Chapter · 七字 · 一道 — seven words, one path

放下 · 宽恕 · 原谅 · 回头是岸 · 因果 · 无知 · 贪嗔

Before Western words like "mindfulness" reached our shores, our grandmothers already had the whole teaching — in seven everyday 中文 words they used without explaining, because everyone was supposed to just know. But here is the honest truth: these seven are not seven separate ideas. They are one teaching seen through seven windows. And once you see the chain that connects them, the whole path opens. This chapter walks each word slowly, quotes the source behind it, and then shows you how they lock together. Layman's words. No jargon walls. As always — check the source yourself.

① 贪 tān — craving (and its partners 嗔 & 痴)

A guardian deity figure at a Singapore Buddhist temple — a reminder of the desiring mind and the three poisons 贪嗔痴 — The desiring mind, embodied. Guardian figure, Singapore temple — Pixabay (royalty-free)

贪 literally means greed / craving — but in the teaching it is one of the 三毒, the "three poisons" (raga 贪 desire/greed; dvesa / dosa 嗔 hatred, aversion; moha 痴 delusion / ignorance). The Buddha said these three cause most of our problems and most of the turmoil we see in the world — "like ingesting poison that later causes illness," indulging in these mind-states brings regrettable consequences. When we envy a friend's good fortune, feel anger at a reckless driver, or cling to a false belief, we feel the three poisons firsthand. And — the key — the three fuel one another. Craving and hatred both depend on delusion: we grab at what we think will satisfy us and push away what we fear, because we do not see reality clearly.

Ref: the "three poisons" 贪嗔痴 (raga / dvesa / moha) — Tricycle "Dharma: Buddhism for Beginners"; this is one of the oldest, most shared frames in the whole tradition.

— Alison's thoughts

The three poisons don't announce themselves as poisons — that's the trick. Greed walks into the room dressed as ambition, hatred as justice, delusion as confidence. I catch myself in all three every single week. The envious scroll through someone's holiday photos? That's 贪 in the wild. The rage at a bad driver that spoils my whole evening? That's 嗔. And the quiet belief that one more gadget will finally make me feel settled? Pure 痴. Naming them isn't a moral verdict — it's just the first step of actually noticing. The moment I can say "oh, there's greed, there's the grab," I've already won a little ground, because you can't let go of something you can't see.

② 无知 wú zhī — ignorance, the root

The serene hall of a Singapore Buddhist temple — a calm place to begin seeing clearly instead of in ignorance — Seeing clearly begins with stillness. Temple hall, Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

无知 means ignorance / not-knowing — but be careful, it is not "stupidity." It is the ancient avijjā (Pali) / avidyā (Sanskrit) / 无明 — seeing reality unclearly, not seeing how things actually are. In dependent origination 十二因缘 — the Buddha's map of how suffering keeps rolling — ignorance comes first. The chain goes: ignorance conditions volitional actions, which condition consciousness, and on down through birth, aging, and death. Every link "arises in dependence on the previous link and conditions the next." So the whole wheel of suffering is kept turning by one thing at its origin: we do not see clearly — we mistake the impermanent for permanent, the unsatisfying for satisfying, the not-self for "me." This is why the whole path is, in the end, an undoing of 无知 — seeing clearly. The opposite of 无知 is wisdom (prajñā 般若) — and that is the entire goal.

Ref: dependent origination with ignorance (无明) at the root — Tricycle "Dharma: Buddhism for Beginners"; the twelve links are found throughout the Nikāyas, e.g. SN 12.

— Alison's thoughts

无知 is the word I have to keep going back to, because it's not "stupid" — it's just driving without looking. So much of what goes wrong in my life and the lives around me isn't malice; it's people acting on a half-glimpse, assuming they know the full picture. The colleague who snaps because she's exhausted and I read it as "she hates me." The quarrel that spirals because both sides are sure they're the reasonable one. Buddhism's deepest bet is that almost all our suffering starts here — in not seeing clearly — and that the fix is not to shout louder but to look harder. When I'm genuinely stuck with someone, the most useful question isn't "who's right" — it's "what am I NOT seeing right now?"

