(March 3, 2003—A conversation with someone newly initiated into the study)
Question: Please tell us what mindset a beginner should have when approaching their studies.
Answer: Whether you're just beginning or have already been studying for some time, the mindset, is essentially the same. It all comes down to how deeply you thirst for this study— how parched you are. That’s what matters most.
Let me give you an analogy. It's like a nursing infant crying for its mother's milk. The baby isn’t calculating or reasoning—it simply cries out of hunger. In the same way, while we can't completely avoid the intentional or conscious thoughts like, "What should I do in this study?" what truly matters is that kind of raw urgency—like the desperation of a hungry child.
It's not a calculated resolve like, "This study is beneficial for such-and-such reasons, therefore I should study in this or that way." Rather, it's just like a child who feels hungry without knowing why—they're simply hungry. In the same way, you’re just hungry—for the study, for truth, or whatever name you give it. You can't quite pinpoint it, but the hunger is real. When that hunger is genuine, then before long, a response will come. As a response to that hunger, a true place—a result of the study—naturally emerges.
This is simply common sense. There's no special logic behind it. It's a basic principle of life. It’s not like there’s some theory: “If I do this, then that will happen.” It doesn’t work like that. It’s something everyone instinctively understands, and this study unfolds in a way that anyone can take up naturally.
In fact, the mindset of a person who studies is extremely important. No, it's not just extremely important; it's the entirety of the study. Depending on one's mindset, the study can progress very quickly. Some speak of six days, and some even say three. It really is possible in such a short time. That's the truth. But if the mindset is off, even after decades, the study will remain at a superficial level. It won’t deepen. It will stay stuck in the same place. And when you look at such people, they don't realize that their mindset is the issue. Instead, they think, "There must be some hidden method," and they go around searching—trying this method, trying that one, meeting this teacher and that one.
But all of that is driven by calculation arising from the mind, and so it doesn't work. As I said earlier, it’s like a nursing infant who doesn't yet know how to calculate or reason, but simply cries for milk out of hunger. That kind of hunger—pure and uncalculated, free of any strategy or manipulation—is enough. With that kind of hunger, the study unfolds.
The response of our original nature is nothing special. Our original nature is already within us. So why doesn't it reveal itself? It's because of our calculations—our conscious reasoning— that it remains hidden. You asked earlier what kind of mindset a person should have in this study, and that really is the most important question. You could say it is both the beginning and the entirety of the study. Methods are of no use. It doesn't matter what method you use. You can pray, you can bow, you can work on a hwadu—whatever you do, it doesn’t really matter.
But from my perspective, doing nothing at all is best. Not taking up any method... Because once you get entangled in methods, there’s a danger becoming attached to the temporary, fabricated effects they produce—mistaking those effects for the study itself. That’s why, rather than using a method, it’s better not to rely on one at all.
But if you are truly thirsty, then what’s being revealed is your own original face—your very existence. It's not something that appears by taking a long detour, or by relying on some special method. What’s revealed is this—immediately, right where you are. There's no shell that needs to be broken, no afflictions or karma that need to be cast off. It's simply your own true existence—yourself, just as you are—revealing itself as it is. So it appears without any conditions, right where you are. It’s not something that is uncovered through polishing or refining by way of specific methods. What's needed is not deliberate calculation or conscious effort, but a genuine, raw, and unavoidable resolve—so urgent and sincere that you can’t escape it. That kind of thirst, that kind of hunger, is what suddenly allows you to experience this very place. That is the beginning and the end.
Whether you've studied for ten years or just one day, if you haven’t seen this place, your situation is the same. There's no difference. It's simply a matter of knowing or not knowing—there's no special method just because someone has studied for ten years. Whether it’s been ten years or a single day, as long as there is genuine thirst, genuine hunger, it won’t be long before you see it.
Most people tend to think like this: "I’ve truly struggled to study. So I must have made a true resolve. I really am hungry and thirsty for this." And then they might ask, "But why isn’t it working? Maybe I'm using the wrong method?" But from my perspective, that person is still searching for a method—a trick. This means they don’t yet know what real hunger is. When you’re truly hungry, there’s no time to look for tricks. You're so desperate, it's like you're out of your mind.
