The Illusion of Purity and the Path to Liberation

Du Huizi, a woman who lived during the Tang Dynasty, sought to escape the societal constraints of her era through the practice of the Dharma. After a life of misguided spiritual pursuit, she spent centuries as a lotus flower before serving as a prison guard in the hells. This interview, recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fajing, on November 11, 2023, details her eventual deliverance to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss by Practitioner Su.

Du Huizi speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I have been waiting for this day for such a long time, and today, it has finally arrived. I am filled with gratitude to the compassionate Practitioner Su for leading us sixty prison guards to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Every one of us is moved to tears, for the cycle of reincarnation is truly filled with such immense suffering. Now that we have arrived in the Western Land, it signifies that our cycle of reincarnation has finally come to an end. Our hearts are overflowing with emotion, joy, and gratitude. One by one, we kneel before the Buddha, offering our deepest thanks to the compassionate Namo Amituofo and to the compassionate Practitioner Su.

In that lifetime, I was a woman born during the Tang Dynasty.

The Burden of Expectations

What was a woman expected to do in those days? From a young age, my parents instilled in me the belief that my only path was to marry a reliable man, stay at home, perform household chores, serve my parents-in-law, and raise children. However, I always felt that a woman’s life did not necessarily have to be defined by these things. Did a woman truly have to find a man to marry? Could she not choose to remain unmarried?

When these thoughts began to surface, I once let them slip while accompanying my mother to a tailor shop. Her reaction was one of immediate anxiety. I saw her expression shift from focused contemplation of fabrics to intense alarm. Her eyes widened as she stared at me, demanding, 'What did you just say? You do not want to marry?' Seeing her so agitated and shocked, I quickly backtracked: 'It is nothing, Mother. Just pretend I said nothing at all.'

A Rebellion Against Fate

I knew my mother would not let the matter rest. She was the type to get to the bottom of things, and even though I claimed it was nothing, she sensed that something was wrong. My expression and demeanor had betrayed me; she felt a scent of defiance that she was determined to resolve to her satisfaction before she could find peace.

Shortly after that day, my mother began arranging matchmaking sessions. She brought forward several young men, all from families of equal social standing. Some of these young masters had pursued me in the past, but I had no interest in romance. No matter how they courted me or offered their favours, I remained unmoved. When the news spread that I was finally looking for a husband, those who had long desired me swarmed in. I sat in our living room for an entire day, meeting over twenty men. It was an excruciating experience.

When my mother asked if any of them had caught my eye, I shook my head. No matter what she asked, I only shook my head. My heart was not in romance, and these meetings were a form of torture. Seeing my silence, she stopped asking, but I knew she had already made up her mind. Even without my consent, she had decided on a suitor and was secretly negotiating the betrothal with his family.

Seeking the Dharma

I felt as though my life were a mere plaything. How could it be that my own desires and choices meant nothing? My rebellious nature took hold, and I decided to fight for my own life. The night before the formal proposal was to take place, I slipped away from home, leaving only a letter asking my parents not to worry, as I could take care of myself.

I had arranged for a carriage to wait nearby. Once the cover of night arrived, we sped away from the town, heading toward a distant place where no one would know me. I had always felt a deep affinity for the Buddha’s teachings. Whenever I passed a temple and caught a glimpse of the Buddha statues inside, my heart would feel a sense of stability and peace. I longed to walk the path of practice, yet I knew my family would never permit it. To save my own life, I chose to ignore their arrangements and followed the yearning in my heart, seeking refuge in a temple to begin a life of practice.

The Trap of External Purity

My goal was to become a nun. Before taking that step, I gave myself a period of training to strengthen my resolve. During this time, I kept myself incredibly busy. I never slowed down; I worked constantly and practised with diligence, wanting to see exactly what I was capable of.

I knew that practice required purification, so I strove to purify myself. However, one day, a master in the temple suddenly said to me, 'Purification is natural; it is not an attachment.' I was stunned. Why would he say that to me as he passed by?

