The Burden of a Family Left Behind

This is a record of an interview with Wang Lingfeng, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. She now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon her life in Taiwan during the 1930s and her subsequent journey through the spirit realms. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fajing, on December 16, 2023.

Wang Lingfeng speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. Today, all sixty of us prison guards have finally arrived at the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am filled with such profound gratitude to the compassionate Practitioner Su for guiding us here. Without his help, we would still be lost in the cycle of rebirth, trapped in the endless turning of samsara. Now, we have returned to our true home in the West. On behalf of the other fifty-nine prison guards, I offer my deepest thanks to Namo Amituofo and to Practitioner Su.

I am Wang Lingfeng, born in Taiwan in the 1930s. In my youth, everyone said I was a great beauty, a trait I inherited from my mother. Even in her old age, my mother remained strikingly beautiful. Yet, her life was one of immense suffering. Less than ten years after she married my father, a terrible typhoon struck. My father, worried about his vegetable garden, went out to check on it after the storm. He slipped into the swollen creek and was swept away, never to return. Two days later, his body was found downstream. When my mother rushed to identify him, he was so bloated that she could barely recognise him. It was absolutely heartbreaking to witness her grief, a pain that seemed to shatter our very foundation.

A Childhood Forged in Tragedy

During those ten years of marriage, my parents had eight children. I was the eldest. Although I was only ten when my father died, I was already mature enough to understand the gravity of our situation. Seeing my mother’s inconsolable grief, I gathered my younger siblings and told them not to disturb her. I did my best to cook for them and even helped feed my newborn brother. A wealthy neighbour had kindly given us the fresh milk his own son had left over. At first, my brother was not used to it, but we had to insist he drink it because it was so precious. If there was no milk, I would feed him rice water, just to ensure he did not go hungry. Every day was a struggle for survival, yet we clung to each other with a desperate, quiet love.

After my father’s funeral, my mother slowly began to recover, but I could see the deep sorrow that remained in her heart. Our family had relied entirely on my father’s income. With him gone, we had no money and eight mouths to feed. Every time my mother looked at us, she would burst into tears. I still remember her crying out to our relatives, 'With so many children, how can I, a lone woman, possibly take care of them all?' Our neighbours were very kind; they saw our plight and brought us vegetables and fruit, fearing we would starve. Their compassion was a small light in our darkest hour, but the weight of our future remained heavy on my mother’s shoulders.

The Weight of Responsibility

Life was incredibly difficult, but we had to face it. After about ten days, my mother finally wiped away her tears and stood up with immense courage. She told us, 'My only responsibility now is you eight children. No matter how hard I have to work, I will raise you all.' Watching her, I saw her once-beautiful face become haggard and worn, and my heart ached for her. She was so brave, taking on any manual labour she could find. Many men were interested in her because she was still beautiful and hardworking, but when they saw the line of eight children trailing behind her, they were too intimidated to pursue her. Raising eight children is no small feat, after all. My mother remained steadfast, declaring that she would rely on no man, only herself. I decided then and there to follow her example—to be a strong, courageous woman who could survive on her own, regardless of the hardships that life might throw my way.

By the time I was fifteen, I began working to help ease my mother’s burden. I tried many jobs, but eventually settled into the garment industry. We were paid by the piece, so to earn more, I never dared to rest. I wouldn't even drink water because I didn't want to waste time going to the toilet. I would rather endure the thirst so I could sew a few more garments. I worked myself to the bone, all to ensure my siblings could have a better life—so they wouldn't have to wear rags, so they could have new clothes for the New Year, and perhaps even taste a chicken leg, which was a luxury for us. Seeing them smile made it all worth it, and I felt a sense of pride in being the one to provide those small joys.

A Life Cut Short by Toil

I dreamed that if I could earn enough, my siblings could stay in school and avoid the back-breaking labour that was destroying my own body. I was constantly in pain, suffering from chronic backaches and bladder issues from holding my urine for hours on end. All my efforts were for my family. I loved them so much, and I wanted to repay my mother’s hard work. My heart was always tethered to them; I thought only of their needs, even if I had to suffer myself. I sacrificed my own health, my own youth, and my own future, believing that my devotion to them was the highest form of love.

Even when life was at its hardest, I would still give what little money I had to the poor children I saw on the street. It wasn't much, but it was given with a sincere heart. I wanted them to have a treat, to have some small memory of happiness, because I knew the pain of poverty all too well. Many of these children were so filial that they wouldn't even spend the money on themselves, saying they wanted to take it home to their parents. Seeing that always brought me to tears, reminding me that even in the depths of poverty, the human heart can remain pure and kind.

