In the Second Home of Lifechanyuan, I began my initial exploration of LIFE

jiejing

In the Second Home of Lifechanyuan,
I began my initial exploration of a LIFE class guided by following my nature and following my mind

Jiejing Celestial

（Edited by ChatGPT)

I once believed
that true freedom was holding tightly to the reins of rhythm,
making time obedient and orderly in the palm of my hand;
that only by arranging every single thing properly
could I navigate smoothly between busyness and leisure.

However, it wasn’t until I stepped into Lifechanyuan International Family Society Thailand Branch—
walking through a mango orchard quietly reclaimed by wild grass,
filled with the sweet scent of earth,
with the hum of the grass cutter and the clear chirping of birds weaving together in my ears,
and the grass brushing lightly against my calves, bringing a cool touch—
in the steps swaying gently with the wind,
in the casual conversations with others,
that I slowly realized—
my body understands the secrets of life better than my mind.
It has always whispered in the most delicate ways,
but in the past, I was too hurried to stoop down and listen.

1. From “I Arrange It” to “It Moves by Itself”

In the mango orchard at the Thailand Branch, my main physical task was using a backpack grass cutter to weave through the dense grass. Though it seemed repetitive, subtle changes hid beneath the surface. The mowing area was vast and the grass wildly overgrown. I was used to planning ahead: which section to cut first, how long it would take, when to rest each hour... After more than two years, my mowing skills grew increasingly proficient, and the rhythm of time gradually flowed through my palms, forming an efficient method unique to me.

When I first arrived at the mango orchard in Thailand Branch, I carried the inertia of the mundane world—everything had to be planned in advance.

In that world, “time is money” became my unchanging creed, and all my actions were bounded by schedules and time estimates. Mowing was no exception: which day to start, where to mow up to, how long to finish—plans were as clear as a painting. At that time, I was like a person meticulously weaving a web of time, my days carefully divided into neat, rigid squares—precise and seamless.

Until one day, Guide Xuefeng said something that blew in like the morning breeze: “In daily life, don’t make appointments in advance. Let everything be spontaneous, more natural.”

I was stunned.
It was like telling someone who wakes up by an alarm clock every day not to set it tomorrow, but to wake up whenever.
My heart was in turmoil, confused and helpless. Used to controlling time like a tightrope walker, suddenly being told—today there’s no wire; you must walk in the wind.

I worked hard to keep life orderly and efficient—why be spontaneous? Without plans, how could I move forward? Isn’t spontaneity just an excuse for laziness? Full of doubt, yet without arguing, I decided to quietly listen to the Tao behind these words.

One day, I put down my watch and stopped calculating how much grass I should cut. I just walked into that familiar long field, gripping the grass cutter, starting it, and moving slowly forward. No visible end, no goals—just following the texture of the grass. When tired, I stopped; when thirsty, I drank water. No longer watching the progress like a construction foreman.

This was no task, no burden, no efficiency—it was as if I were a child playing in the grass. I even began to wonder with surprise, “When will I reach the end?” When the end finally appeared, I laughed, “Wow, that was quick, I’ve already reached the end.”

I tasted for the first time the sweetness of “following my nature”—when not controlling time, time became light; when not forcing completion, the body naturally found its rhythm.

2. Every Day Seems Like an Unrehearsed Adventure

Since then, I no longer rush to arrange my daily schedule. Instead, I began to savor the freedom that comes with following my nature.

Once I let go of plans, life blossomed with unexpected scenes.
One day, when I was supposed to mow the grass, a gentle rain interrupted me, so I turned and rode my bike to the Merit Garden to fetch water;
Another time, halfway through, I encountered a neighbor burning trash. I put down my machine and stopped to chat, learning about Thailand’s unique ways of waste disposal from her;
And once, the Merit Garden welcomed two unfamiliar visitors—
An Israeli girl who sat and talked with me at length, as I spontaneously shared my story of rebirth in the Second Home;
A Mexican painter, handsome and free-spirited, who shared with me his favorite melodies and showed me the lively strokes of his brush.

In the past, I would have considered these moments as idle distractions that “delayed the real work.”
Now I understand that these unrehearsed fragments, like petals softly falling, gently spread across the river of my life. Each day is made special by them, each moment holds a surprise.

If I still clung stubbornly to the mowing schedule, these passing souls and vivid moments might never have touched me.
Now, I’ve learned to accept that every day is a new play—I am both audience and actor, the director, but not the one in control.

