The Grass Beside the Reservoir: A Soul's Journey

This is a record of an interview with Hsueh Mei-fang, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. She now resides in the Western Land of Dharma Nature. This account reflects upon her life as a human and her subsequent forty years as a blade of grass near the Techi Reservoir. Recorded by the chief writer, Venerable HaiZe, on April 26, 2021.

Hsueh Mei-fang speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Hsueh Mei-fang, and I was once a blade of grass beside the famous Techi Reservoir in central Taiwan. I spent many, many springs, summers, autumns, and winters there. Because the land and the air were always filled with moisture, I always felt refreshed and cool; I never had to worry about a lack of water. I was good friends with the surrounding grass, the stones, and even the trees on the mountainside. Some were older than me, and some were younger.

A Desperate Struggle for Survival

I do not know when it started, but my whole body began to heat up. I realised that I had not been nourished by rain for a very long time. I felt weak and could not hold my leaf-body upright. I hung my head in despair, and only then did I realise how vital rain was to me. I looked up at the sky, remembering how, when it used to rain, I would open every pore on my leaves to drink the water, letting it nourish my entire body and wash away the dust. After the rain passed, I would be a vibrant, green blade of grass again. I felt full of vitality, and my healthy roots gave me the strength to absorb moisture from the soil. I grew straight and tall, feeling that I was the most vibrant and healthy plant in the entire area.

I never looked down on myself. I loved to smile and sway with the natural winds, allowing myself to survive in the wild. My friends around me used to call me the 'everlasting grass' because I could live for a very long time without dying. But I never expected that during this period of drought, with the sun shining hot and bright upon the earth day after day, I would feel so lethargic. It was the first time I felt despair for my life, yet I did not die; I just lingered on. Looking at the flowers, plants, and trees around me, my dear friends, they were in a similar state, or even worse. Some had already collapsed. I thought to myself: 'Has my life truly reached its end?'

The Light in the Darkness

Days and nights passed, one after another. I do not know how much time had gone by. On one dark night, as I hung my head in despair and breathed with difficulty, I suddenly saw a patch of light. I heard the flowers and trees around me gasping in wonder. I did not have the strength to lift my head, but I could hear the chanting of 'Namo Amituofo' in my ears, and I felt a warm sensation on my body. I found it very strange. It was the middle of the night, so how could there be a light that felt like sunshine, yet even more comfortable? Just as I was thinking this, the light vanished, and the chanting stopped. My excitement plummeted to the bottom of my heart. I thought, 'I must be dreaming.' The next night, the same thing happened again. The sound of the Buddha-name and the Buddha-light felt so familiar, yet I could not figure out what it was. This time, although I still lacked the strength to lift my head, my heart followed the chanting: 'Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo.'

When the Buddha-light shone on me again, I suddenly recalled a memory from a long, long time ago. When I was a child, I had heard my grandmother chanting this very name, and she held a string of prayer beads in her hand. I remember curiously taking the beads from her, learning to press my hands together over them, and chanting 'Namo Amituofo.' Grandmother told me that Namo Amituofo was the Buddha, and that if we chanted 'Namo Amituofo' often, the Buddha would protect us. She also said she had asked the Buddha to take good care of me because I was her precious granddaughter—cute and sensible—and she prayed for the Buddha to bless my studies and keep me healthy. As I thought of this, I could not help but shed tears. I missed my grandmother, and I felt so sorry for her, seeing the state I was in now.

Awakening to the Past

When I came to my senses, everything around me was silent. I felt very strange. Why would I think of the past, of the time when I was a human? I had forgotten all about that. Ever since I became a blade of grass, I only knew myself as grass. I had never thought about my human life before. Why was I remembering it now? Was it because of the Buddha-name and the Buddha-light? I was still lethargic and listless, but I was surprised to find that my mind was so clear! I knew the sun was rising, shining on the earth, then setting, and the night arriving. I felt the cool breeze blowing, causing me to sway left and right, followed by the deep night. I was perfectly aware of all of this.