It’s the kind of hunger that made Jean Valjean, without even realizing it, smash the display case and steal the bread right then and there. If, in that moment, you're still thinking, “If I break the window and steal it, I might get punished...”, it means you’re not truly starving yet. When you're really starving, those kinds of calculations don’t even arise. You're just dying of hunger and thirst — there’s no room for “If I do this, it'll work,” or “If I do that, it won’t.” As long as you’re still weighing options like that, you’re not hungry enough yet. So even if you think, “I really want to study,” if you’re still calculating this way and that, it just means you haven’t really experienced what true hunger is. When you’re really hungry—nothing else matters. That’s how desperate you need to be.
Question: I spent my youth looking for the study I always wanted to do. Now, as I approach sixty, I'm fortunate to have met you, Professor. I feel anxious that it's too late, and there are many people who spend their whole lives studying in temples like monks but just pass the time. Please tell me if it's possible to achieve the kind of success I desire in my studies, even if I start now.
Answer: You say you've devoted much time to study, yet still haven’t found your true place, and that makes you feel anxious. That tells me your hunger has grown deep, by now. It’s disheartening to see that your hunger and thirst remain unmet.
It's understandable to feel anxious, thinking it might be too late. But don't we have a saying that goes, "When you think it’s too late, that’s the earliest time to begin.” I understand your concern about whether the study will work out, but seeing you calculate whether you'll achieve as much as you want makes me feel, on the other hand, that you're not hungry enough yet.
There’s another saying: even if it happens just before death, if you open your eyes to this study, if you truly taste it, then even dying is different. So, regardless of age, if you have the urgent desire to taste it, then that alone will allow you to taste it. How deeply you go into the study afterward—that’s something to consider later. The first and foremost thing is to taste it. You said you’re at an advanced age, which may make you feel even more anxious, even more desperate. If that anxiety turns into genuine urgency—like a thirsty person digging a well—then even without proper tools, if you’re willing to dig through muddy water with your bare hands, that kind of desperation will lead you there. Since you’ve been searching for this study for so long, if you now hold onto it with a sincere and desperate heart, it won’t be long before you come to taste it. As for what happens after—how to go deeper in the study—that can follow naturally, depending on the situation. For now, hold onto just this: the desperate resolve that you must taste it before you die. Don’t calculate. Don’t analyze. Just stay with that single, unshakable thirst for the study—and I believe, before long, something will come.
Question: I've read various books and listened to Dharma talks, so I understand—at least conceptually and theoretically—that the mind is Buddha. But because the mind is invisible, it doesn't really resonate with me on a heartfelt level. Could you please explain how one might directly experience the mind, and what the most basic way to begin this study would be?
Answer: In fact, since we all live with a mind, no one goes through life without experiencing their own mind. But even though we’re constantly tasting it, we don’t realize we are. Why is that? Think about when you're eating rice. If you're purely immersed in the taste of the rice, you can sense even its subtlest flavors. But if your thoughts and attention are somewhere else while you’re eating, you won't truly taste it. It’s not that you're not eating. It’s not that you’re not tasting. You are tasting—but you're not aware of the taste. So it’s not that you need to taste it because you’re not tasting it—what matters is becoming aware of the fact that you are already tasting it. That very act of realization—of waking up to that fact—is what we call the study of the mind.
So, I’m saying that studying isn't about having to do something like cooking rice and eating it just because you think you haven’t eaten yet. That’s not it. What it is, is this: even while we’re eating, our attention is somewhere else—looking somewhere else, thinking about something else. That’s what we call delusion. And study means pulling that deluded mind back to the act of eating right now, right here in front of you. It means keeping your attention on what you're doing at this very moment. And that attention—it’s not some special thing—it just means always being with what is most certain and clear to you right now. And that clarity has nothing to do with changing conditions. Conditions are always shifting and impermanent. But the mind—that thing we call mind—remains unchanged in the midst of all that.
So, we’re not actually tasting what’s happening outside—we just think we are. We assume we’re tasting this experience or that one: what shows up in front of our eyes, in our thoughts, or through our senses. And so we keep paying attention to those things. But that’s just like your mind being somewhere else while eating rice. Even as all those experiences come and go, there is something that remains—unchanging, unwavering, and always right before your eyes. That, you could say, is the mind we're always tasting. Always right before your eyes—clear, alive, undeniable, unmistakable. This! Not one of the things that come and go—but this!
