From Hell's Gate to the Western Pure Land

Tsai Shih-jung, a former prison guard in the spiritual realms, sought deliverance through the compassionate guidance of Practitioner Su. After a life marked by the karmic consequences of his family's oyster farming business, he found redemption through sincere repentance and the performance of Chao Du. This interview, recorded on August 12, 2022, captures his journey from the depths of the hells to his eventual rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Tsai Shih-jung speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Tsai Shih-jung. When I first realised that the first half of my life had been spent creating karma, I tried my absolute best to make amends for all those mistakes. Even when I served as a prison guard in the spiritual realms, I held a heart of deep repenting, hoping that this sincerity would help compensate for the beings I had once harmed.

When I received the news in the hells that I would finally have the opportunity for rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, my heart was filled with such joy and gratitude. Every day, I would chant Buddha's name. The act of chanting brought a profound stillness to my heart, and it allowed me to see clearly the suffering that the beings in the hells endured due to the karma created by their own stubborn personalities.

A Vision of the Western Pure Land

Before the Dharma assembly began today, we prison guards were filled with anticipation. The compassionate Practitioner Su, through his countless billions of manifestations, came to save beings and led us directly to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Upon entering that magnificent realm, I stood upon my own clear, translucent lotus flower. Every leaf of the lotus radiated light, and the air was filled with an overflowing fragrance. The beauty of the Western Pure Land was right before my eyes. I felt myself becoming young again, restored to the strength and vitality of my prime. I am so deeply grateful to Practitioner Su for helping us sixty prison guards.

The Life of an Oyster Farmer

I am Tsai Shih-jung. One of my most vivid memories is of myself shouting, 'Oysters for sale! Fresh, large oysters!' My family had been oyster farmers since my grandfather's generation, so I was extremely familiar with the water. Much of my childhood was spent wading through the oyster fields alongside my grandfather. What I remember most clearly is how he would often pick up an oyster shell and teach me how to judge the size of the meat inside, how to cultivate them, which seasons were best for planting, and under what conditions it was most suitable to harvest them. Grandfather would say that this was all based on his years of experience, accumulated only after many failures. Often, he would look at those oysters and smile, telling me, 'Our whole family relies on them to survive.' I would simply nod in agreement.

During the summer, Grandfather would wear only a sleeveless undershirt, and I would follow his lead, wearing the same. I would walk around like that until it was time for school, when I had to put on my school uniform—a process that always felt rather awkward to me.

A Family Legacy and Conflict

Our family were oyster farmers, and many of our neighbours were the same, while others made their living through aquaculture. This meant that the very air in our town was permeated with the fresh, briny scent of seafood.

Grandfather would often ask me, 'Rong, would you like to take over the family business when you grow up?' I would answer without a moment's hesitation, 'Of course, Grandfather. Whatever you do, I will do.' Hearing this, Grandfather would be filled with such joy, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile, feeling that his affection for me had not been in vain.

After I started school, my grades were poor; I was always near the bottom of the class. One day, my mother saw my report card and, in a fit of anger, called me over. She scolded me for not studying hard and for being lazy, which was why my grades were so low. She went on and on, unable to stop. Finally, Grandfather appeared and stood in front of me, saying, 'Grades aren't that important. You can't eat grades.' Mother became even angrier, her face flushing red as she shouted, 'If his grades are bad, what will he do in the future?' I instinctively replied, 'I’m going to farm oysters.' Upon hearing this, Mother became even more furious and yelled, 'You have no ambition, wanting to farm oysters!' Hearing this, Grandfather became quite upset himself and retorted, 'What is wrong with farming oysters? Is it shameful? I have raised this entire family by farming oysters. I don't steal, I don't rob, and I work honestly.' Mother had never seen Grandfather react like that, and she swallowed the words she had intended to use to argue back.

The Weight of Karmic Debt

Before leaving, Mother said, 'Children have things they should be doing at this age; you cannot waste your time.' With that, she left. My mind was not particularly sharp, and there were many times I truly could not grasp my studies. Despite this, I was quite popular at school because I had inherited my grandfather's generous, easy-going nature—I never held resentment against others. Grandfather had always been my faith; he was the centre of my world.

When I was twenty-one, Grandfather fell gravely ill. His skin began to ulcerate all over his body. The moment he collapsed, I felt incredibly nervous, helpless, and fragile. There was a child inside me crying, wishing for Grandfather to get better quickly. But his condition worsened day by day; the skin rotted in many places, deep enough that the bones were almost visible. Seeing him in such agony, my heart ached. I longed for him to be as healthy and boisterous as he once was.

After Grandfather fell ill, the oyster fields were managed by temporary workers. I searched for every possible way to cure him, visiting many temples to pray for his safety, but his condition never improved. Whenever I accompanied him in the hospital, I would hold his hand, trying to bring him hope for survival.

A Dream of Retribution

Grandfather's illness dragged on for half a year. One day, while I was sleeping by his bedside, I dreamt that Grandfather was surrounded by countless oysters. Every wound on his body was related to an oyster—the larger wounds corresponded to large oysters, and the smaller ones to small oysters. When I woke up, I asked him, 'Grandfather, does the pain in your wounds feel like your flesh is being torn away?' He nodded. It was then that I realised those oysters were living beings. We had made our living by farming them, harming so many lives. It was only right that they had come to seek retribution. Although my heart broke for his suffering, I knew we had truly done wrong.

Grandfather trusted my words completely. After I told him what I had discovered, he simply said, 'A sin! A sin!' I told him that I was grown up now and could support him, and that I would strive to repent and do my best to repay the debt we owed to the oysters. Grandfather nodded, agreeing that I should close down his life's work.

Seeking Deliverance

After we stopped farming oysters, I went to work at a nearby bicycle factory in the next village. I did not dare to slack off for a moment. I took on the work others refused, even working overtime on holidays, hoping to earn more money to perform Chao Du for the oysters we had harmed. Every month, I held a regular Dharma assembly for them. Grandfather passed away after the second Dharma assembly I held. By the time he left, the pain in his body had lessened, so he did not suffer as much as before.

I knew that Chao Du was the way to help those resentful oysters leave their suffering behind. As for others in town who continued to work in the aquaculture industry, I worried they would meet the same fate as my grandfather—being haunted by the spirits of the fish and oysters coming to collect their debts. If I had the chance, I would share my grandfather's experience with them. Of course, this was their livelihood, and many were unwilling to let go, but after my repeated counseling, some did change their professions.

A Life of Service

Around the age of forty, I became a junior supervisor at the bicycle factory. I could sense that there were many spirits of fish and seafood in our town, so I contributed both money and effort to hold large-scale Dharma assemblies. Although I did not know how many beings I was truly helping at the time, I believed that 'sincerity leads to spiritual response.' Now, from the perspective of the spiritual realms, I can see that every Dharma assembly was incredibly meaningful, at the very least allowing those seafood spirits to leave the space where they had been trapped. However, looking back, those assemblies certainly could not compare to the Chao Du performed by Practitioner Su in the infinite space of today's Dharma assemblies.

I passed away from illness at the age of fifty-two. I had been plagued by minor ailments, and when my body finally lost all its strength, I breathed my last. I was not afraid of death, and I asked my family to handle my funeral simply. My spirit arrived before the King of Hell, who told me that in this life, I was originally destined to die with my body ulcerated just like my grandfather's. However, because I had sincerely performed Chao Du for the beings I had harmed, many of them had calmed their hearts and departed, which allowed me to have a better end.

I knew that many spirits in the hells were suffering. I was originally given a chance to be reborn as a human, but I chose to give it up to serve beings. During my time serving in the hells, I saw many stubborn and difficult-to-tame beings. I constantly reflected on myself, and after listening to Practitioner Su's Dharma talks, I finally understood the importance of true liberation. I had been longing for the right Causal Conditions to arrive. Finally, today, the conditions have matured. I am grateful to the Buddha and to Practitioner Su for their compassion in sending me and the fifty-nine other prison guards to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, where we have truly left suffering behind and gained happiness. Thank you.

Tsai Shih-jung bows in reverence."