The Simple Life and the Weight of Expectations

This is a record of an interview with Liu Kanong, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Dharma-Nature Land. This account reflects upon his life approximately two hundred and fifty years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on August 3, 2019.

Liu Kanong speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Liu Kanong. Looking back at my life, I often find myself drifting back to the days of my youth, long before the complexities of the world took hold of me. I would often wander down to the creek by myself, seeking the quiet company of the water. It was a vibrant world down there, teeming with life—fish and shrimp of all sizes darting through the shallows. In the sweltering heat of those summer days, I would soak my feet in the cool, rushing water, and a sudden, refreshing chill would surge from the soles of my feet through my entire body. It was absolutely blissful.

A Childhood by the Creek

The creatures in that creek were never afraid of me. Even when I waded into their domain, they would swim around my feet with such carefree ease, as if I were merely another part of the landscape. I loved to hum light, cheerful melodies, and the rhythmic sound of the flowing water seemed to accompany me, creating a perfect harmony. The stones, the wildflowers, and the swaying grasses along the bank became my loyal audience, while the clouds drifting across the sky would pause to listen. I would lose myself in these performances until, inevitably, the distant call of my mother would break the spell. I would look up, startled to realise that an entire afternoon had vanished. I spent so many days like that, lost in my own little world, watching the sun set on my childhood.

One evening, I returned home to find the house strangely quiet. The dining table, usually set for our evening meal, was completely bare and wiped clean. I was bewildered. 'Mother,' I asked, 'are we not eating tonight?' She was busy packing our belongings into bundles. 'What is happening?' I asked, my heart beginning to race. She looked at me and said, 'We are moving.' I was stunned. 'Moving? But why?' She explained that the village had become unsafe; there were reports of thefts, and the streets were filled with chaos. She wanted to protect me. I felt a deep sense of unease. 'What about Father? He hasn't returned yet. And how can we afford to move?'

The Sudden Move and a Father's Love

Mother placed a hand on my shoulder, sensing my anxiety. She sat me down and explained that Father had been sending money home from his work in the city—savings he had intended for my education. But upon hearing of the instability in our village, he had insisted we move immediately and had even secured a new home for us near his workplace. I nodded, finally understanding the silent sacrifices my parents had made. I stood up and looked around the home I had known for six years. Though it was a short time, every corner was filled with memories of my growth. I felt a pang of sorrow at leaving, but we were soon on our way to catch the final boat.

The journey was quiet, with only the boatman, Mother, and me. As the boat glided across the river, I watched the ripples spread out behind us, only to vanish into the stillness of the water. My life, too, felt like those ripples—six years of movement, now returning to a state of calm. When we finally arrived at the city, I saw Father waiting on the shore, waving at us. I ran to him, and we embraced tightly. Seeing the joy on Mother's face, I knew we were ready to begin anew.

The City's Clamour and the Burden of Books

Life with Father was different. He would take me out to explore this bustling city, which was a stark contrast to the quiet, natural life I had known. Everything was available here, but the constant noise and the suffocating crowds made it hard to breathe. I longed for the creek, for the silence of the countryside, but my parents seemed perfectly content with our new life. At seven, I was sent to a private school, and my freedom was stripped away. I was never a child who enjoyed books. When the teacher forced us to memorise the Four Books and Five Classics, my mind would spin in confusion. Mother, seeing my struggle, considered hiring a private tutor, but I begged her not to. I knew deep down that I was not cut out for such rigid academic pursuits; the pressure felt like a weight that would eventually crush my spirit.

A Chance Encounter with a Scholar

One day, I caught a cold. While my body ached, I felt a secret thrill—a reprieve from my studies. Once the fever broke, I slipped out to enjoy a moment of solitude. I wandered the busy streets, my head still light, but the joy of being away from my books made the physical discomfort bearable. I stopped at a small orange stall and noticed a boy, about my age, crouched under the table. He was reading a book with such intensity that he didn't even notice me at first. When I finally caught his attention, he told me he was reading the Book of Songs. I was shocked. 'Why are you so happy reading that?' I asked. He explained that he was poor and had to help in the orchard, so he treasured every moment he could spend with the book. He believed that only through study could one achieve success. It was the same logic the adults used on me, promising fame and respect. But I didn't want that. I wanted a simple, honest life, not a head full of ancient texts. My parents, terrified I would become a delinquent like the idle children on the streets, continued to force me into lessons, leaving me with no joy in my days."

One day, while walking home from my private lessons, I passed by a dilapidated temple. It had been a long time since anyone had entered to pay respects to the Buddha; word was that a major incident had occurred there, and since then, no one dared to step foot inside. Driven by curiosity, I stepped into the temple. Only a few candles were lit, casting a dim, flickering light throughout the hall. Yet, despite the lack of worshippers, the temple possessed a profound sense of serenity. No matter where I walked, I could smell a faint, clean fragrance, and the architecture still retained its dignified appearance. As I wandered through the grounds, someone suddenly called out to me, "Little Bodhisattva." I turned around and saw an old monk. I bowed to him in reverence and waited for him to speak.