I did not rest that day. My heart was waiting for the arrival of the Buddha-name and the Buddha-light, hoping the Buddha would not let me down. Finally, the surrounding plants gasped again. I was nearly at my limit, drifting into a stupor, but the gasps of my friends woke me up. I returned to the memory of waiting for the Buddha. Indeed, the Buddha did not disappoint me. The chanting and the light were so clear. I followed along, chanting 'Namo Amituofo,' and the Buddha-light shone upon me once more. This time, I finally understood: it was truly the Buddha-name and the Buddha-light that restored my memories, allowing me to know what had happened when I was a human.

The Final Breath

In my heart, I thanked the Buddha. I was grateful that, at the very end of my life, I was allowed to know of my past—that I had been a human and to remember what had occurred. At that moment, gratitude replaced my helplessness, sadness, and frustration. I knew I had no power to save my life; it was at its end, and I was gasping for my last breath. I knew my roots were still there, but they had been scorched dry. There was no moisture left, and the surrounding soil was so parched that my roots could absorb nothing. Even if there had been water, I think my roots were already damaged and withered, unable to support my body. So, I remained there, head bowed in weakness.

I knew the day had dawned. Suddenly, rain began to fall from the sky. I heard the flowers, plants, and trees gasping in wonder again and again. It felt like a dream. Was this real? The little flower next to me told me, 'It's real! It's really raining!' Even Uncle Tree called out, 'It's raining! It's raining! Everyone, wake up!' I felt everyone truly waking up. I even heard them greedily drinking the rain. I wanted to be like them, just as I used to be—to open every pore on my leaves and drink the rain to my heart's content. I tried so hard, so very hard, but I found that my whole body was truly powerless. I could not muster a single bit of strength. As the rain hit me, I could only let it slide off my body. I shed tears of emotion again; at least at the end of my life, I could be nourished by the rain one last time. The rain continued to fall, and the soil happily drank its fill, but my roots could no longer absorb the moisture like before. I could not stand tall and strong in the soft mud. I felt my roots soaking in the water, but I felt no joy, for my body had been beaten down by the rain, lying limp on the earth. Although the rain was not heavy, to me, it felt like a flood. I knew that I was no longer a green blade of grass, but a withered one with only a hint of green. I looked up at the sky and breathed my last.

A New Beginning at Hsiang Kuang

At that moment, I felt a warm Buddha-light shining upon me. My spirit drifted out and entered the light, which brought me to this place. I was astonished to find that I had been restored to my human form. I cried out, 'Heavens! How did I become like this?' Just then, a tall figure with a powerful voice told me, 'This is the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre. You shall stay here for now.' I looked around quietly. This place was so bright, so very bright. My heart calmed down, and in that calmness, there was a hint of anticipation. I did not know what would happen next. Over these recent days, I have experienced many things, and my thoughts have returned to the bits and pieces of my past.

I was born in Taichung, with parents, an older brother, and an older sister. I was the youngest, the third child. There was an eight-year age gap between my sister and me. I was fair and chubby, so I was doted on by my family. If there was something delicious to eat or drink, besides my own portion, I would always get an extra one because my family knew I loved to eat and drink, and they would compete to give me theirs. But because I could not eat or drink that much, they would take turns giving it to me. Today it was Father, next it was Mother, then my brother, then my sister. I always had an endless supply of food and drink. Everyone said I was very blessed, and I felt the same.

The Turning Point

I was smart from a young age and quick-witted. From kindergarten through primary school, my grades were always at the top. At that time, one had to pass an exam to enter middle school, and I entered with excellent results. Back then, I wore a 'watermelon' haircut and a pleated skirt, burying myself in books all day. I went back and forth between school and home, studying late into the night at school before returning home to shower and collapse into bed. I would wake up at four in the morning to study, hurriedly eat the breakfast Mother cooked, and rush to school for morning self-study. This routine lasted from my first year of middle school until I graduated from the third year, and even then, I had to return to school for self-study until I finally relaxed after being accepted into high school. Over those three years, I took countless quizzes, major exams, and mock tests. Finally, after the high school results were posted, I learned I had been accepted into a prestigious girls' high school in Taichung. I was so happy, and everyone was happy for me. The hard work of those three years had not been in vain; it was a bountiful harvest! That summer, I had the most relaxing holiday of my life, staying at my grandmother's house in the countryside for a while. Grandmother was a devout practitioner who chanted the Buddha's name. She took me to the temple to kowtow and thank the Buddha. She said the Buddha had heard her prayers and allowed her precious granddaughter to get into a good school. It was then that I first heard 'Namo Amituofo,' and I joined my grandmother at the temple's chanting assembly to chant together.

