第一修行
传承中华文化 助力全民觉醒促进天下文明 缔造世界大同中国文化是任何时期遇到任何问题都能指引光明道路的文化！“第一修行”让每个人了悟宇宙真相，觉醒自己，不忘初心，砥砺前行，生命别无其它事，一路修心到绝顶！
克莱因瓶 克莱因瓶 定向的二维紧流形。如果观察克莱因瓶，有一点似乎令人困惑－－克莱因瓶的瓶颈和瓶身是相交的，换句话说，瓶颈上的某些点和瓶壁上的某些点占据了三维空间 vast monument of sideboard to commonplace of chair, from glittering palisade of fender to long lying bastion of couch, creeps by defences of walls noting each comfortable issue, prowls through lanes and squares innumerable formed by intricacies of furniture; and having once gone through the grave business, worries its head no more about topography and points of interests, but settles down to serene enjoyment of such features of the place as have appealed to its ?sthetic or grosser instincts. In this respect the average human is nearer a cat than he cares to realise. The first hour on board a strange ship is generally devoted to an exhaustive exploration never repeated during the rest of the voyage, and doubtless a prisoner’s first act on being locked into his cell is to creep round the confined space and familiarise himself with his depressing installation. Obeying this instinct common to cats and men, Martin and Corinna, as soon as they had finished breakfast the next morning, wandered forth and explored Brant?me. They visited the grey remains of the old abbey begun by Charlemagne. But Villon writing in the 15th Century and asking “Mais où est le preux Charlemaigne?” might have asked with equal sense of the transitory nature of human things: “Where is the Abbey which the knightly Charlemagne did piously build in Brant?me?” For the Normans came and destroyed it and one eleventh-century tower protecting a Romanesque Gothic church alone tells where the abbey stood. Strolling down to the river level along the dusty, shady road, they came to the terraced hill-side, past which the river once infinitely furious must have torn its way. In the sheer rock were doors of human dwellings, numbered sedately like the houses of a smug row. Above them, at the height of a cottage roof, stretched a grassy plain, from which, corresponding with each homestead, emerged the short stump of a chimney emitting thin smoke from the hearth beneath. Before one of the open doors they halted. Children were playing in the one room which made up the entire habitation. They had the impression of a vague bed in the gloom, a table, a chair or two, cooking utensils by the rude chimney-piece, bunks fitted into the living rock at the sides. The children might have been Peter Pan and Wendy and Michael and John and the rest of the delectable company, and the chimney-stump above them might have been replaced by Michael’s silk hat, and on the green sward around it pirates and Red Indians might have fought undetected by the happy denizens below. Thus announced Corinna with lighter fancy. But Martin, serious exponent of truth, explained that the monks, in the desolate times when their Abbey was rebuilding had hewn out these abodes for cells and had dwelt in them many many years; and to prove it, having