Seeking Kindred Spirits, Gradually Transcending the Mundane

Xuefeng

Those who pursue the extraordinary often lack far-reaching vision; those who walk alone lack steadfast discipline. The reclusive struggle to uphold the Tao, and those immersed in the secular world find it difficult to transcend mundanity. Cultivating immortality requires seeking kindred spirits, for without them, it is challenging to remain steadfast on the celestial path. Daily life in the mortal world is filled with trivialities and distractions, making it hard for the mind to find peace. Thus, it is essential to gradually transcend the mundane.

Self-awareness is invaluable, yet it is not easily attained. The world is filled with people who are self-opinionated, arrogant, and deluded, while those who possess self-awareness, humility, and self-reflection are rare. To achieve the immortal path, one must first cultivate self-awareness. But how does one do so? By using a mirror to reflect upon oneself. Where is this mirror? It lies in kindred spirits—they are the mirror.

Seeking kindred spirits is a lifelong endeavor. To find a true spiritual companion is like discovering a hidden treasure. A single grain of sand contains an entire universe; one true kindred spirit opens the gateway to a celestial paradise. Those who are truly rich are those who have spiritual companions.

My fate has been modest, and I have relied solely on personal enlightenment in all matters. Therefore, I deeply understand the preciousness of kindred spirits. Since founding Lifechanyuan, I have yearned to find such companions. I treat everyone who enters Lifechanyuan as a fellow seeker, offering timely praise and hoping to walk the immortal path together, journeying toward the celestial realm. Unfortunately, due to my humble origins and lack of worldly sophistication, I have faced numerous setbacks. Those above me in wisdom do not wish to associate with me; those on par with me are ambitious, seeking to establish their own domains rather than aligning with Lifechanyuan. As for those below me, aside from a few Chanyuan Celestials, I have yet to find them.

Seeking the Tao is difficult; seeking kindred spirits is even harder. Hence, the ancients lamented: "A kindred spirit is the rarest treasure in life." Flowers are easy to obtain, money is easy to acquire, but a true spiritual companion? Even if one searches the heavens above and the underworld below, they may still remain elusive.

A true spiritual companion is one who treats me as an equal—not only capable of discussing the scriptures and the Tao, sharing a bed without discomfort, but also engaging in fiery arguments upon meeting. If we do not see each other for three days, our souls grow restless, as if mourning a great loss. In the morning, we might quarrel until our faces are red with anger, swearing never to meet again, yet before sunset, one of us appears at the other’s door with a bottle of liquor, grinning mischievously, vowing never to part.

Spiritual companions are as precious as life itself. I have Foshan, Taiji, Wuji, Penglai, Wan’nian, Biyun, Tianshan, and Canghai Celestial—each an integral part of my existence. Yet, can I find one with whom I can argue, then laugh, and get drunk under the stars? I wonder.

Without a spiritual companion, life is sorrowful. Without a spiritual companion, life is pitiful. Without a spiritual companion, one is either arrogant and self-absorbed or self-deprecating and despondent. A flower blooms with no one to admire it, a leaf falls with no one to grieve—blooming and withering in vain, is this not tragic?

The desire to transcend the mundane is present in all. Yet, those who truly attain it are as rare as a shooting star. Why? Not due to a lack of spirituality, but because the burdens of the mundane world drag them down. Above, there are elderly parents to care for; below, there are children to nurture. In between, there are spouses needing attention, and on all sides, neighbors, friends, and siblings requiring support. With a restless mind and a distracted heart, and in an era where societal competition grows increasingly fierce, even those who give their all still fall behind—who has the time to live freely and gracefully in the world?

Alas! Alas! Entangled in the mortal world, cultivating transcendence is arduous.

The only feasible way forward is to gradually sever worldly attachments. Beyond relinquishing the pursuit of fame and fortune, one must fulfill obligations to parents and children and then gradually detach from all other secular ties—accepting them if they exist, but embracing their absence if they do not, and never again entangling oneself in worldly bonds. In doing so, one can slowly distance from worldly attachments and gradually approach the celestial realm.

I often dream of creating a utopian paradise—bringing together Foshan, Penglai, and other Chanyuan Celestials. At dawn, we climb mountains, chop wood, fetch water, and plant melons in the fields. At noon, we sit in the shade of trees, discussing the scriptures and the Tao while sipping tea to the sound of a guqin (a traditional Chinese zither). In the afternoon, we play and chase each other through forests and streams. At night, we cultivate our minds and refine our spirits through meditation, shedding mortal attachments.

Cultivating the Tao is difficult—more challenging than ascending the heavens from the treacherous paths of Shu. Attaining transcendence is harder—for the greatest difficulty lies in transcending the mortal world.