This is a record of an interview with Hua Fan, a venerable being who lived approximately 4,200 years ago. He sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia and now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his early life and his search for the nature of purity. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on February 1, 2020.
Venerable Hua Fan speaks:
". I am Hua Fan. Looking back at the sky of my youth, it was a vast, clear expanse, devoid of even a single white cloud—a state of absolute, empty purity. Then, a breeze would stir, drifting a few clouds into view. In that moment, the emptiness was no longer purely empty; it was occupied. As the clouds shifted and danced across the horizon, the scene changed constantly. Only when the wind finally swept the clouds away did the brilliant azure return. But I often wondered: was the sky that remained truly the same 'empty purity' as before?
The Illusion of the Empty Sky
I would sit quietly beneath the trees, my heart yearning for that true purity. But when, I asked myself, does one ever truly attain it? My father approached me from behind and asked, 'Have you attained purity?' I shook my head, admitting, 'I cannot even grasp the edges of it.' He patted my shoulder and said, 'Purity is formless, colourless, and soundless. Yet, one could also say that purity is full of form, colour, and sound. In this sense, every manifestation in this world is, in its essence, purity.' I stared at him, bewildered, unable to comprehend his meaning. He continued, 'If your heart actively seeks purity, you will never find it. Only when there is no seeking, no thought, and no intention, does purity naturally reveal itself.'
I scratched my head, even more confused. 'What does that mean?' I asked. He smiled and replied, 'A heart that does not move is purity. If you are in the midst of a moving world—where people, events, time, places, and objects are all in constant flux—and you can remain unmoved, that is true purity; that is meditative concentration.' I began to understand, using the sky as my metaphor: 'The cloudless sky is one kind of purity. When the wind brings clouds, the scene changes. Is it still pure? Yes, it is. Whether one cloud drifts by, or two, or if the blue sky is suddenly swallowed by storm clouds and torrential rain, as long as my heart does not move, purity remains purity. My heart always dwells within that purity.' My father nodded, 'That is indeed true, but the depth and breadth of purity go far beyond such simple analogies. As your heart becomes purer, you will realise the profound mysteries of purity, which cannot be easily explained through words or metaphors alone.'
The Footprints of Reality
I turned to ask him another question, but he had already walked away. I looked at the footprints he left in the mud and thought to myself: these marks will not last long. After the afternoon rain, they will be washed away, and the earth will return to its original state. Are these footprints real, or are they an illusion? The answer is that they are both. Their current existence seems real, but after the rain, they become an illusion. Whether real or illusory, the essence remains unchanged—it is all emptiness.
I walked into the forest, where the animals moved freely past me. I asked an elephant, 'You are all heading in that direction; where are you going?' The elephant stopped, turned to look at me, and flicked its long trunk. 'Soon,' it replied, 'a light will descend from the heavens. We are walking toward the place where it will appear.' I asked, 'What kind of light is that? What can it do?' The elephant said, 'We do not know what it is, but we believe it is a light that can save us. It is incredibly bright—a golden light! The sensitive antelope told everyone that the light would surely appear again today, so we are all heading that way, hoping to see it and be delivered.' After speaking, the elephant turned and continued forward, and the other animals followed in a long procession. Watching them, I joined the line, becoming one of them, filled with anticipation to see that light.
The Call of the Golden Light
We traversed the infinitely layered forest, and the path ahead grew brighter and brighter. The animals in front became increasingly excited, calling out, 'The golden light is appearing! The golden light is appearing!' The pace of the procession quickened, and I hurried along with them, my heart racing with expectation. Finally, we emerged from the forest into a vast, boundless grassland. The sky truly descended with a golden light—it was so bright, so brilliant, yet gentle and not blinding at all! The animals walked directly under the radiance, letting the golden light illuminate their bodies. But all too soon, the light vanished. Every animal wore an expression of profound loss. After waiting a while longer, and confirming it would not return, they dispersed, one by one.
