This is a record of an interview with Chang Tai, who sought at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Nature. This account reflects upon his life approximately 580 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on May 2, 2019.
Chang Tai speaks:
". I am Chang Tai. Looking back at my life five hundred and eighty years ago, I remember the sky outside was a heavy, oppressive grey, and the wind began to howl with a relentless, biting intensity. My mother, clearly agitated, rushed out from the kitchen, her voice sharp with anxiety as she called out to me: 'Chang Tai! Can’t you see the storm is about to break? Why aren't you helping me bring the laundry in?' I turned to look at the horizon, observing the clouds with a calm that seemed to baffle her. 'It isn't going to rain, Mother,' I replied softly. She looked at me, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. 'What are you talking about? Look at those dark, heavy clouds! How could it possibly not rain? You lazy boy, always making excuses for yourself!' Before I could even respond, she was already sprinting into the courtyard, frantically gathering the clothes and rushing to move the corn drying on the ground into the house. She was bent double, straining to fill her baskets, determined to save the harvest before the downpour she was certain would come. But then, something extraordinary happened. A brilliant, sudden light illuminated the ground right beside her. She stopped, turned, and looked toward the sky, her eyes widening in confusion. 'Eh? Why is the sun out again?' She was just about to ask me what was happening, but I had already darted out to play, leaving her to wonder at the sudden shift in the weather."
The Hypnotic Bell and the Power of the Buddha-Name
"'Ding-ding-dang! Ding-ding-dang!' The sound of a bell echoed through the air. I turned toward the source of the noise and saw a woman dressed in black, holding a large, ornate bell. She kept shaking it, and the sound it produced was not ordinary—it carried a strange, hypnotic effect. The other children were instantly drawn to it, mesmerised by both the sound and the shape of the bell. I saw a line of about five or six children following her, their clearly clouded and drifting. They were swaying, completely unaware of their surroundings, their spirits seemingly tethered to the rhythm of that bell. Seeing this, I knew something was terribly wrong. I quickly navigated through a side path and emerged from another exit, positioning myself directly in front of the woman and the group of children. She was still shaking the bell, trying to lure more young ones into her trap. Without hesitation, I began to beat the large drum I carried on my back with all my might. For every three beats, I chanted, 'Namo Amituofo!' The sound resonated through the street: 'Dong-dong-dong! Namo Amituofo! Dong-dong-dong! Namo Amituofo!' The sheer power of the drum and the sacred Buddha-name shattered the spell. The children blinked, looking around in confusion, asking one another, 'How did I get here? Where am I?' They had been completely under the control of that bell, their souls held captive. The woman in black glared at me with intense hatred, furious that I had ruined her plans, but I was not afraid. I continued to beat my drum and walk forward, chanting, 'Dong-dong-dong! Namo Amituofo!' The children, finding the rhythm infectious and joyful, began to follow me instead. Every time I struck the drum three times, they would chant 'Namo Amituofo!' along with me, much to the amusement of the villagers watching."
The Golden Light of Devotion
"I chanted the Buddha-name all the way home. My parents heard me from a distance and were deeply surprised. When I walked through the door, my mother asked, 'Were you just chanting the Buddha-name?' I nodded and replied, 'Yes, I have been chanting it the entire way!' She looked at me, bewildered. 'Our family has never practised the Buddha’s teachings. How do you even know this name? And why are you chanting it with such ?' I told her, 'It is true, no one in our family has ever studied the Dharma, and I find it strange that our ancestors never chanted it either.' She pressed me again, 'You still haven't told me how you know this name.' I pointed toward a small wooden house in the distance. 'A while ago, as I was walking past that house, I saw it glowing. It was a brilliant, intense golden light. I rubbed my eyes, certain I was seeing things, but the light remained. I moved closer to observe what was happening. Inside, an old woman was kneeling before a Buddha statue, chanting. It was her voice, her devotion, that caused the entire house to shine with that golden radiance. From that moment, I knew the power of this Buddha-name—it is truly inconceivable!'"
A Village Mystery and a Clever Trap
"Later, I overheard my parents whispering in the other room. My mother asked, 'Do you think the boy is interested in becoming a monk?' My father replied, 'It certainly seems that way.' My mother sounded terrified: 'That must never happen! He is our only child. If he leaves to become a monk, we will be in such trouble.' They were both deeply afraid that I might accidentally commit to the monastic life, and they resolved to stop me from learning more about the Buddha’s teachings. A few days later, a wave of thefts hit the village. Villagers were complaining to the village head, demanding that the thief be caught. The thefts continued for days, and despite the village head setting numerous traps, the thief remained elusive and brazen. I decided to intervene. I went to the village head and said, 'This thief knows the schedule of every household perfectly. He must be someone from within our own village.' The village head looked surprised. 'That... that makes sense, but it could also be someone from the neighbouring village; they are friendly with us and know our routines well.' I told him, 'I have a plan to catch him.' He leaned in, eager to hear. I whispered, 'The thief doesn't know one secret. I have gone to every household and told them to put their money into jewellery boxes, but to coat the outside of the boxes with a thick layer of a very potent poison. This is no ordinary poison; it is incredibly strong. If the thief touches it, his skin will begin to fester and ooze within days, and he could even lose the use of his hands. Every household is prepared, just waiting for him to take the bait!' The village head clapped his hands, 'A brilliant plan! I am sure we will catch this arrogant thief soon!'"
"The next day, news of another attempted theft spread. I rushed to the house, where an old woman told me, 'He tried to take my jewellery box, but he didn't open it or steal it. He must have felt the poison. Even if he wore gloves, he could not withstand this ancient, potent toxin. His hands must be festering by now. Unless he comes to me for the antidote, his hands will never heal.' I excitedly gathered the villagers to go to the village head’s house. When we arrived, the front door was shut tight. I pounded on it, 'Village head! Village head! Come out!' His young son opened the door. I asked, 'Where is your father? Why won't he come out?' The boy replied, 'Father’s hands are injured, and they are getting worse every day. Mother has taken him to the town to see a doctor; they might not be back until evening.' The villagers began to look at one another. Someone whispered, 'Could the village head be the thief?' Another replied, 'How could that be? We trust him so much!' When the village head and his wife finally appeared, he looked visibly nervous seeing the crowd. Everyone’s eyes went straight to his hands, which were tightly wrapped in bandages. I stepped forward and asked, 'Village head, what happened to your hands?' He replied, 'I was weeding yesterday and accidentally cut myself on the grass. I had to bandage them up. It is nothing, nothing at all!' I looked at him and said, 'Village head, we have good news! The thief took the bait at the old woman's house. He doesn't know that her poison is ten times stronger than any ordinary toxin. Even a doctor cannot heal it. His hands will continue to rot, and he may even lose them entirely. He will become a man without hands!' The village head asked nervously, 'Then he will never be healed?' I replied, 'The only antidote is with the old woman. Unless he confesses and apologises to her, she will not give it to him. Otherwise, his hands will simply rot away day by day.' Namo Amituofo."
The very next day, the village head appeared at the old woman's home. He was acting furtively, terrified of being seen, unaware that all the villagers had long been waiting for this thief to show his face. Everything the village head confessed to the old woman was heard by every villager present. Changtai was the first to rush out, shouting at the top of his lungs, 'We have caught the thief!' When everyone confirmed that the thief was indeed the village head, they were all stunned into silence. Changtai asked him, 'Why would you steal from everyone?' The village head, who had always been obsessed with his reputation, was suddenly confronted with such a question and found himself at a loss for how to continue his lies. Changtai urged him, 'Just tell the truth! We all know what happened now.' Realising that he could no longer hide the truth, the village head had no choice but to confess everything to the villagers. It turned out that his mother had fallen gravely ill, and he desperately needed a massive sum of money to hire the best physician to save her. In his moment of panic, he had resorted to stealing.
The Power of Sincerity
The village head apologised profusely to the villagers. Finally, the old woman handed him the antidote—a basin of clear water. She told him, 'This basin of clear water represents the purity that originally resided in your heart, but it has now become muddied. If you wish to reclaim that original pure heart, you must use your true heart and sincerity to chant the holy name of Namo Amituofo while soaking your hands in this water. Before long, the toxicity in your hands will completely fade away.' Changtai asked the old woman, 'Is the poison not extremely potent? How can it be cured so easily?' The old woman smiled and said, 'Changtai, do you remember what I told you? The value of chanting the Buddha's name lies in one's true heart and sincerity. If you use a false heart to chant, even if you recite it a hundred times, it will have no effect. Now, it depends on whether the village head is truly sincere. If he chants with a sincere heart, his hands will certainly be healed.' The old woman was absolutely right. The village head chanted the Buddha's name a thousand times, but his hands did not improve. Finally, he let go of his pride and repented to the entire village with a truly sincere heart. He chanted the Buddha's name just once, and his hands were completely restored. This incident allowed all the villagers to witness the miracle of chanting with a sincere heart. The Buddha-name is truly inconceivable, but whether the chanting is effective depends entirely on how much effort one puts into their own heart.
