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Silent Illumination: A Chan Buddhist Path to Natural Awakening
Our natural awakening—or buddha-nature—is inherent within all of us and waiting to be realized. Buddha-nature has the qualities of both silence and illumination, and by working with silent illumination meditation you can find your own awakening. Distinguished Chan Buddhist teacher Guo Gu introduces you to the significance and methods of this practice through in-depth explanations and guided instructions. To help establish a foundation for realizing silent illumination, he has translated twenty-five teachings from the influential master Hongzhi Zhengjue into English, accompanied by his personal commentary. This book will be an indispensable resource for meditators interested in beginning or deepening their silent illumination practice.
160 pages, Paperback
Published March 9, 2021
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152 people want to read
About the author
Guo Gu
3 books22 followersGuo Gu is a Chan Buddhist teacher and the founder of the Tallahassee Chan Center. For three decades he studied under the late Master Sheng Yen as one of his senior and closest disciples. Guo Gu also teaches at Florida State University as the Sheng Yen Associate Professor of Chinese Buddhism.
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
March 8, 2021
Guo Gu is kind enough to lay out the practice of Silent Illumination in practical, embodied steps. I see this book as a guide and reminder to experience Chan through daily life. This book contains detailed instructions on how to integrate Silent Illumination practice thoroughly with the body as embodied experiencing in several ways, and presents pragmatic solutions to work with obstacles along the way. Thank you for this wonderful book!
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April 16, 2022Does a dog have a Buddha nature? The monk Zhaozhou answered this question on at least two occasions; once in the negative and once in the affirmative. Of course those who are even moderately acquainted with Chan literature should be familiar with its insistent prioritizing of not falling into dualisms or abiding in words but that doesn’t entirely clarify the matter either. Why did he give such definitive and contradictory answers in these two cases? On other occasions, Zhaozhou replied to petitioners with various styles of elliptical and figurative responses so it’s not like he couldn’t have done so here as well. Likewise, he could’ve just replied with both answers on both occasions, perhaps even going into a lengthy explanation for why both replies are equally correct. But he didn’t.
Since speculation into the private motivations of individuals, both living and dead, can never yield definitive conclusions, there’s no point in obsessing over the details of these two specific interactions. It might be useful however to understand why anyone awakened to and embodying the truth of the self-nature, in short anyone who’d attained real enlightenment, would give such opposite answers to separate people. And maybe here we have our first hint why. Because any two people will invariably have unique biases, delusions, and mental habits that they’ll have to overcome in order to awaken to a deeper truth about themselves. So, someone who was, say, overly dismissive of animal welfare could potentially benefit more from being told “Yes, dogs have a Buddha nature” than they would by being told “Well, yes and no, in one sense dogs have a Buddha nature and in another sense they don’t because ultimate truth is something that transcends the formal limits of language.” In fact, we can imagine that the latter paradoxical answer could be more easily contextualized in a way that reinforces someone’s dismissive prejudices towards animals. Which is not to say that this is what Zhaozhou was doing here but it does illustrate one of the motifs of Chan pedagogy; meeting the student where they are and adapting to their individual situation. Or to borrow a phrase from Dongshan: “The mind, not resting in words, accommodates what arises.”
. . .
When considering the merits of any book, there are a number of difficulties the honest reviewer will have to confront. It would make no sense for example to judge a collection of poetry by the same standards we would a chemistry textbook; each work serves a different purpose. That said, each of them can be fairly appraised by a consideration of their own individual purposes, or what can be discerned of these, so it’s not like any reviewer has reasonable grounds for simply expressing their own subjective reaction to the book either and trying to pass this off as a legitimate form of judgement. Critics rather have a moral obligation to evaluate a work of literature within the scope of the author’s intentions; otherwise any book can be criticized for any reason, regardless of how petty or absurd that is. Here we can imagine someone disparaging Aesop’s Fables for including talking animals and sadly a lot of criticism amounts to judgements of this kind.
Applying this basic criterion to Chan literature though is rather more challenging than with various other genres. Because a proper evaluation of a book will require sufficient understanding of its subject matter but the Chan tradition ultimately undermines the very concept of understanding itself, repeatedly admonishing it as being no more than another delusional form of attainment. Consider the following statement by the famed teacher Linji for an example of this:
“As I see it, there’s no Buddha, no living beings, no long ago, no now. If you want to get it, you’ve already got it – it’s not something that requires time. There’s no religious practice, no enlightenment, no getting anything, no missing out on anything, At no time is there any other Dharma than this. If anyone claims there is a Dharma superior to this, I say it must be a dream, a phantom.”