I had hoped to earn more, but who could have known my life would be so short? At only thirty-five, I was sent onto the path to the underworld. I didn't even realise I was sick. I worked from dawn until dusk, neglecting my health and my diet, until my body simply gave out. I had been feeling unwell since my late twenties, losing weight and strength, but I ignored it. I thought nothing was more important than earning money to support my family. I never imagined that fate would be so cruel—that I would be taken away before my mother could ever enjoy a moment of peace. The irony of my life was that in trying to save my family, I lost the very life I was trying to preserve.

Trapped in the Hearth of Attachment

Before I drew my last breath, I wept uncontrollably. I could not let go of my family, especially my mother. I didn't want to die so young, but I knew my body was failing. I didn't even have the strength to speak. With my final ounce of energy, I opened my eyes to look at our home, at my mother and siblings who were devastated by grief. I wanted to tell them I loved them, but I couldn't. I just kept crying, my tears a silent testament to the love that bound me to this world.

After I died, my spirit left my body, but I didn't leave my home. I kept walking around, even continuing to 'work' as if I were still alive. I didn't even know I was dead; I just kept doing the same things, my mind obsessed with earning money for the family. This went on for over twenty years. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my family grow and change, unable to touch them or speak to them. Then, one day, I heard the sound of someone chanting the Buddha-name, and I finally woke up from my long, delusional slumber.

Once I was conscious, a prison guard from the hells came to take me before King Yama. He showed me what had happened to me after death. I was shocked to discover that I had been trapped inside the space of our kitchen stove. My spirit had been living inside that stove because of my intense attachment to my family. It was the tool we used to cook our meals, the object I used most often, and it became the focal point of my memories. That is why I was trapped in that space for so long, my spirit bound to the very hearth that had sustained my family.

The Sound that Awakened the Soul

The chanting I heard was from my second younger sister. She had encountered the Buddha’s teachings and began chanting and learning at home, eventually bringing our mother into the practice as well. It was the sound of their chanting that awakened me, allowing me to finally escape the space within the stove. King Yama then brought me here. He didn't send me to suffer in the hells; instead, he gave me a simple job as a prison guard. He told me that because I was a filial child and had a kind heart, I was able to escape that space so quickly and earn this position. It was a mercy I had not expected, a chance to reflect on the life I had lived and the attachments that had held me back.

When I looked closer, I realised that everything I had experienced—including being saved by my sister’s chanting—was all part of the laws of karma and cause and effect. I saw that in a past life, my sister had been an injured wild rabbit. I had been practising Buddhism then, and I took her home, cared for her, and chanted for her, which allowed her to leave the rabbit body and be reborn as a human. That is why she came back to repay that kindness in this life. We were always close, and she was always by my side, helping me. When I was dying, she was the one who cried the most. I never expected that she would be the one to save me. I am so grateful for the interconnectedness of all beings and the way our past deeds shape our present reality.

Gratitude and the Path to the West

I cherish my work as a prison guard, but I know it is not permanent. When the time comes, I would have to face the cycle of rebirth again. I have been chanting Namo Amituofo in the hells, because I know it was this Holy Name that saved me. I have never stopped chanting it, for it is the only path to true liberation. The Holy Name is my anchor, my guide, and my hope in the darkness of the spirit realms.

One day, I suddenly heard Practitioner Su giving a lecture, and I saw a brilliant golden light. I thought the Buddha had arrived, but I soon realised it was Practitioner Su, still in the human world, giving a Dharma talk. I was even more astonished to learn that Practitioner Su could use his Dharma Body to enter the hells to deliver sentient beings. It was truly incredible; I am filled with such admiration for his compassion and his ability to reach those of us who are lost. By listening to Practitioner Su’s lectures, I have come to understand so many truths. I have learned about the laws of karma and the suffering of samsara. I truly hope that all beings can leave suffering behind as soon as possible. That is why I go everywhere sharing the Dharma, telling other beings what I have learned, hoping to save as many as I can.

Recently, another prison guard told me that my name was on the list to be guided to the West by Practitioner Su. I was so surprised! I can go to the Western Land! My heart is overflowing with gratitude to Practitioner Su. I hope that in the future, I too can be like him—giving lectures, helping others to wake up, and allowing everyone to find liberation and leave suffering behind. Namo Amituofo. Wang Lingfeng bows in reverence."