The Boy Who Brought Light

This is a record of an interview with Dai Guang, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land. This account reflects upon his life approximately 720 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on May 13, 2019.

Dai Guang speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. My mother named me Dai Guang, which means 'Bringing Light'. And truly, I did bring light! The moment I was born, the entire room was filled with a brilliant golden light. My whole family was absolutely dumbfounded; no one had ever witnessed such a sight. It wasn't just the room that radiated light; my own body emitted a faint, pure fragrance. This scent drifted into every corner of our home, and no matter where I went, people could smell that elegant, delicate aroma."

A Childhood of Joy and Poverty

"At the time of my birth, our family consisted of my parents, my grandparents, and my five older brothers. My father bore the weight of the entire family's expenses on his shoulders. He lived in constant fear that if he lost his job, we would all be left with nothing to eat. He worked with such trembling caution, never daring to slack off for even a moment. My mother was a virtuous wife and a loving mother. She didn't have any special skills, just the typical duties of a housewife, but whatever she did, she did it with excellence. Take cooking, for example—she could prepare meals that suited everyone's taste perfectly, leaving us all praising her food and unable to get enough. Our neighbours would often marvel at how she managed the household. Even though we had very little money, she somehow kept all six of us children plump and healthy, looking as if we belonged to a wealthy family."

"We six children were the treasures of the house, and Mother affectionately called me 'Light Treasure'. From the moment I was born, I was incredibly lively and cheerful. Whether it was my family or anyone who spent time with me, they were all infected by my laughter. They could feel the joy in my heart and couldn't help but burst into laughter along with me. I don't know why, but I loved to laugh from a very young age. Nothing could make me sad. Even when Mother disciplined me with a stick, I would quickly return to my smiling self. In my life, nothing was more important than laughter."

The Agony of the Abscess

"When I was four years old, a massive abscess grew on the sole of my foot. It was as large as an egg. I could barely walk, as I only had one foot to support my weight. Beyond the constant oozing of pus, it throbbed with a dull, persistent pain. No matter how many herbs Mother applied or how many doctors she brought to treat me, the abscess showed no signs of improvement; in fact, it only grew larger and more swollen. A neighbour told my mother, 'If you don't get that abscess healed, he might lose the use of his entire leg.' Hearing this, Mother grew increasingly anxious. She worried that I would be crippled at such a young age, not only making life difficult but perhaps leading to ridicule from others, or even preventing me from finding a wife when I grew up. The more she thought about it, the more panicked she became. Fortunately, a kind stranger told her, 'Don't worry. Just look at your son’s face—you can tell he is a person of tremendous blessings. This foot will surely heal. Perhaps before long, a noble person will come to save him.' Only after hearing these words did my mother’s long-troubled heart find some peace."

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The Path to True Liberation