I returned home to find my father in the courtyard, scooping the pulp from the fruits he had gathered into stone vessels, preparing our evening meal. I approached him and asked, 'Father, a golden light appeared in the forest. Have you ever seen it?' He looked up and said, 'I have. It is a gentle golden light that appears in our village from time to time. Some say it is people from other realms visiting us, and because their bodies are golden, they bring this light. Others say it is a light that can save people—that if you are taken by it, you can go to a world as bright as the light itself. Still others claim it is an illusion, merely sunlight interacting with nature to create a golden glow. There are many theories, but no one truly knows what it is. I do not know either, but I have seen it, and it is truly beautiful.'
The Inevitable Suffering of Existence
I asked him, 'Why does everyone, including every animal, look at this light with such longing to be saved? Is life in this world not good?' My father set down his tools and stood up. 'Look at what I am doing,' he said. I glanced at the fruit on the ground. 'You are preparing our dinner,' I replied. He nodded. 'Exactly. You see, we live in this world and require food to sustain our lives. Every day, we struggle just to survive. If we cannot find what we need, suffers. Take hunger, for example—the body endures much through that alone.' I argued, 'But we can simply gather fruits and vegetables from the forest, or find water. Is it not easy to satisfy the body's needs?'
My father shook his head. 'Our bodies are not so simple. Once we eat the fruit, we crave something better. Even if our physical needs are met, we crave affection, we crave wealth; desires are never truly extinguished. This is where we suffer the most.' I asked, 'If a person lives simply and has few desires, would they still suffer?' He replied, 'As long as you have this body, there is suffering. This body ages, it weakens, it decays, and it falls ill. Once illness strikes, the body suffers immensely, and in the end, one must face the fear and pain of death.' As he spoke, I began to understand. In our village, many children died within days of birth from hunger, cold, or sickness. Others reached a certain age only to be plagued by chronic pain. And then there is a kind of suffering that acts like an invisible killer—silent and formless, yet it occupies every person's heart: the suffering of emotion. Families are bound by blood and tied together by deep affection. Because of this, they worry for one another and fret over each other. Even when separated by great distances, they remain tethered by concern. Life could be simple and pure, but because of these attachments, it becomes complicated and impure. The body ages under this weight, and people often do not even realise they are suffering every single day. The animals are the same; they are only different in form. If you were to strip away their outer skins, you would find that inside, they are exactly like us.'
I asked, 'Father, do you suffer?' He smiled and said, 'Life is suffering, but I hope to be free from it.' I asked in surprise, 'How can one be free from suffering?' He answered, 'As long as the heart does not move, there is no suffering. We suffer because our hearts are moved. Once the heart is still, once it is concentrated and pure, where could suffering possibly come from?' I was still puzzled. 'I am your child,' I said. 'Though not born of your blood, you are like a true father to me. I feel your love and your meticulous care. But how can you be unmoved? If you truly do not move your heart, does that mean you will stop caring for me, or stop loving me?' He laughed softly. 'Silly child, I will always be your father, and you will always be my child. The relationship between us will not change; we can still care for one another, and I will still look after you with all my heart. The only difference is that my heart remains unmoved.' Namo Amituofo."
At night, I would lie on the grass with my father beside me. I pointed to the starry sky and asked, "Father, what are those tiny, shimmering specks?" Father replied, "Never underestimate those small points; every single one is a vast world!" Hearing this, I began to count: "One, two, three, four, five... Father, there are too many! I cannot count them all. How can so many great worlds exist?" Father smiled and said, "Exactly! At the very moment we breathe, others are breathing just like us. When we are happy, others are happy too, yet at the same time, some are suffering. When we complain, others are perfectly content with what they have. There are worlds within worlds, and worlds beyond worlds. If one only sees oneself in this life, one is truly insignificant." His words gave me much to reflect upon. So, the world is this vast! So many people exist simultaneously! I asked, "If having a body is suffering, does that mean everyone in this world is suffering?" Father answered, "If everyone spins in their own little circle, forever seeing only themselves, then that is indeed suffering." I asked curiously, "Then how does one step out of that circle?" Father said, "Forget yourself." His words seemed to awaken me, yet they also left me puzzled; I felt as if I understood, yet it remained unclear. Why did I feel this way? Seeing me deep in thought, Father told me, "Stop thinking. When you truly let go of yourself, you don't need to think about anything. You will naturally possess the great Wisdom to handle all things." I listened to his advice, ceased my thinking, and let everything return to a state of natural ease.
The Simplicity of Existence
My father and I lived on a vast prairie, with the nearest household far, far away. Unless one travelled a great distance, one would never encounter another soul. Our lives consisted only of my father and me, along with the animals of the grasslands and forests. Life was that simple. The word "Pure" was taught to me by my father. Had he not told me, I would never have known that purity could exist in my heart at any moment, provided my heart remained unmoved. The life I pursued was one of total surrender to nature—a state where there are no expectations or hopes, which is true freedom and liberation.
The Changing World
I lived a carefree life every day until I turned fifteen. Father said to me, "Go and see the world outside! This world has changed. It is the change in human hearts that has made the world different." Hearing this, I did not fully grasp his meaning. Father asked me to try and calm my heart even further. I followed his instructions, and soon, many images appeared before me. I saw a world filled with people in total chaos; fear, panic, helplessness, and terror were etched upon their faces. I looked up, and the sky was no longer blue, but filled with dark, sorrowful clouds. I asked Father, "What is happening?" He told me, "The world is like this now. We have lived in this pure land, isolated from the outside, so we were unaware that the world had become this way." I asked, "Why let me know only now?" Father replied, "Before today, you lacked the ability to change this world. But after today, you possess the capacity. You may choose to change this world, or you may choose to continue living your own life of freedom and ease."
The Call to Save
My heart, which had been calm for so long, was stirred. I sat by the river, lost in thought. Father asked, "Why is your heart moved?" I replied, "Why are the people in the world so miserable? I feel sad for them." Father said, "Only when your heart remains unmoved can you truly help them." I stopped thinking and let everything return to purity. I realized that the world did not need one more person to be sad; it needed one more person to reach out and save everyone.
I bid farewell to my father. For fifteen years, we were a loving father and son, friends who supported one another, and two independent individuals. We could talk for hours or say nothing at all; either way was fine. The only thing we could not do was become emotionally attached to each other. That is true freedom—great liberation. Even when I decided to leave my father at fifteen to travel far away, our hearts remained unmoved. We knew that living in this world, we are inherently independent beings. Being together was a good relationship, and parting was also a form of perfect companionship. We did not dwell on each other, but only on the suffering of the people in the world. Only by finding a way to save everyone could this heart be truly at ease and joyful.
The Search for Golden Light
I continued to strive to find the Golden Light, believing it truly existed—a power to rescue human hearts. But where was this Golden Light? I had nowhere to look. I walked and walked, through towering mountains, across streams, and over great rivers. Is the path of life easy or difficult? I seemed to understand more and more that it all lies within one's own heart. When I reached the end of the road, which was a cliff, I did not sigh. Instead, I sat down peacefully, watching the clouds rise and fall. My heart remained in a state of calm, yet I knew clearly that everyone was still suffering.
The Miracle of
After crossing mountain after mountain, I finally stopped at a place because I saw the Golden Light again. It did not descend from the sky; it radiated from an old man. I stood in the distance, watching him bend down to gather wild vegetables. His whole body was glowing. I had never seen such a person. What... what was going on? I walked toward him, intending to ask why he was like this, but after I rounded a bend, the old man had vanished. I searched everywhere but could not find him. Finally, I decided to settle there, waiting for the moment he would reappear.
Although I had no tools, I could still use stones to split wood into the sizes and shapes I needed. This skill was taught to me by my father, as the place where we lived was also like a wilderness. All life skills were not learned from the outside, but derived from the wisdom in our minds, allowing us to live the simplest and most convenient life. No matter how harsh the environment, nothing could hinder my heart. My heart remained firm, waiting for the appearance of the old man—the moment I would find the Golden Light to save people.
In life, there is no poverty or wealth; the distinction between them is merely a product of the human heart. My life required no desire, only ease and . How could there be a distinction between poverty and wealth? I lit a lamp—a lamp of the heart. The heart is always bright; in its purity, there is not a single dark corner. It is joy that truly springs from within.