At the same time Linji and other eminent teachers in the Chan tradition would use various teaching methods and speak in conflicting manners, just as we saw with Zhaozhou. So again, there’s no definitive statement of Chan that a reviewer can take refuge in, meaning they have to go through the active process of truly thinking for themselves while formulating an opinion rather than simply relying on some lifeless definition they can apply in a mechanical way. Which is the whole point of Chan as something that transcends dogmatic belief.
. . .
When I first found Guo Gu’s book on the shelf at my local library, it was after several minutes of mild frustration. Aside from the fact that the section on Chan (Almost all of it under its more familiar Zen heading) was predictably small, a lot of the books it contained were of questionable value. Opening one of them at random for example, I found several quotes by Leonard Cohen but none by a single Chinese author from the formative Classical (765 – 950 CE) and Literary (950 – 1250 CE) periods. My decision to read Silent Illumination in fact was made entirely on the basis of, having cracked the index, discovering citations for Zhaozhou at the end of the last page. And as someone who has a strong preference for primary literature over contemporary commentaries, I’m glad I did.
Silent Illumination is a work of many virtues. The translations of Hongzhi that are provided in the last third of the book are excellent in and of themselves and Guo Gu’s annotations to these demonstrate a commendable and insightful scholarship. As someone who’s the complete opposite of being fluent in their source language, I’m very conscious of the great debt I owe to the translators of a literature which has had such a transformative impact on my own life. But to say only this would show a distinct lack of appreciation because, throughout the book, Guo Gu offers several valuable remarks of his own on a diverse array of issues. Two of the most notable examples for me were “Unfortunately, when we’re tethered to our thoughts, we actually lose our autonomy” and “We as humans are so resilient. It is only when we try to control and hold on to things that we feel broken.”
Evident throughout the work as well is Guo Gu’s admirable emphasis on the role of compassion in Chan. While several Chan teachers are infamous for their aggressive, even violent, teaching methods (Most dramatically in the koan where Juzhi cuts off a boy’s finger and the one where Nanquan kills a cat) this can easily become a mere pretext for charlatans to justify their own personal appetite for domination and cruelty. Guo Gu’s book is completely free of anything like that and also has none of the hollow rhetoric on compassion that often afflicts the contemporary literature arising out of Eastern traditions. His is more the approach of Huineng, the sixth patriarch, who addressed his students as “Good friends” while teaching the dharma accordingly. Occasionally this results in tangential asides that are more relevant to Guo Gu’s role as a spiritual leader than they are to the topic of silent illumination but this only serves to further highlight the author’s own warmth and humanity. Something that was in fact worthwhile during my own reading.
Here I come to those parts of the book which I had more of a skeptical reaction to; all of which concerned the practice of seated meditation. I should confess that my own convictions here are that no ritualized practices are inherently necessary to an individual awakening to the profound truth of their own self-nature but, as a result of contemplating this book, I’ve opened up to the idea that perhaps for some people, maybe even a majority, seated meditation is a practical way for them to reach a state of greater self-awareness. To a point. Taking a Hongzhi quote from the book itself: “Mind is intrinsically beyond conditioning.” So whatever value seated meditation might have, as a preliminary method for some individuals to discard the delusion that there’s a dust obscuring their own awakened self which they must clean, it still can’t provide a means to directly realize this. And, again, quoting Hongzhi: “Directly delusion is thoroughly relinquished.” To be fair though Guo Gu, as much as he obviously endorses seated meditation, balances this in several places with equally clear statements that Chan is not grounded in any specific methods. The second chapter of the book literally opens with the phrase “Chan offers no particular fixed ways to practice.” As with Zhaozhou’s opposing statements about the nature of a dog, the question now is how to reconcile these two aspects of the book? Likewise, it might have been nice if the author themselves had explicitly addressed this conflict but, at the same, that might have diminished the expedient means intended for this particular book.