A Moment of Clarity

The old monk asked, "Little Bodhisattva, can you describe the feeling of being unable to do what your heart desires?" This was an easy question to answer, for it was exactly my current state. At that moment, it felt as though I had not been heard for a very long time. I poured out all my frustrations to the old monk, and only after I had finished did I finally release the heavy burden that had been stuck in my chest. The old monk asked, "Do you feel a bit better now?" I nodded vigorously and could not help but exclaim, "Master, how did you know to ask me that?" The old monk smiled and said, "Your heart told me that you are living a life where your actions do not align with your heart's intent. I simply gave you the opportunity to voice why you feel this way." The old monk was truly remarkable; with that single question, he had unraveled the months of stifled emotions I had been carrying. He then asked, "Do you know the meaning of coming into this world?" I had been struggling with that very question, and his inquiry touched upon the deepest doubt in my heart. I explained my situation to him and begged for his guidance.

The Wisdom of the Pond

The old monk led me to the back of the temple, where I stood by a pond watching the fish swimming freely. Seeing them reminded me of the days I spent playing in the streams of my hometown—those were truly the happiest times of my life. The old monk pointed to the largest fish in the pond and asked, "Can you tell me the past of that fish?" I immediately shook my head and replied, "How could I possibly know the past of this big fish?" The old monk said with certainty, "You can." I knew that monks do not speak falsehoods, and since he was so certain, I looked at him with a mix of doubt and disbelief. He said, "Just ask it! It will tell you." I had indeed heard that in ancient times, those with pure hearts could easily converse with all living things. Could it be that the old monk was teaching me this skill? I calmed my mind and tried to ask the fish about its past. The old monk waited patiently by my side. After a while, I opened my eyes, looked at the fish, and told the old monk, "I have seen its past. It was once a princess in an imperial palace!" As I said this, the fish even leaped upward. I found it hard to believe—how could a princess become a fish? The old monk explained, "Everything you see before you has a past. They were all once human, but now they have become these various beings. Some move, some do not. If they do not hear the Sutras or chant the Buddha's name, it is very difficult for them to escape their current forms." Once he finished, I looked at the surroundings, and indeed, every object seemed to possess a spirit and a story to tell. I felt a wave of sadness—how could humans turn into so many different things? As I fell into deep thought, the old monk called out, "Little Bodhisattva, stop overthinking." I looked at him and asked, "Why do I have the ability to see the past of this fish?" He replied, "Try looking at your own past, and you will understand." Under his guidance, I closed my eyes again, and truly, I saw it. I had possessed this ability in a past life when I was a monk, using it to help beings. Now that I had returned to this worldly realm, and because I had not yet been severely polluted by the Five Turbidities and Evil World, I still retained this gift. The old monk told me that I could use this same ability in this life to save beings. This was something I had never imagined; in my own eyes, I was merely an unmotivated, lazy student. I had assumed I would continue to drift aimlessly until the day I died. Now, the old monk was telling me I had the capacity to save beings. It was hard to believe, but having seen my own past, I knew it was true. I had to seize this opportunity and try my best.

A New Path

From that day on, I went to the temple to practice every day after my lessons. Because the temple had been damaged in the past, the old monk's disciples had all left, leaving him to guard the place alone. Whenever I arrived, he would teach me to read the Sutras, perform prostrations, and give me Dharma talks. As the days passed, my understanding of the Buddha's teachings grew deeper. Although it was still only the surface, compared to my previous ignorance, I could now articulate some truths myself. Under the influence of the Buddha's teachings, my appearance became more dignified, and my character matured. I was no longer the restless, playful boy I once was. My parents did not know I was learning Buddhism, but they clearly felt the change in me. One day, they asked curiously, "What have you been busy with lately? You disappear as soon as school ends. We thought you were out wandering, but we couldn't find you in your usual spots. Where have you been?" I told them, "I have been at the temple learning the Buddha's teachings." They were stunned. My mother asked in surprise, "Why would you go to a temple?" I explained the whole story to them clearly. After listening, they burst into laughter. My mother said loudly, "You say you were a monk before?" I nodded, "Yes, I was a monk!" My father added, "I really find it hard to imagine you as a monk." I understood their reaction, as I had been such a playful child. If I had been a monk, one would expect me to be studious or refined, which I was not. I told them with great sincerity, "In this life, I have decided to become a monk." They laughed even harder, clutching their stomachs. My mother said, "Look at our son, when did he become so serious?" My father added, "It seems our boy has really grown up." They were laughing so hard they hadn't realized how serious I was.

