A Soul's Journey from the Lantern to the Pure Land

This is a record of an interview with Qiu Rengui, a spirit from the late Ming and early Qing dynasties who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. Having been delivered from his long-held attachments, he now resides in the Western Land of Dharma Nature. This account, which reflects upon his life approximately three hundred years ago, was recorded by the chief writer, Fa Ning, on February 21, 2026.

Qiu Rengui speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am filled with gratitude for the compassion of the Buddha and the compassion of Practitioner Su. I, Qiu Rengui, have been in the Western Land of Dharma Nature for only a few days, and yet I have already been granted this interview. This is truly a source of immense joy.

Practitioner Su told us that we are all children with good roots and a deep Buddhist affinity, which is why we were able to come to the Western Land of Dharma Nature and receive this opportunity. I believe this is true. I have always been a child with an affinity for the Buddha, though when my country was falling and my home was lost, I was forced to choose a different path, which cut short my original intention to study the Buddha’s teachings with a focused heart.

A Life Between Dynasties

I was born at the end of the Ming Dynasty and the beginning of the Qing Dynasty, about three hundred years ago. When I was born, I wore my hair in the style of the Han people; by the time I died, I already wore the long braid of the Manchu. This was the common experience of everyone in the era I lived in. In truth, I was different from many others. I did not hate the Manchu, nor did I resist the change of dynasties. I was not a traitor. However, because my mother was a practitioner of the Buddha’s teachings, she taught me principles that were largely detached from worldly concerns. My concepts regarding the people, the nation, and the state were perhaps different from others.

I remember an ancient saying: 'The people are the most important, the state comes second, and the ruler is the least important.' I think I belonged to that kind of person. For the ruler of a nation, it really does not matter who sits on the throne; what matters is whether that emperor truly cares for the people and acts for their benefit. Putting the people first—that is what is most important.

The Fading of an Empire

I remember when the Ming Dynasty was coming to an end, the national strength had already withered. Although the Chongzhen Emperor had the heart to rectify the government, everything seemed too late. At that time, I was in the central region, watching as the Manchu from the northeast approached step by step, only a few hundred miles from what is now Beijing. We knew a little bit about whether the nation would rise or fall.

Our family lived in the Henan area; we were an ordinary family, half-farming and half-trading. My father was a man of integrity, deeply respected by everyone. My mother was a recognized model of a compassionate daughter-in-law and a practitioner who chanted the Buddha’s name and worshipped Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. Our family tradition was very simple and kind. My younger brother and I grew up in this environment. Although I was not educated enough to become an official, I was literate. I had a deep love for the sutras from a young age, but because the survival of the nation was at stake, I was chosen to represent our family and go north to guard the imperial capital—Beijing.

The Burden of Service

When the Manchu broke through, I remember some people surrendered, while others swore they would never yield. The city was in turmoil, and the casualties were heavy.

Although I was a defeated soldier, I was not an important figure, so I was sent to the north, near what is now Inner Mongolia. What was I sent there to do? The Shunzhi Emperor, who had just taken the throne, was going to tour the country once the political situation stabilized. Our group was used by local officials to rectify the political situation in the border regions, so that when the Emperor arrived, he would not see a scene of people living in misery. Of course, my ambition was not for this. I thought, if the people in these surrounding areas were still not living well, then this was truly a good time for us to help them.

With this good intention, I arrived at a small town near or within Inner Mongolia called Habaqiao. From that moment on, I never had the chance to return to my hometown. Upon arriving in Habaqiao, I discovered that this area had suffered from years of rodent plagues and droughts, leading to severe food shortages. The people were living hand-to-mouth, surviving day by day on cassava. Although I was not from a wealthy family, the vastness and desolation of the north made my heart heavy. I thought, since I have this opportunity to work with the local officials, I must serve well.

Finding Purpose in the Wilderness

Perhaps this was my good fortune. The county magistrate I encountered was a good official. He had only been in office for two months and was working hard to collect data to understand the actual living conditions of the people. Thus, I quickly threw myself into the work. Although our county did not have the most people, the land was vast and covered a significant area.

Having grown up in the fertile central regions, the living conditions and the barrenness of the land here were a great test. In my small thatched hut, I had no family, only a statue of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva to keep me company. Every day, before starting my labor, I would kowtow to the Bodhisattva, speak with her, and then go to the county office. I was responsible for collecting data on the soil and water of this vast land, trying to find places suitable for farming. Because my family had experience in farming, combined with my diligence, I managed well. I found suitable land and water resources in several places in the county. With the support of Magistrate Lin, I led the able-bodied men from nearby villages to start working, aiming to open a path for people to have enough to eat. We worked from sunrise to sunset, living a fulfilling life.

