The Spiritual Journey of Master Jieliu

The Duty of a Practitioner

If you are a practitioner in this life, your primary duty is to work diligently at purifying yourself. You must ask yourself: can your true self truly take charge of your life? This depends entirely on whether you cherish your time. If you allow your past karma to manifest, your karmic creditors will come to seek balance, and life will become very difficult. We are currently in the age of the Dharma-ending period, where people are stubborn, difficult to transform, and often possess strong, unyielding egos. They may be praised in this worldly realm, but these very traits often become obstacles to the path of the Buddha.

You must learn to soften your heart. Whenever you encounter difficult circumstances, simply let them pass by while you continue to chant Namo Amituofo. In truth, you should not be overly sensitive to external sensations. As a beginner in the Buddha's teachings, you are like a sprout in the early spring. The Buddhas protect you with great care. Where there is the True Teachings, there is the Buddha. The True Teachings are not found in those who slander the Buddha.

The True Meaning of Compassion

All disciples at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre must focus on purification for the sake of all beings. This is the true practice of compassion. The development of this temple is truly inconceivable. As Practitioner Su has stated, the rise of such temples in the future is essential for the salvation of the confused masses. Without the application of genuine, profound practice, it is impossible to truly believe in the power of the Buddha's teachings.

This is the reality of benefiting oneself and benefiting others. Since time immemorial, our karmic debts have been stored within the very pores of our bodies. When the time is ripe, these debts will come to be collected. If you have not learned the Buddha's teachings, you are simply waiting for death. However, if you have encountered the Buddha's teachings, you have a lifeline. If you can chant Namo Amituofo with a sincere heart, maintaining that continuity in every thought, and make a vow to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, the Buddha's compassion will surely fulfil your wish. You must examine yourself to see if you are free from all impurities, for even a single drop of impurity can prevent your rebirth.

A Family of Scholars

I was born during the Yuan Dynasty in Linzi County, Shandong. My family name was Cheng, and my given name was Sheng. It was a time when the Jurchen people ruled, and the culture placed great emphasis on martial prowess rather than literature. Despite this, my family was quite wealthy. I had three older sisters and two older brothers, and I was the youngest child. For generations, our ancestors had studied the Buddha's teachings, though no one had ever become a monastic. I was the first in our family to do so.

Because our family was prosperous, my parents ensured that every child was literate. My brothers attended private schools, while my sisters were taught by masters invited into our home. Consequently, every one of us was well-versed in literature. My father was a man of great compassion; he even invited teachers to instruct the labourers and maids who wished to learn to read and write. Because of this, everyone in our household held my father in high regard.

The Weight of Impermanence

My father served as a secretary in the imperial court, though his status could not compare to that of the military generals. He was not a man who sought to curry favour, yet everyone in the court knew that he had educated all his children. My sisters were all highly accomplished in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Many of the Jurchen generals who had come to live in the Central Plains sought to marry my sisters, hoping to gain favour with my father, who was a Han Chinese, and to integrate themselves into the local culture and lineage. My father was reluctant, feeling that the Jurchen people were somewhat wild and might not cherish my sisters. However, under pressure, he eventually agreed to marry two of my sisters to prominent military officials. My sisters were unhappy, but they agreed out of fear that refusing would bring hardship to our father and damage his standing in the court. They were married on the same auspicious day, amidst the sound of gongs and drums. I was only ten years old at the time; I did not understand why they looked so sorrowful despite their beautiful wedding attire.

After they were married, my sisters lived in the Central Plains, but their husbands were often away with the Emperor, expanding the borders. My sisters were left to live in solitude. They visited home a few times shortly after their marriages, but after that, we never heard from them again. My youngest sister expressed that she did not wish to marry, but in that era, an unmarried woman would be ridiculed. My father eventually arranged for her to marry a local official in Shandong whom he had known since childhood. Her husband was gentle, and he often allowed her to bring gifts home to visit our parents. Even at a young age, I began to see the helplessness of women who could not master their own destinies.

The Call to Seek the Truth

My father hoped that my eldest brother would follow in his footsteps and inherit his official position. My brother was gentle and refined, but he lacked the inclination for flattery and could not navigate the complexities of the court. Consequently, he did not achieve much in his career. My younger brother, however, wanted nothing to do with official life. He chose to tend to our family's fields, married a woman of similar background, and lived a very simple life. My parents were initially against this, but they eventually relented. Fortunately, his wife was a virtuous woman, and they lived a simple, contented life together.

By the time I was fifteen, I had mastered the great sutras and treatises. My father hoped that I would participate in the local and central examinations, believing that with my background and intelligence, I would surely become the top scholar. My brothers had also learned martial arts, but only for self-defence; my father did not want us to go to the battlefield, create karma, and lose our lives.

My father was a man of integrity in the court, which earned him the Emperor's trust but also the jealousy of many officials. They began to spread rumours that he was ambitious and sought to usurp power. Eventually, the Emperor's heart was swayed. My father, sensing his precarious position, began to decline important tasks, becoming a mere figurehead. Yet, the officials were not satisfied; they wanted him removed entirely. Finally, he was stripped of his status and reduced to a commoner, based on a poem he had written, which they twisted to imply treason. When our family's fortunes fell, we could no longer afford to keep our labourers and maids. It was the most glorious and the most desolate time for our family. At eighteen, I was forced to become a local official to support our family, even though I had no desire for such a life. By then, I had a loving wife and a son who was nearly three years old.

