The Journey Through the Four Sacred Realms

This is a record of an interview with Shi Qinghai, who now resides in the Buddha Realm of the Western Pure Land. This account reflects upon his journey across the Four Sacred Realms, spanning eighteen million years of existence, from a prehistoric beast to a Buddha. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on August 12, 2020.

Shi Qinghai speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Shi Qinghai. Let us begin by looking back eighteen million years. At that time, I was a massive beast, covered in thick, heavy armour. When I crawled, the ground would tremble, and even the most sensitive small animals would sense the vibrations and flee in terror. In truth, I was only a medium-sized creature back then, measuring about 1.8 metres in length—much like a human today."

Life as a Prehistoric Beast

"The weight of the armour on my back alone was at least five kilograms by modern standards. If you include my internal organs and everything else, I must have weighed around twenty kilograms. Many small animals who did not know me would run away as fast as they could, terrified of my call. You see, whenever I encountered other creatures, I would let out a friendly sound. If they knew me, they would respond with a friendly call of their own. When I made that sound, it was my way of laughing; my eyes would crinkle into little crescents, and the corners of my mouth would turn upward. I must have looked quite interesting, cute, and kind.

The sounds we made varied greatly. Some were so loud they could be heard from a kilometre away, while others were soft enough to merely startle a bird in a tree or a rabbit grazing in the grass. This vast difference in vocalisation shows just how diverse the creatures on land were back then, and how different their attributes were."

Communication and the Laws of Nature

"Vocalisation was our primary way of communicating needs and moods. Animals are actually much simpler than humans; we did not have complex plans or deep thoughts. Our lives were driven by physiological needs: finding food when hungry, seeking shelter when cold, running from danger, and finding a mate. When there were conflicts over territory, we would test our strength. The winner would become the king and claim the land, while the loser would simply lower his head and walk away. This was the law of the natural world, and everyone understood and followed it instinctively. The more ancient the animal, the simpler they were.

Wolves are widely considered cunning animals, and they have existed on Earth for a very long time. Eighteen million years ago, they were already here. Back then, the eggs laid by many reptiles often became their food. They were called 'cunning' because they possessed sharp eyes and ears, sensing every change in their environment. They would use their brains to create situations that lowered the guard of other animals, allowing them to hunt successfully. Sometimes, they would even feign death to lure prey into a false sense of security before launching a surprise attack. To humans, these tricks are easily seen through once you understand them. This is why humans, in order to survive, have developed far more defences, wariness, and complex schemes than wolves or other animals. The price we paid for this evolution was the loss of our original natural abilities, our simplicity, and our true nature."

Therefore, the phenomena of cause and effect, as well as the cycles of good and evil, fortune and misfortune, have existed for eighteen million years, if not even longer. The Four Sacred Realms also existed at that time; they are an integral part of the natural laws. Wherever there is spiritual life, there is the space of the Four Sacred Realms; wherever there is a physical body, there is the progression of cause and effect, karmic retribution, and the cycle of rebirth. Later, when I was once again attempting to save others, I was caught off guard by a large beast that had been defeated by its leader. It mistook my intentions for malice and, in a sudden strike, clamped its sharp claws around my throat and bit down, causing me to suffocate and die. At that moment, I had already manifested as a large beast. As I collapsed and perished, my spirit immediately exited my body. Bathed in a brilliant light, my spirit was guided directly into the realm of the Pratyekabuddhas. This occurred because I had knowingly risked my life to save other large beasts, and through that sacrifice, nearly twenty of them were spared. The significance of this act lay in the compassion of my heart for all beings—I was willing to risk my own life to save them. Because of this spirit of self-sacrifice, my spiritual life was elevated, allowing me to enter the realm of the Pratyekabuddhas.

The Awakening in the Void

In the deep meditative state of the Pratyekabuddha realm, time holds no meaning. I do not know how long I had been there when I was suddenly awakened by the sound of drums. Two armies were engaged in battle, and the very heavens seemed to shift in turmoil. What followed was a landscape of wailing and suffering, where the people could no longer sustain their lives. As this scene unfolded before my eyes, my heart was deeply moved by the agony of these beings—it was truly unbearable. At that same moment, I caught sight of a general, and it was through this profound empathy and that single glimpse that my spirit was suddenly drawn into a mortal womb.

A Promise Across Seventeen Million Years

More than seventeen million years had passed; what power brought me back into a mortal form? It was because of someone who had once saved my life. After that rescue, I had made a vow: no matter how much time passed or how great the distance, if he were ever in danger, I would save him to repay the debt of my own life. Thus, when he fell into peril, my heart naturally sensed it. Because the promise was made by a sensitive spirit, even while in a deep meditative state, I could still receive the circumstances of those in the human world who were connected to that vow. This is the awareness of the Pratyekabuddha spirit—it is the natural ability of the awareness belonging to the sages of the Four Sacred Realms. Once a vow is made, it acts like a telepathic connection; no matter how much time passes, the energy of that vow remains until it is fulfilled, at which point the resonance of that energy is finally balanced.

The General and the Steed

Approximately eighteen hundred years ago, China was embroiled in war, and the people were suffering immensely. I descended into the mortal world and entered the womb of a mare; the owner of this mare was my former benefactor. He was a general and a man who loved horses dearly. When the mare was pregnant with this fine steed, the general cared for her with the utmost attention. On the day the foal was born, the general had a dream in which he rode a magnificent horse into battle and emerged victorious in every engagement. Upon waking, he saw that the mare had given birth to a foal. Seeing that I resembled the horse from his dream, he cherished me deeply and trained me rigorously in various responses. As I grew, I proved to be a brave and formidable steed, accompanying the general through numerous campaigns and bringing back constant news of victory.

During one particular battle, amidst a storm of arrows where blades and shafts flew blindly, an arrow was shot directly toward the general. Seeing that it was about to pierce his body, I tilted my body, causing the general to slide from my back. Immediately, many more arrows rained down, piercing my body. I collapsed and died, but in doing so, I saved the general’s life. My spirit exited my body, and I was meant to return to my original position in the Pratyekabuddha realm. However, when the general returned to the capital, he felt such profound grief over the loss of his beloved horse, despite having survived the battle. He reflected on the impermanence of humanity and the fragility of life, and at the risk of his own life, he petitioned the Emperor to cease the fighting. This brought an end to the long-standing war and saved countless lives. Consequently, my spirit was elevated from the Pratyekabuddha realm to the Bodhisattva realm, where I remained in a deep meditative state.

A Golden Light and a New Life

I do not know how much time passed again before a golden light shone upon me, awakening me from my meditation. This light was bright and warm, surpassing the radiance surrounding the Bodhisattva realm. My awakened spirit was enveloped by this brilliance and sent into the human world. It was a thousand years later, about eight hundred years ago, in the home of a wealthy family. A woman had been in labor for ten months, but the child would not come. As she faced a difficult birth and the child was in danger of suffocation, this golden light suddenly appeared and guided me into the womb. After the mother exerted her final strength, I was born, crying loudly—a fair, plump, and adorable baby boy!

The brilliant light continued to illuminate the room until after I was born, only then fading away. Even the midwife was amazed, saying she had never seen such an auspicious light and that this child would surely possess great talent. Regrettably, because the child had been so difficult to deliver, the mother had reached the point of total exhaustion. At the moment of my birth, she was on the verge of death; the golden light saved the child but could not save the mother, who passed away from extreme exhaustion and postpartum hemorrhage. This event brought both joy and sorrow to the Zheng family—one birth and one death. It seemed to fulfill the words of the Zheng family ancestors: "Among the descendants, a sage will be born, but at the same time, a good mother will be lost." The birth of Zheng Bin was exactly such a scene. Could it be that the ancestors were so spiritually perceptive that they had foreseen this moment and passed the prophecy down? The grandfather decided that amidst this joy and grief, he would handle the mother’s funeral with the utmost solemnity and express gratitude for the ancestors' grace in the birth of the child.

A Childhood of Discipline and Insight

From a young age, I did not receive indulgence; instead, I grew up under the strict discipline of my father and grandfather. Unlike children of my age who often played and frolicked, I followed the strict family rules, behaving with propriety and studying various Confucian classics and national literature. Because of this, my appearance was dignified and upright, often causing those who saw me to marvel at my extraordinary bearing. My character was as upright and balanced as my appearance; I did not enjoy playfulness and lacked the typical childish nature, appearing reserved and steady. At ten years old, I seemed like a fifteen-year-old. In the eyes of adults, it was clear that this child must possess superior talent to have such a demeanor. Indeed, from a young age, whenever Zheng Bin looked at someone’s face, he knew their past and what would happen to them in the future.

It began when a servant’s home was broken into by a masked thief the previous night. Fortunately, the family was poor, and only the servant and his mother lived there, so the thief left quickly after looking around, leaving them both trembling with fear and unable to sleep all night. The next day, when the servant entered our home, Zheng Bin saw the lingering fear on his face. He paused, saw what had happened the night before, and recounted the entire process, shocking his grandparents, father, and the rest of the family. My father then invited the servant and his mother to move into an empty room in the back courtyard so that they could look after one another and not live in fear. Zheng Bin was only five years old at the time. In truth, he had possessed this ability long before, but he was quiet and had not spoken of what he saw. This time, however, his words shook the family, and my grandfather became even more certain of what the ancestors had said, so he became even more diligent in his instruction of Zheng Bin.

On another occasion, there was a fire at a neighbor’s house. Although it was quickly extinguished and no one was hurt, the neighbor’s large mansion was completely destroyed, though the fire did not spread to others. The authorities could not determine who was responsible. Zheng Bin looked at the charred ruins and said, "It was the steward of the Li household who did it. To cover up the evidence of the family wealth he had embezzled over the years, he resorted to this desperate measure." The authorities were able to solve the case because of this. To protect Zheng Bin, this was not made known to outsiders; only the authorities, my grandfather, and my father knew. To Zheng Bin, these things were as natural as speaking about what was right in front of him, but to ordinary people, such an ability was rare and precious.

Entering the Buddha’s Gate

As I grew older, by the age of fifteen, my eyes could already see many things unknown to others. I had also been exposed to books on the Buddha’s teachings and was drawn to the vastness and profundity of the Dharma, including matters of spirits, possession, and the laws of karma and cause and effect. Because these involved many complex karmic relationships, I did not speak of them unless someone with the right affinity mentioned them. My heart had long felt the suffering of the human world. Through Buddhist texts, I learned things that ordinary Confucian studies could not teach, and I developed a desire to leave the world behind to further master the subtleties of the Buddha’s teachings. I proposed to my grandfather and father that I wished to enter the Buddha’s gate for further study. In fact, the two elders had long been prepared; they knew this child’s aptitude could not be satisfied by worldly learning. In those days, entering the monastic life was an honor for the family—a way to transcend the mundane and perform the act of saving the world—so they nodded in agreement. Zheng Bin immediately set off for the Foqing Temple, located three miles outside the city. Regarding the past, Zheng Bin felt no attachment; even though he came from a wealthy family, his earnest desire to seek the Dharma far surpassed all else.

Upon entering the temple, Zheng Bin explained his intention to seek the Universal Principles. The guest master introduced him to the abbot. As soon as the master saw Zheng Bin’s appearance and heard his speech, and calculated the time, he knew this was the child born from the golden light he had seen in a family home in the city fifteen years prior. He asked Zheng Bin to stay and adapt to temple life first. I took off my worldly clothes, changed into simple lay practitioner robes, and was first taken around the temple to be introduced to the environment. We arrived at the Hall of the Eighteen Arhats, where the images of the Arhats were carved into the rock wall. When Zheng Bin arrived, what he saw were not merely statues in various poses, but each Arhat appearing alive, holding different ritual implements, and each with a different expression. Some even smiled at Zheng Bin, and others nodded in greeting. What Zheng Bin saw were the spirits of the Arhats, not just the statues seen by the physical eyes. The Arhats, of course, knew Zheng Bin’s origin—that he was a Bodhisattva from the Four Sacred Realms who had descended into the world. Now that he had obtained a human body and a pure spirit, responding to the affinities of the mundane world and the Dharma Realm, his arrival truly drew the admiration of the Eighteen Arhats. Zheng Bin also felt a sense of wonder: could it be that he had a karmic connection with these Eighteen Arhats, which was why he had come to this place and witnessed such scenes?

Day after day, whenever I went to the main hall for the morning service, I would pass by the area of the Eighteen Arhats. I always saw them already arranged in two rows, prepared to join the monastics and lay practitioners for the morning service. It was usually around four in the morning. Since many lay practitioners did not reside permanently at the temple, they would leave their homes every day at dawn, enter the main hall, and take their places in the back rows. Some practitioners would choose to stay at the temple for a few days each week just to ensure they could attend the morning service. At that time, the morning service consisted of the Master giving teachings, followed by a period of meditation where we would enter samadhi, only emerging after the sound of the awakening board. In my vision, I could also see many spirits waiting on both sides, ready to listen to the teachings and join us in entering and emerging from samadhi.

Back then, I was a student at the temple, so I had not yet begun formal Zen practice; I mostly served by attending to general temple duties. Through this, I came to understand the temple's daily routine. I had the intention to learn more, with the hope of eventually becoming a novice, then receiving the full precepts, and finally attaining the status of a bhikshu. During this time, I encountered many extraordinary events. According to folklore, the Arhats manifest based on karmic conditions to save beings, and there are often responses during times of danger. Therefore, statues of Arhats were often built in the temple, allowing practitioners to offer incense in gratitude. Sometimes, one did not even need to offer physical incense; simply pressing one's palms together in prayer represented a bundle of 'heart-incense.' When one conveys gratitude with such sincere heart-incense, it is far superior to offering a hundred bundles of physical incense sticks.

The Heart-Dharma and the Arhats

The Buddha’s teachings are essentially a 'Heart-Dharma.' At the temple, one could hear practitioners coming to offer thanks for having their prayers answered or for being saved from perilous situations. When I observed these practitioners with my own eyes, I often saw a faint light around their bodies. This was because they had encountered obstacles, but after practicing Generosity or making vows, their barriers were cleared, and they met with good conditions. Often, an Arhat would manifest to guide them, or provide help based on the blessings and merits they had accumulated through their giving and vows. In this, the relationship between the temple, the Arhats, and the practitioners was one of true practice and upright conduct; because the temple was righteous and free of deviance, genuine and noble Arhats resided there, fulfilling the requests of the practitioners based on their sincerity. This was the causal condition for the temple’s mission of saving the world at that time. The temple was bustling with incense, serving as the spiritual anchor for the people of the city.

I eventually became a novice at the temple. I could often see the dark areas of those who came to offer incense, or the impending difficulties they were about to face. If I were still a layperson, I might have spoken up to warn those with whom I had an affinity or my own family members. However, I was now a monastic; I was no longer who I used to be, and I had to be even more cautious in my speech and conduct. In fact, the Master had already seen this in my eyes. He noticed my inner conflict, as I struggled with whether or not to speak. Sometimes, seeing the problems of the practitioners—who were already physically and mentally exhausted, or followed by vengeful spirits, and had come to the temple to beg for help from the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, or Arhats—made me feel the boundless suffering of all beings even more deeply.

The Mystery of the Self

The Master once gave a teaching in the meditation hall: 'Who are the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas? Who are the sentient beings? Who are the vengeful spirits? And who am I? I command you all to contemplate this!' As a novice, I joined my fellow disciples in the meditation hall to contemplate this. Suddenly, a light dawned in my heart, and I had the answer: sentient beings are the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, they are the vengeful spirits, and they are also me. It is only because our causal conditions differ that our encounters and manifestations differ. I asked the Master, 'Is this so?' The Master replied that I had only answered half of it, and the other half remained un-contemplated. He told me to let it go for now, and that the answer would come in time.

One day, I saw a woman pressing her palms together before the statue of the Arhat holding a fan. She was murmuring many things, her face full of pleading for the Arhat’s guidance. I saw the Arhat wave his fan, and in the air, a scene appeared: the woman’s husband was drinking and enjoying himself under the moonlight with another woman. I heard the woman let out a gasp. Perhaps she saw the scene manifested by the Arhat, or perhaps she did not see the image but felt it in her heart, for two lines of tears fell down her cheeks. Then, the Arhat waved his fan again, revealing that in her past life, this woman had been a man who abandoned his wife and children to steal another man's daughter; thus, in this life, she was experiencing the pain of being abandoned by her husband. The woman seemed to see this scene as well, for she stopped crying, gradually calmed down, and departed. Seeing this, I felt a deep realization: just follow the causal conditions. The woman had a request, and the Arhat manifested what was necessary; it was also a matter of saving those with whom there is an affinity.

The Shadows of War

Not long after, news of war arrived from the imperial court. Many men in the city were conscripted to fight, and news of deaths in battle became frequent. Every so often, word would come of victory or defeat, and the number of practitioners entering the temple decreased due to the war. During such times, I knew that the suffering of sentient beings had deepened; without the nourishment of the Buddha’s teachings and the support of positive forces, there was only suffering.

I saw a vast black mist permeating the city, and my heart skipped a beat; I intuitively felt that something was about to change in the city. But as soon as this thought arose, I suppressed it. The Master had once instructed me to purify my heart and clear my mind, for only then could I realize my true nature, remain centered, and not be swayed by external environments. Therefore, I tried my best to maintain a state of 'no-thingness' in my heart. When I was working, I focused my spirit entirely on the task at hand. When listening to the teachings, I listened with full concentration. When sitting in meditation, I kept my mind unmoved by any state—joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness were all illusions, and I would not be moved by illusory realms. Even if I saw, it was as if I did not see; even if I heard, it was as if I did not hear. Naturally, my heart remained unmoved by any environment; this is what it means to attain meditative concentration.

Once concentration is attained, one can see clearly within the purity of one's actions. When encountering a situation, one knows how to handle it without the heart being moved. If one can achieve this, one can enter the world to save people, seeing illusions without being moved by them, and saving those who suffer because they are moved by illusions. Hearing sounds without being moved by illusory sounds, one can save those who suffer because they are moved by them. The Six Roots—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—are all the same. I saw that the Arhats were exactly like this; even when practitioners wept and poured out their suffering, the Arhats could manifest truthfully to help them understand the facts, accept their suffering, and face it. The Arhats remained unmoved by the environment, yet remained at ease. This ability to remain unmoved is truly the essential skill for dissolving the suffering of beings and saving the world. Thus, in my meditation, I was able to avoid being led by the states I encountered. Coupled with my inherent abilities, I eventually found that I could even see the states my fellow disciples were in during their meditation. However, I gradually learned to 'see as if not seeing,' or to hear sounds but 'hear as if not hearing.' Consequently, my true nature manifested; I became less talkative and more steady. In my practice, I gained an extra layer of tranquility. Only by having concentration can one face sentient beings, handle their problems, and not be moved by them.

The Path of the Bhikshu

Five years have passed since I entered the world at the age of fifteen. During these five years, aside from the events I previously mentioned, my progress in meditative concentration—such as emerging from samadhi after three months—seemed to be a normal occurrence in the temple. It turns out that when one sits in the lotus position, the world of spirits is immeasurable and boundless. One can truly roam the skies and see things that are normally invisible. At such times, the most important thing is to remain unmoved. A world where the heart is moved is complex, unclear, and difficult to fathom, which is different from the pure world of the spirit when one emerges from samadhi. In this state, one can see the past, present, and future. As for the content of what is seen, that relates to causal conditions.

Sometimes, if the heart has an affinity or a desire to see a certain aspect of things, one enters meditation and naturally sees scenes based on those thoughts. The clearer one's spirit, the clearer the scenes one sees. This falls under the category of 'knowing.' Even if one knows, how to interpret it—whether it can be resolved or how it should be resolved—depends on wisdom. Therefore, the Three Learnings of Precepts, Concentration, and Wisdom are the required curriculum for any sect in the study of the Buddha’s teachings. No matter what kind of practice one has, it must rely on wisdom. In walking through the world and saving beings, the more empty and pure one is, the more wisdom can manifest. The purpose of Zen practice is to realize one's true nature and attain Buddhahood. We understand that the Buddha came to save the world; that is a firm mental note. One must be selfless to truly act without a self-centered heart. This can be understood in theory, but in practice, one must train the heart when encountering situations to know how much real skill one has after emerging from samadhi. That is the true test of one's ability to save the world and deliver beings.

Having received the full precepts, I am now a formal bhikshu, with the Dharma name Shi Qinghai. I don the kasaya, dedicating this body and mind to the dust-motes of the universe. The 'dust-motes' are the sentient beings; every single speck of dust and every single world-system is a sentient being. How much more so for a human being—a human body is the dust-mote among dust-motes! Within every speck of dust and every world-system, there are even more specks of dust and world-systems, down to the most infinitesimal level. Wherever I am needed, I go. If I am needed in a speck of dust, I enter the speck of dust; if I am needed in a world-system, I go there.

At this time, I had become much more steady, and my practice of meditation was something I could not retreat from for even a day. One day, a fierce wind suddenly blew outside, followed by a torrential rain. Everyone knew that the celestial signs were abnormal. The Master understood that our hearts were fluctuating and told us to settle our minds and continue our routine as usual. I did as I always did and entered meditation, only to see that the city and the temple had been razed to the ground. My heart was shocked. I wanted to look further ahead to see what had happened, but before me was only a vast, white void. I could not see clearly what lay ahead; it seemed as if something was blocking me, preventing me from seeing the scene clearly. I knew that my heart had already become agitated, and it was not appropriate to continue sitting. I emerged from samadhi, feeling anxious and uneasy, and reported the situation to the Master. The Master said, 'The vast white void you saw in your meditation was an obstacle manifested by the thoughts arising in your own heart. This is why one who enters samadhi must not let their heart be moved. Because you could not see the true state of things and only saw a part of it, it caused anxiety and unease in your heart, which in turn obstructed your practice.'

The Master told me that I should let go of the scenes I saw in meditation and only return to sitting and entering samadhi once my heart was calm. I followed the Master’s instructions, calmed my heart, and emptied my mind. Two or three days later, I entered meditation again. This time, the scene of the city and the temple revealed only raging war, killing, looting, and wailing everywhere. Even the temple could not escape the disaster; the monastics in the temple were forced to leave or return to lay life. I anxiously wanted to see the Master’s situation, but as I looked around, I could not see him. Instead, I saw piles of charred corpses and waves of smoke after the fires had died down. My heart began to waver again, and I felt uneasy, with chills running down my neck and back. This was an experience I had never had before; the scene before me was so real! In that very instant, I saw the Master sitting upright in his meditation room, his body being consumed by that same great fire along with the temple, his posture straight and lifeless!

I was so startled that I emerged from my deep meditative state, not daring to tell the Master. Yet, the Master called me over. In truth, the Master already knew the sequence of events; our every thought and intention could never escape the Master's eyes. The Master told me to let go and said, "The collective karma is inescapable." I asked the Master, "Is there truly no way to resolve this?" The Master replied, "Before long, a great army will enter the city. The scene you witnessed in your vision is exactly what will come to pass. If my sacrifice alone can save the lives of the disciples in this temple, then this physical body is a small price to pay, and I shall have no regrets. However, the collective karma of the city's inhabitants is inescapable; countless will die or be injured, and even with my strength, it is difficult to turn the tide." I asked the Master, "Is there any way I can be of service?" The Master nodded and said, "Every person who comes into this world carries the karma or the cultivation skills from their past lives. Beyond the six realms of rebirth, there exists the Four Sacred Realms. Tell me, disciple, do you know your own past?" I told the Master, "I have never thought to look into my past; I simply live in the present. Would the past change anything about this moment, this present? Aside from being governed by the karma of the six realms, do we not, as monastics, live within the power of our vows? We accumulate our own provisions, all for the sake of saving beings." The Master nodded and said, "Excellent! Excellent! You have not wasted my daily teachings. The existence of a physical body in this world is not measured by the length of one's lifespan, but by the substance of how one lives. If the physical body is used to serve beings, and one is willing to endure injury, agony, destruction, or even death on their behalf without resentment or regret, this is the mark of one who has attained true meditative concentration. The value of a physical body in this world is stored within the heart, and it is something one can offer whenever the situation demands. 'Devoting this body and mind to the dust-motes of the universe' is not just empty talk. A practitioner of the Buddha-Dharma must always be prepared to exist for the sake of beings and to perish for the sake of beings. This is the meaning of the physical body's existence in this world. Disciple, since you have never looked into your own past, I can tell you now: you are a sage of the Four Sacred Realms, and your descent into this world is a convergence of causal conditions. If you manifest your past accumulations of blessings and merits now, you can reduce the casualties caused by the collective karma of the city's people, but your physical body will be destroyed in the process. Are you willing?" Without a second thought, I nodded and told the Master, "From the moment the Master began speaking, I could already foresee the outcome. Please, Master, do not worry. I am but an ordinary person; to be able to offer this physical body for the sake of the city's people is a small price to pay!" The Master nodded once more, and I heard the Master sigh, "What must come, cannot be avoided."

The Unseen Battle for the City

One day, without intending to, my eyes caught sight of a vast expanse of black mist permeating the sky over the city. Later, I learned that the Master had set out for the city days earlier, intending to resolve the impending disaster. The disaster's light and the black mist had arrived swiftly; they had already manifested, and now, only the mitigation of the catastrophe was possible. Before leaving, the Master had instructed the senior disciples and the rest of us to maintain our daily routines as usual, without any interruptions or interference. I felt an ominous premonition in my heart. I saw the Buddha in the main hall, still as a mountain, unmoved. I knelt before the Buddha, pressed my palms together, and asked, "Why do I have this ominous feeling?" The Buddha lowered his eyes to look at me, and in the presence of the Buddha, I felt so insignificant. Then, I had an awakening: insignificance does not lie in one's outer appearance, but in the heart. If one's mind-capacity is limited, even if one appears tall and imposing, one is truly small and powerless. If one's mind-capacity is infinite, even if one appears small, one is truly great and powerful. Only those with infinite mind-capacity can see their true nature, attain true skills and freedom, and be able to save beings from suffering when they are in danger.

The Limits of Compassion and Causal Conditions

After this realization, I knew that I had not yet seen my true nature, lacked true skills, and had not yet attained true freedom. I could not help the Master, and I did not know what the situation was like for the Master at that moment. Suddenly, I thought of the Eighteen Arhats; each of them possessed true skills and true freedom. They must have the ability to help the Master save the spirits. I hurried to the Hall of the Eighteen Arhats, running with such speed that my feet barely touched the ground. Outside the hall, I took off my shoes, knelt before the statues of the Arhats, and pressed my palms together, begging them to help the Master. One of them, the Arhat with the Gourd Bottle, tipped his gourd downward, and a column of water flowed out—it was the nectar of wisdom. Any spirit touched by this nectar, if they had the karmic affinity, would instantly feel cool and be released from their suffering. But in the next moment, I saw the Arhat pour out the nectar, yet the beings remained uncooled. The Arhat had no choice but to hold the gourd and watch the beings suffer, unable to help at all. I understood the Arhat's meaning: only those with karmic affinity can be saved; for those without it, even if one wishes to save them, it is impossible. Only then did I realize that the Arhats must have known about the Master and the black mist covering the city long ago, and if they could have helped, they would have. I understood then that to save beings, one must not only have skills but also the necessary karmic affinity. No wonder the Master told everyone to keep to their routines and not be interrupted; because panic is useless, and if one cannot help, it is better to focus on diligent practice. At that moment, I wished so much that I had the skills and the innate ability to help the Master!