③ 因果 yīn guǒ — cause and effect (kamma as intention)

Buddhist artifacts at a temple — a reminder that every seed of intention, cause 因, ripens into its fruit 果 — Every seed ripens into its fruit. Temple artifacts, Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

因果 literally is "cause (因, yīn) and effect / fruit (果, guǒ)". In the popular imagination it got twisted into "cosmic punishment — you reap what you sow, fate deals it out." But the Buddha's own definition is far more subtle, empowering, and often the opposite of fatalism:

“Intention (cetanā), I tell you, is kamma. After having intended something, one creates action through body, speech, and mind.” — AN 6.63

So karma/kamma 因果 is intention — the mind behind an act, not the act's surface. And it is "not punishment or reward — it is cause and effect." It is a gentle, lawful law like a seed and its fruit: a certain kind of mind ripens into a certain kind of result. This is why Buddhism is not fatalistic — because you are the one doing the intending, here and now, and intention is something you can train. The unskillful action you set down today stops ripening toward its fruit. Cause and effect is not a judge; it is a gardener's ground.

Ref: “Intention, I tell you, is kamma” — Anguttara Nikāya 6.63 (Nibbedhika Sutta); Lion's Roar "Karma"; "not punishment or reward — it is cause and effect" (Lion's Roar / Facebook Walk-for-Peace).

— Alison's thoughts

因果 is the one word people get most wrong — the "you reap what you sow, so it's all destiny" reading. But the Buddha's own line that intention is kamma flips it into the most empowering teaching there is. It means: no one is sentenced; and you are never just a victim of fate, because you are the one intending, right now, and intention can be trained. When I've messed up and the guilt is loud, this teaching doesn't tell me I'm cursed — it tells me the unskillful mindset, if I set it down now, stops ripening toward its fruit. That's not resignation. That's the exact opposite: it's the one door that's always open, the chance to plant a different seed this breath. Cause and effect isn't a courtroom. It's a garden.

④ 回头是岸 huí tóu shì àn — turn around, and the shore is there

A wide view over Kek Lok Si temple, Penang — the open vista of the shore that appears when you turn around — Turn your head, and the shore is right there. Kek Lok Si, Penang — Unsplash (royalty-free)

This is the most beautiful of the seven — and a pure 中文 gift. The full saying is 苦海无边，回头是岸 — "the sea of suffering has no bounds, but turn your head/reflect, and the shore is right there." The Chinese idiom authority explains: Buddhism uses the sea as a metaphor for the whole journey of practice; "回头" means to stop the wrong action and correct the mind; "是岸" shows that liberation is a certain, reachable shore. The "sea of suffering" (苦海) is said to be made of countless unskillful deeds; "turn around" is to stop the unskillful conduct and set the mind right. And it pairs with the companion saying: 放下屠刀，立地成佛 — "put down the butcher's knife, and become a Buddha on the spot." This is NOT literal (become enlightened instantly); the source clarifies it means a person who recognizes their own wrongs and turns toward the good — even one who has done much wrong — can immediately begin real release.

Ref: 苦海无边，回头是岸 — the 教育部《成語典》 idiom dictionary (Taiwan Ministry of Education) and 百度百科; the companion 放下屠刀，立地成佛 traced to the Song-dynasty Chan anthology 五燈會元 (despite the Buddhist tradition's care that this means sincere turning, not literal instant awakening — as the sources note).

— Alison's thoughts

回头是岸 is the most hopeful sentence in this whole chapter, and I need it on the hard days. The saying doesn't say \"swim for a long time and maybe you'll reach land.\" It says the shore is right there the moment you turn your head — because the "sea" was never the whole ocean; it's the direction you were facing. I've had stretches where I felt a year deep in some mess, sure it would take forever to get out. And then I'd remember this: recovery doesn't start with the far shore, it starts with the turn. The person I'd hurt, the apology I'd been avoiding, the habit I kept feeding — the way out is a single change of direction, available this second, not after the sea calms. The shore was behind me all along. What a gift to remember that.