And this is where the author’s own character and background become especially relevant. As a professor of Buddhist studies who was the personal attendant of Sheng Yen, one of the most renowned Chan monks of the 20TH century, it would be hubris of the most appalling kind to presume that the author’s positive regard for seated meditation wasn’t born from a place of thoughtful reflection. It must be acknowledged too that, for all the statements in Chan literature where a textual source can be used to criticize seated meditation (Nanyue Huairang’s “How can you become a Buddha by sitting meditating?” for example) there are just as many accounts of Chan monks and teachers affirming that there’s some value for practicing in this way. I’m tempted to say that seated meditation satisfies a certain desire prevalent among seekers of the way for something more easily digested than Zhaozhou’s “Just stop picking and choosing” but here I’m speculating. I’m inclined as well to think of seated meditation in terms of the Gautama Buddha’s practice of asceticism; as something in itself inessential that an individual may nevertheless have to go through in order to resolve their own delusional appetites. Whether this is a fair characterization though is not immediately obvious. In any case, the subtitle of Guo Gu’s book is “A Chan Buddhist Path to Natural Awakening” after all and not “The Path…” Again, had the author delved into the complexities of this matter in such a short work, it might have confused the average reader more than it would have helped them. Most people aren’t in the state of mind where they’re prepared to kill the Buddha so demanding this level of renunciation or radical commitment right from the beginning probably won’t bear fruit with most.
If I had to give an answer as to who the ideal readership for this book would be, I’d say that it would probably best serve those new to the Chan tradition who, for one reason or another, are initially disinclined to immerse themselves in canonical Chan texts. Also, while Wumen’s ‘The Gateless Barrier’ was the work that inspired my own interest in Chan, Guo Gu’s Silent Illumination might be a much more palatable introduction for those discouraged by the interpretive challenge presented in koan collections and other similarly less accessible works. Chan of course is hardly a frail fossil that must be preserved from the harmful fresh air of our own era but, just as much, it also requires a diverse group of capable advocates to connect it with its full potential audience. And Guo Gu represents the best of these. At the core of his own exposition of the dharma is what Yuanwu referred to as “the lively function of kindness and compassion.” And if the reader will read this work with the openness it merits, they should derive much that is beneficial.
Reviewers Note:
The reason I haven’t given this book a numerical score is because I don't feel qualified to assess the author's understanding of Zen.
Since speculation into the private motivations of individuals, both living and dead, can never yield definitive conclusions, there’s no point in obsessing over the details of these two specific interactions. It might be useful however to understand why anyone awakened to and embodying the truth of the self-nature, in short anyone who’d attained real enlightenment, would give such opposite answers to separate people. And maybe here we have our first hint why. Because any two people will invariably have unique biases, delusions, and mental habits that they’ll have to overcome in order to awaken to a deeper truth about themselves. So, someone who was, say, overly dismissive of animal welfare could potentially benefit more from being told “Yes, dogs have a Buddha nature” than they would by being told “Well, yes and no, in one sense dogs have a Buddha nature and in another sense they don’t because ultimate truth is something that transcends the formal limits of language.” In fact, we can imagine that the latter paradoxical answer could be more easily contextualized in a way that reinforces someone’s dismissive prejudices towards animals. Which is not to say that this is what Zhaozhou was doing here but it does illustrate one of the motifs of Chan pedagogy; meeting the student where they are and adapting to their individual situation. Or to borrow a phrase from Dongshan: “The mind, not resting in words, accommodates what arises.”
. . .
When considering the merits of any book, there are a number of difficulties the honest reviewer will have to confront. It would make no sense for example to judge a collection of poetry by the same standards we would a chemistry textbook; each work serves a different purpose. That said, each of them can be fairly appraised by a consideration of their own individual purposes, or what can be discerned of these, so it’s not like any reviewer has reasonable grounds for simply expressing their own subjective reaction to the book either and trying to pass this off as a legitimate form of judgement. Critics rather have a moral obligation to evaluate a work of literature within the scope of the author’s intentions; otherwise any book can be criticized for any reason, regardless of how petty or absurd that is. Here we can imagine someone disparaging Aesop’s Fables for including talking animals and sadly a lot of criticism amounts to judgements of this kind.