I’ve discovered that when I let go of the obsession with “what must be done and completed,” every day opens countless new possibilities.
Even if the rain soaks my plans, even if setbacks arise, even if unexpected changes occur, my heart begins to learn not to worry, but instead to grow a sense of reverence and gratitude.

3. The Most Wonderful Change: I Began to Learn to Listen to My Body’s Language

Recently, what has truly deepened my reverence for the Greatest Creator and gratitude for the Tao’s arrangements is my body’s awakening in sexual love.

In the past, I was used to arranging everything with my rational mind—even scheduling moments of sexual love: setting appointments in advance, controlling the rhythm, balancing work. Yet, though I thought I was in control, I gradually lost awareness of my own feelings. Over time, I could no longer tell if it was a genuine desire from my heart or just a sense of obligation.

Until one day, I let go of pre-booking and stopped deliberately scheduling sexual love. I tried to let my body take the lead: if I felt like it, I would make time; if not, I would quietly wait.

The first time felt like encountering a hot meal when starving—so natural, so harmonious, everything flowing smoothly;
The second time was deeper, like drinking water when thirsty, refreshing and penetrating the heart;
The third time was the most unforgettable—there was no desire at all that day. I took shelter from the rain in the other’s room, and as drowsiness came, I lay down to rest. Suddenly, like a shooting star tearing across the night sky, my body brightened abruptly. The sensation was fierce yet stirring—not a violent storm, but a gentle, graceful dance, making me feel as if I were engaged in a cosmic dance of sexual love. At that moment, there was no fiery technique, no pre-set script—only a tender yet irresistible beauty rising from deep within the body. It was not simple pleasure or comfort, but an enjoyment that reached into the marrow—a joy of body and mind united, naturally flowing.

For the first time, I realized: the beauty of sexual love does not come from my mind’s control, but from following my nature,  awakening with my body, and surrendering to the Tao’s arrangement.

4. The Boundary Between “Following My Nature” and “Following My Mind” Remains Fuzzy to Me, and Though I Have Experienced the Pain of Following My Mind Many Times, This Time It Awakened Me Deeply

That day, my body was silent, yet I followed my mind to decide the moment of sexual love.
The result was only a cold, unresponsive feeling.
Facing the one I desired, pleasure was completely absent—not just at that moment, but also upon waking the next day—there was only a void.
That gap felt like falling from heaven into hell, causing me to lose the meaning of LIFE in an instant.
Confusion, resentment, anger, jealousy, comparison, sadness—like toxic weeds tangled in my soul—spread their painful thorns, even breeding frightening thoughts.

Only after calming down did I realize—I had gone against my body’s natural rhythm, replacing it with the desires of my mind.”

No wonder  Guide Xuefeng said in Awakening from Nature:

“The difference between following your nature and following your mind is this: following your nature is selfless and egoless, following your mind is selfish and self-centered; following your nature is harmonious and natural, following your mind is chaotic and forced; following your nature fully respects life, following your mind is about satisfying one’s own desires. For example, mutual consent is following your nature, one-sided desire is following your mind; mutual consent but excessive restraint belongs to following your mind; compromising for others is following your mind; weighing pros and cons before deciding how to act is following your mind. Any action that involves personal interests and calculations of gains and losses before deciding whether to act is following your mind. Actions that neither suppress nor restrain oneself nor harm others, society, or nature are following your nature. Following your nature leads to heaven; following your mind leads to hell.”

In the past, I didn’t believe it—I even thought Guide Xuefeng was exaggerating.
But after deeply experiencing the hellish pain of following my mind, I finally understood his wisdom.
I also profoundly felt once again the greatness and supremely powerful of the Greatest Creator, and the strict yet exquisite arrangements of the Tao.

Reflections:

It turns out that following my nature is a graceful dance of selflessness and egolessness, merging seamlessly with nature;
While following my mind is filled with self and desire, turning the body into a vessel of craving.
The boundary gently sways on the edge of a single thought.

The pain I felt that day from following my mind made me cherish the beauty of following my nature even more deeply.
Now, I still live in the mango orchard, the mower softly humming, the scent of fresh grass lightly dancing in the breeze.
I understand that I am still inexperienced and bound to stumble, but I am willing to stand up again and again,
Continuing to cultivate  diligently according to Guide Xuefeng’s roadmap and Lifechanyuan Values

Because I have begun to learn to trust—my body is wiser than my mind.
It gently tells me when to set off, when to pause;
When to flow like water, when to bloom like a flower.
And all I need to do is listen quietly.

Grateful for the blessings of the Greatest Creator,
Grateful for the illuminating wisdom of Guide Xuefeng,
Grateful for the invisible yet exquisite arrangements of the Tao.