The Path of No-Self and the Boundless Ocean of Wisdom

This is a record of an interview with the Venerable Changdao, who sought to save beings at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life approximately 1,393 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on February 25, 2020.

Venerable Changdao speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Changdao. In the mist of this world, one cannot see the truth; it is a kind of hazy beauty. This feeling of an illusory dream allowed me to catch my breath for a moment. The pressures of life always forced me to rush forward without pause, and though I occasionally wished to stop and rest, the opportunity never seemed to arrive. Sitting in the living room, I looked up at the portrait on the wall—the only painting of my father and mother in their entire lives, and the final memory they left for us. I wonder, are my parents doing well in the heavens? Looking at the smiles they left behind, I think they must be doing very well."

The Burden of Responsibility

"'Brother, I am hungry!' my younger brother, who was playing nearby, shouted at me. Looking at my young siblings, I realized that taking care of them was likely my life's responsibility. I stood up and walked toward the kitchen, knowing full well that the rice jar was empty. Once again, I had to lower my head and take an empty bowl to Aunt Hao’s house next door to beg for a little rice bran. I wondered how much longer I would have to endure such days. I looked up at the sky and whispered to my parents, 'I miss you so much.'

My parents had passed away in an accident two years prior, when I was only ten years old. I was the eldest of five siblings, and my youngest sister was only two at the time. Our family's finances were never good; we relied on my father’s labor, which fluctuated depending on the weather. The wood piled up in our home was all that my father had left behind. It used to look like a mountain, but now only a few scattered pieces remained. It seemed I would have to head up the mountain to chop wood tomorrow, or else my siblings would suffer from the cold when the winter arrived.

Some said I was a child born to suffer. A fortune-telling woman who lived nearby looked at my face and said, 'These hands of yours were born to work; they will never have a moment of rest.' I just smiled and said nothing. After two years of tempering, I no longer complained. Whether I did much or little, I had to do it. My greatest task now was to care for my siblings; only if they grew up safe and sound could I be worthy of my parents."

The Illusion of Permanence

"Before my parents passed away, I naively believed that a family could stay together forever, never to be separated. It was only after they left my side that I saw the truth: there is no such thing as 'forever' in this world. Even though family is family, we cannot rely on each other eternally; there is always a moment of departure. Once I understood this, I stopped pursuing 'unchanging' or 'constant' states. My heart could be natural; there was no need to force things or hold onto attachments. After time passes, all things change, so why should I be attached to anything? It is all just an illusion.

Hearing a sorrowful melody, I asked the figure sitting under the tree, 'Who is playing the zither?' The music stopped at my question. The figure slowly turned around—it was a woman with a face full of sorrow. I walked up and asked, 'I hear the sadness in your heart through your music. The world is illusory; what could possibly cause you such distress?' The woman lowered her head, her body trembling as she sobbed. With tears in her eyes, she said to me, 'A man heard my music and admired it. He offered a high price to buy me as his wife. Before I could even refuse, my stepmother, who was watching from the side, immediately agreed. I do not know what the meaning of my life is. In a life without choices, I am left to the mercy of fate. This song only expresses a fraction of my feelings. I have no right to say more; life is probably just like this. No amount of words could exhaust the sorrow in my heart.' After she finished speaking, she put away her zither and turned to leave. I watched her melancholy figure disappear, remaining where I stood, looking at the great tree. Under this tree, I had heard many life stories, not just hers. Every time I passed by, scenes of life’s theater played out before me. This experience made me realize that mixing all the flavors of life together results in a bitter taste. How, then, does one leave suffering behind? Perhaps only by no longer discriminating between sweet and bitter can the bitter water one drinks become as pure as clear water."

The Strength of a Simple Heart

"'One can grow even by drinking rainwater'—this is my life experience. I believe that a person’s body can be very resilient; one can live freely according to the environment. As long as the heart does not crave much, even the most barren soil can grow a small, emerald-green blade of grass. I carried this faith with me as I grew. Even when I encountered many hardships in life, I could pass through them with an unshaken heart, because I sought nothing. In life, there was no longer a distinction between good and bad, only compliance and freedom.

As my siblings grew year by year, my eldest sister prepared to marry at the age of ten. We had no money for her dowry, so I borrowed a brush and ink from a neighbor and wrote a single character on a piece of white paper to give to her. I told her the character was 'Wu' (Nothingness). My sister looked at me in confusion, and I continued, 'Remember, life is essentially nothingness. Whether you encounter favorable or adverse circumstances, good situations or bad, it is all nothingness. When your heart is 'nothing,' you will not give rise to thoughts because of life's various encounters. When the heart is without thoughts, there will be no feelings of good or bad. Within nothingness, everything is natural and free.' My sister gave a brilliant smile; she understood what I meant. We were always close, and I understood her heart best. She was a good girl, and I knew clearly that she chose to marry that wealthy young man only to reduce the family's burden. Even though I tried to stop her many times, I could not change her mind, so I gave her my greatest blessing, wishing her a lifetime of happiness."