The Master's Silent Victory

It was a great relief when the Master finally returned to the temple, and the black mist over the city gradually receded. A heavy stone in my heart finally lifted. The Master was still the Master; he returned as if nothing had happened. However, the junior disciple who had accompanied him returned and told us the whole process. We had expected a violent storm, but it never came. It was exactly as I had seen in my meditation: the demon crowds in the dark clouds clashing with the divine beings. In the end, the divine beings defeated the demons, and the dark clouds and black mist retreated. The Master must have joined the side of the divine beings. The Master possessed a brilliant technique: he could use a tiny amount of energy while in a deep meditative state to use his thought power to fill the mountains, rivers, and the earth with righteous energy, thereby solving the problem and saving countless people and creatures. This was the scene I had witnessed in my meditation, and I could not help but clap and cheer, admiring the Master's incredible thought power.

The梨 (Pear) and the Hidden Crime

On another occasion, a high-ranking official came to the temple to visit the Master. The day before, the Master had called me outside his meditation room and asked me to see if there was anything different inside. I looked, but the room was exactly as it always was! The Master said, "Look at the Buddha statue enshrined on the altar table beneath the character for 'Buddha'. Is there anything different about its hands or the surroundings?" This stumped me. The Buddha's hands and the surroundings were the same as always! How could they be different? Both hands were in the auspicious mudra, sitting perfectly still. The fruit around it was placed neatly. It turned out that there was one less pear placed before the Buddha. Was it the negligence of the resident monastics? That fruit was provided regularly by the high-ranking official from the city as an offering to the Buddha. The Master said, "Tomorrow, this official will come," and told me to stay by his side.

When the official arrived, his expression was dim. It turned out that his household had been restless lately, haunted by a ghost, and he hoped the Master could help him exorcise it. Even I could see the ghost standing right beside him—a woman with dishevelled hair, staring at him with wide, angry eyes. Could it be that the official saw her too, or why else would he be so terrified? The official said he had seen the female ghost in his dreams. He did not know her and begged her not to treat him this way. As he spoke, the woman became even angrier, and her face looked even more hideous. The official seemed to sense something and shivered. The Master invited them both to the meditation hall to talk. The Master had already asked the other disciples to leave. He pointed his finger at the pear, and the official was shocked; his face turned even paler, and he took three steps back. The Master asked, "What have you done with a pear before?" The official immediately knelt and wept bitterly. His action startled us and his attendants. The official confessed that in this lifetime, he had wronged a woman—his original wife. To marry his current wife, who was a benefactor, he had poisoned a pear and fed it to his original wife, causing her to die with her skin turning black.

The woman seen in the dream was his original wife coming to seek revenge, and she was the very ghost haunting his home. The Master asked him to repent, make a vow of Generosity, and dedicate the merit to the woman. Upon doing so, the woman seemed to feel more at peace, though she remained by his side. The Master then said, "You must take concrete action toward her." The official knew his fault and understood that he had to pay for what he had done. He said he would go back and turn himself in. The official said, "Everyone thought my original wife committed suicide by poison. Now, I must restore her innocence; it was I who poisoned her." After saying this, the official collapsed, kneeling powerlessly before the Buddha. In an instant, the woman withdrew her angry expression and wild hair, becoming a haggard, helpless ghost. Under the Master's counseling, she agreed to leave after the official fulfilled his promise. Later, we learned that the official did exactly as he said and was stripped of his office and exiled from his hometown. Before leaving, he came to the temple to thank the Master for resolving the situation, otherwise, he might not even have kept his life. I admired the Master's skillful Wisdom even more; with his ability to read minds and his Wisdom eye, he had resolved a murder case. And the missing pear offered to the Buddha seemed to be a subtle hint from the unseen realm that this was the very pear used to poison the victim, thus solving the case.

The Fires of War and the Sanctuary of the Temple

A few days later, news suddenly spread through the city that an enemy army was about to enter. All citizens who could leave were urged to do so quickly. Just as the people were in a panic, the enemy army charged in. Fortunately, our own army arrived in time, and the two sides clashed outside the city gates, turning the once-peaceful city into a state of high alert. Everyone was terrified; in just two days, the armies had clashed several times. It was said that the longer the war dragged on, the more disadvantageous it was for our side, as the capital's military strength was stretched thin, and several neighboring countries were rising up to attack, straining our existing forces. The citizens had nowhere to go, as the flames of war were everywhere, and they could only hide in the mountains. The enemy pursued them relentlessly, and our side would not let the citizens leave for fear of further complications. Many citizens fled to the mountains. The Master, in his compassion, opened the temple gates. Suddenly, the temple was filled with many regular devotees and city residents hoping to hide from the disaster. After all, everyone held monastics and Buddha-Bodhisattvas in high regard and felt they had a better chance of survival there. Even the walkways outside the main hall were covered with mats to serve as temporary shelter for the devotees.

The temple was located just outside the city walls. Unexpectedly, after the enemy forces clashed outside the city, they suddenly dispatched a large contingent of troops heading straight for the temple. Word had spread that many civilians had gathered there, and since the temple could serve as a place of shelter, the army descended upon it. The knocking at the gate was incredibly urgent. We were caught off guard, having no idea that it was the enemy forces arriving. After a novice monk opened the gate, he was immediately shoved aside as the soldiers forced their way into the temple grounds. Panic erupted instantly. Hearing the commotion, our Master emerged. Upon seeing the massive crowd of soldiers before him, he understood the situation immediately. Someone from the army shouted, "Who is the abbot of this temple? Come out at once!" The Master walked calmly toward them and replied, "It is I. This old monk is here. May I ask what the General requires?" The man replied, "I am not the General, merely one of his deputies. We heard that you have food, shelter, and clothing in here, so we have come to see for ourselves." The Master said, "You are too kind! We have only provided temporary refuge for some of the city's residents." The deputy retorted, "In that case, we shall also stay here for a while!" The Master replied, "The available space in the temple is already occupied by the residents. I fear there is no room left, and I would be remiss in my duties as a host to offer you such poor accommodations." The deputy snarled, "Absurd! You have room for commoners but not for us? You are courting death!"

A Miracle of Space

At that moment, the senior disciple was about to step forward to stop the man from being disrespectful to the Master, but the Master gestured for him to stay back. The Master continued, "Please, Deputy, calm your anger. This temple is a place of purity, and I spoke as I did only to preserve that sanctity. However, if you do not mind, the very ground where you are standing can serve as your temporary quarters." A wave of murmurs and laughter broke out among the soldiers. The deputy scoffed, "How can the ground we are standing on be enough for big men like us to lie down or sit comfortably?" The Master replied, "This is the largest space available within the temple." The deputy sneered, "I never expected a monastic to be so inhospitable!" The Master said, "If you do not believe that the space where you stand can accommodate you for a few nights, why not try sitting or lying down to see if there is enough room?" To everyone's astonishment, the soldiers and their officers sat and lay down on the ground. Strangely, there was still plenty of space—even enough room to roll over! They had been standing there packed like sardines, yet somehow, there was ample room. They looked at one another in disbelief, completely speechless.

The Vanishing Sky

The deputy then said, "But the night dew will soak our clothes, and looking up, there is only the open sky. How are we supposed to sleep?" The Master simply waved his hand and said, "Please, look up. Can you still see the sky?" Everyone looked up and let out a collective gasp. The deputy exclaimed, "This is bizarre! I could see the sky just a moment ago, but now it is gone!" The Master replied, "Do you believe me now? The space you occupy is truly sufficient for your rest tonight." The deputy whispered with his men, then said, "Your place is truly uncanny. We have decided that today was merely a reconnaissance mission; we do not intend to stay yet. We shall return another day. Retreat!" We watched as the large force marched back toward the city.

The Second Visit

We were all breaking out in a cold sweat after that encounter, but the Master simply said, "It is nothing," and returned to his quarters. After this incident, we made it a rule to ask who was at the gate before opening it. In these times, it was better to be cautious. We heard that the fighting outside the city continued unabated, and the residents were gripped by panic; there was no communication between those inside and outside the city. A few days later, we heard urgent knocking again. This time, the senior disciple went to the gate and asked, "Who is it?" The reply came, "Stop the nonsense and open the gate!" The senior disciple signaled for a junior to inform the Master. By the time the gate was opened, the Master was already standing there. Once again, a large force stood before us. The General in front shouted, "You must be the abbot!" The Master replied, "I am. May I ask what brings you here today?" The General said, "I hear you possess magical illusions. Why don't you conjure some food to feed these hungry soldiers of mine?" The Master replied, "I have no such illusions, and the temple has little to offer. However, we do have some plain congee and side dishes. Would that be acceptable?" The General said, "That will do. Let us warm our bellies first." The Master said, "Please wait a moment. We need time to prepare the fire and cook the porridge."

The Infinite Pot

The General warned, "Do not keep us waiting too long!" The Master instructed the disciples to hurry to the kitchen. There were over a hundred soldiers. Soon, large pots of steaming congee were brought out. The soldiers ate ravenously, finishing bowl after bowl, yet the pots remained as full as when they started. The General asked in shock, "Is your congee bottomless?" The Master replied, "How could that be? It is just that you have eaten your fill, and there are many others still waiting. We must leave some for them." The General said, "That is your concern, not ours. We are finished for today." With that, they turned and left. We were all in awe of the Master's wisdom and resourcefulness in handling these two days of crises.

The Final Ultimatum

Two days later, the knocking returned. Having learned our lesson, we let the Master handle it to avoid any mistakes. When the gate opened, the senior disciple was horrified—there were even more soldiers than before! They were furious. As soon as they entered, they roared at the Master, "You have two hours. Anyone who can run, get out now! This is an evil place, and we are going to burn it to the ground!" Burn it down! We were all stunned. The Master asked, "Is there truly no other way?" The man replied, "None! You must pack your things and leave, including you monastics." The Master turned to the crowd and said, "Do as they say. Those who wish to leave, go quickly." The devotees hurriedly gathered their belongings and fled.

The Master's Sacrifice

Two hours later, only the Master and the original monastics remained. Once the Master felt the civilians were safe, he turned to us and said, "If anything happens to me, you must live on well. Do not lose heart; you must live bravely and strongly." We all felt a sense of impending doom. I remained silent, praying constantly for the Buddha's blessings to aid the Master. The Master then turned to the soldiers and said, "We are the only ones left." The man replied, "Why are you still here? We have orders to burn this temple to the ground. Do you intend to perish with it?" We all held our breath as the Master calmly asked, "Is there no other way to save it?" The man studied the Master and said, "Our original orders did not mention alternatives. But I see the sincerity in your hearts, and I would like to spare you. However, I must answer to my superiors. If one of you is willing to self-immolate to prove the innocence and purity of this temple, I will spare the rest of you, and the temple will be spared from the fire." The senior disciple immediately volunteered, followed by the second disciple, and even the junior disciples stepped forward. As everyone argued to be the one, the Master said, "Enough! All of you, step back. I have taught you everything you need to know; I am at peace."

The Golden Light

The Master stepped forward and told them, "I shall be the one to bear this burden." The disciples immediately knelt, begging the Master to let them take his place. The Master told us, "This trial is something only I can bear." He then turned to the senior disciple and said, "The temple is in your hands." He turned to me and said, "Qinghai, the affairs of the city are in your hands." Though the others did not understand, I understood perfectly. I nodded to the Master and said, "Master, I will. Please rest assured." The Master then said to the soldiers, "I trust you will keep your word. If one person is willing to self-immolate, you will spare the monastics and the temple." The man replied, "A man of his word does not retract his promise." The Master walked into the main hall, bowed three times to the Buddha, and sat in the lotus position before us all. Suddenly, a brilliant golden light erupted from his body. We knelt and wept. The Master used his own Samadhi fire to consume his body before our eyes. It shocked the General and his soldiers—he had used no wood, no fuel, just the fire of his own body.

The Legacy of Samadhi

The golden light shone so brightly that we seemed to see the Master's spirit leave his body, looking at us with a smile before his figure slowly faded into the diminishing glow. When the light finally vanished, only the Master's seated form remained, which turned to ash in the wind. We were sobbing uncontrollably, and the soldiers, witnessing this, turned and fled. The Master had manifested the Samadhi True Fire to resolve the catastrophe. From that day on, the senior disciple took on the role of abbot, and the army never returned to harass the temple again.

The Samadhi True Fire is a manifestation of a practitioner's achievement in Chan meditation and the Four Dhyanas and Eight Samadhis. This "true fire" is not external; it is the internal energy (Qi) circulating within the body, transforming into heat. This heat can be controlled and circulated throughout the entire body. When the heat is released through the pores, it emits light, and the practitioner can control where this heat and light are directed through the power of their mind. A practitioner with great cultivation can freely regulate this energy, heat, and light to the point where they can use it to cremate their own flesh, bones, and skin, allowing them to depart this world in a display of light and heat, leaving only ashes behind.

News of the war reached the city. I informed my senior fellow practitioner that our Master had previously instructed me to save the city's civilians, and he nodded in agreement. After bidding him farewell, I quietly left the temple and walked toward the city gates. I was initially forbidden from entering, but I pleaded with the soldiers, saying, 'I am merely a monastic. I carry nothing with me, and I have no money. I pose no threat to anyone.' After being searched, I was quietly allowed into the city. What greeted me was a scene of utter misery; the cries of children and the wails of adults filled the air. I asked myself, 'What should I do now?' My mind was a complete blank, and I wandered the streets without a destination. Suddenly, a lay practitioner approached me and asked, 'Master, do you have a place to stay?' I replied, 'Not yet.' The practitioner then said, 'Would you be willing to come to my home first?' I nodded.

A Mother's Heart and the General's Pride

I was led into a large, wealthy household, where I saw an elderly lady lying in bed, looking at me with helpless eyes. I sat beside her, noticing that her breathing was extremely weak, so I asked, 'Is there anything weighing on your heart, Madam?' She replied, 'My son left the city and never returned. Later, news came that he had defected to the enemy nation and is now the very general leading this siege. I am so frustrated—how could I have given birth to a traitor? My heart is consumed by anger. Master, please tell me, what should I do?' I replied, 'Could you arrange for me to meet the general?' The lady nodded.

After waiting for two days, I finally met the general. Knowing my intentions, he wore a hostile expression and said immediately, 'Are you here on behalf of my mother to persuade me to surrender? Impossible! I will hold out until the very last moment. The outcome is not yet decided; I cannot leave.' I said, 'That is not my intention at all. I only hope that you will not harm the civilians.' The general retorted, 'Since you have come, you are already in the position of the enemy. Our side has ample provisions, while yours are running low. You must be clear about how much chance of victory you have left!' I replied, 'I am a monastic; to me, you and they are the same. Heaven has the virtue of cherishing life, and the Buddha is full of compassion. I hope to minimize casualties, or better yet, have no casualties at all, so that this war can end without mutual destruction. Every life is precious. I hope you can shorten the duration of this war.'

The general said, 'According to our military orders, I must take the head of the opposing general to signify victory before I can return home. Without that, I will not withdraw.' I asked, 'Is there any other way to shorten the war?' The general replied, 'We will not withdraw first, and I see no sign that the other side intends to withdraw either. Under these circumstances, with our sufficient supplies, we can hold out for a while longer.' I asked, 'May I ask when you will launch the next attack?' The general said, 'We are prepared for battle at any moment; there is no specific time.' I asked, 'Could you arrange for me to meet with our side's general?' The general replied, 'You must write a letter first to arrange a time with them.' I said, 'I will trouble you with that, General.'

The Stalemate of War

I was notified to head to our military camp the next day to meet our general. The general began by saying, 'What is the purpose of your visit?' I said, 'The civilians have suffered casualties during these days of battle. Does the general have any intention of stopping the war to allow the people to return to a peaceful life?' The general replied, 'The enemy has not withdrawn, so we cannot withdraw first. If we withdraw, it signifies defeat. As it stands, the outcome is unclear; it is impossible to withdraw now.' I then asked, 'Could you allow some civilians to enter and exit? Some of the elderly and sick are in critical condition and need to leave the city for treatment; some have already passed away.' The general said, 'The situation regarding entry and exit has not been lifted. Until we are certain of our position, we cannot open the gates.' With that, I took my leave.

It seemed that both generals were in a state of hostility and neither had any intention of withdrawing. It appeared the civilians remained passive victims. Thinking back to the state of the city when I entered, I looked at the sky; it was covered in thick, dark clouds, and it looked like a heavy rain was about to fall. Indeed, a torrential downpour and thunderstorms seemed to remind everyone of the stalemate of this battle. The rain fell continuously for three days, and after a brief pause, it rained for another five or six days. Due to the days of heavy rain, many places were flooded. I heard that the river outside the city had risen, and if it continued to rain, there was a danger of seawater backflow. Furthermore, the weather turned damp and cold, and the cries of the civilians grew even louder. The worst happened: it rained for half a month, and the river water flooded into the city. Both the enemy army outside and our army inside were unable to launch attacks due to the rain, remaining in a standoff, only with dwindling food supplies.

A Desperate Plea for Guidance

One night, the seawater surged back, flowing from outside the city into the city itself, leaving the entire city almost submerged. The military camps outside had nowhere to hide, and the enemy general insisted on not withdrawing; I heard there were some casualties. My heart was anxious, and I was worried about the state of the civilians, so I went to the military camp to see the general again. The general said, 'This is an abnormal phenomenon. I have never encountered a situation where it rains for nearly two months during a campaign. With the enemy stationed outside, unless reinforcements arrive from the capital, our supplies will soon run out. If we can hold on for another half a month, I hope there will be a turning point.' The rain did not stop, and half of the civilians had been starving for days without food. If they left the city now, it would surely lead to a slaughter between the two armies. With no troops guarding the city, the side that won would enter, which would mean the end of this battle. Now, with both sides deadlocked, one-third of the civilians had already perished, and the remaining two-thirds were in a state of hunger or semi-starvation. The general said, 'There are no reinforcements in the city, and no word has come from the capital. Under these circumstances, even if the entire army is wiped out, even if the lives of the civilians are sacrificed, we must hold to the end. We have no reason to withdraw.' I then withdrew.

After leaving the camp, I knelt down, pressed my palms together, and sincerely asked the Buddha and Bodhisattvas to guide me on what to do next. Today, regardless of who wins or loses, as long as I can preserve the lives of the civilians, I am willing to do anything. Suddenly, an image of my Master appeared before me. My Master pointed toward the east in the sky. I did not understand the meaning, so I asked my Master for clarification. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck me: the east is where the sun rises. After such a long period of rain, what everyone longed for most was to see the sunrise. But what was I, a disciple, to do? As it happened, the enemy was stationed to the east of the city, so I went to see their general. When the general saw me arrive, he looked troubled and said, 'The enemy has not withdrawn, so we cannot withdraw!' I said, 'Could you set a time for me to bring our general to meet with you and discuss this battle?' The general said, 'Impossible! Because when two generals sit together, it signifies negotiation and mutual concession. We have no such intention at this moment; it is time to fight to the death on the battlefield and decide the winner.' I then withdrew. Moving between the two sides, I deeply felt that in wars between nations, the ones who suffer the most are the innocent civilians. I did my best to suggest to both generals that they minimize the harm to the city's people.

The Mantis Stalks the Cicada

Suddenly, news came that the enemy was withdrawing. Cheers erupted from our side within the city; after holding on for so long, it was finally worth it! But we only heard the news; we did not see the enemy actually leave. Two days later, the enemy indeed withdrew in large numbers. Our army held a celebration and threw open the city gates, preparing to return to the capital with the good news. Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night the next day, the enemy suddenly launched a counterattack. Our side was caught unprepared, the city gates were breached, and the city was occupied by the enemy. We were defeated, the army invaded the city, and the general, refusing to surrender, was captured in the military camp. The remaining soldiers bowed their heads in defeat, never expecting to lose to the enemy's feigned retreat. Thus, the entire city changed hands with minimal casualties, becoming subjects of another nation. However, before the military and civilians could return to their original lives and while they were still in the recovery period, another nation's enemy attacked. This was sudden, but fortunately, the city gates were closed in time. The victorious army had not yet returned home and had no time to replenish their food supplies. This was what is known as 'the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.' The opposing enemy breached the city in less than half a month, becoming the victors. At this point, the original victors, exhausted by the long war, could not resist the attack and became prisoners. Such a massive change in a short time was something neither the civilians nor the general's mother could have predicted.

