本週法語為：
禪宗祖師說要「站得住、站得長」,「站得住」就是悟到一念不生，自己在悟境中找到一個落腳處，不管在順境或逆境，都能保持這種心境；「站得長」就必須經常薰修，繼續安住在無生的境界，這才是工夫。
The Chan patriarchs said: “stand firm and stay firm.” Standing firm means after one has realized and found a footing in the “non-arising mind” in which no thought is raised, one firmly dwells in this realization, whether things are going well or getting rough. Staying firm means to practice regularly so one can maintain the state of non-arising. This is cultivation.
以下是 AI 改寫的公案：
📗改寫公案一：趙州洗缽
原公案（簡化）
僧問趙州：「我剛悟道，還要修行嗎？」
趙州說：「吃過飯了沒？」
僧答：「吃過了。」
趙州說：「那就去洗碗吧。」
解釋
趙州告訴弟子：悟道只是起點，還要「洗碗」——日常中保持清明心。這正是「站得住」後，要「站得長」的工夫。
📖 改寫公案：《洗碗的智慧》
在一座群山環繞、雲霧繚繞的禪寺裡，住著一位年輕的小沙彌，名叫慧光。他聰明勤奮，但總有一件事讓他百思不解——什麼才是修行的真義？
每天誦經、打坐、掃地，他都認真去做，但心裡總覺得空空的，好像還缺了什麼。夜晚靜悄悄，他常抬頭望著星星想：
「是不是還有什麼更神聖、更深奧的道理，才是真正的佛法？」
終於有一天早上，他鼓起勇氣去請教寺中的老禪師。
「師父！」慧光恭敬地行禮，「請問——什麼是道？什麼是修行的真正意義？」
他以為禪師會引經據典，或講個高深的佛理，但禪師只是抬頭看了他一眼，淡淡問道：
「你吃過粥了嗎？」
「咦……吃過了呀。」慧光有些摸不著頭腦。
禪師點了點頭，語氣溫和地說：
「那就去把缽洗乾淨吧。」
慧光愣在原地。
這……就是答案？
他滿肚子疑問地提起缽，走到後山的溪邊洗缽。手中的缽在水中轉著，陽光映在水面上閃閃發亮。溪水冰涼，夾雜著幾片落葉隨波漂流。他一邊洗，一邊想著禪師的話。
「我問的是宇宙人生的意義，師父卻叫我洗缽。難道……修行，就只是這麼簡單？」
忽然，他心中一震。
對啊，修行，不就是從這一舉一動中來的嗎？
洗缽、走路、打掃、呼吸，若我能在每一個當下都保持覺知、投入其中，不就是在修行了嗎？
那一刻，他彷彿在心裡點亮了一盞燈。不是高高在上的光，而是靜靜地、暖暖地，照著眼前這碗清水，與手中這只缽。
他提起洗淨的缽，腳步輕快地走回禪房，臉上掛著從未有過的安定笑容。
✨故事後語：
後來，慧光常對自己提醒：
「真正的道，從來不是在遠方，而是在我們吃完一碗粥之後，有沒有去洗缽。」
英文版如下：
📖 The Wisdom of Washing the Bowl
In a quiet temple nestled deep in the misty mountains, there lived a young novice monk named Huiguang. He was smart and diligent, always the first to rise and the last to rest. Yet lately, something had been bothering him.
He often sat alone in the meditation hall, frowning.
“What is the true meaning of practice?”
“What does it really mean to walk the Way?”
He had memorized chants, cleaned the temple, and practiced sitting in silence. But deep in his heart, he wondered if there was some secret wisdom he hadn’t yet discovered—something more spiritual, more sacred.
One early morning, while the mist still lingered over the pine trees, Huiguang approached the old master sweeping fallen leaves in the courtyard.
He bowed deeply and asked,
“Master, what is the Way? What is true practice?”
The master paused for a moment, then looked at him kindly.
“Have you eaten your porridge?” he asked.
Huiguang blinked.
“Yes, I have.”
The master gave a small nod and said calmly,
“Then go wash your bowl.”
That was it.
Huiguang stood still, confused and slightly disappointed.
“That’s it? I asked about the great Way, and he told me to wash my bowl?”
Still, he obeyed. He picked up his bowl and walked to the nearby stream.
The water was cold and clear. He dipped the bowl into the stream, letting the current swirl inside. Sunlight danced on the surface, and a leaf floated gently past.
As he scrubbed the bowl, he couldn’t stop thinking about the master’s answer.
“Was he avoiding my question? Or… was this the answer?”
Then, like the sun breaking through the morning fog, it hit him.
“Practice isn’t found in some mysterious place far away.”
“The Way is right here—in what I do, how I do it, and whether I am truly present.”
He looked at the bowl in his hands. It was clean, simple, and shining. And somehow, so was his heart.
Smiling softly, Huiguang walked back to the temple, his steps lighter than before. He didn’t need more words. He had found something deeper—in the stillness, in the task, in the moment.
✨Afterword
From that day on, Huiguang often reminded himself:
“The Way doesn’t begin in a book or end in a ceremony.
It begins after breakfast—when you wash your bowl.”
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