The Journey of Rebirth and Liberation

This is a record of an interview with Kanchira, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life approximately 2,000 years ago and his subsequent journey through the cycle of rebirth. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa Jing, on April 12, 2019.

Kanchira speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Kanchira. My story begins in a land far removed from the light of the Buddha’s teachings, a place defined by crushing poverty and the rigid, cold laws of a king. While the laws kept the people from open rebellion, they could not touch the deep, gnawing restlessness, the profound insecurity, and the utter helplessness that lived in the hearts of every single person there.

When my mother was pregnant with me, she was consumed by a deep, hollow depression. We had nothing. My parents had already lost six children to the harshness of our existence, and my mother’s body was so frail that another pregnancy felt like a death sentence. Yet, after many long, silent nights of discussion, my father and mother decided to let me live. I remember the stories they told—of my mother sitting in a chair, her hands trembling as she rested them on her belly, her eyes scanning our home. It was a home in name only; just four walls standing against the wind. Even the water in our teapot was nearly gone, leaving only a few drops. She truly did not know how she would keep me alive, or how she would even survive the birth herself.

A Fragile Beginning in a World of Despair

My father returned home early one day, his shoulders slumped in defeat. When my mother asked why he was back so soon, he simply said, 'There is no work to be found.' A heavy silence filled the room, a silence that felt like a shroud. I arrived into this world ten months later, but I was so small—barely larger than a human hand. My life was a flickering flame, ready to be extinguished by the slightest breeze. My parents held me, but there was no joy in their eyes, only a profound, aching sorrow.

My father spoke to me then, his voice thick with shame: 'My child, I am so sorry that you have come into this life to be my son. I am a useless father. I have no ability to give you happiness, no way to provide a good life. I lost an arm and a leg in the war, and now I wander with a crutch, begging for work that no one will give to a cripple. I have no love to give you because I despise myself. When I stand before others, I am consumed by shame—not just for my broken body, but for the insecurity and inferiority that rot my heart. I do not know how to be a father; I have never been educated, and I was not ready for this role.' My mother, weeping, added her own grief: 'I am sorry, my child. I have no health to give you, no strength to nurture you in my womb. I have no warmth to offer.' She stopped mid-sentence, for she saw that I, a newborn, was already weeping. They held me and cried, seeing only darkness in the life ahead.

The Shadow in the Corner

As I grew, I became a ghost in my own village. While other children played in the streets, their laughter ringing out like bells, I stood in the shadows. I was not a beautiful child; my skin was sallow, and my body was nothing but skin and bone. My inferiority was a heavy chain that kept me from joining them. I would hide in the dark corners, watching them play, trying to steal a fragment of their joy. Sometimes, when I saw them laughing, I would feel a natural smile tugging at my own lips, but it would vanish as quickly as it came. I would look down at my own ugly, wretched form and sink back into misery. I did not know where to go, for my home was a place of constant, bitter fighting over money. There was no peace, and there was no one to whom I could pour out my heart.

One day, while walking with my head down, kicking stones in the dirt, I collided with a tall man. I apologised immediately, but when he turned, I was frozen in terror. He suffered from a grotesque, congenital deformity; his face was twisted, his hands were permanently clenched into fists, and he walked with a severe limp. Yet, despite this, he wore a radiant, brilliant smile. I was stunned. I had never seen such a thing—a man so physically broken, yet so full of light. I asked him, 'How… how are you able to smile?' He looked at me with surprise and replied, 'Smile? If I want to smile, I smile. If I don't, I don't. Is that so difficult?' I told him, 'I have never smiled in my life.' He seemed to understand my pain perfectly. 'Life is suffering,' he said, 'which is exactly why we must smile. A smile does not belong to anyone in particular. The beautiful can smile, and the ugly can smile; the rich can smile, and the poor can smile. Since we are already born into this world, why not spend each day with a smile?'

The First Spark of Light

No one had ever taught me this. My parents had never smiled, so I assumed I was incapable of it. Under his guidance, I tried to lift the corners of my mouth. He encouraged me, 'More! Smile more!' Eventually, I showed my teeth, and we both began to laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh. It was the first time in my six years of life that I had truly laughed. I realised then that there was a bright, powerful light hidden deep within me, buried under layers of darkness. That day, the light flickered, and I felt a profound sense of relief. I decided then and there to explore this inner light and change the course of my miserable life.