Applying this basic criterion to Chan literature though is rather more challenging than with various other genres. Because a proper evaluation of a book will require sufficient understanding of its subject matter but the Chan tradition ultimately undermines the very concept of understanding itself, repeatedly admonishing it as being no more than another delusional form of attainment. Consider the following statement by the famed teacher Linji for an example of this:
“As I see it, there’s no Buddha, no living beings, no long ago, no now. If you want to get it, you’ve already got it – it’s not something that requires time. There’s no religious practice, no enlightenment, no getting anything, no missing out on anything, At no time is there any other Dharma than this. If anyone claims there is a Dharma superior to this, I say it must be a dream, a phantom.”
At the same time Linji and other eminent teachers in the Chan tradition would use various teaching methods and speak in conflicting manners, just as we saw with Zhaozhou. So again, there’s no definitive statement of Chan that a reviewer can take refuge in, meaning they have to go through the active process of truly thinking for themselves while formulating an opinion rather than simply relying on some lifeless definition they can apply in a mechanical way. Which is the whole point of Chan as something that transcends dogmatic belief.
. . .
When I first found Guo Gu’s book on the shelf at my local library, it was after several minutes of mild frustration. Aside from the fact that the section on Chan (Almost all of it under its more familiar Zen heading) was predictably small, a lot of the books it contained were of questionable value. Opening one of them at random for example, I found several quotes by Leonard Cohen but none by a single Chinese author from the formative Classical (765 – 950 CE) and Literary (950 – 1250 CE) periods. My decision to read Silent Illumination in fact was made entirely on the basis of, having cracked the index, discovering citations for Zhaozhou at the end of the last page. And as someone who has a strong preference for primary literature over contemporary commentaries, I’m glad I did.
Silent Illumination is a work of many virtues. The translations of Hongzhi that are provided in the last third of the book are excellent in and of themselves and Guo Gu’s annotations to these demonstrate a commendable and insightful scholarship. As someone who’s the complete opposite of being fluent in their source language, I’m very conscious of the great debt I owe to the translators of a literature which has had such a transformative impact on my own life. But to say only this would show a distinct lack of appreciation because, throughout the book, Guo Gu offers several valuable remarks of his own on a diverse array of issues. Two of the most notable examples for me were “Unfortunately, when we’re tethered to our thoughts, we actually lose our autonomy” and “We as humans are so resilient. It is only when we try to control and hold on to things that we feel broken.”
Evident throughout the work as well is Guo Gu’s admirable emphasis on the role of compassion in Chan. While several Chan teachers are infamous for their aggressive, even violent, teaching methods (Most dramatically in the koan where Juzhi cuts off a boy’s finger and the one where Nanquan kills a cat) this can easily become a mere pretext for charlatans to justify their own personal appetite for domination and cruelty. Guo Gu’s book is completely free of anything like that and also has none of the hollow rhetoric on compassion that often afflicts the contemporary literature arising out of Eastern traditions. His is more the approach of Huineng, the sixth patriarch, who addressed his students as “Good friends” while teaching the dharma accordingly. Occasionally this results in tangential asides that are more relevant to Guo Gu’s role as a spiritual leader than they are to the topic of silent illumination but this only serves to further highlight the author’s own warmth and humanity. Something that was in fact worthwhile during my own reading.
Here I come to those parts of the book which I had more of a skeptical reaction to; all of which concerned the practice of seated meditation. I should confess that my own convictions here are that no ritualized practices are inherently necessary to an individual awakening to the profound truth of their own self-nature but, as a result of contemplating this book, I’ve opened up to the idea that perhaps for some people, maybe even a majority, seated meditation is a practical way for them to reach a state of greater self-awareness. To a point. Taking a Hongzhi quote from the book itself: “Mind is intrinsically beyond conditioning.” So whatever value seated meditation might have, as a preliminary method for some individuals to discard the delusion that there’s a dust obscuring their own awakened self which they must clean, it still can’t provide a means to directly realize this. And, again, quoting Hongzhi: “Directly delusion is thoroughly relinquished.” To be fair though Guo Gu, as much as he obviously endorses seated meditation, balances this in several places with equally clear statements that Chan is not grounded in any specific methods. The second chapter of the book literally opens with the phrase “Chan offers no particular fixed ways to practice.” As with Zhaozhou’s opposing statements about the nature of a dog, the question now is how to reconcile these two aspects of the book? Likewise, it might have been nice if the author themselves had explicitly addressed this conflict but, at the same, that might have diminished the expedient means intended for this particular book.
