The Lion-Flower-Pig must pass through twelve lifetimes and attain twelve kinds of enlightenment before achieving liberation.
In the first lifetime, he was born into a mist. All was a white haze before his eyes, and he could not discern his direction. He stumbled through the mist for a hundred years, until he finally realised: when the mist clears, the clear mirror naturally appears. He learned mindfulness.
In the second life, he stood upon a high place, looking down upon all beings, yet unable to see through himself. Until one day, pausing by the water’s edge, he saw his reflection in the water—realising that destiny lay not in the distance, but in self-awareness, in the formless.
In the third life, he came and went like the tides, meeting and parting with all beings year after year. He finally understood: to embrace karma is to embrace every reunion and every parting.
In his fourth life, he rolled about in the dusty world, trampled under countless feet. He was scorched by the sun, drenched by the rain, and frozen by the snow. He harboured resentment at first, but later realised: the world is a place of practice, and every step is a trial.
In his fifth life, he was confined to a tiny space, once yearning for the vast expanse of heaven and earth. Later, he discovered: the cycle of fullness and emptiness lies within the palm; there is no need to seek it in an external mirror. Contentment was the fifth lesson he learnt.
In his sixth life, his heart was like a deep pool, reflecting the bright moon. When the wind came, ripples arose; when the wind ceased, the water was still. He finally understood: tranquillity is not the absence of wind and waves, but remaining at peace amidst the storm, radiating one’s own clear radiance.
In his seventh life, he was like an uncarved jade. People mocked him for his roughness, yet he did not defend himself; people praised him for his simplicity, yet he took no delight in it. He guarded the light within his uncarved form and realised the art of balance: without adornment and without disturbance, the Middle Way reveals itself naturally.
In his eighth life, he was born into eternal night, surrounded by utter darkness. With no lamps to be found, he lit himself. Though his glow was faint, it illuminated a journey of ten thousand miles. In this life, he was named ‘Firefly’.
In his ninth life, he was like parched land suddenly blessed by a timely rain. Overflowing with water, he nourished all around. Only then did he realise: to bring comfort, one must first fill oneself to the brim, before one can bestow upon others.
In his tenth life, he was like a stone cast into water, stirring ripples before sinking to the depths. As the ripples faded, the stone lay still. He attained grace: giving and receiving share the same source; the echoes bear the grace of Heaven.
In his eleventh life, having wandered long, he suddenly beheld a light. In the instant he touched the flame, he saw the light of heaven. He understood: sudden enlightenment is a moment of clear vision.
In his twelfth life, he remained ever by one’s side, guarding their safety, and was cherished in return. He finally understood: protection is both armour and a token of trust.