The Search for True Joy

"After my eldest sister married, she often sent money home, letting me know she was doing well and that her husband treated her kindly. As for my brother, who was a year younger, he went to work in another region after our sister married. Before he left, he told me, 'Brother, although you are our brother, you have cared for us like a father. Now that I am grown, it is time for me to repay your kindness. I will work hard to earn money so you no longer have to worry about our livelihood.' Seeing that my brother had grown up and become sensible, I told him, 'Brother can live on rainwater. I do not seek money in life, only peace and joy in my heart. I do not need money; I only want you to live well. Do not suffer for the sake of life, and do not suffer within life. We can all live a wonderful life of freedom and joy; why pursue the false illusions of this world? What I am searching for now is the true joy within the heart. Only by attaining true joy does life truly have meaning.' My brother did not seem to understand what I was telling him. He was focused only on earning money, filled with grand ideals and ambitions. He wanted to get rich, marry a beautiful wife, and live a worldly life, enjoying the false and dreamlike pleasures of the world. I could not change his mind, so I had to follow his wishes and let him live the life he wanted.

Caring for my siblings as they grew up, I asked for no repayment. The responsibility on my shoulders gradually lifted. Once the youngest sister could care for herself, I would regain my freedom and no longer have to carry this family with me wherever I went."

A New Beginning

"The year my youngest sister married, I was an eighteen-year-old youth. That year, I felt as if I were reborn, living in this world anew. When I left home, I closed the front door for the last time. Looking at this house, it was like the bird's nest on the tree in the courtyard—each bird had grown strong wings and flown away from the home. I looked back one last time at the old house that had accompanied me for eighteen years. Every pillar and beam was filled with memories from childhood to adulthood. I let the memories stay there; I took nothing with me. My eighteen-year-old body was not a vessel for eighteen years of time and memories, but a body of emptiness, returning to the original purity.

When the world stopped being a place of obsession and fantasy in my eyes, the meaning of living in this world was no longer to live for myself. I was willing to dedicate my life, believing that only by offering my all could this journey of life manifest its meaning and value. I also believed that when living in this world was no longer about thinking of oneself, this body could manifest its purest and most luminous true form.

Walking on the uneven road, I could fall at any moment, but I had no fear. I continued to walk on this path that few traveled. Even with many pits and sharp stones blocking the way, I could walk through freely, leaving no trace behind. I always believed that the most difficult and arduous path, once walked to the end, would reveal the most beautiful clouds. I could not bear to stop for even a moment. I kept moving forward, believing that this path would temper my perseverance and faith. I also believed that through this tempering, I could refine a more authentic heart."

The Obstacle of the Self

"Halfway through, a giant boulder as wide as the road blocked my path completely. Unless I moved it, I could not continue. The boulder was so large that I could not move it by pushing with my hands. At that moment, I could choose to turn back and abandon the path, or I could continue to exert effort until the boulder was moved. I bent down, picked up stones from the ground, and used them to strike the boulder. I struck it fiercely, again and again, but the boulder only showed slight marks; there was no sign of it cracking. I kept trying, striking it for seven days and seven nights. All the small stones on the ground were broken, but the boulder remained unmoved. I lay on the ground, looking up at the boulder, thinking, 'Should I continue? But my body seems to have no strength left...' I was too tired to stand, my eyes blurring. In my semi-conscious state, a pair of large feet appeared before me. These feet were covered in the traces of time and calluses, belonging to someone who traveled long distances. I looked up and saw a wise man whose eyes were filled with wisdom. Although he was covered in filth, with a messy beard and skin stained by wind and sand, I could see from his eyes that he was no ordinary person, but a man of great inner wisdom. I struggled to crawl up from the ground, bowed to the wise man, and asked politely, 'May I ask who you are?' The wise man replied, 'My name is Humility. I have walked this path many times. Few people come here, so it is rare to meet you today.' I told the wise man, 'I was so close to finishing this path, but in this final stretch, I was blocked by this boulder. For seven days and seven nights, I have been picking up stones to strike it, but no matter how much strength I use, I cannot break it.' The wise man said, 'Do you truly know yourself?' His question stunned me. How could he ask something so unrelated to the boulder? I asked in confusion, 'Why do you ask me this? What does it have to do with this boulder?' The wise man said, 'It has everything to do with it. The fundamental reason you cannot break this boulder is that you do not know yourself well enough.' This was the first time someone had said this to me. I had always thought I knew myself best, but here was someone telling me I did not. The wise man continued, 'This boulder is not a boulder; it is the greatest obstacle in your heart—it is the 'self,' personal ego, and selfishness.' I asked, 'My the 'self,' personal ego, and selfishness?' The wise man said, 'If you cannot truly let go of yourself, you cannot attain true joy. True joy is not found elsewhere; it lies entirely in a heart of no-self. If there is still the 'self,' personal ego, and selfishness within you, true joy will always remain on the other side of the boulder, unreachable.' Through the wise man's words, I understood. The greatest obstacle on this arduous path was not the flatness or twists of the road, but whether one's heart was truly pure. Only when one truly lets go of everything that does not belong to oneself is the heart truly pure and flawless. A flawless heart can attain freedom; even when walking on a bumpy road, one can move forward quickly without obstruction.