Guided by an intuition to travel southward, and lacking sufficient provisions, I arrived after about ten days at a dilapidated temple in Ningzhou, Zhejiang. The temple was draped in spiderwebs, yet upon looking through the gate, I beheld the Western Trinity. The dignity of the Buddha statues was unlike anything I had ever seen. With nowhere else to go, I knelt before the statues, hoping for a blessing, and closed my eyes in sincere devotion. After some time, an elderly monk in tattered robes appeared. His face was kind, and he smiled as he asked me the purpose of my visit. I explained, "I seek the Truth and wish to leave the mundane world behind. I have let go of my wife and child. Why do we come into this life? Is it merely to continue the family line? A family may enjoy three generations living together, but eventually, there is separation. When that time comes, the heart breaks, and one can never call them back. Life must be more than this. How should one walk this path? I beg the Venerable for teachings."

The Path to True Liberation

The old monk replied, "A human body is difficult to obtain, and the Buddha’s teachings are difficult to hear. If you can let go of yourself and think only of all beings, acting with complete selflessness, you will attain true freedom and great liberation." I asked him, "What is great liberation?" The old monk said, "Life is fundamentally illusory. We appear in this physical body to play a role. One day, we will go into the cycle of rebirth. The six realms of existence are all results of karma. Between causes and effects, our consciousness is layered with memories. The true purpose of studying the Buddha’s teachings is to use the Buddha’s wisdom to stop the cycle of karma. Do not let yourself fall into the six realms. This is true compassion, true freedom, and true liberation." Hearing these words, I was deeply moved. I began to understand the purpose of Buddhist practice and knelt to beg the old monk to accept me as his disciple.

The old monk lived alone, relying on self-sufficiency, and had been waiting for someone to inherit his teachings. With a gentle smile, he helped me up and gave me the Dharma name Shan Hua. I performed three prostrations to thank my master for his grace. At that time, I was twenty-three years old. My master taught me to begin with meditation. It was not an easy task. Although I was not old, my bones had already set. At first, I could not sit in the lotus position for even the duration of one incense stick. I was taught to keep my eyes on my nose, my nose on my heart, and then observe my own breathing. As I watched, I would sometimes accidentally doze off. My master would sensitively wake me up. I would look at him with an apologetic expression and continue to sit, starting over from observing my nose and heart.

The Trials of the Mind

Once I overcame the physical challenges, I began true meditation. Sometimes, while sitting, people, events, or objects I had once cared about would appear before my eyes, or I would see beautiful landscapes, great mountains, and vast rivers. Several times during meditation, I nearly walked into these beautiful scenes, where birds sang and flowers bloomed. I wanted to step forward to take a closer look, but my master would strike me with his staff. I would open my eyes, look at his face with a mischievous smile, and say, "Master, it is so beautiful there!" He would lightly tap my head again and tell me to continue. The most difficult part of meditation is that no matter how beautiful or desirable the scenes are, you must not move. When I first started, I had no meditative concentration and was very curious. During that time, my master watched me closely; whenever I was meditating, he would guard me until I came down from the meditation cushion.

During this period of meditation, my meditative concentration improved significantly. My master often said that the most important thing in practice is the heart. The heart must not be scattered. Meditation is meant to increase one's concentration, and one must not be greedy for the scenes that appear. However, after meditating, scenes would inevitably arise. This time, the image was of my wife holding our child, looking for me. No matter how they searched, they could not find me, and she wept bitterly. It was a heartbreaking scene that stirred a deep pain and a sense of guilt within me. I quickly opened my eyes, not daring to continue. My heart was in such turmoil that I had to tell my master about the vision. He listened calmly and said, "This is merely a test of your seven emotions and five desires. It is not real; view it as an illusory phenomenon." He told me to let it go and not to be overly attached to it.

Awakening Through Illusion

I followed my master’s instructions, but a lingering sense of fear remained. I knew that perhaps there was still a part of me that had not truly let go. During the meditations that followed, I carried a trace of fear, worried that such scenes would manifest again. I seemed unable to fully convince myself that everything was merely an illusion. However, I was certain that this path was the right one, which is why I chose to leave; I did not want to endure the cycle of joy and sorrow anymore, did I? Having finally encountered this cool, free practice, why should I cling to things that could never be retrieved? I realized much from those visions.

The subsequent meditations tested my greed, anger, delusion, arrogance, and doubt. One realm after another appeared to test whether my resolve for the path was firm. This was my own interpretation. Regardless, with my master, a true spiritual friend, guiding me, he provided the right direction whether I passed or failed the tests, ensuring that I would not lose my resolve during the process of practice.

