Snow is nature’s most surprising gift during winter practice at the Dharma Drum Retreat Center. The silence after a snowfall invites deep contemplation, allowing us become more aware of the intertwining of our inner world with nature.
When the once-in-a-decade blizzard hit DDRC, the campus transformed overnight into a vast winter wonderland. Everything was blanketed in the pure snow, without distinction. As I strolled through the snow-covered grounds, my sense of time and space seemed to fade away, and my body and mind gradually came into harmony with my surroundings. Looking back at my footprints, I saw myself reflected there—each step steady because of the unwavering “vow” in my heart.
That morning, just after meditation, Venerable Chang Ji was already out in the cold, shoveling snow. She looked at me and said, “I am walking in Master’s footsteps in the snow.” Her words touched me deeply and carried me back in time.
Master Sheng Yen once described himself as an “itinerant monk in the wind and snow,” going wherever the Dharma was needed. In 1975, he came to the United States alone. He was once homeless on the streets of New York, carrying his bag and walking through the alleys with his disciples. His determination and his spirit of taking root amid fierce winds and snow remain a powerful presence we can still feel today in the frozen fields of DDRC.
Practicing at DDRC is also a way of appreciating life. In Pine Bush, upstate New York, each season offers its own revelation. Winter here is far from desolation. As you watch the squirrels leap playfully and the deers move gracefully across the snow, you come to understand what it means to “live life joyously,” even when resources are scarce.
Even birds break from their usual habits in winter, gathering in flocks to forage together. This phenomenon of nature perfectly echoes the Chan spirit: embracing all and transcending differences in gender, culture, and race.
I responded to Venerable Chang Ji: “We have always been moving forward along the path that Master left in the snow.” Whenever the cold wind blows, the feeling of “passing the torch” becomes incredibly real. Bringing Chinese Chan Buddhism to the West is the very reason we are gathered here.
It may sound like a monumental task, but Master never sought greatness. He simply felt: “If someone needs the Buddhadharma, I will go.” This mindset—which we call the “Compassionate Vow”—allowed him to remain completely at ease, even in the face of illness and death. What we are doing now is continuing to share that same loving-kindness Pine Bush and Manhattan.
On the night after the snow, I looked up at the clear sky filled with brilliant stars and made a quiet wish: the Dharma and this center are so wonderful, yet so few in North America know about them. All of my life’s wisdoms are rooted in the Buddha and my Master. As Master’s disciple, all I can do is guard and care for this place and wait for those with whom we share an affinity with to arrive, so that together, we may continue this lineage of wisdom.