In my quest for a pure heart, I had become attached to the external appearance of purity. I kept my clothes neat and tidy, and I maintained a dignified manner of speech and behaviour. My focus was entirely on these external forms, while my inner reality remained far from true purity. I held onto my own subjective opinions very strongly; I valued my own decisions and thoughts above all else. Even when others in the temple offered advice, I insisted on my own way. Just as the master had kindly tried to guide me, I ignored his words and continued to pursue my own version of purity.

The Lotus Flower Existence

I never left the temple in that lifetime. I donated all my wealth to the temple and served there wholeheartedly, eventually becoming a Bhikkhuni. But was my heart truly pure? I thought it was, but in truth, it was not. I was too attached to my own body, my own concepts, and my own ideas, which prevented me from truly absorbing the sutras the master taught. My mental note was constantly in need of correction, yet I could not listen to others.

Under such conditions, although my appearance seemed clean—leading many to mistake my heart for being pure—I remained trapped by my own thinking. My practice was not complete. Despite the serene environment of the temple, which made my face appear more refined than it had been in the secular world, my heart was not thoroughly cleansed. At the end of my life, I did not reach the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Instead, following my blind attachment to the concept of purity, I became a white lotus flower.

The first lotus flower my spirit entered bloomed in the pond outside the main hall of the temple. I was one of the white lotuses in that pond. I was not conscious of entering the space of a white lotus; I remained entirely within my own attached thoughts, completely unaware of where I was, what I was doing, or what suffering I was enduring. My spirit simply drifted with the blooming and fading of the flowers, moving from one lotus space to another.

Awakening Through the Buddha-Name

Over a hundred years passed. I did not spend all that time in the temple pond; I existed as a white lotus in various places. The final lotus bloomed in the home of a young boy. I was the first white lotus to bloom in his pond. When the boy saw me, he was overjoyed. He ran inside to tell his parents, 'The white lotus in the pond has a bud! Soon we will see a pure, white lotus flower.' His parents, knowing how much he had been looking forward to it, were also happy.

On the day I bloomed, the boy sat by the pond and spoke to me at length. He told me that when he grew up, he wanted to become a monk because he had been learning the Buddha’s teachings since he was small. When the boy chanted the Buddha-name for me, I finally woke up from the lotus space. Only then did I realise I had become a white lotus, though I had no idea how much time had passed.

The boy’s heart was truly pure—so pure that he could see my existence. To help me, he sat by the pond every day and shared the Buddha’s teachings with me. I took every word he said to heart, and I felt immense remorse. My practice had failed because of my own attachments and subjectivity. Now, I knew I had to change. With the boy’s help, I sincerely repented.

Deliverance to the West

One day, the boy chanted the Buddha-name with me. In the sound of that chanting, I departed from the lotus space. However, I did not immediately go to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Instead, I entered the Yama Hall of the hells and was assigned the role of a prison guard, serving within the hells.

During my time in the hells, I never forgot to chant the Buddha-name, nor did I forget to practice. The difference was that I had lost my human body, and many things I could once do were no longer possible. Yet, I was grateful that I could still share the Buddha’s teachings with others and help them recognise the Buddha.

When I heard Practitioner Su giving Dharma talks in the hells, I was shocked. First, I was shocked that Practitioner Su’s voice could reach the hells, and then I was amazed at how he could explain the Buddha’s teachings so deeply, thoroughly, and yet so simply. If only I had heard Practitioner Su’s talks earlier, perhaps I would have had the chance to be saved and would not have entered the space of the white lotus.

To ensure that others would not have to suffer the same regrets as I did, I began to share the sutras Practitioner Su taught, so that all the inmates and officials in the hells could hear them. Finally, I was placed on the list of those to be led to the Western Land by Practitioner Su. I was so surprised to have such an opportunity! I was overjoyed—it was the place I had dreamed of, a place I could never have reached by my own power. Now, guided by the Dharma Body of Practitioner Su, I arrived in the Western Land in an instant. I am so moved, so grateful. I will certainly practise with diligence and make a vow to help all beings."

— Du Huizi