conferred, before her descent to breakfast, with the excellent Monsieur Bigourdin, he led her to a neighbouring cave, called in the district, Les Grottes—Hence the name of Bigourdin’s hotel—which the good monks, their pious aspiration far exceeding their powers of artistic execution, had adorned with grotesque and primitive carvings in bas-relief, representing the Last Judgment and the Crucifixion. They paused to admire the Renaissance Fontaine Médicis, set in startling contrast against the rugged background of rock, with its graceful balustrade and its medallion enclosing the bust of the worthy Pierre de Bourdeille, Abbé de Brant?me, the immortal chronicler of horrific scandals; and they crossed the Pont des Barris, and wandered by the quays where men angled patiently for deriding fish, and women below at the water’s edge beat their laundry with lusty arms; and so past the row of dwellings old and new huddled together, a decaying thirteenth-century house with its heavy corbellings and a bit of rounded turret lost in the masonry jostling a perky modern café decked with iron balconies painted green, until they came to the end of the bridge that commands the main entrance to the tiny water-girt town. They plunged into it with childlike curiosity. In the Rue de Périgueux they stood entranced before the shop fronts of that wondrous thoroughfare alive with the traffic of an occasional ox-cart, a rusty one-horse omnibus labelled “Service de Ville” and some prehistoric automobile wheezing by, a clattering impertinence. For there were shops in Brant?me of fair pretension—is it not the chef lieu du Canton?—and you could buy articles de Paris at most three years old. And there was a Pharmacie Internationale, so called because there you could obtain Pear’s soap and Eno’s Fruit salt; and a draper’s where were exposed for sale frilleries which struck Martin as marvellous, but at which Corinna curved a supercilious lip; and a shop ambitiously blazoned behind whose plate-glass windows could be seen a porcelain bath-tub and other adjuncts of the luxurious bathroom, on one of which, sole occupant of the establishment, a little pig-tailed girl was seated eating from a porringer on her knees; and there were all kinds of other shops including one which sold cabbages and salsifies and charcoal and petrol and picture postcards and rusty iron and vintage eggs and guano and all manner of fantastic dirt. And there was the Librairie de la Dordogne which smiled at you when you asked for devotional pictures or tin-tacks, but gasped when you demanded books. Martin and Corinna, however, demanded them with British insensibility and marched away with an armful of cheap reprints of French classics disinterred from a tomb beneath the counter. But before they went, Martin asked: “But have you nothing new? Nothing from Paris that has just appeared?” “Voici, monsieur,” replied the elderly proprietress of the Library of the Dordogne, plucking a volume from a speckled shelf at the