The Dust of Emotion

This is a record of an interview with De'an, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Dharma Nature. This account reflects upon his life approximately 670 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on May 11, 2019.

De'an speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am De'an. Finally, I have arrived. I jumped off the horse and stepped onto this familiar land, one step at a time. Every blade of grass and every tree here still remained in my memory.

I walked along this narrow stone path. It was not this narrow before. After so many years, grass had grown on both sides of the path, almost as tall as a person, nearly covering the stone road entirely. I walked along the path, having to push aside the grass with both hands to move forward. As I walked to the end of the path, an old, dilapidated house appeared before my eyes.

The Abandoned Home

A large spider web had formed over the main door. This door had not been opened for many years, and tall weeds had grown in front of it. I picked up a branch from the ground, cleared the spider web from the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open gently. The old door creaked with an 'ee-ya' sound. The dust that had been still in the air was suddenly disturbed by the breeze created by the opening door, flying straight toward my face. I waved my hand a few times to clear the air. The furniture inside was exactly as it had been over a decade ago, unchanged. I patted the dust off the rocking chair—it was my grandmother's favourite chair from years ago. As the chair rocked, it stirred up many memories of the past.

The Bond of Mother and Child

On a moonlit night, a loud sound pierced the silence of the air. It was my cry; I had just been born from my mother's womb. After only a short while, I had adapted to this new world and stopped wailing. My mother held me tightly in her arms. I already felt a natural familiarity with her, a 'bond of emotion' cultivated over those ten months. For those ten months, I had listened to my mother speak to me every day. Although she did not voice her true feelings, I had heard the helplessness and longing in her heart.

I had never heard my father's voice. Even during those ten months in my mother's womb, I never heard him speak to me; I only heard my mother's longing for him. My grandmother took me from my mother's arms and said, 'This child looks quite like his father.' My mother smiled as she looked at me and said, 'Yes, he really does. I was just thinking the same thing, but I try not to mention his name.' Grandmother looked at my mother's disappointed face and asked, 'It has been ten months, are you still thinking of him?' My mother looked down at me and did not answer.

The Ant Colony and the Visitor

By the time I was four, I could walk steadily on this stone path. Grandmother moved the rocking chair under the eaves and sat there watching me play. I shouted to her, 'Grandmother, look! There are so many ants under this stone!' She stood up, walked over to me, and said, 'Don't disturb them. Look, they are preparing food for the winter. This year's winter will be very cold, so they have started preparing early.' I watched the ants, each carrying food on its head—some large, some small. The strong ones carried more, the weak ones carried less. They worked together, transporting the food to their nest. I clapped my hands, cheering them on. The ants seemed to understand me; they sped up, grabbed their food, and scurried back to the nest. A gust of wind blew, and I let out a big sneeze. Grandmother said, 'Alright, alright! It is time to go inside; the weather is getting cold! Mother has cooked a hearty winter meal for us.' She held my hand, and I skipped along happily into the house.

A Tense Encounter

The moment the door closed, a knock sounded from outside. Grandmother and Mother looked at each other. Mother asked, puzzled, 'Who would be knocking at this hour?' Grandmother also looked confused. Mother started to walk toward the door, but Grandmother whispered, 'Wait! Take something to protect yourself.' She picked up a large piece of wood leaning against the wall and handed it to Mother. Mother shouted, 'Who is it?' There was no response from outside, only silence. Mother asked Grandmother, 'Could it be the wrong house?' Just then, the person knocked again. Mother asked, 'Who is it? If you don't speak, I won't open the door.' Hearing this, the person outside coughed twice. Mother opened the door a crack to peek. When she saw who it was, she froze. Grandmother asked, 'Who is it? Why are you standing there?' Mother turned to Grandmother, and Grandmother asked in surprise, 'Why are your eyes red?' Seeing Mother's expression, Grandmother knew who was outside and sternly said, 'Do not open the door! Close it!' Mother prepared to close the door, but the man outside suddenly pushed it open. He knelt on the ground, crying, 'I am sorry for everything over these years. I should not have left you here alone. Now I am back. Please forgive me, let us start over.'

The Weight of Betrayal

Grandmother scolded the man loudly, 'You heartless man! My daughter, Mu Qian, carried a child for you, and people outside mocked her for having a child out of wedlock. She acted strong in front of everyone, but in her dreams, she often hid under the covers and cried. She thought I didn't hear, but I heard it all. Do you know how much my heart ached? She is my only precious daughter. I thought you would be her support, but you said you were going to find work and never returned! She has suffered enough all these years. Look at her face, she has grown so thin, and her health is not what it used to be. She catches colds from the slightest breeze—this is all your fault! And now you have the nerve to come back and look for us!' The man knelt on the ground, weeping, begging for forgiveness. Grandmother snatched the wooden stick from Mother's hand and struck the man. He did not dodge; he let her hit him. Mother felt heartbroken and grabbed Grandmother's hand, begging her to stop. Grandmother looked at Mother's pained expression and said sadly, 'Are you still pleading for him? Hasn't there been enough suffering all these years?' Mother's face was covered in tears; she shook her head, not knowing what to do. This man had never truly left her heart. I often saw her walking on the road, looking at backs that resembled his, only walking away in disappointment when she realised it wasn't him. I tugged at Grandmother's sleeve and asked, 'Grandmother, who is this man?' She picked me up and headed for the room. The man stood up and blocked her path, asking excitedly, 'Is... is he my child?' Grandmother replied angrily, 'No! He has nothing to do with you! No one here has anything to do with you! Leave now!' She pushed him aside, entered the room, and slammed the door shut. Once inside, she put me down and sat on the bed, wiping away her tears. She cried and muttered, 'Silly girl, truly a silly girl, why are you so foolish...' At that moment, I really did not understand what was happening. A stranger had appeared, and Grandmother and Mother had changed so drastically. I was completely bewildered.

A Fleeting Happiness

After that day, the man often appeared at our home. A long-lost smile returned to Mother's face. I had never seen her like this; she looked so happy, so sweet. Grandmother sat on the rocking chair, silent, her cheeks puffed up in anger. The man tried to play with me. I put a toy in his hand, and he suddenly said to me, 'De'an, I am your father. Call me 'Father'!' Grandmother immediately turned around, 'What father! Don't teach my grandson nonsense! There is no father here, only a mother!' Seeing Grandmother's agitation, the man fell silent and played with the toy quietly. When he was about to leave, he told Mother. She walked him to the stone path. From the crack in the door, I saw him kiss Mother's cheek. He looked at her with deep affection, and Mother became like a young girl, leaning into his arms. It was only when Grandmother coughed loudly that he let her go. Mother watched his retreating figure until he disappeared before walking back slowly. I saw a happy smile on her face, and she touched the cheek he had kissed, completely immersed in the sweetness of love.'"

A Final Farewell to the Past

"I rode my horse back to that old house once more. The scenery remained exactly as it was, yet the people who once filled it with life were long gone. This was the final time I would ever return to this place in my life; it was my final, silent farewell to that chapter of my past. I sat in my grandmother’s rocking chair for a long time, and every scene from my past life replayed before my eyes like a fading dream. I decided not to dwell on the memories any longer. I stood up, walked out the door, and gently pulled it shut behind me. This time, I did not lock it. If anyone needs this house, let them have it. I mounted my horse once more, bid farewell to the memories of my childhood, and committed myself fully to the path of practice, hurrying toward the true road that leads back to the Western Land."

The Dust of Emotion and the Path to Purity

"The world is filled with the dust of emotion; every particle in the air carries the heavy weight of attachment. It is only because of these emotions that sentient beings continue to be reincarnated within the six realms of existence; it is only because of these attachments that we remain trapped within these spaces. Practitioner Su uses the single Buddha-name, Namo Amituofo, to break through layer after layer of space, carrying countless sentient beings toward the light. True practice is the cultivation of this pure body. Emotion is the root of karma that is so difficult to sever. If one can, like Practitioner Su, completely sever these emotional attachments, this body will attain true purity. Because the body is no longer used by the world, everything one sees becomes clear, and the body can then be put to its greatest use: saving the world."

A Call to Awakening

"Practitioner Su has given countless teachings, explaining time and again that selfishness and emotion only bring endless karmic suffering. If one can truly detach from all worldly ties, a single Buddha-name is enough to attain rebirth in the Western Land. People of the world, do not remain obsessed and continue to suffer! Every word of the Buddha’s teachings pierces through the human heart. In the moment of awakening, you will realise that you have been wasting your time. You must cherish your remaining days and strive to break free from the dust of attachment. Namo Amituofo."

This interview was recorded and written by the chief writer, Buddhist disciple Shi Fajing.