The Power of Pure Intent
One day, the mountain where I lived suddenly caught fire. The flames spread rapidly, and thick smoke covered my vision. I could not see ahead and was choking, unable to breathe. Although my life was in danger, I disregarded my own safety and focused my mental note on extinguishing the fire, solely to save the immeasurable creatures in the mountain. When my pure intent combined with the power and vow to save others, heavy rain suddenly fell from the sky, and the forest fire was quickly extinguished. I looked at the charred forest and sighed with sorrow for those poor creatures. The old man appeared. He stood before me and waved his hand. The forest instantly returned to its original state; the withered grass turned green, wild flowers bloomed, and the barren land was once again lush and vibrant. I marveled at this miracle, wondering, "What is this all about?" The old man said, "It is you who changed all of this."
The Eternal Truth
Through the old man's guidance, I finally understood that true pure intent exists only within compassion, and within pure intent, one must also have the vow to save others. I sat in the forest, and the old man took my spirit on a journey. I traveled through the universe, and when I saw that Golden Light, I finally understood that it had never disappeared. It had always existed in the universe. It was the Truth—indestructible and eternal.
I taught the according to the Truth, and my heart gradually returned to the One. That One is unchanging, yet it encompasses all changes. What is unchanging is the heart seeking liberation; what changes is the teaching of sentient beings according to Causal Conditions. I heard the Buddha’s teachings in the universe. Although I have not yet been able to convey the Buddha’s teachings completely to the world, I have enabled those I have saved to understand that the final destination is where the Golden Light resides. As long as the heart is upright, the intent is focused, and every thought is of the Buddha—of the compassion to save others—the Golden Light is right before one's eyes, and the light is the eternal home. I am grateful for the compassion of the Buddha.
The Great Deliverance
Practitioner Su’s performs for all spirits, coming from the universe, the void, and the Ten Directions of the Dharma Realm. Countless sentient beings are spread throughout space, so dense that one cannot see them all at a glance, yet after Practitioner Su’s Dharma Body waves his hand, they are all saved. His compassion and mind-capacity are fully manifested in this deliverance. Where the Buddha walks, there is no sickness, no suffering, and no sorrow. Beings attain liberation, gain joy, and leave suffering behind. This is true great compassion—not dwelling on the mistakes sentient beings have committed, but seeing that they have no one to teach them, and thus enabling them to attain the Way and be reborn.
In this desolate human world where the Buddha’s teachings are in decline, it is rare for people to hear this Dharma. They do not know the preciousness of the true Dharma and still use their obstructed knowledge—filled with scriptures and theories—to look down upon the great Dharma being transmitted today. They do not know that the Buddha’s teachings do not merely flow from the past; it is because the hearts of beings in this Dharma-Ending Age have changed and become different. If the Dharma is to enter their hearts, the Dharma must also enable their hearts to become clear. Amitabha Buddha transmits the Dharma to the world, and Practitioner Su’s heart is in sync—in sync with the Buddha’s heart to save the world—thereby allowing the Buddha to dwell in the world. This is a single thread, a single lineage of transmission. Immeasurable sentient beings are waiting for this opportunity, seeking the Buddha’s help to be liberated and brought to the Western Pure Land.
Whether sentient beings truly have clarity in their hearts depends on whether they diligently hear the Dharma. If one wishes to truly be liberated from the suffering of reincarnation, one must not let spiritual obstacles cover up one's own clarity. Practitioner Su leads the masses in teaching the Dharma. Regardless of how deep the sins sentient beings have created, he teaches with a single heart, wishing only that all beings hear the Dharma, openly repent, and each attain liberation and salvation. Hua Fan and I express our gratitude to Practitioner Su on behalf of all beings. We clearly see that immeasurable and boundless beings have been able to be liberated from the karmic suffering of immeasurable eons only through Practitioner Su, and only now have the opportunity to be reborn in the Goodness realms. We are truly endlessly grateful.
Gratitude to Practitioner Su for his compassionate salvation of the world.
Namo Amituofo.
This interview message was recorded by the chief writer, Buddhist disciple Shi Fajing.