After returning home, I began my busy high school life. The school once had a field trip to the reservoir to observe its dynamics, and I wrote a study report on it. One day, I suddenly felt dizzy and fainted at school. The school contacted my parents to take me to the hospital. After a series of tests, I saw that my parents' faces were filled with sorrow. I also felt that my own body was burning, and I had no strength; I could not even bring myself to read. I went back and forth to the hospital many times. I knew something was wrong with my body, but I dared not ask. I took a long leave from school. When I was hospitalised, every time my brother and sister came, they would always tell me, 'It's nothing! It's nothing!' But in my heart, I knew: 'It is something! It is something!' And it was a big deal. Finally, my parents told me the truth: I had cancer and needed long-term hospitalisation. It was like a bolt from the blue, and my life suddenly entered a world of darkness.

My body grew worse and worse. My mouth was ulcerated, and my stomach ached. I did not want this kind of life. I stopped talking and became silent. From the conversations between the doctors and nurses, I knew my situation was not good, and my whole body was in great pain. I began to miss the happy times of my childhood. My family took turns caring for me. One night, my breathing became very laboured; I could not catch my breath. I knew the doctors were trying to resuscitate me. At that moment, I felt great pain, and I lost consciousness. In my delirium, I suddenly thought of the reservoir I had visited during the field trip, and the lush green grass on the mountainside. I had admired their resilient vitality! Their image appeared before me, swaying freely and easily in the wind. I knew my heart was focused on that blade of grass. When I woke up, I discovered that I had become that blade of grass. Since then, I have lived the life of a blade of grass, and forty years have passed until now.

Gratitude and Hope

Suddenly, the sound of lessons being taught in the air pulled my thoughts back. I listened quietly and discovered that there were many, many spirits around me. At that moment, I was a spirit just like everyone else. After listening to the lessons a few times, I finally understood: the Buddha-light that had appeared in the night was Practitioner Su—whom everyone calls 'Grandma'—bringing Namo Amituofo, Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, and Mahasthamaprapta Bodhisattva to pray for rain for Taiwan's drought. Every morning, she performs Chao Du for the wandering spirits of Taiwan. Only after this deliverance and purification could it rain, and only then could we receive the rain, which fell exactly where it was needed most—the reservoirs. That is why I am here now, preparing to be interviewed.

All these changes happened so quickly! And Grandma even sent us to the Western Land of Dharma Nature at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre to wait. This is such a fragrant, beautiful place. I sit on a soft, comfortable lotus, listening to Grandma teach, telling stories of Namo Amituofo and the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I also learned that it was Grandma who opened up our space, allowing me to emerge from the space of a blade of grass and be brought here by the Buddha-light. It was also Grandma who restored us to our original human forms. All of this really feels like a dream. It is something never taught in books, and I had never heard of it before, yet I have experienced it personally.

I am truly a lucky blade of grass, and a lucky spirit. Now that I have been interviewed, I am so looking forward to Grandma taking us to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. That is where I will live in the future. I am so grateful! So grateful! I am Hsueh Mei-fang, and I offer my most sincere gratitude for everything that has happened! Thank you all.

Memorial Tablet: All earthly creatures, soil, mud, sand, insects, flowers, plants, and trees harmed by the rain in central Taiwan and the Techi Reservoir area, as well as the wandering spirits and earthly beings connected by karmic affinity to the blade of grass Hsueh Mei-fang, may all receive deliverance, without count. Representative: The blade of grass Hsueh Mei-fang (clothes removed, restored to original form).

Entered the Western Land of Dharma Nature at Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre.