The Actor Who Guarded the Hells

This is a record of an interview with Min Shih-hua, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life approximately eighty years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on October 8, 2021.

Min Shih-hua speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. Practitioner Su, I, along with fifty-nine other prison guards, offer our most sincere and respectful bows. We are filled with gratitude to Practitioner Su for bringing us to this magnificent world. As I stand upon this ground, which glows with a soft, translucent light, I am overwhelmed by the profound peace of the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This beautiful realm is something I never knew existed. I cannot help but gaze at my surroundings; the scenery here is far more exquisite than any ideal world I could have ever imagined. I am filled with curiosity, constantly exploring, because this world is entirely different from the one I once lived in—it has absolutely no connection to that past life.

It is only now that I realise my entire past life was nothing but a performance. Just like every play I ever acted in, some had happy endings, while others ended in tragedy. Every scene was played out with such vivid intensity, narrating the story of a life, yet in the end, I discovered that everything in the 'real' world was actually an illusion. I keep asking myself: am I still acting, or is this arrival in the Western Pure Land the only true reality? Reflecting on my past life and the scenes I witnessed while serving as a prison guard, I finally understand that I am not dreaming. I am truly in the Western Pure Land. I am so grateful."

A Tragic Origin and a Theatrical Life

"My name was Min Shih-hua, though I was also known as Evada Nali. I was a stage performer. From a very young age, I joined a theatre troupe, and every role I played was so moving that it would inevitably bring the audience to tears.

I was Portuguese. My father was a cleaner at a theatre, and my mother was a seamstress. In those days, our family belonged to the lower-middle class, and life was quite a struggle. My parents met through a rather unusual encounter at the theatre. My father was twenty, and my mother was eighteen. At eighteen, my mother was truly a beauty.

She had gone to the theatre with her boyfriend at the time, but he began to behave inappropriately, making her feel deeply uncomfortable. She could not help but let out a loud cry, and the atmosphere in the theatre froze instantly. My father, being an employee of the theatre, immediately stepped in to handle the situation. He took my mother and her boyfriend to the lobby. My mother was feeling wronged and was sobbing, while her boyfriend was furious and stormed off, abandoning her. Seeing this, my father brought out a variety of food to offer her, and it took quite some effort before he finally managed to make her smile. They felt an instant connection, and within a few months, they decided to marry. Two years later, I was born.

As a child, I was not easy to manage; I cried constantly. Whenever I wept, my father would show me the promotional flyers for the theatre performances. To his surprise, as soon as I saw the flyers, I would become completely fascinated, and my face would instantly light up with joy."

The Child of the Stage

"By the time I could walk, my father would take me to the theatre to work with him. He would carry a large broom, and I would carry a small one. After we finished sweeping, my father would sit down and keep me company while I watched a free performance. I was incredibly immersed in the shows, watching every single movement and expression with intense focus.

Once, an international troupe came to the theatre. They were prepared to begin their performance, but unexpectedly, one of the members committed suicide due to personal emotional troubles. The troupe was thrown into chaos, not knowing how to proceed. The tickets had already been sold, and there were only five days left until the first show. My father and I were cleaning when we heard them discussing their distress. Without asking my father, I stepped forward and told the troupe leader, 'Leader, I can perform.' The leader was startled by my voice and looked down to see me. I looked like just a child, but I possessed a sense of absolute confidence within me.

The leader paused for a moment, then nodded, deciding to let me try. During those final five days, I underwent intensive training. From vocal projection to facial expressions and the nuances of various emotions, I could perform whatever the leader taught me after only hearing it once. I was incredibly focused and diligent during those five days. The leader even adjusted the script to incorporate my character, which brought a delightful and joyful effect to the play.

After those five days, my performance in the shows exceeded everyone's expectations. Every emotion I displayed on stage felt completely natural. Although I was a supporting actor, I captured the attention of everyone in the audience. After the three performances concluded, many audience members were already eagerly anticipating my next role."

A Life of Wandering

"The troupe leader gave my father the earnings from my performances. It was a significant sum—the equivalent of two months of my father's salary for cleaning the theatre. After handing over the money, the leader proposed that I join their troupe permanently. He promised to take care of my meals and daily life, and to train me further so that I could become an even more outstanding performer.

My father was stunned by the sudden request because I was only seven years old. To leave home at such a young age—who knew when we would see each other again? My father was reluctant, but when he looked at my expression, he asked for my wishes. I told him that I wanted to continue performing. I returned home to say goodbye to my mother, who prepared a set of clothes she had sewn herself—they were far too big, meant for me to grow into. I accepted them happily, and half a month later, the leader took me away. From that moment on, I never returned home, and I never saw my parents again.

I travelled with the troupe to countries large and small all over the world. We adjusted our performances to suit local cultures, and many people felt that our plays touched the deepest parts of their hearts. They felt that we were performing their very lives. Sometimes the endings were joyful, and sometimes they were tragic; the audience members always hoped that their own future would have a beautiful ending.

By the time I had spent twenty years in the troupe, I had become a mature young man. The older members who were my seniors had retired; some had passed away from illness, and others decided to settle down in one place to spend their final years, no longer wanting to wander. At that moment, I could not help but wonder: what about me? What would my life turn out to be in the end? Where would I stop? Where was my true home? As I kept searching for an answer in my heart but could not find one, I felt a sense of helplessness."

The War and the Final Curtain

"Our next stop was a country on the border of Europe and Asia. The area was somewhat dangerous, but our new troupe leader had a kind heart. He wanted us to perform there to bring the concept of respecting life to that region. Upon arriving, we truly encountered war. The leader kept us hidden in a safe place and arranged for us to perform short plays to boost the morale of the soldiers. Although we were fearful for our own safety, we were happy to see the smiles on the faces of those who watched our performances.

There was an uncle there who had taken great care of us, helping us manage our daily lives. But one day, when I went out to buy some food, I saw him lying on the street, no longer breathing, his body riddled with bullet wounds. I held him in my arms, weeping. It was the first time someone I knew had fallen right before my eyes, and my heart was shattered. This made me realise the impermanence and brevity of life. I knew that my own life was not something I could control. I made a decision: when the troupe left, I would not go with them. I wanted to stay and do what I could to help people find peace. I was not sure what I could do, but I was determined to try. When the leader found out, he did not try to persuade me otherwise, as he understood my intentions. He only told me to be careful, and I nodded.

Two months later, the troupe departed, leaving me alone in that unfamiliar place. The war continued to rage along the border. Seeing that many people were living in anxiety, I choreographed some lighthearted plays to bring them joy. I performed with all my heart, and they watched with delight. My plays became the only thing in that region that brought them any happiness.

Then, a bomb was dropped, and the entire area was levelled to the ground. My life vanished in that instant. Evada Nali, also known as Min Shih-hua, died at the age of thirty-five. A theatrical life, a short life—I entered a void of darkness. I do not know how much time passed before I met the King of Hell. I had no great merits, nor did I have any great sins, so the King of Hell assigned me the position of a prison guard.

Whenever I encountered the prisoners, if they were willing to listen, I would share my life story with them. I wanted to urge everyone to stop performing the drama of creating karma and cycling through samsara. People do not know how to stop this play, and they cannot see themselves clearly.

It was not until Practitioner Su's Dharma talks could be heard in the hells that I began to understand liberation and the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. To me, it was still a realm I was unfamiliar with. I am so thankful that the King of Hell was willing to nominate me for the list of those to be reborn in the Western Pure Land. The moment I saw the Western Pure Land, I felt a clarity of spirit; there was not a single burden left. I took a deep breath of the air, and I knew that here, there was only peace. My heart no longer had any fluctuations. I realised that the Western Pure Land is the only life that is truly unborn and undying. I smiled at the other fifty-nine prison guards, and together, we thanked Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su before dispersing to different areas to enjoy the beauty of the Western Pure Land.

Thank you for everything.

Min Shih-hua"

Namo Amituofo.