⑤ 放下 fàng xià — let go (of the grip, not the person/thing)

A serene Buddha in a Singapore temple — the calm of holding life lightly instead of in a death-grip — Letting go of the grip is the only way to hold anything for the long run. Temple, Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

放下 means "put down / let go." But the tradition is very careful about what this does and doesn't mean. The Chinese Buddhist teachers put it exactly straight:

“真正的放下，不是放棄一切，而是捨離內心對一切的執著。”
True letting go is not about giving up everything — it is to let go of the inner attachment (執著) to everything. — 慧光師父 (Master Hui Guang)

So 放下 is not "abandon your family, your job, your life, become nothing." It is dropping the clinging — the inner grasping mind. Academic research on the Buddhist notion of nonattachment likewise defines it as "engagement with experience with flexibility and without fixation on achieving specified outcomes." You hold things lightly, not hard. You can fully love and care — without the strangle-grip that turns love into fear and loss into devastation. And here is where the chain we saw begins to close: 放下 is precisely the opposite of 贪 (the grabbing). And the way you actually let go of an outer situation is by undoing the inner clinging to it — not by physically throwing it away.

Ref: “真正的放下…捨離內心對一切的執著” — Master Hui Guang 慧光法師; nonattachment defined as flexible engagement without fixation — PMC (PeerJ) "Letting Go of Self: Nonattachment to Self Scale"; 放下 as the opposite of clinging/craving — 樸石學堂正念態度 "Letting Go."

— Alison's thoughts

This is the one that made me breathe out when I first understood it. I always read 放下 as "let it all go, give up, stop caring" — which honestly terrified me, because I never wanted to stop caring about the people I love. But the tradition was never asking that. 放下 is about dropping the death-grip, not the person. You can love someone completely and hold them lightly — so that when they need to leave, or grow, or even pass, you don't shatter. I've seen the difference in my own life: the same relationship, the same care — but when I stopped white-knuckling the outcome, suddenly there was room to actually enjoy it. Letting go of the grip isn't losing anything. It's the only way to hold anything for the long run.

⑥ 原谅 yuán liàng — to pardon / excuse

A temple altar with incense — the quiet offering of setting down a grudge and pardoning — Pardoning is the quiet offering that frees the one who carries the grudge. Temple, Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

原谅 literally means "to forgive / pardon / excuse" someone. In the Buddhist frame it is the everyday, immediate act — you release a specific person from a specific debt of blame. It is the smaller, more reachable cousin of 宽恕. Buddhism doesn't present forgiveness as a stern moral commandment ("thou shalt forgive"); it presents it as a way to end suffering in your own heart — you forgive not chiefly because the other person has "earned" it, but because holding the resentment is itself the chain that binds you. To 原谅 someone is to stop re-wounding yourself with the replay of the hurt. It differentiates the person from the act — you can see the act as harmful, even name it, without letting the anger toward the person own your mind.

Ref: forgiveness as "a way to end suffering," not a commandment — Jack Kornfield, "Buddhist Teachings on Forgiveness"; forgiveness as "differentiating the person from the act" and not getting angry/cruel — Study Buddhism, "Forgiving Others"; "forgiveness is the act of setting ourselves free from the heavy weight of resentment" (Walk for Peace).

— Alison's thoughts

这里我要老实讲 — forgiveness is the hardest one for me. When someone's hurt me badly, part of me feels like letting it go is letting them off the hook, like the anger is the only justice I get. But the Buddhist view keeps asking one quiet question nobody wants to answer: who's still carrying it? Not them. The person who wronged me probably isn't lying awake at 3am replaying the hurt — I am. So 原谅 isn't a gift I'm giving to the person who doesn't deserve it. It's me choosing to stop poisoning my own days. And notice — Buddhism never says the act was okay. You can name the harm honestly and release the grip. Differentiate the act from the person. That's how I finally understand it: forgiveness, done right, is not weakness. It's the strongest, most self-respecting move I have.