The Power of a Great Vow

I had been living in the general's mother's home, so I witnessed her transition from disappointment in her son to hope that he would take good care of the civilians, and finally to sadness when he became a prisoner of war. I understood in my heart that all these changes were already destined, so I comforted her: 'Life and death are governed by fate, and many things are predestined. If you want to transform your fate, you must have a Great Vow to do so.' The lady asked, 'What kind of Great Vow can transform karma?' I said, 'A vow that benefits the masses without any selfish desire is the most precious!' The lady then vowed to use her remaining family wealth to fund the construction of a temple within the city. On the very day she made this vow, news arrived that her son, the general, had been captured and sent to the victorious nation. He was originally going to be sentenced to dismemberment and beheading, but instead, he was granted a death that allowed him to keep his body intact. Later, he was even pardoned, allowed to live as a commoner. This was a very rare occurrence. The lady and I both knew that this was because her vow to build the temple had saved her son's life. From then on, she was often filled with gratitude, getting out of bed to kneel and thank the Buddha's grace. Namo Amituofo.

The old lady donated her entire family fortune to build a temple within the city. Because the entire city was in a post-war state, filled with the suffering of aging, sickness, and death, everyone was busy trying to rebuild their homes. The long-term war had caused deep emotional trauma that could not be healed in a short time. Through the collective efforts of everyone, the temple was built in a very short period, and I became its first abbot. The temple became the spiritual sanctuary for the entire city. I dedicated myself to using Zen methods to educate the city's residents on the principles of peace of heart, tranquility, and the laws of karma and cause and effect. Seeing everyone slowly recover from the wounds of war brought me great comfort. I was also moved to see many citizens choose to become monastics; gradually, the temple had its own novices and bhikshus. Thus, the Zen lineage was passed on, and I felt I had not failed the grace of the Buddha and my teachers. I finally understood the meaning of my master pointing to the East when I was at a loss. The East is where the sun rises; it represented the temple being built within the city, becoming the morning sun in people's hearts, illuminating the land, sweeping away the darkness in their minds, and allowing the Buddha-light to shine upon all creatures.

A Departure in Light

With the temple operating smoothly and its affairs clearly managed, my worldly karmic affinity had come to an end, and I had no regrets in this life. One day, at the age of forty-five, I gathered my disciples in front of the main Buddha hall. I did not say much, simply giving brief instructions on temple matters and saying to my lead disciple, 'The temple is now entrusted to you.' While the disciples were still puzzled, I sat in the lotus position. With a smile, fire naturally appeared on my body. In an instant, golden light shone everywhere, and then the fire extinguished. After the fire subsided, although my physical form was still visible, my body had been cremated by the samadhi fire. A gust of wind blew, and my form scattered with the wind across the earth, becoming one with the land. My body returned to dust, leaving nothing behind. I came empty-handed, and I departed empty-handed, all while I smiled. At the moment the samadhi fire ignited, my spirit left my body. I passed away without attachment, smiling as I watched the earth. My spirit then rose directly to a place filled with golden light, and I naturally settled there—the Four Sacred Realms. In that deep meditative state, there was nothing else, only endless silence.

The Familiar Call of Compassion

Suddenly, waves of the Buddha's name reached my ears: 'Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo...' This chanting contained immeasurable compassion, deep and distant. Each repetition of the Buddha's name expressed a heart dedicated to saving suffering beings. I heard it while in my meditative state and became immersed in the sound. How familiar this chanting was! Back in the world, the name of Amitabha Buddha was used for greetings and blessings, but I had never had the affinity to delve deeply into the practice. After hearing the chanting a few times in my meditation, I awakened! It was now eight hundred years later. I was astonished at how fast time passed in that state; everything felt as if it were yesterday. After emerging from meditation, I followed the sound and found that it originated from the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, located in present-day Australia. The chanting came from the six-character recitation of Practitioner Su.

A Vision of the Dharma Assembly

I saw the temple bathed in a brilliant glow, with many Buddhas and Bodhisattvas present. The fourfold assembly of disciples was chanting the Buddha's name, conducting a Dharma assembly. Looking closer, I saw Amitabha Buddha radiating golden light throughout his body. Many disciples were chanting, each holding a scripture, and one of the leaders was Practitioner Su. The scripture in Practitioner Su's hand emitted light, revealing the 'Complete Collection of the Thrice Yearning Ceremony.' Only then did I realize that the scene before me was the temple conducting a Thrice Yearning Ceremony. I was amazed that such light could be seen in the human world, and I was even more in awe of the magnificent golden light of Amitabha Buddha. I joined the immeasurable beings present to listen to the teachings given by Amitabha Buddha and Teacher Practitioner Xia Lianju before the start of each session. Through Practitioner Su's explanations, I understood more clearly that the Buddha's teachings had entered the age of the Dharma’s decline. I listened to Practitioner Su's Dharma talks and participated in every assembly, deeply moved. In this age of the Dharma’s decline, to witness such diligent practice and the skills of an awakened being who can save immeasurable beings to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss is truly magnificent.

The Path to the Western Pure Land

The Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia has Amitabha Buddha residing in the world. Through the devotion of followers who seek Chao Du or serve as volunteers, listen to sutras, hear the Dharma, and work to change their personality traits and habits, true practitioners can accumulate the blessings and merits necessary to resolve conflicts with their karmic creditors. Only then can Amitabha Buddha and Practitioner Su, based on the amount of resolution-capital the individual and the beings have accumulated, provide true responses. Everything is done by oneself; others cannot bear the burden for you. I am delighted to see Practitioner Su's morning Dharma Body Chao Du. Although I was chanting the Buddha's name in the Four Sacred Realms, I longed to leave that place and enter the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, but I could not fulfill this wish on my own. Yet, I saw that during Practitioner Su's Dharma Body Chao Du, amidst the chanting and Buddha-light, immeasurable beings were being led into the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I then understood the difference between the Four Sacred Realms and the realm of an awakened being—the heart to save beings is different, the space is different, and the vow is different. Thus, I, along with the celestial beings of the twenty-eight heavens and the sages of the Four Sacred Realms, came to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia to request Practitioner Su's Chao Du and Amitabha Buddha's guidance to enter the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

A Final Reflection

Today, Qinghai has fulfilled the wish to be in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am grateful to Amitabha Buddha and Practitioner Su for giving me this opportunity to be interviewed and to describe the process of my journey from the Four Sacred Realms. I hope that those with karmic affinity can understand the magnificence and preciousness of the 'Namo Amituofo' Buddha-name, actively practice the Pure Land path, rediscover their true self, and make the vow to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Qinghai is willing to join Practitioner Su's salvation team, because Practitioner Su's Dharma Body Chao Du can open up space, and there are too many beings connected to me who are still suffering. I can follow the Buddha to save them. I am grateful for the compassion of the Buddha.

Namo Amituofo.

This interview was recorded by the disciple Venerable HaiZe.

Note:

Disciple HaiZe: May I ask the Buddha, where did the master of Shi Qinghai go after he departed by burning his body with the samadhi fire? Please, Buddha, provide your compassionate teachings.

Amitabha Buddha's discourse:

He burned his body with the samadhi fire and then went directly into the space of the Buddha-realm to protect the Buddha's children.

You may ask Practitioner Su to open the space of the Buddha-realm and invite him into the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

The master of Shi Qinghai was named Zen Master Baizhao.