And this is where the author’s own character and background become especially relevant. As a professor of Buddhist studies who was the personal attendant of Sheng Yen, one of the most renowned Chan monks of the 20TH century, it would be hubris of the most appalling kind to presume that the author’s positive regard for seated meditation wasn’t born from a place of thoughtful reflection. It must be acknowledged too that, for all the statements in Chan literature where a textual source can be used to criticize seated meditation (Nanyue Huairang’s “How can you become a Buddha by sitting meditating?” for example) there are just as many accounts of Chan monks and teachers affirming that there’s some value for practicing in this way. I’m tempted to say that seated meditation satisfies a certain desire prevalent among seekers of the way for something more easily digested than Zhaozhou’s “Just stop picking and choosing” but here I’m speculating. I’m inclined as well to think of seated meditation in terms of the Gautama Buddha’s practice of asceticism; as something in itself inessential that an individual may nevertheless have to go through in order to resolve their own delusional appetites. Whether this is a fair characterization though is not immediately obvious. In any case, the subtitle of Guo Gu’s book is “A Chan Buddhist Path to Natural Awakening” after all and not “The Path…” Again, had the author delved into the complexities of this matter in such a short work, it might have confused the average reader more than it would have helped them. Most people aren’t in the state of mind where they’re prepared to kill the Buddha so demanding this level of renunciation or radical commitment right from the beginning probably won’t bear fruit with most.
If I had to give an answer as to who the ideal readership for this book would be, I’d say that it would probably best serve those new to the Chan tradition who, for one reason or another, are initially disinclined to immerse themselves in canonical Chan texts. Also, while Wumen’s ‘The Gateless Barrier’ was the work that inspired my own interest in Chan, Guo Gu’s Silent Illumination might be a much more palatable introduction for those discouraged by the interpretive challenge presented in koan collections and other similarly less accessible works. Chan of course is hardly a frail fossil that must be preserved from the harmful fresh air of our own era but, just as much, it also requires a diverse group of capable advocates to connect it with its full potential audience. And Guo Gu represents the best of these. At the core of his own exposition of the dharma is what Yuanwu referred to as “the lively function of kindness and compassion.” And if the reader will read this work with the openness it merits, they should derive much that is beneficial.
Reviewers Note:
The reason I haven’t given this book a numerical score is because I don't feel qualified to assess the author's understanding of Zen.
March 25, 2025
Unquestionably one of the finest, most illuminating books on Buddhist meditation practice (and the practice of living) that I’ve ever read. I’d watched a number of Guo Gu’s talks before ordering this, so I felt I had a good primer for the tone and style of his teaching, and this book surfaces that in spades.
I’ve read a fair number of books on Zen over the past couple years or so, and while many have been varyingly beautiful and helpful, Chan practice as described by Guo Gu has been utterly transformative for me. It’s also piqued my interest more generally in Chan, the Chinese precursor to Zen (although ‘precursor’ here should not denote a sense of existing solely in the past — while it sparked the development of Zen, Chan has continued on independently and is its own rich lineage of Buddhism, less prominent in the West than Zen but no less potent and alive).
This book and Guo Gu’s approach to practice and teaching in general has felt like a key to a door I’ve been trying to open for years — sometimes getting a peak through, sometimes managing to pry open a crack, but now one I’ve felt able to open. In particular, his prioritization and elucidation of somatic, embodied experience as the ground for practice has marked a huge shift for me. I was also fortunate to participate (remotely, over Zoom) in a three day retreat he led while making my way through this book. I truly can’t put into words how helpful his teaching has been, and I say this as someone generally deeply sceptical of spiritual teachers. In reading this book and incorporating these teachings into my practice, I’ve felt my time on the cushion becoming simultaneously more absorptive and more natural, and I’ve also been better able to bring that practice *off* the cushion — a central reason to practice sitting meditation in the first place.
I know I have so much more to learn, so much more polishing of the mirror to do, but after several years of working with meditation, Silent Illumination has marked a huge shift in what I believe to be my understanding and embodied experience of practice. I cannot recommend this highly enough.
I’ve read a fair number of books on Zen over the past couple years or so, and while many have been varyingly beautiful and helpful, Chan practice as described by Guo Gu has been utterly transformative for me. It’s also piqued my interest more generally in Chan, the Chinese precursor to Zen (although ‘precursor’ here should not denote a sense of existing solely in the past — while it sparked the development of Zen, Chan has continued on independently and is its own rich lineage of Buddhism, less prominent in the West than Zen but no less potent and alive).