A Son's Transformation
Changtai became increasingly interested in the Buddha's teachings, which caused his parents growing concern. Yet, no matter how they tried to stop him, Changtai remained determined to walk the path of Buddhist practice. He had already found Dharma-joy in helping others through his practice; he felt that his previously flavourless life only gained meaning in the moments he spent serving others.
His parents had actually witnessed the changes in Changtai since he began his practice. The most obvious change was that he had learned the importance of 'filial piety and caring for one's parents.' In the past, because his parents had indulged him without discipline, his negative habits were strong, and he often caused them worry and exhaustion. But now, Changtai was a completely different person. He not only knew how to respect his parents but also how to be considerate and how to provide for them. He realised that the greatest act of filial piety was to help his parents learn the Buddha's teachings, allowing them to chant the Buddha's name in their remaining years, attain the Way, and achieve rebirth in the Western Pure Land. Therefore, Changtai constantly worked on himself, hoping that his own transformation would convince his parents of the magnificence of the Buddha's teachings. He also actively served others, hoping that his parents would see the positive changes brought about by his practice. The entire village constantly praised Changtai in front of his parents. His mother had once heard someone say, 'In the past, whenever we saw Changtai walking towards us from a distance, we would shut our doors. That child was not only impolite and fond of causing trouble in people's homes, but he would also spout insults and act with total disrespect. But now, when we see Changtai, we feel joy in our hearts. We have all witnessed his transformation with our own eyes. Learning the Buddha's teachings not only helped him shed his bad habits but even made him happy to help others. His facial expression is also completely different from before; it has become gentle and compassionate. It is clear that the Buddha's teachings are truly inconceivable!' Both his father and mother had heard such words, and their hearts were filled with joy. They began to reflect on whether they should continue to stop Changtai from learning the Buddha's teachings.
The Path of the Dharma
Fate often arrives when we are caught unprepared. When a monk appeared in the village to give a teaching, Changtai decided to follow him back to the monastery to practice. Wanting to understand what the Buddha's teachings were all about, his parents followed Changtai to listen to the Dharma. They finally understood why Changtai had been able to cultivate such good roots in such a short time. It turned out that the Buddha's teachings instructed people to cease all evil, practice all Goodness, accumulate merit and virtue, hold in their hearts, and serve all beings. Changtai had honestly followed these teachings, putting them into practice in his daily life and truly transforming himself. His parents were deeply moved by his growth and progress, and they felt immense gratitude for the Buddha's compassion.
Changtai shaved his head and became a monk at the age of fourteen. The more he understood the suffering of beings, the more he knew how to cultivate his own heart of compassion. Practice is nothing more than cultivating a pure heart and an unmoved mind. As the saying goes, 'The direct heart is the bodhimanda.' When the heart does not cling, does not discriminate, and is not deluded, it remains anchored in '' at all times. With no attachment in body or mind, when the ego-clinging disappears, one practices with ease, attaining a pure and joyful state of Dharma.
The Inconceivable Compassion of Practitioner Su
The world is complex, filled with afflictions, worries, and suffering. Beings are often trapped in deep sorrow and agony. Without the Buddha's teachings to educate the world, the worldly realm would be a place of total darkness. Is the extreme of suffering the ultimate pain? Or is the extreme of suffering emptiness? It all depends on how much one realises within their own heart. If one can let go of all attachments and the greed for this world, and understand what the Buddha has taught, one will find that there is no world and no dust—only the freedom of the human heart. The state of emptiness is something everyone can realise. Where does suffering come from? Suffering exists only where there is attachment; everything else is merely an illusion.
Practitioner Su is truly without a self, having realised the . Through a lifetime of effort, he has saved countless beings from suffering. The purity of the heart means that there is no dust of defilement within it. People in this world are deeply stained because they are overly attached to this physical body. If one can learn the selfless heart of Practitioner Su in saving beings, all these stains and defilements can be cleansed one by one. It all depends on the effort one puts into their own heart. Namo Amituofo.
This interview message was recorded by the chief writer, Buddhist disciple Shi Fajing.