back of the shop. “On trouve ?a très joli.” And she handed him Le Ma?tre de Forges, by Georges Ohnet. “But this, madam,” said Martin, examining the venerable unsold copy, “was published in 1882.” “I regret, monsieur,” said the lady, “we have nothing more recent.” “I’ll buy it if it breaks me—as a curiosity,” cried Corinna, and she counted out two francs, seventy-five centimes. “Ninety-five,” said the bookseller—she was speckled and dusty and colourless like the back of her library——” “But in Paris——” “In Paris it is different, mademoiselle. We are here en province.” Corinna added the extra twopence and went out with Martin, grasping her prize. “This is the deliciousest place in the world,” she laughed. “Eighteen eighty-two! Why, that’s years before I was born!” “But what on earth are we going to do for books here?” Martin asked anxiously. “There is always the railway station,” said Corinna. “And if you kiss the old lady at the bookstall nicely, she will get you anything you want.” “The ways of provincial France,” said Martin, “take a good deal of finding out!” Thus began their first day in Brant?me. It ended peacefully. Another day passed and yet another and many more, and they lived in lotus land. Soon after their arrival came their luggage from Paris, and they were enabled to change the aspect of the road-worn vagabond for that of neat suburban English folk and as such gained the approbation of the small community. They had little else to do but continue to repeat their exploration. In their unadventurous wanderings Félise sometimes accompanied them and shyly spoke her halting English. To Corinna alone she could chatter with quaint ungrammatical fluency; but in Martin’s presence she blushed confusedly at every broken sentence. All her young life she had lived in her mother’s land and spoken her mother’s tongue. She had a vague notion that legally she was English, and she took mighty pride in it, but by training and mental habit she was the little French bourgeoise, through and through. With Martin alone, however, she abandoned all attempts at English, and gradually her shyness disappeared. She gave the first signs of confidence by speaking of her mother in Paris as of a dream woman of wonderful excellencies. “You see her often, mademoiselle?” Martin asked politely. “Alas! no, Monsieur Martin.” She shook her head sadly and gazed into the distance. They were idling on one of the bridges while Corinna a few feet away made a rapid sketch. “But your father?” “Ah, yes. He comes four times a year. It is not that I do not love him. J’adore papa. Every one does. You cannot help it. But it is not the same thing. A mother——” “I know, mademoiselle,” said Martin. “My mother died a few months ago.” She looked at him with quick tenderness. “That must have caused you much pain.” “Yes, mademoiselle,” said Martin simply, and he smiled for the first time into her eyes, realising quite suddenly that beneath them lay deep wells of sympathy and understanding. “Perhaps