⑦ 宽恕 kuān shù — forgiveness

A radiant golden shrine — the broad, generous warmth of deep forgiveness 宽恕 — 宽恕 is the broad, generous heart that pardons and frees itself. Temple, Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

And 宽恕 (forgiveness / magnanimity — 宽 broad, generous + 恕 forbearance, and Confucius' own "do not do to others what you would not have done to you" 己所不欲勿施於人 rests on the same 恕) is the deep, whole form of which 原谅 is the single act. In the Buddhist teaching, forgiveness is best understood as an intentional decision to let go of resentment and anger, combined with a genuine wish that the person be free of harm — and crucially, it is for your own freedom. As the practice tradition puts it: forgiveness "frees the mind from suffering (dukkha)"; holding anger, resentment, or hatred keeps the mind imprisoned. Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the prison — and the prisoner is you, not the other person. This is one of the most liberating reframes in all of Buddhism: the one who forgives is always the first and greatest beneficiary.

Ref: forgiveness as "an intentional decision to let go of resentment and anger, combined with a subjective hope or desire that the person… be free" — Open Horizons, "Moral Outrage, Resentment, and Self-Righteousness: Buddhism and Forgiveness"; "forgiveness frees the mind from dukkha… holding anger keeps the mind imprisoned" — Walk for Peace; 恕 as the Confucian forbearance at the root of 己所不欲勿施於人 (Analects).

— Alison's thoughts

宽恕 is the word my grandmother would have used at a funeral — for the living, not the dead. I used to think forgiveness meant "you were right and I'm wrong, so you win." But that reading has it backwards. 宽恕 isn't a verdict on who was right; it's a decision about who gets to keep living — and the answer is: me. It's broad (宽) because it sweeps the on-going grudge, the whole resentment, not just one incident. I can 原谅 a single insult but still nurse the aftermath for years; 宽恕 is letting the afterlife of harm go too. And the deepest thing I've learnt in this chapter is that the two words are not in competition — 原谅 is the step, 宽恕 is the destination. One act today, one whole-hearted release over time. Same direction: toward freedom, and it starts with me.

How the seven lock together — the whole path in one breath

A Buddhist pagoda — the seven words as one ascending structure, one path — Seven words, one path — like a pagoda built of many distinct parts, rising as a single whole. Singapore — Pixabay (royalty-free)

Now watch them become ONE teaching. Lay them out in the order they actually move:

无知 (ignorance) is the root — we don't see reality clearly. From it arises…
贪 (craving) and 嗔 (hatred) — the grasping and the pushing, born of not-seeing. These…
set 因果 (cause & effect) in motion — intention ripens into result, the wheel turns, and we drift on the 苦海 (the sea of suffering).
The turning point is 回头是岸 — you can turn, at any moment, because the shore is not far away; it is exactly where you are facing away from. And the way you turn is…
放下 — you drop the grip of the chasing and the pushing; you hold life lightly, not hard. And when the grip was on a person who wronged you, dropping it is…
原谅 and 宽恕 — the act and the deep state of letting go of resentment, which frees you first.

So the grandmother was never speaking seven disconnected sayings. She was speaking one path: realise you don't see clearly (ignorance), see the grabbing and hating for what they are (craving/hatred), understand the gentle law that your own mind ripens into your world (cause & effect), turn around — the shore is here (turn and the shore is there), let go of the grip (letting go), and — when the grip was on a hurt — forgive, for the one set free first is you (forgiveness).

One root, seven flowers. And every one of them is a door you can walk through — starting now, this moment, without waiting for the sea to calm. Because the shore was never at the end of the journey. It was behind you all along.

— Alison's thoughts

My grandmother had all seven of these on her tongue, but she never once sat me down to teach them. She just lived them — at the wet market, at the altar, when my cousin stopped speaking to the family for two years. And that's the thing I keep learning: nobody walks this path in seven neat steps. Some days I manage the turning around (回头是岸) and then grab the wheel again before lunch. But when I look at my own life — the grudges I've fed, the things I've chased that turned out hollow — I notice the order is exactly what this page says. I don't forgive because the other person deserves it; I forgive because I'm the one who's been carrying the weight. The shore really is behind you. You just have to turn.

— with a soft heart and clear eyes · Metta 慈悲