Revisiting Shaolin After a Decade: He Brought Shaolin’s “Slowness” Back to the Mundane World
In the early autumn of 2013, Chen Mo stepped through Shaolin Temple’s gate for the first time.
He had just turned 30 then, and his company was facing the biggest crisis since its founding — a broken capital chain, the departure of the core team, and three consecutive months of insomnia that left bloodshot eyes under his lids. A friend joked half-heartedly: “Spend some time at Shaolin. The morning bells and evening drums work better than sleeping pills.” With nothing to lose, he signed up for a one-month adult study program. He didn’t aim to master martial arts, only to get a sound sleep.
Upon entering the temple, everything clashed with the urban rhythm he knew so well. At 5:30 a.m., the temple bell pierced the sky promptly each day. He followed other participants to practice martial arts on dewy grounds, his legs trembling after less than ten minutes of horse stance. His master merely said calmly: “Stand firm, and your mind will settle.” Days were spent on basic skills and Shaolin boxing; nights on listening to the master expound Zen principles. Free from constant phone distractions, there was only the rustle of wind, chirping of insects, and echoes of scriptures.
The most unforgettable moment was a rainy night. Distracted and making frequent mistakes during practice, he was called to the meditation room. Instead of scolding him, the master brewed a pot of tea, watching the leaves unfurl slowly in water: “Tea tastes fragrant only when brewed slowly; things go smoothly only when done steadily. Your mind is filled with too many distractions, so your steps naturally falter.” That night, he sat in the meditation room for a long time. Listening to the rain outside, it suddenly dawned on him — entrepreneurship was like holding a horse stance: the more anxiously you rush forward, the easier it is to stumble.
When the one-month program ended, Chen Mo hadn’t become a martial arts master, but he regained the long-lost peace in his heart. Returning to the city with a “steady and solid” mindset, he disbanded the redundant team, focused on core businesses, and revitalized the company step by step. Over the decade, he never pulled an all-nighter again. On the office bookshelf, Shaolin Zen Quotes, a gift from his master back then, always sat there, with the inscription “When the mind is steady, all things can be accomplished” on the title page.
In the late autumn of 2023, Chen Mo revisited Shaolin with his 12-year-old son.
This time, he was no longer a confused entrepreneur, but a father bringing his child to experience the “power of slowness”. Holding his son’s hand, he walked again on the flagstone path where he once practiced boxing, pointing at the bronze bells under the eaves: “Dad used to practice here, listening to the bells, and all the anxiety faded away.”
Like his father’s program a decade ago, his son’s study class included morning practice, boxing training and Zen lectures every day. One night, his son ran to him and said: “Dad, the master taught us ‘Walking is Zen, sitting is Zen’ — does that mean we should focus on eating and walking too?” Chen Mo nodded with a smile, suddenly recalling his master saying the same thing to him ten years prior.
On the graduation day, his son put on a Shaolin monk’s uniform and solemnly bowed to Chen Mo with clasped fists. Though the movement was clumsy, it exuded calmness. Watching his son and gazing at the mist-shrouded Songshan Mountain in the distance, Chen Mo suddenly understood: Shaolin’s story was never a solo dance, but a relay passed down through generations. Just like the temple bells, which wake every confused heart year after year; just like the centuries-old martial arts, where every move conveys the power of steadiness, calmness and perseverance.
When leaving Shaolin, his son gave the master a painting he’d made — the temple in morning mist, practitioners training, and a string of tinkling bronze bells. Looking at the painting, Chen Mo remembered what his master had said when he left ten years ago: “Shaolin will always be your resting place. Come back when you’re tired.”
Today, Chen Mo has integrated Shaolin’s “slowness” into his life and work. He no longer chases quick results, but focuses on doing everything well. He leads his employees in mindfulness meditation, telling them “When your mind is steady, your path will broaden.” He often says: “Shaolin didn’t teach me martial arts, but inner strength. I want my child and more people to feel this power.”
The temple gate opens and closes as time flows. People come and go, but Shaolin’s story continues forever. Like Chen Mo and his son, like countless others who have been here — they leave with Shaolin’s mark, and carry its spirit far and wide, letting the wisdom of the unity of Zen and martial arts thrive endlessly in the mundane world.