During meditation, I also saw my past lives. In my eighth past life, I was an official in the imperial court. Due to greed and the temptation of beauty, I not only neglected court affairs but also indulged in sensual pleasures. Because I was an old minister, the Emperor did not say much when I failed to attend court. I used embezzled money to drink and make merry, bribing others and causing the welfare of the people in the south to vanish. Doing such things led to no good end; I eventually died suddenly while indulging in pleasures with a woman. In truth, every time I saw my past lives during meditation, it was shocking, and I felt fortunate to be a monastic in this life, as I was less likely to create such karma.

Disciple Fa Xin: May I ask, Great Master, what was the Dharma name of your meditation master? How long after you began meditating could your spirit come and go at will? Please, Great Master, have compassion. Namo Amituofo.

Master Jieliu: My master was the Venerable Yuantong. At that time, only the two of us were practicing meditation in the temple, which was very pure. Under my master’s guidance, I could see visions after a little over a month. After eight months, my spirit could leave my body for about three days. By the time I left my master, my spirit could leave my body for about ten days.

Disciple Fa Xin: Great Master, you are a master of the Pure Land school, yet you entered the Buddha’s gate through meditation. May I ask what causal conditions led you to practice the Pure Land path and to chant the Buddha’s name to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss? Please, Great Master, provide your teachings. Namo Amituofo.

Master Jieliu: Meditation was a common practice at that time, but it seemed to be only for one’s own practice and could not benefit the masses. After much contemplation, I presented this thought to my master, who encouraged me to go out and see the world. Thus, I bid farewell to my master and stepped onto an unknown path.

The Journey Toward the Pure Land

I did not know where I would settle. This time, my body and mind were vastly different. I used concentration to move through meditation. Wherever there was an affinity, I would go. Practice has no home to speak of. The end is actually a beginning. I stepped onto the path with a heavy gait, wondering what would come next. Wherever the affinity led, I would find a place to rest. There was no need to worry or fear.

I had practiced meditation with the Venerable Yuantong for eighteen years, and by the time I left, I was already in my early forties. For nearly twenty years, I lived with my master, rarely having contact with the public. The temple only saw the occasional pilgrim passing through to pay respects; otherwise, there were no people. Because of this purity, the realms attained during meditation were easily elevated, and it was easier to see visions. But after seeing those visions, I dared not cling to them, choosing to see without seeing.

After practicing for many years, I wanted to go out and interact with the world to see how my practice held up and whether I would be swayed by external environments. I had no preconceived notions about what might happen on this journey. Not knowing where to go, I decided to head toward my hometown. Along the way, I relied on alms-begging, walking from town to town, observing the myriad states of human life: the hope and expectation parents have for their children; the middle-aged people who shouldered the family burden, their shoulders being the source of all life; and the wisdom or diligence of the elders being respected. Then, I faced the silence of death. This is the birth, aging, sickness, and death of human life. I saw clearly how important it was that I had embarked on this path of practice! The freedom attained after meditative concentration truly should not be confined to this world.

What method could truly allow one to transcend this? Meditation could only lead oneself to leave suffering behind, and not everyone has the time to practice meditation. What method could be simple enough for everyone to learn and truly achieve liberation? Carrying this vow to help all beings leave suffering behind, I hoped to find something along the way. I stayed at various temples, but I never found one that aligned with my ideals and thoughts, so I never settled in one place.

Until I reached my hometown, the scenery remained the same, but the people were long gone. My family seemed to have moved away due to a natural disaster, leaving behind only dilapidated houses. Having come from the mountains to circle the mundane world, I discovered the cruel side of this worldly realm—the suffering caused by birth, aging, sickness, death, and even the joys and sorrows of parting. How could I lead everyone to leave suffering behind? How could I help them attain the Way? With a grieving heart, I said to the Buddha, "Please, Buddha, guide your disciple to a clear path so that I may find a way to lead others out of suffering and propagate it. In this life, having obtained a human body, I will help as many beings as I can."

In truth, with the meditative concentration I had attained at that time, I could have already left this body and never returned to this world of extreme suffering. But that was not the true purpose of my becoming a monastic. Becoming a monastic is not just for one’s own birth and death, but for the birth and death of more beings. When I was practicing in the mountains, my master did not tell me about everything in this worldly realm; we simply practiced meditation in purity. Now, having walked through this mundane world, I finally discovered and found the core value of my monastic life. I could finally pursue the Truth and use it to help many people. This is what I have observed and thought about along the way. Every day when I open my eyes, I hope that the path to helping beings will become clearer. I believe that one day, I will surely find it. I believe in the Buddha.

Namo Amituofo

One day, while walking toward a village, I found that the villagers held monastics in high regard. They did their utmost to offer whatever they could, and their sincere, selfless actions deeply moved my heart. Upon asking, I learned that many years ago, an elderly monk had passed through this area when the village was suffering from a malaria outbreak. Although he should not have received any outsiders, the old monk’s compassion compelled him to enter the village. Seeing that many villagers had become so thin they were almost unrecognisable and were suffering from illness, he felt great pity. The old monk gave the villagers everything he had, including the food he had received from his alms bowl and his simple robes.

