From the Hells to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss

This is a record of an interview with Luo Yuanwei, who sought Spiritual Deliverance 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 and his subsequent experiences in the spirit realms. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on December 23, 2022.

Luo Yuanwei speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Luo Yuanwei. I am deeply grateful for the compassion of the Buddha or Bodhisattva. The bumpy, arduous road of reincarnated life has finally come to an end. Today, Practitioner Su reached out his hand, and with one gentle pull, I arrived in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. The beauty of the Western Land has purified my spirit. My heart is filled with such joy to have finally stepped onto this path of light. I am truly, deeply grateful.

A Childhood of Language Barriers and Silent Tears

My father was Chinese, and my mother was Thai. My father was always busy with work, so it was my mother who took me to school every day. In the beginning, my mother could not speak Chinese, and everything was a struggle for her. Even when I was hungry, she wanted to buy me a fried egg, but she did not know the words. She had to use hand gestures for over ten minutes just to communicate what she wanted. When she finally handed me that hot, freshly cooked egg, I could feel the immense relief in her heart.

Every day when we had to leave the house, I could sense how nervous my mother was. To her, the place she lived was completely unfamiliar and intimidating.

Almost all of my mother's time revolved around me. When she occasionally encountered my father, he was a man of few words. As the head of the household, he carried an air of authority and rarely paid much attention to her. To him, my mother was merely someone to carry on the family line; otherwise, he would not have known how to answer to my grandmother.

The Weight of Cultural Prejudice

My father forbade my mother from speaking Thai to me. Since no one taught her Mandarin, she could only communicate with me through gestures. Consequently, my own language development was delayed; by the time I reached kindergarten age, I still struggled to speak. My father was furious about this and blamed my mother, telling her that she had failed to teach me properly.

Although I was not very good at speaking, I was exceptionally sensitive to emotion and feelings. I knew my mother suffered great grievances, but she had no one to talk to. Sometimes, when she tucked me in at night, she thought I was asleep, but I was actually in a half-awake state. I would hear her sobbing. My heart ached for her. Although I could not yet express it, I held a deep, profound love for my mother, and she felt the same for me.

We grew together, mother and son, leaning on each other. I learned to speak faster than she did, and she learned the language through our interactions. It was only when she began to speak some Chinese that her tense, anxious heart finally began to settle.

The Sting of Discrimination

My mother told me that my father was a manual labourer, so he worked constantly and spent very little time with us. He simply worked hard to earn money for us to spend. When I was in primary school, the teacher asked everyone to bring photos to introduce our parents. When I took out the photos of my mother and father, a classmate asked, 'Why does your mother look so different?' One child started jeering, and others followed: 'I have seen your mother come to pick you up; she really looks different from our mothers.' My face turned red with heat. I did not know how to answer. Finally, I cried in anger, ran off the stage, and buried my head on my desk. Even when the teacher asked those students to apologise to me, I refused to accept it.

I was in a terrible mood that day. On the way home, I kept kicking stones, my face dark with frustration. I was afraid that if I went home like that, my mother would immediately ask me what was wrong. So, I circled the neighbourhood several times until my mood had calmed down, just to avoid her questioning.

A Mother's Quiet Resilience

When the school held a parent-teacher meeting, at least one parent was required to attend. This burden fell on my mother. Although she could speak better than before, she was still terrified of crowds. Yet, for my sake, she stepped into that unfamiliar crowd, trying her best to fit in. What she received in return was the disdain of other parents—looks of contempt that even I, as a child, could clearly feel.

Why did I know this? Because I was afraid my mother might need help, so I secretly followed her. I saw everything she went through. As the meeting was about to end, I quickly slipped home to finish the chores she had asked me to do before she left.

I even cut up some fruit, waiting for her return. When my mother stepped through the door and saw me, she smiled—a bright, radiant smile, as if nothing had happened. Seeing her like that, my heart ached for her.

Throughout my growth, I inevitably encountered discrimination. Whenever I felt aggrieved, I would think of my mother and the spirit with which she endured everything. All along, she had faced it alone.

Repaying a Mother's Love

When I was nineteen, my father fell ill and became bedridden. Although he had not been very kind to my mother, she still took care of him with all her heart. In addition to caring for him, she set up a small food stall in front of our house to cover our living expenses and support my continued education.

I often thought that in the future, I must provide a better life for my mother. Since marrying my father, she had only returned to her hometown twice, both times because a family member had passed away. I knew she missed her home, so I searched for various ingredients so she could cook her native dishes, allowing her to savour the flavours of her homeland. Unexpectedly, she became famous for her hometown cooking. I could see that she truly enjoyed the process.

After five years of caring for my bedridden father, he passed away, leaving us that old house. Later, I became a well-known technician, often travelling abroad to repair machinery. In my spare time, I would take my mother travelling to see the world, rewarding her for a lifetime of hardship.

There were many Thai wives in China like my mother who felt lonely when they first arrived. So, my mother and I established a Thai Women's Mutual Aid Association. We had regular weekly gatherings so these wives would not feel so isolated, allowing them to make friends in an unfamiliar place and exchange experiences. This brought peace to their hearts.

My mother was deeply comforted that I could understand her past struggles and was willing to reach out to help others. In truth, all the good in me was learned from her. In the past, I might have been afraid to tell people I had a Chinese father and a Thai mother, but now I can proudly say I have a Thai mother. She was exceptionally kind and taught me so much. I hope that one day there will be no more inequality or discrimination.

The Final Transition

At thirty, after I had earned enough money, I bought a house and improved our lives. Later, both my mother and I began to practise Buddhism, which gave us a spiritual anchor and brought us great peace. I asked my mother if she wanted to return to Thailand for a visit. She shook her head; having been in China for decades, it had long since become part of her bones and blood.

When my mother was fifty-six, her health began to decline, and she lost her strength. She left me after a severe bout of coughing and coughing up blood. I was devastated. The person closest to me in this world had left, and it took me a long time to stand back up and return to my life.

After my mother passed, the focus of my life shifted toward religion, and I began serving at a temple. I learned about the cycle of reincarnated life and realised that everyone is suffering within the cycle of reincarnated life. I sincerely hoped that I would have the chance to escape it.

My own life was not long. At forty-one, I began to suffer from severe, excruciating headaches, which eventually affected my vision and mobility. I prayed to the Buddha to let me find liberation sooner. After three years of physical suffering, I became very frail and left the human world.

A Lesson in Cause and Effect

After death, I entered the Hall of the King of Hell. I did not understand why I had received such retribution. The King of Hell allowed me to see the laws of karma and cause and effect. Only then did I realise that in my past lives, I had designed schemes that harmed many people. My retribution in this life was considered light only because I had been filial to my mother.

Upon understanding the laws of karma, I repented. I am also grateful to the King of Hell for allowing me to serve as a prison guard, which gave me the opportunity to hear Practitioner Su give Dharma talks while in the hells. Today, I finally know to seek rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Together with the fifty-nine other prison guards, I kowtow in gratitude to Practitioner Su for his grace. If there is an opportunity in the future, I will return to repay this kindness through my vows."

Namo Amituofo.