one of these days you will let me talk to you about her,” he added. She flushed. “Why, yes. Talking relieves the heart.” She used the French word “soulager”—that word of deep-mouthed comfort. “It does. And your mother, Mademoiselle Félise?” “She cannot walk,” she sighed. “All these years she has lain on her bed—ever since I left her when I was quite little. So you see, she cannot come to see me.” “But you might go to Paris.” “We do not travel much in Brant?me,” replied Félise. “Then you have not seen her——” “No. But I remember her. She was so beautiful and so tender—she had chestnut hair. My father says she has not changed at all. And she writes to me every week, Monsieur Martin. And there she lies day after day, always suffering, but always sweet and patient and never complaining. She is an angel.” After a little pause, she raised her face to him—“But here am I talking of my mother, when you asked me to let you talk of yours.” So Martin then and on many occasions afterwards spoke to her of one that was dead more intimately than he could speak to Corinna, who seemed impatient of the expression of simple emotions. Corinna he would never have allowed to see tears come into his eyes; but with Félise it did not matter. Her own eyes filled too in sympathy. And this was the beginning of a quiet understanding between them. Perhaps it might have been the beginning of something deeper on Martin’s side had not Bigourdin taken an early opportunity of expounding certain matrimonial schemes of his own with regard to Félise. It had all been arranged, said he, many years ago. His good neighbour, Monsieur Viriot, marchand de vins en gros—oh, a man everything there was of the most solid, had an only son; and he, Bigourdin, had an only niece for whom he had set apart a substantial dowry. A hundred thousand francs. There were not many girls in Brant?me who could hide as much as that in their bridal veils. It was the most natural thing in the world that Lucien should marry Félise—nay, more, an ordinance of the bon Dieu. Lucien had been absent some time doing his military service. That would soon be over. He would enter his father’s business. The formal demand in marriage would be made and they would celebrate the fian?ailles before the end of the year. “Does Mademoiselle Félise care for Lucien?” asked Martin. Bigourdin shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “He does not displease her. What more do we want? She is a good little girl, and knows that she can entrust her happiness to my hands. And Lucien is a capital fellow. They will be very happy.” Thus he warned a sensitive Martin off philandering paths, and, with his French adroitness, separated youth and maiden as much as possible. And this was not difficult. You see Félise acted as manageress in the H?tel des Grottes, and her activities were innumerable. There was the kitchen to be ruled, an eye to be kept on the handle of the basket—if it danced too much, according to the French phrase, the