This is a record of an interview with Shi Yuanguang, who sought [Spiritual Deliverance] at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Nature. This account reflects upon his life approximately 500 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fajing, on July 14, 2020.
Shi Yuanguang speaks:
". I am Yuanguang. This was my Dharma name during my practice in the human world. My journey began in the country of Cambodia, over five centuries ago. I was the eldest son in a family of eleven children. We lived a life of extreme simplicity, barely scraping by. In that era of constant turmoil, my parents had no grand expectations for us; they only prayed that we would survive, that we would still be breathing from one day to the next. That was all that mattered.
A Tragic Flight from War
Our home, once lively, was shattered by the chaos of war. During a desperate escape, my parents were forced to flee in different directions with some of my siblings, while I took charge of the four youngest. We were constantly on the run, pursued by enemy forces. I remember running until my lungs burned, carrying my younger brother and sister on my back, while holding the hand of another brother and leading the eldest. My eldest brother, only eight years old, cried out, 'Brother, I am so tired! Can we please rest?' I gasped for air and whispered, 'Hush! Do not speak, just run! If we stop, we will lose our lives. There is no time for rest!'
We eventually found a cave overgrown with tall grass. It looked like a sanctuary, though I later realised the grass had been deliberately transplanted to hide the entrance. Inside, we met a dishevelled, barefoot man sitting in meditation on a large stone. He allowed us to stay the night. When we were hungry, he directed us to a nearby fruit tree. That night, as my siblings slept, I sat against the cold stone wall, weeping silently. I wondered, 'Is this what life is? Why is there so much suffering?'
The Cruel Price of Survival
The following days were a nightmare of starvation and illness. My second brother contracted a horrific disease; his skin inflamed and rotted until his right foot was nearly bone. Desperate, I carried him to a nearby village, begging for help. When we finally found a man who appeared to be a healer, he did not offer comfort. Instead, he drew a sharp blade and severed my brother's foot in one swift motion. The shock was absolute. The villagers watched in silence, then cheered as the healer performed a strange ritual to stop the bleeding. We were then taken to a remote house and locked in cages. We were to be sacrifices.
The villagers gathered, singing and dancing in a grotesque ritual. They raised us high, preparing to take our heads as offerings to their gods. Just as the blade was poised above me, a massive eagle—a creature of impossible size—appeared in the sky. The distraction gave me the chance to grab my siblings and leap from the platform into the unknown depths below. We survived the fall, but my siblings did not survive the aftermath. I buried them with my own hands, digging into the earth until my fingers bled. I was the only one left of thirteen.
The Search for the Light
I spent months crawling through the valley, eating grass and drinking rainwater, my heart torn to shreds by the memories of my family. I wanted to end my life, but I remembered my mother's words: 'To be a filial child, do not easily harm your body.' I chose to live. Eventually, I was found by a passerby and returned to the world of men, only to be caught in a bizarre misunderstanding where a wealthy family insisted I had 'stolen' their daughter's heart and must marry her. To escape this trap, I chose the path of the monk. I remembered my mother speaking of the monastic life, and I knew that in our country, once a man takes the robes, even a king cannot stop him.
The Dharma as a Spring of Life
While wandering, I sat beneath a massive, ancient tree to rest. I heard a voice—a man speaking with such magnetic resonance that I was transfixed. He was teaching the Dharma to the tree. In that moment, the teachings felt like a cool spring in a parched desert. My life, once a bleak landscape of black and white, was suddenly painted with vibrant colour. I asked him, 'The world is overflowing with the bitter waters of suffering; how can one not suffer?'
The monk, who I realised was the same man who had sheltered us in the cave, replied, 'As long as you have a body, the bitter waters will continue to flow. To stop the suffering, you must extinguish the source. You must cut off greed, anger, and delusion. You must cultivate the path with diligent practice.' I followed him to his small, secluded temple, where I dedicated my life to the Dharma. I sought to understand the nature of suffering, to see through the illusions of the world, and to realise the truth of .
A Debt of Gratitude
For years, I practised in silence, eventually attaining the fruit of a Hearer-of-the-Dharma. Yet, I realise now that my practice was purely for my own liberation. I did not understand the suffering of others; I did not have the heart to save them. When I witnessed Practitioner Su opening the space for the celestial beings and the four sages, and saw her sacrificing herself to bear the suffering of all beings, I was deeply humbled. My mind-capacity was not even a millionth of hers.
I am filled with shame that I never saved a single soul during my many lifetimes of suffering. I am so grateful to Practitioner Su for guiding me to the Western Pure Land. I vow to practise diligently here, and then return to the human world to deliver sentient beings, so that I may be worthy of the Buddha, worthy of Practitioner Su, and worthy of all beings. Thank you, Practitioner Su, for your great . Namo Amituofo."