This book and Guo Gu’s approach to practice and teaching in general has felt like a key to a door I’ve been trying to open for years — sometimes getting a peak through, sometimes managing to pry open a crack, but now one I’ve felt able to open. In particular, his prioritization and elucidation of somatic, embodied experience as the ground for practice has marked a huge shift for me. I was also fortunate to participate (remotely, over Zoom) in a three day retreat he led while making my way through this book. I truly can’t put into words how helpful his teaching has been, and I say this as someone generally deeply sceptical of spiritual teachers. In reading this book and incorporating these teachings into my practice, I’ve felt my time on the cushion becoming simultaneously more absorptive and more natural, and I’ve also been better able to bring that practice *off* the cushion — a central reason to practice sitting meditation in the first place.
I know I have so much more to learn, so much more polishing of the mirror to do, but after several years of working with meditation, Silent Illumination has marked a huge shift in what I believe to be my understanding and embodied experience of practice. I cannot recommend this highly enough.
May 27, 2021
I love this clear explanation of silent illumination as a sitting practice. The new translations of Hongzhi are also beautiful. Hongzhi's words never fail to inspire and feel so open, free and luminous.
"Each and every dharma is spontaneously natural - wonder is beyond words and descriptions. When your realization becomes continuous, all of the mountain forests and grasslands demonstrate this affair of awakening. If you're able to perceive right through delusion, you will realize that nothing is concealing the buddha's broad, long tongue. The expounding itself is listening and the listening itself is expounding."
"Each and every dharma is spontaneously natural - wonder is beyond words and descriptions. When your realization becomes continuous, all of the mountain forests and grasslands demonstrate this affair of awakening. If you're able to perceive right through delusion, you will realize that nothing is concealing the buddha's broad, long tongue. The expounding itself is listening and the listening itself is expounding."
July 7, 2021
Guo Gu presents the clearest instruction of the method I have read.
Relaxed and grounded, with great interest and a content attitude, we simply experience the body sitting, moment-by-moment, without labels or concepts. We do not solidify/reify any experiences and, in doing so, we recognize our intrinsically free nature.
This is a book to return to again and again.
Relaxed and grounded, with great interest and a content attitude, we simply experience the body sitting, moment-by-moment, without labels or concepts. We do not solidify/reify any experiences and, in doing so, we recognize our intrinsically free nature.
This is a book to return to again and again.
September 8, 2022
An ameliorative and therapeutic guide to Chan Buddhist meditation methods from a respected practitioner, teacher and academic. Engaging, clear, humorous, well-researched and grounded teachings polished by decades of practice and leadership. Of course the subject matter defies direct explanation at times but if you'd like a guide to following the Buddha's path this is a good one.
August 7, 2022
Dreadful western reinterpretation of a great Zen master, telling us what's wrong with everyone, and why all other teachings are wrong. The author spends all his time lecturing on how he 'taught' his 'students'.
The only good parts were the actual translations of the original Zen text.
The only good parts were the actual translations of the original Zen text.
September 21, 2025
I can't praise this book highly enough. As a long-time Zen practitioner, I was thoroughly delighted with Guo Gu's deep knowledge of Buddhism. His ability to communicate the essence of complex teachings is unparalleled. Suitable for people at any stage of study / practice. Inspiring.
April 22, 2025
I can’t deny that there were moments where I wished this wonderful teacher, a student of the late Master Shen-yen of Dharma Drum Mountain, had a slightly more forceful editor, but I came for a book about the practical aspects of silent illumination (默照禪, closely linked with “just sitting” meditation or 只管打坐), and I certainly got that. (I also recommend The Method of No Method by Master Shen-yen as well, as his progressive introduction to an otherwise intimidatingly simple practice is the basis for much of what Guo Gu says here. The excerpts I’ve read are themselves a sufficient introduction.) Extremely helpful for anyone looking to adopt this as their primary meditational practice or just curious.
December 30, 2025
Really Good
I Learn A Lot
Highly Recommended
I Learn A Lot
Highly Recommended
July 29, 2021
I spent 3 months of daily meditation practice reading this book. Despite not being a Chan practitioner, I found Guo Gu’s writing tremendously clear and valuable. Highly recommend
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews