The Poison of "The Great Way is Simple"

The Danger of Straying onto a Misguided Path

I hardly know where to begin. Over the years, I’ve encountered countless people poisoned by the notion of “the great way is simple.” Though they come from different schools, their core beliefs are strikingly similar: enlightenment is about resting in the present moment’s awareness, a vivid, unbound, indescribable state of “great rest” that feels profoundly comfortable, free from all conceptual frameworks, the source of all truth—not a concrete “what is” but simply “isness” itself. (I could go on endlessly like this…)

Here’s the issue: when ignorance is dressed up in artistic language, endorsed by famous masters, and embraced by collective unconscious agreement, it becomes a kind of anti-intellectual superpower. It can deceive the masses, distort scriptures, inflate the ego, and kill any opportunity for genuine change. I’ve observed distinct traits in such people: nihilism, cowardice, escapism, endless self-consolation, self-deception, rejection of rational inquiry, and arrogance.

Before Buddhism emerged, this “thought” (if it can even be called that) was already widespread. Some religions treated this “chaotic infinity” as the ultimate truth, using meditation to “dissolve into truth,” merging the illusory “small self” into the “universal self” or achieving “union with heaven.” But Buddhism’s arrival brought rational wisdom, clarifying the stages of practice and the logical proof of ultimate liberation. This was the greatest spiritual revolution in human history, deeply rebellious in spirit. For over two thousand years, Buddhism has faced suppression and attack from such groups, but its greatest enemy comes from within—pseudo-Buddhists who claim to follow the Dharma, some even wearing monastic robes. They use “the great way is simple” to “interpret” Buddhist scriptures, polluting Buddhist thought from within and obscuring the path to awakening. Generation after generation, countless sincere followers have had their wisdom destroyed by this, a tragedy that continues today.

In the era when Master Tsongkhapa was born in Tibet, the region was filled with so-called “Dzogchen practitioners.” From young children to farmers, herders, illiterate communities, and even monks who broke their vows, everyone claimed to be a disciple of Padmasambhava. They adhered to the above-mentioned “practice method,” hypnotizing themselves into an “enlightened” state. The atmosphere was eerie.

According to the Bodhisattva Precepts, teaching emptiness to unprepared individuals is prohibited (see the Akashagarbha Sutra). Emptiness is a concept easily misunderstood, often leading the mind to fall into nihilistic views. Thus, studying emptiness requires rigorous doctrinal training, not arbitrary, shallow, or distorted interpretations of scriptures, which is highly dangerous.

Yet today, many people read a snippet of the Heart Sutra or Diamond Sutra and assume they’ve grasped emptiness. They’re completely unaware of the distinction between conventional and ultimate truths, ignorant of the Four Noble Truths or the thirty-seven aids to enlightenment, yet claim to practice the highest Dzogchen teachings. They proclaim that practice must be “simple,” free from conceptual constraints or any fixed views. This is utterly childish and laughable, especially prevalent among those with limited education or lower intelligence.

Once poisoned by “the great way is simple,” people fall into several traps. Some sink into pure nihilism, others into pure skepticism, and many hover between the two. The better ones enter a state of “clear awareness” that’s both lucid and chaotic, finding self-satisfaction in it, feeling more relaxed than sleep yet not asleep. Over time, this state dulls wisdom, weakens willpower, and goes unnoticed by the practitioner. As they age, their thinking becomes increasingly rigid, and their personality grows stubborn. At best, with proper meditative training, one might enter a meditative state through “pure awareness,” but this requires strict training in the nine stages of mental abiding. Those unwilling to study scriptures thoroughly are unlikely to master such discipline.

In Buddhist teachings, many Zen koans and pith instructions on Dzogchen or Mahamudra can mislead those lacking wisdom and merit. People mistakenly believe these teachings advocate resting in awareness without discrimination, effort, or attachment to concepts to achieve enlightenment. In reality, some of these teachings aim to help practitioners intuitively recognize awareness (countering materialist views, like those of ancient India’s Charvaka school). Others guide meditative concentration, discuss emptiness, or describe the state of primordial luminous mind. Only by combining the latter two perspectives can one truly understand Dzogchen or Mahamudra. Without a foundation in exoteric Buddhist doctrine, it’s impossible to grasp these teachings correctly. Such people naturally misinterpret these texts, falling into the traps mentioned above. They set out to study the Dharma but end up on a misguided path, which is deeply regrettable.

At advanced stages of Buddhist practice, certain states described in pith instructions may indeed arise, but the states themselves are not the goal. Pursuing states inevitably leads to deviation. In today’s high-stress world, many seek instant “results” from practice, making them prone to obsessing over states. The core of Buddhist teaching is to see reality clearly, using the wisdom of ultimate truth to guide a structured practice process—not to serve as a mental anesthetic or hallucinogen. We should strive to discern truth from falsehood and avoid blindly following the poisonous allure of “the great way is simple.”

For those who have no intention of pursuing Buddhist practice and merely use these teachings as a form of entertainment or a tool for stress relief and physical or mental relaxation, they must bear their own risk, but they should not confuse or misrepresent the teachings of the Dharma.

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