I began to observe myself in every moment. I discovered that whenever I had cravings or desires, my heart became painful and the darkness returned. When I complained, felt inferior, or wallowed in self-pity, my heart was wounded and tortured. When I was anxious or helpless, my heart was in chaos. These negative states had been my companions for years, preventing me from finding any meaning or value in my existence. One day, when I was starving and there was not a single grain of rice in the house, I went to the river to drink water to fill my stomach. On the way, I saw a young boy throw away a half-eaten rice ball. I rushed to pick it up, but then I saw five other homeless children nearby, their eyes fixed on the food, their mouths watering. I looked at the rice ball, then at them, and I held out my hands, giving it to them. They ate it with such joy, and in that moment, the light within me grew brighter. I had found my direction: I would live for others.

A Life Transformed and a Vow Renewed

I began to help my father in the garden, clean the neighbours' homes, and serve people in the street. The inferiority that had plagued me was washed away by the sweat of my labour. I told my father, 'I was a useless person, but now I am useful. I never knew I could do things for others. I used to think only of myself—how ugly I was, how I had no friends, how poor I was. I was obsessed with getting what I wanted. Now I understand why I lived in such darkness. I was too attached to this body. I wanted to be like everyone else, and in trying to satisfy this body’s needs, my mind never had a moment of peace. I was miserable because I was covered in clouds. Now, I don't care about my appearance; I only want to help others be happy.' I spent my life doing good, until one day, while crossing the mountains, I fell into a valley and passed away.

In my final moments, I saw my past. I had once been a monk who gave up on his practice halfway through. I had made great vows, but because I did not cut off my greed, I became tainted by the world and died for the sake of fame and fortune. After many lifetimes of wandering, I had been born into that backward country. With my last breath, I vowed to return to the human world as a monastic to save others. Centuries passed in the cycle of rebirth before I was born again, this time as Fengyuan, the son of a wealthy man in a different land.

The Fall of a Spoiled Son

I was born into luxury, and my father, who had waited a lifetime for a son, gave me everything. I lived in opulence, completely forgetting the vow I had made as Kanchira. I spent my days riding horses, drinking, and indulging in every pleasure. One day, while out riding, I saw a thin, miserable boy watching me from a dark corner. I approached him, and he told me, 'I envy you so much! My mother left us, and my father hates me, calling me dirty. I am so unhappy.' I felt a strange, familiar pang in my heart. I gave him all my valuables, telling him, 'These are worth a fortune. You can change your life. You don't have to suffer like this.' He was hesitant, but I insisted, and he took them with gratitude.

Ten years later, I was twenty-five. My father had passed away, and I had squandered the entire family fortune on wine, gambling, and women. I was penniless and broken. People mocked me in the streets, calling me a useless, spoiled brat. I didn't care. I was drunk, wandering by the river, and I stumbled into the water. I didn't struggle. I thought, 'Life is meaningless; let me just die here.' But then, a pair of strong hands pulled me onto a boat. I looked up through my blurred vision and saw a monk.

The Monk’s Compassion and the Path to Buddhahood

When I awoke in the temple, the monk was sitting beside me, chanting 'Namo Amituofo.' I joined him. He asked, 'Do you know who I am?' I looked closely and realised—he was the boy I had helped ten years ago. He told me, 'After you gave me that money, I didn't spend it on myself. I used it to help those even more destitute than I was. In giving, I found such joy! Because of your help, I found the path to become a monk.' I wept bitterly, ashamed of my own wasted life. He comforted me: 'The past is gone. We have met again for a reason. Let go of the past and study the Buddha’s teachings here with me.' In my moment of absolute despair, I had been given a second chance.

I followed him, learning the Dharma and letting go of my old, decadent habits. As I purified my mind, I remembered my life as Kanchira. I knelt before the Buddha, weeping in gratitude for the chance to fulfil my vow. I became a monk at thirty, and by forty-five, I was an abbot, spreading the Dharma and benefiting countless beings. I attained Buddhahood in that very life, fulfilling my ultimate Bodhi.

A Call to Awaken

Beings wander in samsara, dying and being reborn, changing forms and environments. One day you are a human, the next you might be a pig, and you would never know it. How many people truly understand the terror of this cycle? Even if they understand, how many wake up? Practitioner Su teaches every day to save people from this confusion and show them the truth of the universe. Nothing in this world is worth clinging to, and you should not let your own feelings cause you such suffering. Practitioner Su has come to this world to save all beings; you must seize this magnificent opportunity to vow to end the suffering of rebirth.

Those who have not yet heard the Dharma may be ignorant, but those who have must wake up. There is no second 'you' in the next life, and you cannot return to the past. You must grasp this life to escape the six realms. If you study the Buddha’s teachings but still cling to the five desires and remain tainted by the six dusts, you will continue to wander for aeons without end. People of the world! You must cherish the time you have to hear the sutras. Practitioner Su’s teachings pierce through the illusions of samsara. Do not lose this blessing, or you will regret it when you are trapped in the cycle once more. Wake up! You must wake up! Namo Amituofo."

Namo Amituofo.