(Minghui.org) I learned Falun Dafa (Falun Gong) after graduating from university. Soon after, the Chinese Communist Party began persecuting the practice. At that time, I had only read the books twice and simply felt that Master Li’s teachings were upright, but I didn’t actually understand the real meaning of cultivation.
I followed whatever the veteran practitioners said. When I heard we should go to Beijing, I went, but I was clueless about why. When a senior practitioner suggested that working as a nanny in Beijing would benefit my cultivation, I considered quitting my civil service job. I tended to go to extremes, and with a strong sense of self, the outcome was inevitable. I lost my job, and my family closely monitored me and prevented me from practicing my faith.
Deep in my heart, however, I didn’t want to give up cultivation. I longed for an environment where I could study the Fa and practice the exercises without fear. To avoid harassment by the local authorities, I left home, and my financial situation fell into chaos. Even though my mind was in turmoil at that time, one thought remained firmly in my heart: Master is righteous, Dafa is good. Whatever state I ended up in must be due to my own problems. But what exactly were those problems? I truly didn’t know.
Memorizing the Fa
I decided to memorize the Fa because I couldn’t focus on studying. The more I memorized, the more I loved doing it because it helped me understand many of the teachings. I often sighed inwardly, “So that’s what it means!” I finally realized why things had gone so wrong before: my actions had been reckless, guided not by Master’s teaching but by my human experiences, emotions, intuition, and even the advice of veteran practitioners.
At that time, my work environment was very relaxed. Aside from answering a few calls each week, I had almost no other tasks. While my colleagues read online novels, I memorized the Fa from the moment I arrived at work until I left, and never felt tired. I was completely immersed, gained a deep understanding of many teachings, and corrected my improper thoughts and behaviors, which laid a solid foundation for my future cultivation path.
Over two years, I memorized almost all of Master’s lectures given in various cities. However, I didn’t begin memorizing Zhuan Falun until a few years later because I felt it would be too difficult.
I truly loved memorizing the Fa. Whenever I got my hands on the book, I felt an irresistible urge to start memorizing—especially the parts I hadn’t memorized yet. Back then, I was extremely diligent, unwilling to waste even a single minute, like a student preparing for the college entrance exam. I believed that everything Master taught was profoundly important, and that every single word should be etched into my heart. Only by memorizing could it guide my cultivation. At the very least, I felt I had to memorize it once to leave a deep impression.
I memorized the Fa paragraph by paragraph. After finishing one paragraph, I moved on without revisiting previous ones. I have repeatedly memorized Zhuan Falun, but I only memorized the other teachings once. Even so, when I encountered problems, the passages related to them would often surface in my mind. It was truly remarkable!
One day, I visited the zoo with my parents. We saw a lion confined inside a large glass enclosure. Because of the limited space, zoo lions usually lie around sleeping. Suddenly, one lion turned toward us and stood up with astonishing vigor. Its mane bristled, its eyes widened, and it stared at us intently. Then it opened its massive jaws and let out an earth-shaking roar that seemed to make the glass vibrate. The awe-inspiring scene stunned the people nearby. After a moment of silence, people burst into excited screams and applause. I felt that Master had arranged this scene for me, to show me what it means to advance with the courage and energy of a lion—truly unstoppable.
Along with diligently studying the Fa, I also submitted articles to Minghui, which greatly benefited my cultivation.
Submitting Articles to Minghui
To avoid possible persecution, I left my hometown. For a period of time, I faced many hardships. I became insecure and lost confidence. Since the persecution began shortly after I obtained the Fa, I had rarely participated in group study or shared experiences with other practitioners. I always doubted whether my understanding was correct. Living in solitary cultivation, I thought, “Why not write down my thoughts and submit them to Minghui? That way, I will share indirectly.”
While memorizing the Fa, I gained a deeper understanding of Master’s teachings. I wrote some articles and submitted them to Minghui. To my surprise, many were published after editing. This strengthened my faith and gave me hope to continue walking my path during those difficult days.
Back then, I often wondered if I could truly overcome my tribulations and return to a normal cultivation environment. Each published article gave me tremendous encouragement. Writing was a process of clarifying my thoughts and deepening my understanding of the Fa. After my articles were published, I compared my originals with the edited versions, reflected on why the changes were made, and identified my own shortcomings. That process was itself a form of cultivation and growth.
This process was similar to exchanging cultivation experiences with other practitioners—I improved through it. I gradually shed many flaws rooted in emotional thinking, which helped me overcome one difficulty after another. I became more confident and eventually moved past my difficulties.
Some practitioners believe that writing experience-sharing articles mainly benefits the readers. However, I personally found that writing articles greatly benefits me. Without Minghui, it would have been very difficult for me to stand back up. I chose to submit mainly to Minghui because I trusted its meticulous review process. If an article with incorrect viewpoints was published casually, it could interfere with other practitioners’ cultivation.
Gradually, I met with other practitioners. Occasionally, I heard them mention how well-written a particular article was and it was my work! But I didn’t tell anyone. After reviewing the editor’s revisions and recognizing my shortcomings, I moved on, as if it had nothing to do with me. I believed that recording one’s achievements was a dangerous attachment.
I now believe that writing sharing articles is actually a form of mutual support among practitioners, just as clarifying the truth is a form of mutual salvation between us and the people we talk with. This is a path we need to follow to improve together.
I wrote a lengthy article about illness karma. I felt as if it were a sharp sword thrust straight into the heart of the old forces. When I saw it published, I had a dream that night. I dreamed that Master was smiling as he corrected my composition book that contained dozens of carefully written essays, all in neat handwriting. Master corrected them one by one, and after finishing, he marked a high score in red ink, which encouraged me tremendously.
Another time, local practitioners unintentionally learned that one of my long articles had been published on Minghui, and some expressed great admiration. Facing such praise, I developed feelings of joy and a desire for fame. I knew this was wrong and began sending righteous thoughts to eliminate these attachments. Later, I realized that my own attachments had attracted the compliments. The evil sees Minghui as a thorn in its side. Living in mainland China, I keep a very low profile, guard my speech, prioritize safety, and avoid anything that could invite trouble. Practitioners outside China are already very discreet—how much more careful should I be here in mainland China?
Master has mentioned that Minghui is very important. Its articles serve two purposes: reporting the persecution and providing a platform for practitioners to share insights and experiences. To run Minghui effectively, content is essential. By submitting experience-sharing articles, we are helping improve the website. Conversely, when Minghui is well-managed, reading its articles also helps elevate our cultivation.
I have noticed that Minghui has become increasingly strict when reviewing articles. For example, I once saw some local instances of deviant understandings of the Fa that I felt were very dangerous. I spent three days writing a detailed article about it. I was quite satisfied with it—thorough, clear, filled with real-life examples, and covering many manifestations of the issue. However, Minghui did not publish it. I wondered why. My views were correct, and what I observed was real. Why wasn’t it published? Later, a fellow practitioner said that my tone was aggressive. I realized this was true. My article was essentially attacking fellow practitioners without naming them. It was no different from fighting evil with evil.
I rewrote the article with a more moderate tone, but it wasn’t published either. I reflected again: what was wrong this time? Then I realized my motivation had been impure. One practitioner I mentioned in the article was involved in dangerous activities that disrupted the Fa and had accused me of misunderstanding the teachings. I told myself, “I must write an article to show how wrong you are.” The article was filled with defiance, competitiveness, and a desire for recognition. Anything written from such strong human emotion could never be pure.
I wrote a third version on the same topic. This time, my heart was calm, without malice or accusation, and I simply presented two examples. This version was published. I felt that the incidents had been an excellent cultivation process.
I rarely mention my writing to other practitioners. Our efforts to validate the Fa are not meant for show. Yet sometimes, the attachments of joy and showing off arise in my heart. Master Li then enlightened me that writing articles was a mechanism he had arranged for me, not something based on an “ability.” It is Master’s wisdom that is powerful, not me.
Master has long made it clear that the Fa rectification follows a process. I gradually realized that if we do not cherish the present moment, we will one day regret it.
For example, years ago, truth-clarification phone calls could be made directly, and SIM cards were easy to obtain. Who could have imagined that SIM cards would now require real-name registration? Combined with phone monitoring and voice-print matching, the project to clarify the truth by phone has almost come to a halt. Looking at the pile of phones I still have, I feel deep regret: why didn’t I seize the opportunity and make more calls when it was still possible?
Another example is banknotes. A few years ago, people mainly used cash. We printed facts about Falun Dafa on banknotes and distributed them widely. Now, most people in China rely on electronic payment methods like WeChat Pay and Alipay. Subsequently, far fewer people can learn the truth through banknotes. I regret that I didn’t do more when cash was still widely used.
The distribution of truth-clarifying materials was similar. A few years ago, I used to see them everywhere—on utility poles, door handles, and car windows. They filled the streets and alleys. Now, with increasing surveillance, practitioners must be much more cautious to stay safe. This illustrates a point: the Fa rectification has its own progression.
Today, I read an article on Minghui about a practitioner sharing a dream where Minghui Weekly ceased publishing at some point. Whether that dream was real or symbolic, I felt an inexpressible sense of urgency and regret. I told myself that, while it still exists, I need to write more articles for it.
I feel deeply honored to be a Falun Dafa disciple. Throughout my cultivation, although I have faced many hardships due to my karma and attachments, which slowed my awakening, I have never once regretted my choice. On the remaining path, I will study the Fa well, rectify myself, save more sentient beings, and live up to the honor of being a Dafa disciple in this lifetime.
These are my personal understandings. Please kindly point out anything that doesn’t conform to the Fa.
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