Within a few months, everyone’s life gradually stabilized, and the relief grain issued by the imperial court arrived. The county began to show a small prosperity it had never known before. After people were fed, some began to run small businesses or sell the county’s agricultural products outside. I spent year after year doing this small service. Magistrate Lin saw that I was diligent and literate, and he wanted to promote me to an official position, but I refused. The officialdom was not my life goal; I still missed the days of reading sutras and chanting the Buddha’s name with my mother. Although I could never go back, the seed planted in my heart by the Buddha did not disappear. So, I never changed my position and continued to work for the people until I was in my sixties, gradually approaching old age and death.

The Attachment of a Lifetime

Is that how life ends? Qiu Rengui was not willing to die like that. Before I died, I was intermittently chanting the holy name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, but my spirit was already in a state of separation, and I was involuntarily recalling the moments of my life that had brought me satisfaction and happiness. This land—I had a deep attachment to the physical world I had served for most of my life. My work and tasks had been my everything. I had never thought of myself this way, but the scenes flashing before me before death told me that I could not let go of this Habaqiao town where I had lived for most of my life. I knew everything here like the back of my hand, and it was hard to forget.

Thus, after I died, I quickly entered the large lantern in front of the county office. Here, I could watch the familiar people coming and going; it was lively. I also watched the daily business and all the affairs of the county. I seemed to have lived like this for several hundred years, until the end of the Qing Dynasty, when the county office was abandoned and lost its function. Later, it was converted into a residence. I was moved from place to place by people, and eventually, even the sturdiest lantern had to be replaced one after another due to the passage of time.

Until people no longer used traditional lanterns, my spirit finally left the lantern and entered the flag of a nearby primary school. This was still under the influence of my attachment to the people and the land, becoming a flag high in the sky, guarding the people and the children.

Homecoming to the Western Pure Land

Another hundred years passed, and the flags were changed one after another. Finally, amidst a golden light that appeared on the earth, I broke free from the space of the flag, broke free from the space of the entire Habaqiao town, and arrived at a place shining with golden light, called the Western Land of Dharma Nature at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia.

Wow! I finally left China and arrived in a place as far away as Australia. This place is no ordinary place. I recognized Namo Amituofo at a glance, and later I met Practitioner Su. I could not help but kowtow desperately on my lotus seat to express my gratitude to the Buddha. I had also been a practitioner who worshipped Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva; the moment I saw the Buddha and Bodhisattvas, my face was covered in tears. The child who had been wandering for many years had finally come home! Namo Amituofo is very compassionate and shone light upon me. Practitioner Su also smiled. I began to listen to Practitioner Su give Dharma talks on my own lotus seat. Only then did I know that Practitioner Su is a Buddha in a physical body, and has countless manifestations to save us, the lonely spirits who have passed away. There are so many of our compatriots in the Western Land of Dharma Nature, full of them. They are all beings from various spaces saved by Practitioner Su after she learned the Buddha’s skills.

I, Qiu Rengui, have finally met the Buddha. This life was not lived in vain. Meeting the Buddha after more than three hundred years is truly a wonderful thing! But I sincerely want to follow the Buddha and study; I do not want to waste such a great opportunity to be by the Buddha’s side. I see that in our great China, there are still countless, densely packed compatriots. They are all in their respective spaces, and some are still suffering. Just like the brothers who fought alongside me to defend the country, and the spirits who lost their lives in Beijing when the Qing troops entered the pass, everyone is still suffering in their spaces; some are still covered in wounds, with incomplete limbs, wailing in pain.

Everything I see today in the Western Land of Dharma Nature has truly opened my eyes. It is not just about knowing the true Buddha’s teachings, but also about learning true compassion—the spirit of Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su. They have not forgotten us suffering beings trapped inside and outside of China. The Buddha’s action to save the world is also ongoing and has not stopped.

From chanting the holy name of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva in the past to now chanting the six-character name of 'Namo Amituofo,' such a change is truly unexpected. But I will continue to practice diligently here, and one day, like Practitioner Su, I will be able to continue saving people.

Gratitude to Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su. Qiu Rengui bows three times to the Buddha.

Namo Amituofo."