Conversations with the Universe: The Sensitivity of Dong Ming

This is a record of an interview with the Venerable Dong Ming, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life approximately 2,100 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa Jing, on December 31, 2018.

Venerable Dong Ming speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Dong Ming. From my earliest childhood, I was raised by my grandmother. I began imitating her every expression, gesture, and word from a very young age, and quite naturally, I was deeply influenced by her.

My grandmother was a kind and amiable elderly woman. Everyone who met her enjoyed her company, so she had many friends. However, she did not usually go out to seek them; she preferred to stay quietly before the Buddha, making prostrations and chanting Namo Amituofo. Her compassion could be seen in the smallest details. I would watch her walking along the road, chanting for the sake of all beings. When she saw small insects on the path, she would take refuge for them and then use a leaf to gently move them aside, fearing that those walking behind us might step on them. Her life was entirely dedicated to thinking of others; she never once considered what she herself might need. I silently learned from her goodness, and gradually, I developed a heart of compassion just like hers. Wherever I went, I was always considering the needs of those around me.

The Lesson of Compassion

I remember when I was four years old, I loved to play by the river. I would see many people there catching fish, placing them into buckets. Seeing how pitiful these fish were, I would secretly release them back into the river. These fishermen found it strange—why did the fish they caught disappear so quickly? My actions were soon discovered by the adults. They brought me to my grandmother and asked her how she had been teaching me. My grandmother gave them some money as compensation. She then taught me, 'Having compassion for sentient beings is correct, but secretly dumping someone else's fish is wrong. If you wish to release life, you can use money to buy them from the fishermen, and then take them to the river to release them.' Under my grandmother's guidance, I came to understand more and more how to perform good deeds, especially the practice of doing good silently. This was what my grandmother did most often; she never proclaimed her own virtuous deeds, yet her compassion could be seen in every small detail.

From a young age, I understood the suffering of sentient beings, not only through my grandmother's teachings but also because I could feel objects speaking to me. Once, my grandmother specifically cut down wood to make a wooden horse for me to ride. It was beautifully crafted, and any other child would have immediately sat upon it, playing with great joy. But I looked at the wooden horse and hesitated, not daring to sit on it. My grandmother asked me in confusion, 'Do you not like this wooden horse?' I shook my head and told her, 'Grandmother, it is not that I do not like it. The wooden horse told me that it was originally the trunk of a great tree. To let me play with a wooden horse, it was split into pieces. It endured the pain of its body until it was assembled into the shape of a horse. Now, if I sit on its back, it must struggle to hold me up so that I can play happily.' My grandmother looked at the wooden horse in astonishment. I chanted Namo Amituofo for the horse and told it to chant the Buddha-name to seek rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. It was through this incident that my grandmother realised that all things possess a spirit.

The Boundless Heart of the Earth

My sensitivity allowed me to learn to be compassionate toward all things, and I naturally thought of the needs of all beings. Once, a neighbour was preparing to dump waste onto a piece of land. I originally wanted to step forward to stop him, but I heard the Earth speaking to me. The mind-capacity of the Earth left me in great admiration. The Earth told me, 'I am vast and wide. My head is at the far end, my feet are at the foot of the distant mountains, and my body is as boundless as you see before you. This family dumping this waste is merely borrowing a small corner of my body. I am willing to bestow this upon them. Furthermore, the waste they dump can nourish my body, so why would I not be happy to do so?' Hearing the Earth speak in this way, I did not step forward to stop the neighbour's actions. The mind-capacity of the Earth truly taught me a lesson.

On another occasion, a woman was being wrongly accused by everyone on the street. They all believed she had stolen a pearl from a shop, because ever since she had left the jewellery store, a pearl had gone missing. The shop owner was already preparing to take the woman to the magistrate for questioning. No matter how the woman cried out, no one was willing to believe she was innocent. I walked through the crowd, heard their conversation, and understood what had happened. Immediately, a sound entered my ears—it was the pearl speaking. The pearl was crying out loudly, 'Tell him to stop teasing me!' I saw that the pearl was in the hands of the owner's young son, who was playing with it. The boy had dropped the pearl into his rice, buried it among the grains, and then picked it up and dropped it into the sauce, turning it into a 'black pearl.' I immediately shouted, 'She did not steal the pearl!' Everyone was startled by my voice and turned to look at me. I told them, 'The pearl is in the owner's son's sauce!' The owner did not believe me, thinking I was an accomplice of the woman. But those nearby curiously ran to the owner's son and truly fished a pearl out of the sauce. The owner had no choice but to admit his mistake. Finally, to apologise to the woman, he even gave her a new pearl, ending the misunderstanding.

A Path of Diligent Practice

When I was five years old, I was walking down the street alone when suddenly my ears were filled with many complex sounds—all things were speaking. The vegetables at the stall were talking, the fruits at the fruit stand were talking, the trees by the roadside were talking, and even the sand and stones on the ground were talking. I listened carefully and heard them saying, 'He is coming! He is coming! Quickly, kneel down!' I looked up and saw that a great monk had arrived. This great monk walked with focused steps. I heard his chanting; every single Buddha-name he uttered was delivering sentient beings. The light radiating from his body caused the surrounding beings to develop a heart of reverence toward him. I walked toward the great monk and told him, 'I also want to be like you, chanting Namo Amituofo wherever I go.' The great monk looked at me and said, 'You are a vessel for becoming a Buddha. Your good roots and sensitivity can deliver a great many sentient beings. To be able to hear my chanting at such a young age is truly admirable!' From that day on, I followed the master's example, chanting Namo Amituofo wherever I went. The sounds in my ears became clearer and clearer, and even images began to appear before my eyes.

When I was seven years old, I saw for the first time, with great clarity, sentient beings suffering in space. That year, I made a firm resolution to enter a temple to study under a master. I had never known that sentient beings suffered so much. Now that I could see it clearly with my own eyes, I did not dare to waste a single day, practising diligently in the temple. Three months after I began studying the Dharma, I attained an awakening. I told my master, 'So, this body can become transparent. It is our heart that makes the body opaque and murky. As long as we change our heart, this body naturally becomes brighter and more transparent.' The reason I had this realisation was that during my practice, I saw the changes in my own body, and I also saw many masters who had realised their true nature; their bodies appeared different from those of other masters. It was simply the difference in their hearts.

A Lifetime of Devotion

I completely calmed my heart. No matter what I saw, touched, or even ate, I was able to attain insights. My growth was faster than that of my fellow practitioners. I did not boast of my achievements; instead, I used an even greater compassion to make vows to deliver sentient beings. By the age of twenty-five, I had already attained many abilities to save the world, and I was constantly using these powers to deliver sentient beings.

In this life, I lived to be over a hundred years old. In those nearly one hundred years of practice, I did not dare to waste a single day. Every day, I was helping sentient beings escape the sea of suffering. It was only at the very end of my life that I let go of everything in the world and returned to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Practitioner Su, with great compassion, brought me to the universe to perform Chao Du. The vastness of the universe is boundless; it cannot be mapped on paper, nor can the spaces within it be described, for it is truly far-reaching and consists of infinitely layered, overlapping spaces. The number of planets in the universe is uncountable. These sentient beings all exist within the universe, and their time there has been very long. Practitioner Su made a vow to perform Chao Du for the Milky Way galaxy; the number of beings in just one galaxy is immeasurable. I performed Chao Du for the sentient beings with whom I had karmic affinity. Practitioner Su opened the layers of space, and they were all still living within those spaces. Many of the spaces where I had lived in the past also appeared clearly before my eyes. With a single 'Namo Amituofo,' I performed Chao Du for these spaces, leading these familiar spirits toward the light, freeing them from the shackles of space. Gratitude to the compassion of the Buddha, and gratitude to the compassion of Practitioner Su."

Namo Amituofo.