Our current situation is like watching a movie. The screen keeps shifting—bright and dark, alive with color—constantly changing. And yet, there is always light. There is brightness. What is that brightness? Even though the images on the screen change endlessly, the fact of change itself remains constant. But if you hear these words, consciously think, “Yes, this is it!” and stop there—you're still just standing at the threshold. You haven’t stepped through the gate yet. It’s not about staying in the place intentionally or consciously. Rather, it means that, in that place, without chasing forms or objects, there is something that, even as the screen keeps changing right before your eyes, is unchangingly watching the screen. Even while hearing a talk like this, if that thing suddenly gets caught—bam!—that moment becomes a gateway. And when you pass through—bam!—all these words, all that talk, just vanish. There's no this or that anymore. And yet, what remains is simply clear, vivid, and bright.
There is something unchanging. And that’s what we need to experience. To “taste the mind” means that even though we've always been tasting it all along, we’ve never truly sensed its flavor—so we don’t know what the taste of mind really is. Until now, all the flavors we’ve known have come through the mind—using this mind to chase after illusions and tasting only that. But this experience is completely new—utterly different from anything we’ve ever consciously known. And once you do experience it, you realize: it’s something you’ve always had. But before that moment, no matter how much someone tries to explain it to you, you simply can’t imagine it.
In any case, there's no need to imagine or theorize what this experience might be. It can only be resolved by direct tasting—with nothing but a sincere, earnest desire to taste it yourself. Right now you are always tasting, clearly, before your eyes. In the midst of this ceaseless stream—like a movie screen unfolding—where am I, the self? If you look closely at that, you may suddenly awaken to your true nature right in the midst of it.
However, the awakening to one’s true nature happens a little differently for each person. For some, it arrives in a powerful, unmistakable surge. For others, it may glide by so subtly they don't even realize it happened—only recognizing later that it indeed come. In any case, you must come to recognize your own existence. Only then can we truly speak of “tasting the mind.” But in truth, once you’ve tasted the mind, that kind of thought doesn’t even arise. If someone thinks, “I’ve tasted the mind,” then it’s still like eating rice while your mind is somewhere else. Isn’t it so? When the food really tastes good, you don’t even think, “This is delicious.” You’re too busy eating to think about it. It’s the same here. When you truly taste the mind, you're so taken by its flavor that no other thought can enter. You will not go like, “Ah, now I’m tasting the mind.” That’s not how it works.
Question: Sometimes when I’m studying, my chest feels tight and blocked, and I can’t help crying. Could you tell me what I should do in moments like that?
Answer: In a way, that might be anger rising up. It's a kind of self-directed anger that comes from feeling, "No matter how much I try, it doesn't work." You feel wronged. You feel despair over your lack of strength. You feel angry, thinking—"Why is this study so difficult?" And maybe that's why the tears come. But if you get dragged around by such anger or sense of unfairness, it could eventually turn into illness.
Actually, the study isn’t all that difficult. You should always do it with a light heart. If you carry too much pressure, you won’t be able to do what you need to do. We all know this from experience—even simple tasks become hard when we treat them as heavy burdens. You end up exhausting yourself. Don’t think of it as, “This is some great thing that maybe one in a thousand, ten thousand, or even a million people can accomplish.” Instead, think, “This is something anyone can do. It’s easy. Anyone can do it.” Keep your heart light and unburdened—but still genuine and earnest. You can absolutely be light and free of burden, and at the same time, sincere and wholehearted. It’s absolutely possible to be both light and wholehearted. You should take up the study with that kind of attitude—with enjoyment.
When you treat it like a burden, you feel wronged, stressed, worn out. That heaviness in your chest, the tears—it’s because you’ve made it too hard. So don’t make it hard. Go lightly, and joyfully. Do it with ease, and with the belief that it will happen.
Question: Professor, could you please tell us, in a concrete way that's easy for us to understand, how you studied?
Answer: (Please refer to the earlier section titled “Master Kim TaeWan’s Study Journey” for the full account.)
Question: Someone might say you’ve become the master of your mind. But in my case I actually feel like a slave to my mind—dragged around by it. In that sense, what do you think of the idea that if one doesn’t truly understand this, one remains a slave to one’s own mind?
Answer: You are a slave to your mind—because you’re being dragged around. Dragged by words, by desires, by emotions, by concepts—you’re pulled along by all of them. The mind is like a horse you once rode. But now what are we doing? We’re holding the horse’s tail and running after it. We’re not riding it anymore. That’s why it’s exhausting. You can’t control it. The horse just goes wherever it pleases. (laughs)
Chinese Seon masters have a saying that studying the mind is like “grabbing the ox by the nostrils.” In the Ten Ox-Herding Pictures, the mind is compared to an ox. Once you pierce its nose and take hold of the ring, the ox has no choice but to follow. Even a small child, if they grab the ox by the nostrils, can lead it anywhere. It’s a brilliant analogy. The study of the mind, then, is like mounting the ox, piercing its nose, and holding the reins. Once you do that, the ox goes wherever you want it to. You and the ox become one. There is no longer any burden.
However, it's also difficult to say that I am the owner of the ox. It's not that the ox and I are separate. The ox and I have become one. So there are no such thoughts. There’s no thought of the mind’s existence, nor of its non-existence. You simply move together, as one, wherever it goes.
Question: I have just one more question. It’s about practice methods in daily life. Some say one should always keep a hwadu or chant a Buddha’s name. And others say to just leave the mind alone and let it do what it wants. Could you tell us which way is the right path for the study of the mind?
Answer: Whether you're holding a hwadu, chanting a Buddha's name, doing nothing at all, or letting your mind wander—it's all the same. What matters is this: if there's any deliberate thought about how to study—any intention, any calculation—then it’s not the study.
As I shared earlier about my own study, from the standpoint of someone who hasn’t yet entered into it, they really don’t know anything about it. If such a person starts deciding on their own—“This is study, and that isn’t”—and tries to push in that direction, it’s pointless. Like I said in the first question, just be hungry for the study! That’s all. If that hunger and thirst are real, then one way or another, it will happen. When you're hungry, you might steal a piece of bread without even realizing it, or end up cooking rice without meaning to. When you're thirsty, you'll dig a well or scoop up river water—whatever it takes to quench that thirst. It happens on its own.
When your thirst and hunger become real enough, that’s what brings about the realization of the study. All the things you do in your daily life for the study, if they’re driven by conscious effort, they’re just the mind playing tricks on itself. Mistaking those for the study is a big misunderstanding. That’s not the study. You’re merely manipulating within consciousness, thinking that’s the study. That’s why even after thirty or forty years, the study leads nowhere.
In other words, there is no separate method for study. There is no royal road, no set approach. Saying that a certain way of studying brings peace of mind is like someone who isn't actually studying but just imitating it to soothe an anxious mind. For example, if you feel anxious because you're not chanting or working on a hwadu, it means you're dependent on those things, and you're not actually studying on your own.
You need take a hard, honest look at yourself. What are you truly hungry for? How deeply are you thirsting for this study? You must reflect in that way. In truth, you may be craving worldly things—money, recognition, fame—while only paying lip service to the study on the surface. You could be deceiving yourself without even realizing it.
Take an honest, unflinching look at how hungry you truly are for this study. If there’s even the slightest bit of hunger, your study must lean into it. The stronger the hunger, the further your study will push forward. But once that hunger fades, your study stays exactly where it is.
Now it’s mealtime, and you're hungry. If you just eat, that hunger will be satisfied. But instead of eating, or even simply thinking about eating, you only talk: “This should be eaten this way,” “That should be prepared like that...” Or you only look at cookbooks. And meanwhile, you miss the meal. You forget your hunger. Yet you’re still there, just flipping through cookbooks.
When we say we're studying but keep relying on some method, it's just like that. If you simply leave yourself to the hunger itself—without pretense or formality—you'll find yourself, without even realizing, heading to the kitchen and find something to eat, even if it's just cold rice. It's unconscious. That's how true study happens. That's how you actually fill your belly—how you become full.
The conscious mind often plays tricks. It can be satisfied in delusion, looking at all sorts of cookbooks, so to speak. Your stomach might still be empty, but you might mistakenly think you're not hungry. Don't let any thoughts interfere, don't make any calculations about study. In any case, you shouldn't use the consciousness you currently know. "I'm not doing anything deliberately!" You completely let go and simply follow what your heart, your inner hunger, demands.
If you try to think about this study with your conscious mind—measuring your progress as if it’s schoolwork—then even after ten, twenty, thirty years, the hunger will still be there. You might forget, but forgetting doesn’t satisfy hunger.
So, the very first question you asked—about mindset—that really is the most important thing. How thirsty you are, how hungry—that’s not something you can control with your conscious mind. It’s not a matter of thinking, so there’s nothing complicated about it. Just leave it alone. Hold the quiet trust that it will happen—someday. And keep going lightly, without pressure. Because the moment pressure enters, consciousness creeps in. Just continue the study with ease.
(March 3, 2003—A conversation with someone newly initiated into the study)
Question: Please tell us what mindset a beginner should have when approaching their studies.
Answer: Whether you're just beginning or have already been studying for some time, the mindset, is essentially the same. It all comes down to how deeply you thirst for this study— how parched you are. That’s what matters most.
Let me give you an analogy. It's like a nursing infant crying for its mother's milk. The baby isn’t calculating or reasoning—it simply cries out of hunger. In the same way, while we can't completely avoid the intentional or conscious thoughts like, "What should I do in this study?" what truly matters is that kind of raw urgency—like the desperation of a hungry child.
It's not a calculated resolve like, "This study is beneficial for such-and-such reasons, therefore I should study in this or that way." Rather, it's just like a child who feels hungry without knowing why—they're simply hungry. In the same way, you’re just hungry—for the study, for truth, or whatever name you give it. You can't quite pinpoint it, but the hunger is real. When that hunger is genuine, then before long, a response will come. As a response to that hunger, a true place—a result of the study—naturally emerges.
This is simply common sense. There's no special logic behind it. It's a basic principle of life. It’s not like there’s some theory: “If I do this, then that will happen.” It doesn’t work like that. It’s something everyone instinctively understands, and this study unfolds in a way that anyone can take up naturally.
In fact, the mindset of a person who studies is extremely important. No, it's not just extremely important; it's the entirety of the study. Depending on one's mindset, the study can progress very quickly. Some speak of six days, and some even say three. It really is possible in such a short time. That's the truth. But if the mindset is off, even after decades, the study will remain at a superficial level. It won’t deepen. It will stay stuck in the same place. And when you look at such people, they don't realize that their mindset is the issue. Instead, they think, "There must be some hidden method," and they go around searching—trying this method, trying that one, meeting this teacher and that one.
But all of that is driven by calculation arising from the mind, and so it doesn't work. As I said earlier, it’s like a nursing infant who doesn't yet know how to calculate or reason, but simply cries for milk out of hunger. That kind of hunger—pure and uncalculated, free of any strategy or manipulation—is enough. With that kind of hunger, the study unfolds.
The response of our original nature is nothing special. Our original nature is already within us. So why doesn't it reveal itself? It's because of our calculations—our conscious reasoning— that it remains hidden. You asked earlier what kind of mindset a person should have in this study, and that really is the most important question. You could say it is both the beginning and the entirety of the study. Methods are of no use. It doesn't matter what method you use. You can pray, you can bow, you can work on a hwadu—whatever you do, it doesn’t really matter.
But from my perspective, doing nothing at all is best. Not taking up any method... Because once you get entangled in methods, there’s a danger becoming attached to the temporary, fabricated effects they produce—mistaking those effects for the study itself. That’s why, rather than using a method, it’s better not to rely on one at all.
But if you are truly thirsty, then what’s being revealed is your own original face—your very existence. It's not something that appears by taking a long detour, or by relying on some special method. What’s revealed is this—immediately, right where you are. There's no shell that needs to be broken, no afflictions or karma that need to be cast off. It's simply your own true existence—yourself, just as you are—revealing itself as it is. So it appears without any conditions, right where you are. It’s not something that is uncovered through polishing or refining by way of specific methods. What's needed is not deliberate calculation or conscious effort, but a genuine, raw, and unavoidable resolve—so urgent and sincere that you can’t escape it. That kind of thirst, that kind of hunger, is what suddenly allows you to experience this very place. That is the beginning and the end.
Whether you've studied for ten years or just one day, if you haven’t seen this place, your situation is the same. There's no difference. It's simply a matter of knowing or not knowing—there's no special method just because someone has studied for ten years. Whether it’s been ten years or a single day, as long as there is genuine thirst, genuine hunger, it won’t be long before you see it.
Most people tend to think like this: "I’ve truly struggled to study. So I must have made a true resolve. I really am hungry and thirsty for this." And then they might ask, "But why isn’t it working? Maybe I'm using the wrong method?" But from my perspective, that person is still searching for a method—a trick. This means they don’t yet know what real hunger is. When you’re truly hungry, there’s no time to look for tricks. You're so desperate, it's like you're out of your mind.
It’s the kind of hunger that made Jean Valjean, without even realizing it, smash the display case and steal the bread right then and there. If, in that moment, you're still thinking, “If I break the window and steal it, I might get punished...”, it means you’re not truly starving yet. When you're really starving, those kinds of calculations don’t even arise. You're just dying of hunger and thirst — there’s no room for “If I do this, it'll work,” or “If I do that, it won’t.” As long as you’re still weighing options like that, you’re not hungry enough yet. So even if you think, “I really want to study,” if you’re still calculating this way and that, it just means you haven’t really experienced what true hunger is. When you’re really hungry—nothing else matters. That’s how desperate you need to be.
Question: I spent my youth looking for the study I always wanted to do. Now, as I approach sixty, I'm fortunate to have met you, Professor. I feel anxious that it's too late, and there are many people who spend their whole lives studying in temples like monks but just pass the time. Please tell me if it's possible to achieve the kind of success I desire in my studies, even if I start now.
Answer: You say you've devoted much time to study, yet still haven’t found your true place, and that makes you feel anxious. That tells me your hunger has grown deep, by now. It’s disheartening to see that your hunger and thirst remain unmet.
It's understandable to feel anxious, thinking it might be too late. But don't we have a saying that goes, "When you think it’s too late, that’s the earliest time to begin.” I understand your concern about whether the study will work out, but seeing you calculate whether you'll achieve as much as you want makes me feel, on the other hand, that you're not hungry enough yet.
There’s another saying: even if it happens just before death, if you open your eyes to this study, if you truly taste it, then even dying is different. So, regardless of age, if you have the urgent desire to taste it, then that alone will allow you to taste it. How deeply you go into the study afterward—that’s something to consider later. The first and foremost thing is to taste it. You said you’re at an advanced age, which may make you feel even more anxious, even more desperate. If that anxiety turns into genuine urgency—like a thirsty person digging a well—then even without proper tools, if you’re willing to dig through muddy water with your bare hands, that kind of desperation will lead you there. Since you’ve been searching for this study for so long, if you now hold onto it with a sincere and desperate heart, it won’t be long before you come to taste it. As for what happens after—how to go deeper in the study—that can follow naturally, depending on the situation. For now, hold onto just this: the desperate resolve that you must taste it before you die. Don’t calculate. Don’t analyze. Just stay with that single, unshakable thirst for the study—and I believe, before long, something will come.
Question: I've read various books and listened to Dharma talks, so I understand—at least conceptually and theoretically—that the mind is Buddha. But because the mind is invisible, it doesn't really resonate with me on a heartfelt level. Could you please explain how one might directly experience the mind, and what the most basic way to begin this study would be?
Answer: In fact, since we all live with a mind, no one goes through life without experiencing their own mind. But even though we’re constantly tasting it, we don’t realize we are. Why is that? Think about when you're eating rice. If you're purely immersed in the taste of the rice, you can sense even its subtlest flavors. But if your thoughts and attention are somewhere else while you’re eating, you won't truly taste it. It’s not that you're not eating. It’s not that you’re not tasting. You are tasting—but you're not aware of the taste. So it’s not that you need to taste it because you’re not tasting it—what matters is becoming aware of the fact that you are already tasting it. That very act of realization—of waking up to that fact—is what we call the study of the mind.
So, I’m saying that studying isn't about having to do something like cooking rice and eating it just because you think you haven’t eaten yet. That’s not it. What it is, is this: even while we’re eating, our attention is somewhere else—looking somewhere else, thinking about something else. That’s what we call delusion. And study means pulling that deluded mind back to the act of eating right now, right here in front of you. It means keeping your attention on what you're doing at this very moment. And that attention—it’s not some special thing—it just means always being with what is most certain and clear to you right now. And that clarity has nothing to do with changing conditions. Conditions are always shifting and impermanent. But the mind—that thing we call mind—remains unchanged in the midst of all that.
So, we’re not actually tasting what’s happening outside—we just think we are. We assume we’re tasting this experience or that one: what shows up in front of our eyes, in our thoughts, or through our senses. And so we keep paying attention to those things. But that’s just like your mind being somewhere else while eating rice. Even as all those experiences come and go, there is something that remains—unchanging, unwavering, and always right before your eyes. That, you could say, is the mind we're always tasting. Always right before your eyes—clear, alive, undeniable, unmistakable. This! Not one of the things that come and go—but this!
Our current situation is like watching a movie. The screen keeps shifting—bright and dark, alive with color—constantly changing. And yet, there is always light. There is brightness. What is that brightness? Even though the images on the screen change endlessly, the fact of change itself remains constant. But if you hear these words, consciously think, “Yes, this is it!” and stop there—you're still just standing at the threshold. You haven’t stepped through the gate yet. It’s not about staying in the place intentionally or consciously. Rather, it means that, in that place, without chasing forms or objects, there is something that, even as the screen keeps changing right before your eyes, is unchangingly watching the screen. Even while hearing a talk like this, if that thing suddenly gets caught—bam!—that moment becomes a gateway. And when you pass through—bam!—all these words, all that talk, just vanish. There's no this or that anymore. And yet, what remains is simply clear, vivid, and bright.
There is something unchanging. And that’s what we need to experience. To “taste the mind” means that even though we've always been tasting it all along, we’ve never truly sensed its flavor—so we don’t know what the taste of mind really is. Until now, all the flavors we’ve known have come through the mind—using this mind to chase after illusions and tasting only that. But this experience is completely new—utterly different from anything we’ve ever consciously known. And once you do experience it, you realize: it’s something you’ve always had. But before that moment, no matter how much someone tries to explain it to you, you simply can’t imagine it.
In any case, there's no need to imagine or theorize what this experience might be. It can only be resolved by direct tasting—with nothing but a sincere, earnest desire to taste it yourself. Right now you are always tasting, clearly, before your eyes. In the midst of this ceaseless stream—like a movie screen unfolding—where am I, the self? If you look closely at that, you may suddenly awaken to your true nature right in the midst of it.
However, the awakening to one’s true nature happens a little differently for each person. For some, it arrives in a powerful, unmistakable surge. For others, it may glide by so subtly they don't even realize it happened—only recognizing later that it indeed come. In any case, you must come to recognize your own existence. Only then can we truly speak of “tasting the mind.” But in truth, once you’ve tasted the mind, that kind of thought doesn’t even arise. If someone thinks, “I’ve tasted the mind,” then it’s still like eating rice while your mind is somewhere else. Isn’t it so? When the food really tastes good, you don’t even think, “This is delicious.” You’re too busy eating to think about it. It’s the same here. When you truly taste the mind, you're so taken by its flavor that no other thought can enter. You will not go like, “Ah, now I’m tasting the mind.” That’s not how it works.
Question: Sometimes when I’m studying, my chest feels tight and blocked, and I can’t help crying. Could you tell me what I should do in moments like that?
Answer: In a way, that might be anger rising up. It's a kind of self-directed anger that comes from feeling, "No matter how much I try, it doesn't work." You feel wronged. You feel despair over your lack of strength. You feel angry, thinking—"Why is this study so difficult?" And maybe that's why the tears come. But if you get dragged around by such anger or sense of unfairness, it could eventually turn into illness.
Actually, the study isn’t all that difficult. You should always do it with a light heart. If you carry too much pressure, you won’t be able to do what you need to do. We all know this from experience—even simple tasks become hard when we treat them as heavy burdens. You end up exhausting yourself. Don’t think of it as, “This is some great thing that maybe one in a thousand, ten thousand, or even a million people can accomplish.” Instead, think, “This is something anyone can do. It’s easy. Anyone can do it.” Keep your heart light and unburdened—but still genuine and earnest. You can absolutely be light and free of burden, and at the same time, sincere and wholehearted. It’s absolutely possible to be both light and wholehearted. You should take up the study with that kind of attitude—with enjoyment.
When you treat it like a burden, you feel wronged, stressed, worn out. That heaviness in your chest, the tears—it’s because you’ve made it too hard. So don’t make it hard. Go lightly, and joyfully. Do it with ease, and with the belief that it will happen.
Question: Professor, could you please tell us, in a concrete way that's easy for us to understand, how you studied?
Answer: (Please refer to the earlier section titled “Master Kim TaeWan’s Study Journey” for the full account.)
Question: Someone might say you’ve become the master of your mind. But in my case I actually feel like a slave to my mind—dragged around by it. In that sense, what do you think of the idea that if one doesn’t truly understand this, one remains a slave to one’s own mind?
Answer: You are a slave to your mind—because you’re being dragged around. Dragged by words, by desires, by emotions, by concepts—you’re pulled along by all of them. The mind is like a horse you once rode. But now what are we doing? We’re holding the horse’s tail and running after it. We’re not riding it anymore. That’s why it’s exhausting. You can’t control it. The horse just goes wherever it pleases. (laughs)
Chinese Seon masters have a saying that studying the mind is like “grabbing the ox by the nostrils.” In the Ten Ox-Herding Pictures, the mind is compared to an ox. Once you pierce its nose and take hold of the ring, the ox has no choice but to follow. Even a small child, if they grab the ox by the nostrils, can lead it anywhere. It’s a brilliant analogy. The study of the mind, then, is like mounting the ox, piercing its nose, and holding the reins. Once you do that, the ox goes wherever you want it to. You and the ox become one. There is no longer any burden.
However, it's also difficult to say that I am the owner of the ox. It's not that the ox and I are separate. The ox and I have become one. So there are no such thoughts. There’s no thought of the mind’s existence, nor of its non-existence. You simply move together, as one, wherever it goes.
Question: I have just one more question. It’s about practice methods in daily life. Some say one should always keep a hwadu or chant a Buddha’s name. And others say to just leave the mind alone and let it do what it wants. Could you tell us which way is the right path for the study of the mind?
Answer: Whether you're holding a hwadu, chanting a Buddha's name, doing nothing at all, or letting your mind wander—it's all the same. What matters is this: if there's any deliberate thought about how to study—any intention, any calculation—then it’s not the study.
As I shared earlier about my own study, from the standpoint of someone who hasn’t yet entered into it, they really don’t know anything about it. If such a person starts deciding on their own—“This is study, and that isn’t”—and tries to push in that direction, it’s pointless. Like I said in the first question, just be hungry for the study! That’s all. If that hunger and thirst are real, then one way or another, it will happen. When you're hungry, you might steal a piece of bread without even realizing it, or end up cooking rice without meaning to. When you're thirsty, you'll dig a well or scoop up river water—whatever it takes to quench that thirst. It happens on its own.
When your thirst and hunger become real enough, that’s what brings about the realization of the study. All the things you do in your daily life for the study, if they’re driven by conscious effort, they’re just the mind playing tricks on itself. Mistaking those for the study is a big misunderstanding. That’s not the study. You’re merely manipulating within consciousness, thinking that’s the study. That’s why even after thirty or forty years, the study leads nowhere.
In other words, there is no separate method for study. There is no royal road, no set approach. Saying that a certain way of studying brings peace of mind is like someone who isn't actually studying but just imitating it to soothe an anxious mind. For example, if you feel anxious because you're not chanting or working on a hwadu, it means you're dependent on those things, and you're not actually studying on your own.
You need take a hard, honest look at yourself. What are you truly hungry for? How deeply are you thirsting for this study? You must reflect in that way. In truth, you may be craving worldly things—money, recognition, fame—while only paying lip service to the study on the surface. You could be deceiving yourself without even realizing it.
Take an honest, unflinching look at how hungry you truly are for this study. If there’s even the slightest bit of hunger, your study must lean into it. The stronger the hunger, the further your study will push forward. But once that hunger fades, your study stays exactly where it is.
Now it’s mealtime, and you're hungry. If you just eat, that hunger will be satisfied. But instead of eating, or even simply thinking about eating, you only talk: “This should be eaten this way,” “That should be prepared like that...” Or you only look at cookbooks. And meanwhile, you miss the meal. You forget your hunger. Yet you’re still there, just flipping through cookbooks.
When we say we're studying but keep relying on some method, it's just like that. If you simply leave yourself to the hunger itself—without pretense or formality—you'll find yourself, without even realizing, heading to the kitchen and find something to eat, even if it's just cold rice. It's unconscious. That's how true study happens. That's how you actually fill your belly—how you become full.
The conscious mind often plays tricks. It can be satisfied in delusion, looking at all sorts of cookbooks, so to speak. Your stomach might still be empty, but you might mistakenly think you're not hungry. Don't let any thoughts interfere, don't make any calculations about study. In any case, you shouldn't use the consciousness you currently know. "I'm not doing anything deliberately!" You completely let go and simply follow what your heart, your inner hunger, demands.
If you try to think about this study with your conscious mind—measuring your progress as if it’s schoolwork—then even after ten, twenty, thirty years, the hunger will still be there. You might forget, but forgetting doesn’t satisfy hunger.
So, the very first question you asked—about mindset—that really is the most important thing. How thirsty you are, how hungry—that’s not something you can control with your conscious mind. It’s not a matter of thinking, so there’s nothing complicated about it. Just leave it alone. Hold the quiet trust that it will happen—someday. And keep going lightly, without pressure. Because the moment pressure enters, consciousness creeps in. Just continue the study with ease.