cook was exceeding her commission of a sou in the franc; there were the bedrooms and clean dry linen to be seen to, and the doings of Polydore, the unclean, and of Baptiste, the haphazard, to be watched; there were daily bills to be made out, accounts to be balanced, impatient bagmen to be cajoled or rebuked; orders for paté de foie gras and truffles to be despatched—the H?tel des Grottes had a famous manufactory of these delights and during autumn and winter supported a hive of workers and the shelves in the cool store-house were filled with appetising jars; and then the laundry and the mending and the polishing of the famous bathroom—ma foi, there was enough to keep one small manageress busy. Like a bon h?telier, Bigourdin himself supervised all these important matters, ordering and controlling, as an administrator, but Félise was the executive. And like an obedient and happy little executive Félise did not notice a subtle increase in her duties. Nor did Martin, honest soul, in whose eyes a betrothed maiden was as sacred as a married woman, remark any change in facilities of intercourse. For him she flashed, a gracious figure, across the half real tapestry of his present life. A kindly word, a smiling glance, on passing, sufficed for the maintenance of his pleasant understanding with Félise. For fe中的同一个位置。我们可以把克莱因瓶放在四维空间中理解：克莱因瓶是一个在四维空间中才可能真正表现出来的曲面。如果我们一定要把它表现在我们生活的 对他国的影响 在教会严密控制下的中世纪，也发生过轰轰烈烈的宗教革命。因为天主教的很多教义不符合圣经的教诲，而加入了太多教皇的个人意志以及各类神学家的自身成果，所以很多信徒开始质疑天主教的教义和组织，发起回归圣经的行动来。捷克的爱国主义者、布拉格大学校长扬·胡斯（1369～1415年）在君士坦丁堡的宗教会议上公开谴责德意志封建主与天主教会对捷克的压迫和剥削。他虽然被反动教会处以火刑，但他的革命活动在社会上引起了强烈的反应。捷克农民在胡斯党人的旗帜下举行起义，这次运动也波及波兰。1517年，在德国，马丁·路德（1483～1546年）反对教会贩卖赎罪符，与罗马教皇公开决裂。1521年，路德又在沃尔姆国会上揭露罗马教廷的罪恶，并提出建立基督教新教的主张。新教的教义得到许多国家的支持，波兰也深受影响。
人有时很奇怪，假如知道某人有病，即使是亲人，也不敢用他用过的碗筷，甚至怕吃到他的剩菜，怕吃到他的一滴唾液、血液、鼻涕。
而且和“人类”共餐，常强调“公筷母匙”，大家都认为这叫“讲究卫生”。假如亲人肉上长脓包，大多数人也绝不敢去吸他的肉和脓。
但是，人们却常把很多不知有没有生病的动物，大块大块的尸体(当然含体液)放入口中又亲吻且又嚼食，也把其肉汁、血液(比唾液严重多多)放入口中吸，嘴里还说“好吃”，“好吃”。
他完全都没考虑——这是否符合自己所讲究的“卫生观念”？很多人晚上不敢自己一人到“人体解剖室”、“太平间”、“停尸房”，也不敢自己一人到殡仪馆“冷冻库”，说是怕死尸、怕死者的鬼魂在那里聚集、出来伤人。他却不想一想：自己家中的冰箱内，死尸更多，而且有的断头，有的断脚。更是无比恐怖！也有很多人，不敢晚上自己去坟墓，说是怕闹鬼。他却不知道：自己的肚子，已经作动物的“坟墓、鬼屋”很多年了!而且随便、随时“下葬”！在这个世间再没有比这个“尸体冷藏库、坟墓、鬼屋”更可怕、更恶心的了吧！(人其实也是动物，人为什么那么害怕死人，却不害怕死的动物？人死会有鬼魂，动物死也同样会有鬼魂，为什么人就不害怕呢？不恐惧呢？真是不可思议，难道说仅仅是因为换了一个名称，就可以这样自欺欺人了吗？太奇怪了......)为什么？我们的牙齿不是吃肉的，吃肉的动物牙齿是尖的。你看吃草的动物牙齿是平的，看牛、看马，你看它牙齿是平的，那就是吃植物的；吃动物的牙齿是尖的，看老虎、狼、豹牙齿是尖的。从这个地方看，人天生就是一个素食者，他不是吃动物的。肉食跟素食比较，素食长寿。从生理上讲、从健康上讲，素食优於肉食。尤其是现在的肉食很可怕!因为现在动物的饲养是反常，不是正常的。你看正常这些动物都是养在野外，它自己去觅食。现在这些动物是养在笼子里头，从出生一直到养大全在笼子里头。喂的饲料里面有化学、有药物，很不健康!我吃长素六十一年了，你说是素食没有营养，我这是个证据，我这六十一年还没有进过医院，没生过病，饮食非常简单，吃的也不多，决定不敢吃众生肉。有很多人看到我，都是过去同事、同学、朋友。 我初学佛的时候，我学佛不到半年就选择素食。我那些认识的人都说我太傻、太迷了，这么迷信，怎么迷成这个样子？几十年过去了，他们也都老了，都退休了，现在见到我的，三分之二不在了，还有少数的人见到我，都说我，竖著大拇指，你的路走对了。你现在才晓得，我在二十六岁我就选择这条对的道路，你们不相信。素食健康，一生没生过病，医院没有我的病历，到现在身体检查一切正常。所以素食还是好。我参加多少次国际会议，这些会友们遇到，遇到我头一个就问我，都来问：你怎么保养的?有什么秘诀?吃些什么补品?我说我什么都没有，我保养的方法就是心要清净，饮食要简单，决定素食。离开肉食六十多年，这是健康秘诀。早年佛陀在世，现在南洋南传的小乘依旧还是保持托钵，这个好，托钵是没有分别心、没有执著心，别人他家吃什么就供养什么。而且供养的分量也不多，所以你得托好几家，才够你日中一食，你才能吃饱，这个没有分别的。