Dedication to the Path

In the following days, I became even more diligent in my studies at the temple. As I spent more time there, my heart became increasingly pure. Months later, I asked my parents, "Would you allow me to live at the temple to practice?" I expected them to refuse, but to my surprise, they agreed. My father said, "We had hoped you would study more to achieve success in the future. But ever since you started your studies, you became unhappy and did not do well. We didn't know what else you could do. Now that you have found this path of learning Buddhism, we have seen a clear transformation in you. You have become mature and sensible, and your face has become more dignified. I know this is the right path for you, so continue on it. If you can contribute to society in this way, then my efforts in raising you have not been in vain." I was grateful for their support and promised them, "For the sake of all beings, I will practice diligently." Upon moving into the temple, I took charge of all the chores, working from dawn until dusk. The busier I was, the purer my heart became, as I had no time to dwell on myself. My only focus was to keep the temple in order and prepare for the day we would begin to welcome beings. Beyond my daily duties, I seized every moment to practice, especially by performing prostrations and reciting the Sutras before the Buddha, which helped me achieve a state of deep meditative concentration.

A Life of Service

Under the old monk's guidance, I progressed day by day, becoming more purified. Two years after serving at the temple, I shaved my head and became a monk, following my master in diligent practice. After I received the Precepts and became a Bhikshu, a great Dharma protector appeared to support the temple's mission. Gradually, more followers began to visit. My master and I gave Dharma talks every day. Although at first we only spoke to one or two people, we cherished these Causal Conditions, believing that more would join us. Indeed, within two years, the temple was filled with followers. My master took on many disciples, and our monastic community grew, working together to spread the Dharma. In this life, I dedicated decades to the Buddha's path. At the age of seventy, I chanted Namo Amituofo and attained rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. My disciples surrounded me, witnessing me step onto a lotus flower to follow the Buddha, and I felt deep gratitude for the compassion of the Buddha.

"When will the turbulent waves of karma in this Saha world finally come to a rest? Sentient beings endure every conceivable form of suffering, and without the guidance of the Buddha’s teachings, it is nearly impossible for them to find a way out of this cycle. Practitioner Su has witnessed everything this world has to offer; he understands the depths of worldly suffering with absolute clarity. He sees the very root of the sins and miseries that bind every single being, yet he also knows how incredibly difficult it is to tame and subdue the stubborn hearts of sentient beings. Their spiritual obstacles are so heavy that they find it hard to place faith in the Buddha’s teachings, and even when they do profess belief, they often fail to engage in earnest, grounded practice. Only those who truly and diligently follow the Buddha’s teachings—those who truly cultivate, truly reform their ways, and truly put the Dharma into action—will eventually attain enlightenment and realise their true nature. Practitioner Su’s teaching is remarkably clear and penetrating; he points directly to the darkest corners of the human heart, using the power of the Dharma to transform the minds of all people. Those who are willing to accept his guidance and sincerely work to adjust their own hearts will undoubtedly reap the immense benefits of this practice."

The Boundless Compassion of the Dharma Body

"Every single morning is a time for Chao Du. Practitioner Su’s Dharma Body works tirelessly, performing Chao Du for an uncountable number of spirits each day. A single recitation of the Buddha-name is enough to deliver the beings of countless Earths; a single recitation of the Buddha-name brings salvation to an immeasurable number of beings across the stars. Practitioner Su’s mind-capacity is as vast and deep as the ocean itself. It is only because he can embrace such boundless, infinite spirits that he is capable of delivering such an endless multitude of sentient beings."

A Single Molecule’s Journey to Liberation

"Practitioner Su’s work of Chao Du knows no boundaries or limitations. Wherever his Dharma Body travels, those who share a karmic affinity with him are destined to be saved. Consider, for instance, the story of a single water molecule. Hundreds of years ago, this molecule was a subordinate serving under Practitioner Su. Through the long, winding cycle of samsara, it eventually manifested as a tiny molecule of water. Every day, under the scorching heat of the sun, it would evaporate into water vapour, rising to a certain altitude where it would gather with other spirits who had also taken the form of vapour. Together, they would condense into raindrops and fall back to the earth, landing in different places each day, only to eventually return to the vast ocean, once again becoming just one of the countless molecules in the sea.

Today, just as this molecule was about to evaporate once more, Practitioner Su’s Dharma Body appeared, radiating a brilliant golden light. The molecule heard the familiar, sacred six-character Buddha-name and saw the golden light filling the space before it. In that very instant, it followed along and chanted, 'Namo Amituofo.' In that fleeting moment, it was instantly liberated from its form, following the Buddha-light to be reborn in the three good realms. It was filled with such profound gratitude toward Practitioner Su that it knelt down to express its thanks for the Buddha’s grace and for the compassion of Practitioner Su. Had the Causal Conditions not matured at that exact moment, allowing it to witness the golden light of Practitioner Su’s Dharma Body, it might have been trapped as a mere water molecule for thousands upon thousands of years. Stories of such deliverance occur every single day. For the immeasurable and boundless number of beings, there are immeasurable and boundless stories of salvation. All of them have been saved by the compassion of Practitioner Su, liberated from the constraints of space, and have finally left their suffering behind. We offer our deepest gratitude to the Buddha’s compassion, and our deepest gratitude to the compassion of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo."

This interview was recorded by the chief writer, disciple Shi Fajing.