The Power of Compassion and Purification

The old monk asked the villagers to lead him to the cleanest water source in the area. Once there, he began to chant, and afterwards, he instructed the villagers to take this water home, boil it, and drink it, promising that their illnesses would be cured. The villagers followed his instructions, and every household drank the water that the old monk had purified. Gradually, the villagers truly regained their health. This inconceivable event led them to whisper among themselves, wondering which Bodhisattva had come to visit them. They eventually concluded that it must have been a Buddha who had come to save them.

Hearing this story in the village, I felt that it was indeed a manifestation of a Buddha. I had never heard of such a miraculous act of saving beings. Because of this event, the villagers treated monastics with the utmost respect. I stayed in the village for two days and was treated with great kindness. Before leaving, I learned that the village head was planning to travel to a town in the east to visit relatives. Not knowing where to go, I asked if I might accompany him, and he readily agreed. I hoped that I might meet someone who could provide guidance on my path. To reach the village head's destination, we had to cross a river by boat.

The Path to the Western Pure Land

The small boat was made of thatch and could only hold six passengers, plus the boatman. As the village head and I boarded, another monastic stepped onto the boat. I pressed my palms together in respect and politely asked where he was headed. The master replied that he was going to Luoyang and explained that he was a practitioner of the Pure Land Dharma Gate. He explained to me what the Pure Land was: it is the practice of single-mindedly chanting the name of Namo Amituofo. By chanting this one holy name, one can go directly to the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This is the true way to help beings escape the suffering of the cycle of rebirth.

Although I did not yet fully understand everything the master said, it seemed to align with my own aspiration to help beings. I revealed that I had originally been practising Chan, but I was searching for a method that could truly help beings attain the Way. Our conversation was highly compatible with the principles of the Buddha’s teachings. I respectfully asked for his name, and he introduced himself as Master Tongda. He invited me to join him at a temple in Luoyang to plan my next steps. I gratefully accepted, and we set off for Luoyang together.

Finding Refuge in the Pure Land

Upon arriving in Luoyang, we reached the Daxingshan Temple. It was a vast place, housing several thousand monastics, Dharma protectors, and lay followers. Master Tongda was one of the resident monastics there; he led me to meet the abbot and explained my background and my vows. The abbot was very compassionate and invited me to settle in the temple. I was filled with gratitude and began to learn the essence of the Pure Land practice from the other masters, which is chanting the Buddha's name and studying the sutras. The Amitabha Sutra states: "If a good man or good woman hears of Amitabha Buddha and holds fast to His name for one, two, three, four, five, six, or seven days with a single-minded, undisturbed heart, they will be reborn in His land." It was only after arriving here that I understood that Amitabha Buddha had established a Buddha-land ten trillion lands away to allow the beings of the six realms of existence and the ten directions to leave suffering behind. I was deeply moved and made a vow to the Buddha to propagate this method of leaving suffering and gaining happiness so that everyone could be spared from pain.

The Pure Land Dharma Gate is a teaching that is difficult to believe, simply because the idea that one can leave suffering behind just by chanting the name of Namo Amituofo is something many people find hard to accept. Once I settled in, I held my prayer beads tightly and began my practice.

Refining the Heart and Mind

The Pure Land Dharma Gate differs significantly from Chan. The difference lies in the purity of the heart. The degree of purity is defined by how much one has changed and how much effort one has put into correcting one's habits. In truth, the path of the Pure Land is not easier than Chan. In Chan, one only needs to quiet the mind; the quieter the mind becomes, the lighter the spirit, allowing one to transcend the physical body. However, the Pure Land path requires one to be completely free of defilements. The definition of defilement is broad; it can be coarse or extremely subtle. Coarse defilement is having opinions about others, which shows a lack of practice. Subtle defilement is a tiny, fleeting thought that is already not the purity of the Pure Land.

I am very grateful that the fellow practitioners at the temple would constantly remind one another. They were not afraid of causing offence because we all knew that our ultimate goal was the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss and we all shared the desire to help beings. I am not naturally clever or a fast learner, but my desire to pass on the Buddha’s teachings and help people leave suffering behind is very strong. Therefore, there is nothing in life that I need to dwell on or that I cannot let go of, including my own habits.

Overcoming the Subtle Arrogance

In truth, when I first came from my Chan practice, I carried a sense of arrogance. I only realised this after I began studying the Pure Land path. At that time, I felt that I knew how to meditate and that I had a heart that wanted to help beings. Along the way, I had received offerings and, supported by the Buddha's blessings, I had developed a self-righteous sense of mission. Some of these thoughts were very subtle. I must thank the abbot for using skillful means to help me discover this arrogance. I began to work hard to serve the community. I would take on tasks that others did not want to do, or tasks that I did not necessarily have to do, all with the goal of eliminating my subtle arrogance.

Such subtle arrogance can have a significant impact on one's practice. Therefore, I worked hard to overcome it, lowering myself and learning to be humble and modest. I respected every monastic in the temple, from the highest to the lowest. Beyond lowering my arrogance, I also learned to view all as one. Arrogance is a problem that many monastics face, especially those who have been practising for a long time. One must never think that one has already achieved a high level of practice or that one has many followers. Because of me, the temple received many donations. The moment such thoughts arose, I was no longer pure, and my arrogance had taken hold. If that happens, I cannot even help myself, let alone others. On this path of practice, even the most subtle thoughts must be overcome.

Service and Pure Joy

At the time, because I had arrived with a resident monastic and had been invited by the abbot to join the group cultivation, the fellow practitioners and even the Dharma protectors treated me with great respect. They placed me in a high position within the temple. I became vigilant, knowing that this was not appropriate and that I did not need any special privileges. I was merely a guest practitioner studying the Pure Land Dharma Gate. I still did not understand many of the sutras, so I was not someone of great importance.

I asked the administrator for a daily chore. I could not simply live and eat here for free; I had to contribute my strength to serve the community. I became responsible for sweeping the hillside behind the temple, gathering the fallen leaves into one place so that they would not pile up and rot in the rain, which would breed mosquitoes. As I swept, I chanted the Buddha-name: "Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo."

I found great joy in this work, and whenever I saw insects, I would help them take refuge in the Three Jewels. When the little novices passed by and saw insects, they would sometimes play with them. When I saw this, I took the opportunity to teach them: "You must treat them with compassion. After taking refuge, the insects can have their negative karma extinguished and goodness arise. Perhaps they will be reborn in a better place; at the very least, they will not have to be insects again. This is also a way to create a good connection so that one day they might listen to your Dharma talks or support your practice." After hearing this, whenever the children passed by that hillside, they would look intently, and if they saw a small insect, they would immediately go over to help it take refuge, sometimes even competing to be the one to help the same insect. The innocence of these children was truly a joy to behold.

Because I shared these fun methods of delivering sentient beings with the children, they were all delighted and would often surround me. "Master, Master, what else is fun? Tell us!" The children were very cute and eager to learn. Looking at their carefree appearance, I realised I truly had much to learn from them. Their purity and goodness are unmatched, and it is only through such purity and goodness that one can truly be purified and find one's true self.

The Profound Simplicity of the Buddha-Name

An awakened being possesses infinite Wisdom and virtues to savebeings, allowing everyone to receive the benefits of the Dharma. The magnificence of the Pure Land is unparalleled; it is simple and clear, yet within that simplicity and clarity lie profound mysteries. One can be reborn in the West by chanting Namo Amituofo, but to reach the state where one can truly be reborn by chanting this Buddha-name requires immense effort. To be uninterrupted 24/7, with not a single thought arising, is truly no easy task. Since I understood these principles, I have been constantly refining my heart. Whenever a thought arises, I examine it and stop it immediately. I also practise looking at the world with my eyes while keeping my heart unmoved. Developing this meditative concentration requires practice. In the end, everything comes down to one point: compassion. With compassion, one can naturally accept all external circumstances and remain calm and cool.

In fact, many of the key points of the Pure Land Dharma Gate were taught to me by the abbot, who also compassionately examined every one of my thoughts and actions. I remember once, when a large Dharma assembly was to be held the next day, the abbot entrusted the entire event to me. I had prepared the fresh flowers and fruit offerings, but I had forgotten the most important task: notifying the lay followers to attend. I had even reserved the front seats for the elder monks and the temple's biggest donors. As the time for the assembly approached, I wondered why no one had arrived. In a moment of doubt, I remembered: I had forgotten to send anyone to notify them. I kept myself in a balanced state, chanted the Buddha-name a few times, and honestly reported the matter to the abbot. The abbot, being a person of great practice, did not scold me much, only saying, "Let us reschedule the notification for seven days from now!"

Namo Amituofo

In the midst of these events, it seemed as though my mind was being tested to see if the attachment to gain and loss still lingered within me. Fortunately, whenever such thoughts arose, I immediately used the Buddha-name to still them, choosing to face the situation with complete honesty. The most important aspect of practising the Buddha’s teachings is to be truly honest about the problems that exist within oneself. Only by facing these issues and resolving them can one truly achieve purification. My most vital daily lesson is to examine myself; whenever any external situation manifests—whether it appears good or bad—I must reflect upon my own heart. I must ask myself if my heart has been moved. In truth, there should not be any event, any scene, or any object that causes the heart to waver. All things and all phenomena flow naturally with the Dharma, and the formation of the universe returns to this one heart. A heart of Goodness allows all things to flourish with vitality, whereas a heart that hides evil leads only to the destruction of all living things.

The Mirror of the Mind

Why do I speak of this with such gravity and profound concern? One can observe this through the history of the imperial system in China. A righteous emperor, filled with integrity, could lead the people toward prosperity and peace. Conversely, an emperor whose heart was biased was like a spine that had become crooked; the distortion spread from the top down, bringing nothing but suffering to the people and leaving the civilians in a state of utter despair. Does this not all depend on whether the heart is upright? This heart can be vast or small, and it can be extremely good or extremely evil. The path of practice requires us to overcome our own habits, which are the very stains of defilement accumulated since time immemorial. Our original spirit was once so pure and unstained, and we were all once so pristine. It is only because we could not distinguish between right and wrong, or between the true nature of Goodness and the nature of evil, that we have remained trapped in the cycle of rebirth. My children, it is time for you to awaken. The suffering of the cycle of rebirth is the greatest of all sufferings; do not remain lost in confusion any longer.

Leading with Compassion

Under a specific set of Causal Conditions, the abbot of the Daxingshan Temple arranged for me to serve as the abbot of a temple located in the suburbs of Luoyang. It was a very serene and quiet place, with only about ten disciples. I was forty-eight years old at the time. During the years I spent at Daxingshan Temple, I truly learned what is required to manage a temple effectively. To lead people, one must lead with the heart. At that time, the abbot was incredibly diligent in teaching the disciples, carefully guiding their every action, their every gesture, and even their every thought and intention. I observed his methods closely, learning how to emulate such guidance.

When I first took charge of the temple, I carefully sought to understand the situation of every monastic. I would guide them at appropriate times using skillful means, ensuring that we maintained harmony without causing hurt. However, there were also times when it was necessary to point out their shortcomings directly and clearly. The monastic community operates on the foundation of the Six Harmonies and the perspective of oneness, which we use to examine where our own habits need adjustment. We must be tolerant of one another, but the most important principle is compassion—we must be compassionate toward everyone. Through this approach, the disciples naturally began to radiate an aura of compassion, which in turn influenced the community and attracted many other monastics who were eager to learn. Some of these monastics chose to stay and continue their studies, just as I had once felt drawn to this path. Every day, I would set aside time to give Dharma talks and spend time with my monastic disciples, encouraging them to raise any questions they had so that we could discuss them and grow together. Under this style of leadership, the monastic community continued to expand.

The Heart of the Pure Land Path

Upon taking over the temple, I realised that I was no longer young, and it was time to dedicate my full strength to passing on the Pure Land Dharma Gate. Delivering Dharma talks is one of the keys to this transmission. Therefore, I established the Infinite Life Sutra and the Amitabha Sutra as the foundation for our studies. The purpose was twofold:

• To help everyone understand the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.
• To clarify how the Forty-eight Great Vows of Amitabha Buddha can be put into practice through Faith, Vows, and Practice, thereby allowing one to realise the fruit of Buddhahood.

It is not enough to simply chant the Buddha-name in a hollow manner. I posed this question to my disciples: "Are you chanting for yourself, for the Buddha, or for all beings?" Naturally, everyone answered that they were chanting for the sake of all beings. But I asked them again, "What kind of heart is truly chanting for the sake of all beings, and what kind of heart is chanting for oneself?" One disciple replied that it is to stop thinking of oneself. To be more precise, it is a heart of great compassion—a heart that pities all beings and cannot bear to see them trapped in a sea of fire. Yet, all too often, beings are trapped in this sea of fire without even realising it.

Cultivating the Seeds of Awakening

Furthermore, what is this "sea of fire"? It is the fluctuating, uneven heart—the attachment to gain and loss, and the jealousy and obstacles that every person is born with. This is the true work of practice. Compared to the worldly suffering of being separated from those we love or being forced to be with those we hate, these afflictions are perhaps fewer, but they are still present. The moment any subtle thought of this nature arises, affliction is born, and the heart can no longer be considered a Pure Land. These were concepts that my disciples did not fully understand before, beyond the simple act of chanting the Buddha-name. Through my Dharma talks, I established these concepts for them one by one, hoping that when they went out to lead other beings, they would be able to share this positive perspective. In truth, all dharmas are mind-only; everything is governed by the heart.

I then began to make arrangements for the propagation of the Dharma. I gave lectures to my disciples every morning, and I also arranged for them to give public Dharma talks to the laypeople every week. When the disciples gave their talks, I would sit in a corner where I could not be seen, listening to them and providing guidance afterward. For the laypeople, I would lead them in chanting the Buddha-name and listening to the Dharma. This gave the devotees, who originally came only to burn incense and bow to the Buddha, more opportunities to participate. They began to understand the Buddha’s teachings more clearly, learning the significance of chanting, the nature of the Pure Land, and why we chant the name of Amitabha Buddha.

The Weight of Karma and the Path of Truth

As a result, the number of devotees at the temple grew steadily. When it was time for the public Dharma talks, the devotees would arrive in succession, some even travelling from the city. My disciples also grew in confidence as the number of devotees increased. I was very happy, because it meant more people could understand the benefits of the Buddha’s teachings, and it helped my disciples build their own faith. I focused on the internal growth of the community, while my disciples focused on the external outreach. In my spare time, I would walk around the temple, observing everyone performing their duties. Every scene, every object, every flower, and every tree here possessed its own vitality, yet they existed in harmony. This is the preciousness of the human body; we possess the ability to think, and we can take these seeds of Goodness and develop them to their fullest potential, thereby helping all beings.

In private, I am a man of few words. I spend my time in my quarters sitting in meditation—not by observing my breath, but by chanting the Buddha-name, remaining quiet and still. I never participate in the large-scale activities held for the devotees, leaving those matters entirely to my disciples. I only enjoy purity, quietly observing my own heart, free from a single thought, free from a single stain. I do not enjoy contact with crowds, nor is it necessary for the devotees to know who the abbot is. I am old now; let the young and capable disciples have their chance to shine. Because of our Dharma talks, more people have been inspired to become monastics. I personally adjust their habits first before handing them over to their fellow brothers to lead.

As the number of devotees grew, they naturally developed affinities with different teachers, and the number of followers for each disciple varied. I noticed that the disciples could not help but feel a sense of comparison regarding the number of followers they each had, which is a great taboo in the Buddha’s gate. Therefore, during my morning lecture, I used skillful means to ask them a question. I asked, "Does your teacher’s heart appear cool and calm?" The disciples nodded in unison. I then asked, "And how many devotees does your teacher have who admire him?" After a moment of silence, one disciple said, "All the devotees are the teacher’s devotees; they are all devotees of this temple, and they do not belong to any one person." I nodded and said, "You must all remember that." I did not need to be overly blunt, for my disciples were all people of sharp faculties; they understood.

Later, as the number of monastics and devotees continued to grow, the faithful expanded the temple, transforming it from the original Guanghua Temple into Shanhua Temple, named after my inner title. We focused on chanting the Buddha-name and giving Dharma talks. Chanting is the primary condition for rebirth in the Western Pure Land, while Dharma talks allow the public to understand what the Western Land is, who Amitabha Buddha is, and why it is essential to chant this name. Otherwise, if we simply asked people to chant without explanation, they might not understand, and the chanting would lack meaning. This approach allowed more and more people to understand the benefits of the Buddha’s teachings and the importance of practice. Although there were many people studying the Buddha’s teachings at that time, very few knew of this perfect and complete Pure Land Dharma Gate.

The temple has consistently cultivated talent for giving Dharma talks. When the time and Causal Conditions are ripe, the disciples go to other towns to continue propagating the Pure Land Dharma Gate, allowing the teachings to branch out and flourish. This is a fitting tribute to a lifetime of practice—from the beginning of my Zen studies, searching for the true Truth of life, letting go of so much, and travelling across many rivers and mountains, I have finally found peace here. I am finally able to spread this great Dharma, and my life of practice has not been in vain. I can now be at ease, for my disciples are actively spreading this great Dharma. I have retired to the background, and seeing my disciples gradually expand the reach of the Dharma brings great comfort to my heart.

At this time, I am fifty-three years old. My body is still relatively strong, though in these final days, I have developed a chronic cough. I cough when the weather changes, I cough when I wake up, and I sometimes cough while speaking. I know clearly that this is the manifestation of spiritual obstacles. When I was previously practising Zen, I was able to see some of my past lives. I saw that when I was once a high-ranking official, I was arrogant and self-righteous, never listening to the advice of others and causing people to suffer in silence. This occurred in my eighth lifetime, and of course, that was not the only instance; I also once misjudged a situation that led to someone being poisoned to death. Thus, I know the terror of the laws of karma and cause and effect; they are never off by even a hair’s breadth.

Although I am a man of few words, I have told my disciples about this so that they may also know. I tell them that I, too, have created much karma through the cycle of rebirth, and that receiving this retribution in my current life is only fair. I must not have any complaints; I must accept it willingly. Even if one spends an entire life walking the righteous path, such karma cannot be avoided, let alone if one has strayed even slightly! For monastics, it is especially important to dedicate oneself to teaching others Good thoughts and Good actions. More importantly, one must plant the seeds for all beings to escape the suffering of the six realms of rebirth and be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Otherwise, if one merely accepts offerings without truly practising the path to liberation, and fails to let beings know the beauty of the Western Pure Land—failing to lead them to believe in the Buddha, study the teachings, and chant the Buddha-name—then one leaves beings to continue suffering in the sea of karma. Is this not the primary reason why there are so many monastics at the gates of hell? Monastics should be more awakened. I have always been very attentive to these matters regarding my disciples. Although I am getting on in years, as long as I take good care of every disciple, they will be able to spread this path of liberation in a way that is righteous and not deviant. Only then can this Dharma lineage remain undying, and only then will this worldly realm have a chance for salvation.

Namo Amituofo

At the age of fifty-eight, while I was sitting in meditation and chanting in my quarters, I would sometimes witness the golden, resplendent scenery of the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. However, I remained unmoved, knowing well that one must not let the mind be stirred by such visions. I would simply continue to sit, neither looking back nor dwelling upon the experience. By that time, there were already over two thousand monastics in the temple, each of them outstanding and pure in their conduct. I felt at ease. I eventually stepped down from my position as abbot, entrusting the responsibility to a disciple of sufficient virtue who could guide the community and uphold the right perspective. I then lived in quietude, chanting Namo Amituofo and simply watching over the temple's affairs.

The Final Departure

On a winter morning when I was sixty-one, before the time for the morning meal in the dining hall, a disciple knocked on my door. When they opened it, they found me sitting upright in my usual posture, dressed in the robes I wore for delivering Dharma talks. My face was smiling and radiant. On the table, I had left a piece of calligraphy that read: "The Original Vow of Amitabha Buddha is the destination of the Pure Land." The disciples knew that their master had surely attained rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. They all knelt before my quarters, bowing in gratitude for the master's grace. This was the life of the one known as Jieliu in his outer name and Shanhuo in his inner name, who manifested in the Yuan Dynasty.

The Root of Physical Suffering

Disciple Faxin: "Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, through the compassion of the Buddha, transcends space and time. Today, you have unveiled the mystery of the three hun souls and seven po souls within the human body. Can the birth, aging, sickness, and death of a human being be halted through the study of the Buddha's teachings? Master, when you were fifty-three, your body began to show signs of a chronic cough. Please, Master, explain this with your compassion. Namo Amituofo."

Master Jieliu: "One afternoon, when I was fifty-three, I was taking a nap. In my dream, I appeared to be speaking with a monastic who had made a mistake. The content of our conversation seemed unpleasant, and our expressions were not joyful. My tone was harsher than usual—it was the manner of a superior speaking to a subordinate. I could feel that the other person was deeply resentful, yet out of respect, they did not talk back. After I woke from that dream, I began to cough every day. Upon reflection, I realised that at that moment, one of my hun souls and four of my po souls had already departed. It was because a subtle sense of arrogance had arisen; I wanted to force others to accept my opinions. Because of this habit, my soul was taken away by karmic creditors, who then invaded the empty spaces in my body, and thus the illness began. The more habits that manifest, the more the body decays. One cannot blame anyone else; everything arises from one's own habits."

The Truth of the Fifty Trillion Cells

Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre reveals that the fifty trillion cells of the human body are all the result of karmic retribution from our past actions. Within every cell of the body, they follow our goodness if we are good, but when evil thoughts arise, they trigger memories of past injuries. The karmic creditors then come to seek revenge, causing the body to feel uncomfortable and fall ill. Finally, when the time of one's life span arrives, they all swarm forward to claim the life. This is the true reality of the universe. Knowing this, would anyone still dare to do evil or harbour evil thoughts? If the Buddha's teachings had not revealed this, we would never have known. Therefore, we must face all our habits and correct them. We must truly act for the benefit of all beings; only then is there a possibility of turning one's destiny around. I speak so sternly because I hope everyone will awaken and stop living in the midst of illusory phenomena.

Reflecting on the Path of Practice

Disciple Faxin: "I am grateful to the Master for sharing the journey of your practice. I now understand that habits are obstacles on the path of practice. Purity and Goodness will reduce many of the winding paths in our practice. I will also learn from the Master's humility and modesty. Namo Amituofo."

Master Jieliu: "I am grateful to my child, Faxin, for recording the story of my life's practice. Faxin is one of my beloved disciples, having followed me in practice since the age of eight, after being sent to the temple by parents who could not afford to raise a child in poverty. Since childhood, you have been intelligent and well-loved by the community, yet at times, you carried a hidden sorrow and a sense of insecurity from being abandoned by your parents. I understood this, which is why I often called you to my side to talk. You often pretended to be strong and unaffected, but deep down, you longed for others' care."

The Trap of Emotional Entanglements

"You have always been very respectful and close to me. Your performance on the path of practice was always active and excellent, yet you could never let go of that dark place in your heart. I was very worried, fearing that one day that darkness would severely affect your practice and achievements; but the very thing I feared came to pass. When you were eighteen, you and the daughter of a lay practitioner developed feelings of love for each other. I saw it all, and I knew you were suffering. I stood by quietly, hoping that nothing would go wrong. But who would have known that it would trigger that sense of insecurity in you—the need for someone to be by your side who understands you? The so-called seven emotions and five desires of the world were completely stirred up in you, and without realising it, you began to stray further and further from the path."

"You knelt before me, weeping bitterly, not knowing what to do. You tried hard for many days, but you could not let go. It was like a poison from which you could not extricate yourself. Emotion is the most terrifying and uncontrollable thing in the world. In the end, you chose to return to lay life, feeling that you no longer had the heart of a Pure Land practitioner and were no longer qualified to remain in the Buddha's gate. You were filled with shame."

A Call to Awaken

"My child, your causal conditions in this life are magnificent. You were born into a family of the Buddha's gate, allowing you to study the Buddha's teachings so smoothly and to reside in a Buddha-land, a place where Buddhas gather. Now, in this life, you have attained the status of a Bhikshuni. You cannot fully comprehend the suffering of all sentient beings. Look into your own Alaya consciousness; throughout your many lives, you have been bound by emotion and have created karma for the sake of emotion. That suffering is deeply etched in your consciousness; it is a very deep, deep scar. In several past lives, you were a monastic, only to return to lay life because of emotion. Each collision with emotion was heart-wrenching, and the price paid was immense. The greatest price is that you have been drifting in the ocean of karma in this worldly realm for countless lives. You must truly let go of this; all emotional entanglements are illusory!"

"Can you feel the intention behind my words to you? Do not waste this life, having obtained this human body! Make the most of this life. You know that the body is false, do you not? Let go of the confusion of your many lives and come to help the confused people of this worldly realm! With your intelligence and Wisdom, you should know how to let go. This is all I will say. Child, cherish this life well! Namo Amituofo."

Disciple Faxin: "I am grateful to the Master for sharing these stories of practice, allowing me to learn and reflect. I now understand the problems I have faced since time immemorial. I will cherish this human body, make the most of it, and help the immeasurable and boundless sentient beings and Bodhisattvas. Namo Amituofo."

This message was recorded by the Buddha's disciple, Shi Faxin.