可是大乘佛法传到中国之后，提倡素食，素食是梁武帝提倡的，这实在是一桩好事情。传说梁武帝读《楞伽经》，读到经文上说，「菩萨不忍心吃众生肉」，看到这句话非常感动，他自己就先做了，以身作则，就吃长素。他是佛门的大护法，於是在佛教里面就发起一个素食运动，这个运动做得很成功，一直到现在影响，出家那是完全素食，在家素食也不少。我觉得这是梁武帝一生做了一桩大好事。素食确实帮助我们得健康长寿，无畏布施最好的表现。无畏布施，别人遇到困难，遇到恐惧、畏惧的时候，你能够保护他，能够让他离开恐怖，这叫无畏布施。无畏布施得健康长寿。无畏布施第一个就是素食，为什么？素食不吃众生肉，对众生行无畏布施，众生再不怕你了。为什么?它知道你不会伤害它，你不会杀它，你也不会吃它。长养自己的慈悲心，做到功夫纯熟，我们一般人看不出，畜生看得出来。这个人心地很凶、很恶，好杀生，所以有杀气，小动物看到你赶紧就跑掉。那个人慈悲心，小动物看到你很慈祥，野生动物你给它一招手，它就到你面前来，它不怕你，为什么？你没有杀气。所以佛家对於饮食是非常讲求，它讲求卫生、卫性，性质不好的、影响我们情绪的，他都不吃。保卫慈悲心，保卫慈悲心就是不吃肉。肉一定是杀生，想到杀生那多可怜，那多可悲，就不忍心吃众生肉。佛没有定法可说，执著定法你就错了，他只知道一面，不知道另外一面。佛菩萨在我们这个世间做什么样的示现，在另外一个世间又做一个什么样示现，没有一定。世尊在我们这个地方的示现，也没有教我们吃素，释迦牟尼佛有说，经上有说，但是从来没落实。为什么?托钵，「慈悲为本，方便为门」。你托钵，人家家里吃什么就供养什么，这最方便的。如果你一定要吃素，还得叫人家去准备一份素食来供养你，你不是叫人添麻烦吗？你不是在这边分别执著吗?佛没有分别、没有执著，所以吃饭，吃而无吃，无吃而吃，他跟你不一样。你是真的在境界上起心动念，诸佛菩萨没有起心动念，你跟诸佛菩萨境界还差得远。佛度众生目的在哪里？教他开悟，教他明心见性，教他作佛，目的在此地。不是教人吃肉不吃肉，那小事情，所以不能因小节而伤害了大体。我们今天不能因为这些小事，把一切众生接触佛法的殊胜机缘断掉了。哪一个大、哪一个小，你要有智慧、有能力辨别。我当年学佛，跟李炳南老居士，李老居士对於初学的人决定不劝他吃素。他有两个原则：不劝他吃素，不劝他受戒，所以他法缘胜，跟他学佛的人那么多。如果说学佛决定吃素，好多人都不来了，你不是把许许多多人在这一生稀有难逢闻法的机缘给断掉吗?这个太残酷了，这个牺牲太大太大了。我跟他十年，问过他，他老人家给我分析，不可以。先教他闻法，逐渐逐渐他觉悟了，吃素是他自己发心，不要劝他，他自己到那个时候，想想应该要这样做法，那就好了。现在解剖学认为人体的肠子总长为 9 米，食肉动物的肠子为 3 米，食荤会导致荤物在人体中停留时间过长而腐烂变质，影响血液质量。所以，吃肉过多，阴阳失衡，也有激起人性欲的可能。这就应了那句老话：酒足饭饱思淫欲。人类害怕鬼，但真正的鬼，只在我们心中。你的心中有善，它就有光明，你的心中有鬼，这个世界上就都是鬼。正确的饮食观念，可以使人健康长寿，以尽天年，错误的饮食观念使人导致疾病或未老先衰。儒家说：“食、色性也，食、色乃人类两大天性。”我们学佛人更应破迷开悟，转凡成圣。对于初学佛的人，也要坚持以素食为主，以自然食品为主。因为肉类食品从卫生、卫性、卫心三个方面来分析都不利于学佛的人。肉食是一种很不卫生的食物。主要原因：一是现在饲养方法发生了根本变化，以前家禽饲养都是一家一户或圈养或放养，主要以米糠、青菜、自然食品作饲料，动物本身不带有毒素。现在大多都是工厂化饲养。饲料都是化学饲料为主，而且经常给他们打防疫针，这些药都是有毒，一些动物在饲养过程中经常发生疾病，这些动物在没有进入市场，身体上带有很多毒素，潜伏在体内。二是动物被宰杀的时候，由于产生了极度的恐惧和愤恨心理，这些恶劣的情绪，能直接影响动物的本身，使其体内产生大量的毒素。当动物宰杀死之后，其体内的排泄功能、解毒功能都停止了，毒素残留在动物血液和肌肉之中，所以从这种意义上来说：“食肉就是变相食毒，毒素日积月累，渐渐成了恶疾”。三是从医学角度来说：“肉类中胆固醇和脂肪会造成脑血栓，导致心脑血管疾病。”特别有些人喜欢吃烤肉或腊肉，肉制品在烤或腊的过程中会发生化学反应，合成一种致癌物质，严重危害人类健康。四是吃素的好处多：素食卫生、干净、方便，长期食素感觉灵敏，记忆力增强，能降低血脂，控制病源，防止疾病。长期食素能减轻内脏负担，使入神清智明，有利于念佛、参禅。
佛言：“一切众生具有如来智慧德相，皆因妄想分别执着不能证得。”我们学佛目的寻找本我，回归自性。要达到这一目标，首先应戒杀放生，从食素开始。具体来说，食素一是能保持我们良好的天然本性，万事万物皆有它的习性，牛有牛性，马有马性，猪有猪性，狗有狗性。如果长期食用动物的肉或血，食多了，这种动物的信息在人体内就增多，渐渐地习性就和动物相接近。我们从日常生活中细心观察，就会发现，长期食牛肉的人，虽然身体结实，耐力好，但脾气板，勇而嗔。长期食狗肉的人，性情暴躁，凶猛好斗，不守规矩。喜欢吃猪肉的人容易肥胖，好睡懒惰。真是近朱者赤，近墨者黑。二是万物皆有灵，吃多了这些动物肉，会扰乱你的神明，使你无法入静入定，造成你神不守舍，容易走火入魔。三是植物的本性温和，属于无情物。古大德说：一树一菩提。长期食素的人，性格温和善良，心地清净，有利于放松入静入定，消归自性。四是吃素是勤俭节约的表现。历来圣贤大德要求我们知福惜福。节约就是惜福。吃素比食肉节约得多，我们可以把节约下来的钱帮助一些苦难众生。植物也具有人类需要的各种营养，不会造成营养不良。物物皆爱惜自己的生命，物物皆应享其天年。一切动物都贪生怕死，一切动物皆有父母姐妹。仔细想想：我们天天大鱼大肉，美味佳肴，不是把自己的享受建立在动物的痛苦和死亡上吗?有智慧的人知道，这样下去后果不堪设想。但末法时期众生福薄慧浅，在我们周围也经常有人反对我们说“学佛人心好就好，何必吃素?”。那么我请问：心好有什么条件?比方说：如果有一个抢劫杀人犯被警察抓到之后，他告诉警察，我只不过抢了人家一点东西和结束了一个人的生命。而我们残害动物的生命，吃它的肉，喝它的血，而我们却说，我的心很好，这跟上面的故事不是有相同的道理吗。心好的条件必须修“五戒十善”，才算心好。杀生是第一大戒，不能把自己的肚子当成化尸场。从字的象形来说，我们可以看到，“肉”字里边两个人，外边的人吃里边的人。
古人云：“千事万事，吃是大事”。的确，饮食观念对我们学佛人显得尤其重要。良好的饮食观念能使我们在菩提道上一帆风顺，早成正果。但我们在家居士，作为入世修练，应树立中道思想，认中为度，不偏不倚。我认为“人不能不吃，但不能贪吃”。人的精神和意志应该是主导食品，人应该是食品的主人，让食品为我们的身心健康服务，而不成为食品的奴隶。饮食应以粗茶淡饭，恬淡朴素为上，以自然食品、天然食品为主。保持我们的真诚心，清净心、慈悲心，以早日成道，普度众生。
◎ 今生既遇，福缘已定。第一修行，时成御天！
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