-water fish, not attached to material things, not trapped by emotions, not misled by power, but following their own heart and walking the righteous path, even in the face of adversity in the cold winter, they could remain calm and composed, and reach the highest level of spiritual cultivation. However, the joy of the cold-water fish is ultimately the foolish joy of ignorance and lack of understanding; the ultimate joy of a person is the joy of freedom after understanding the mind and the Tao. The two may seem the same, but in reality, they are worlds apart.

Just as he was pondering, the float on the water suddenly sank, the fishing line instantly tightened, and the cold waves rippled slightly, clearly indicating that a fish had taken the bait. Su Qingxuan lightly lifted his wrist, the force perfectly controlled, neither too strong nor too weak, neither too fast nor too slow, and gently pulled along with the fish's struggling motion, and a crucian carp the size of a palm was pulled out of the water, its silver scales covered with a cold mist, shimmering in the cold sun, its tail swaying, splashing up tiny droplets of water.

The fish, caught and brought to the snowy shore, leaped and struggled, its tail fins slapping away the remaining snow, trying to break free of the hook and return to the water. Its desperate appearance revealed its yearning for water and freedom, its instinctive avoidance of life and death; even a cold-weather fish longs for the comfort of its natural habitat.

Su Qingxuan looked at the struggling fish in his hands, a gentle smile in his eyes, devoid of any joy at the catch or the smugness of control. He gently cradled the fish in his hands, his fingertips touching its cool flesh, and carefully removed the hook. His fingertips traced the fish's smooth back as he softly said, "You find joy in the water, and I find joy in the Way. To take away your joy is not my intention; to seize my gain is not my Way."

Having said that, he bent down and gently released the fish back into the clear, cold water of the stream. The fish entered the water, swayed its tail, and looked back at Su Qingxuan as if in disbelief, before disappearing into the depths of the blue waves in an instant, regaining its freedom and leaving no trace, only a ripple on the surface of the water that gradually dissipated.

Su Wenyuan, seeing this, stroked his beard and smiled, "Why did you release it, my son? Fishing in the cold stream for half a day and catching a cold fish is still a winter harvest."

Su Qingxuan gripped his fishing rod, his gaze calmly fixed on the icy water. His voice grew clearer as he slowly replied, "Father, fish follow their nature and find joy in the water. I find peace in the middle way and in my own heart. To take away the fish's joy is unkind; to cling to what one catches is unwise. The benevolent love people and all things. All things have their nature and find their place; this is the benevolence of heaven and earth. The middle way is impartial, unbiased, and unattached, following their nature and granting them freedom. This is the way of moderation and benevolence, and also the natural order of heaven and earth. The frost and snow of winter do not rob the plants of their nature; the clear, cold water does not disturb the fish's peace. So should people be like this."

Upon hearing this, Su Wenyuan laughed heartily, his clear voice echoing among the withered willows and cold shade, startling the remaining snow from the branches, making a rustling sound: "What a wonderful way to follow one's nature and give freedom! What a wonderful way to practice moderation and benevolence, the natural order! Qingxuan, you have embodied the Doctrine of the Mean and the benevolence of the Confucian scholar to your very bones. Even in the coldest of circumstances, your heart remains clear. As your father, I am truly gratified!"

The father and son said no more, and sat down to fish again, the world serene and tranquil. Only the murmuring of the cold water, the gentle rustling of the north wind, the distant cries of crows, and the subtle fragrance of plum blossoms created a natural melody that cleansed the soul. Su Qingxuan sat under the cold willow, fishing rod in hand, his mind free of distractions. He did not hope for a fish to bite, nor worried about a lack of catch; he simply observed the stillness of the cold water and felt the clarity of his mind in this stillness and movement.

Still water reflects the clear imagery of the cold sun and the shadows of plum blossoms on frosty branches; a calm mind reveals the truth, allowing one to perceive the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth and the true nature of one's own heart. The stillness of winter water is a serene tranquility washed away by worldly impurities; the stillness of the human heart is a purity free from attachments.

He gradually came to understand the state of mind Confucius described: "Eating coarse food and drinking water, with my arm as a pillow, I can still find joy in it"—true happiness does not lie in the quantity of external possessions, nor in the changing seasons, but in the natural abundance of one's heart; true spiritual practice can be found in the bustling world, or in the deep mountains. In the world, one can keep one's heart unmoved; in the deep mountains, one can keep one's mind clear and unconfused.

Although he was unaware of Zhuangzi's carefree spirit of "watching fish at the Hao River Bridge," nor of Buddhism's liberation of "a mind without hindrance," his thoughts and insights subtly resonated with the profound truths of the three religions. Confucianism's doctrine of the mean emphasizes impartiality and upholding a righteous heart; Taoism's naturalness emphasizes following one's inherent nature and accepting the changing seasons; Buddhism's non-attachment emphasizes detachment from gain and loss and freedom from external constraints. In this act of fishing in the cold stream and observing fish in the still water, the profound truths of the three religions quietly merged, transforming into his unique Taoist heart, as clear and pure as the moon reflected in a cold pool.

As the sun gradually slanted westward, its setting sun reflected off the snow, dyeing the sky crimson and turning the clear, cold stream a golden-red hue. The water shimmered, sparkling with golden light; the interplay of snow and water created a breathtaking scene, adding a touch of warmth to the chilly landscape. Seeing that it was getting late, the sun was setting, and a north wind was picking up, Su Wenyuan reeled in his fishing rod and laughed, "Although I caught nothing today fishing in this cold stream, my son seems to have had a bountiful harvest! Hahaha, Qingxuan, let's go home."

Su Qingxuan responded and reeled in his fishing rod, tidying up his gear. He brushed the remaining snow from his clothes and followed his father on the way home. Along the way, the evening breeze caressed their faces, carrying the coolness of the river and the fragrance of winter plum blossoms, refreshing their hearts. The young man's mind was clear and open. The subtle doubts he had harbored during his cultivation subtly dissipated in his enlightenment amidst the cold water. The righteous energy within his dantian grew increasingly warm and enduring, merging with the nature of the cold water and his insights from observing fish, further solidifying his foundation in Dao. Even the north wind felt warm against his face, for his clear mind made him impervious to the cold.

Back in the Su family courtyard, the sun had already set, twilight had fallen, icicles hung from the eaves, and the remaining snow on the steps reflected the sunlight. Madam Liu had already prepared dinner—simple fare, the fire burning brightly in the stove, its warmth dispelling the chill. After dinner, father and son sat around the fire for a while. Su Wenyuan went to organize his books under the lamp, while Su Qingxuan returned to his study to meditate and contemplate the Dao.

Inside the study, a single dim lamp cast a soft glow on the ancient books on the desk. Outside the window, the snow fell silently, and the world was utterly still. Su Qingxuan sat cross-legged on a futon, his eyes closed, regulating his breathing. He absorbed all the insights he had gained from fishing in the cold stream and observing fish in the still water that day, integrating them into the "Confucian Mind Method." He cultivated his qi according to the method, his breath as calm and even as the clear, cold water of a stream, neither hurried nor stagnant, but balanced, harmonious, and unobstructed. A surge of vital energy flowed throughout his body, smoothing his meridians, and clearing his mind, like a still pool in the cold water, like a clear mirror without dust.

After sitting quietly for a moment, he got up, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote four characters on the hemp paper: "Joyful Fish, Clear Mind".

His brushstrokes are steady and composed, his style understated yet refined, the ink even and clean. Between the lines, there is a clarity as clear as cold water, a serene ease like a winter plum blossom. Though lacking earth-shattering grandeur, it reveals a true meaning that points directly to one's true nature. These four characters represent his understanding of the day, adding depth to his future cultivation: "Fish find joy, yet joy is not joy; man finds true enlightenment." Only by maintaining a tranquil, still heart can one see the true nature of heaven and earth, and understand the ultimate truth, even amidst the cold winter frost and snow, and the turmoil of the world.

After writing, he placed the brush on the inkstone, gazing at the four characters on his desk, a deep understanding dawning on him. He knew that the path of cultivation was long and arduous, and the Confucian aspiration to cultivate oneself, benefit the world, and bring peace to the people was also a long and challenging journey. He needed to maintain a tranquil mind, uphold moderation and benevolence, and remain true to his original aspiration of studying and farming. Every step and every action was close to the Great Way, every awakening and every enlightenment was close to the ultimate truth. Seasons changed, but his heart remained unchanged; the myriad worldly affairs did not disturb his will.

In the corner of the courtyard, the ancestral seal, a piece of withered wood, and the tattered scroll on the desk suddenly moved in unison, all emitting a faint, shimmering white glow in the cold night's snowy light. This glow resonated with the profound and righteous energy within the young man, quietly nourishing and nurturing him. The night in Jiangnan was as gentle and cold as water, the lights in the courtyard were tranquil and serene, and the young man's Daoist heart, in his enlightenment while watching fish in the cold stream, grew ever more steadfast and clear, like a pine tree standing proudly against the snow, like still water crystal clear.

It is:

Observing fish in a cold stream reveals the wholeness of nature; calming the mind in still water allows one to comprehend the origin of things.

The true state of being free and at ease, without action; a steadfast heart that remains untainted by worldly dust.