When my heart truly desired change, the boulder vanished instantly. I understood that within the dust of the body, there were still the 'self,' personal ego, and selfishness carried over from past lives. If the wise man had not pointed this out, I would not have seen it clearly."

The Vow to Save Beings

"I continued forward. After walking a long distance, two forks appeared in the road. They were clearly different: one was lined with giant fruits, while the other was so barren that not a blade of grass grew. Which path do people usually take? And which one should I choose? I thought, the path full of fruit does not lack travelers, but this barren path needs my presence. I stepped onto the barren path without hesitation. The soil was cracked, and the insects on the ground were dried out. With every step, my heart ached; with every step, I became more convinced that the world does not lack one more person to enjoy it, but it lacks one more person to vow to save others. Seeing so many living beings suffering, I told myself, 'My presence is needed here.' But I did not know how I could help them.

I walked this path for a long time, my feet heavy. Seeing so many creatures suffering from the lack of water and the barren land, I forgot that I had not eaten or drunk for ten days. Yet, my body still had strength. I could continue because the vow ignited in my heart naturally generated an endless source of energy, supporting me through those ten days.

Who am I? I forgot. I do not need to think about who I am; I only need to know that the remaining task of my life is no longer for myself. Even if I forget who I am, it is enough to remember to help others. The end of this path was a solemn and majestic Buddhist temple. Before I even reached the mountain gate, I heard the continuous sound of chanting Namo Amituofo. The sound grew closer. I looked carefully and saw it was not a monk, but a very young child sitting on a large rock outside the temple, chanting. I listened quietly to the boy's chanting and, without realizing it, began to chant along. As the Buddha-name was chanted from my heart, I felt the immense energy naturally generated by this name—a gentle, powerful force that was strong but carried no harm; it was a combination of compassion and softness. As I chanted, I saw scenes of those desolate places sprouting new buds. I also saw that light arrived with this Buddha-name. My heart knew that this Buddha-name and this place could help me return to that barren path, and that I could use even greater energy to help them.

Entering the temple, I took refuge in the Buddha’s gate. I was no longer the worldly person I once was. The Master told me, 'From now on, your Dharma name is Shengchuan (Holy Transmission). You should understand the meaning of Shengchuan: the transmission of the Buddha’s teachings requires your effort and vow, and whether the Buddha’s teachings can save sentient beings also requires your compassion to guide them. Shaving your hair is like the dust of the world not staining your heart; wearing the monk's robes is like the worldly body no longer returning to the world. When you put on the kasaya, you must know how many sentient beings are waiting for you to save them.' After the Master finished speaking, he pointed to the East, and I looked toward the East. He pointed to the West, and I looked toward the West; he pointed to the South, and I looked toward the South; he pointed to the North, and I looked toward the North. The Master said, 'In every direction I point, as long as your mind-capacity is vast, you can see as far as you wish. In every place, there are sentient beings connected to you by karmic affinity waiting. Every being can have an affinity with you. With just one Buddha-name, you can save them. Even if they are not saved by you at this moment, when the time is right, they will be awakened again because of this Buddha-name you once chanted.' I knelt before the Buddha and made a vow: 'I vow that my heart will be boundless, I vow that my compassion will be boundless, and I vow that my boundless compassionate heart can save boundless sentient beings.'"

The True Joy of Compassion

"When I stepped onto that barren path again, I no longer saw the dried-up insects on the surface of the land, but all the living beings who had appeared on this land over countless eons, still suffering in the sea of misery. I chanted for them, I taught the Dharma for them, hoping that all beings could leave suffering behind and escape the sea of karma forever.

Someone asked me, 'Why were you able to make the vow to save sentient beings in this life?' I replied, 'Because I am a sentient being. I suffer, and others suffer; I am enlightened, and I must help others become enlightened. When I obtained the method to leave suffering, I naturally had to help other suffering beings hear the Dharma and leave suffering behind.' My heart is not selfish, for I have no 'self.' When I no longer cling to this false body and instead perform Buddha-actions, saving beings with the Buddha’s heart, I attain true joy. This is the joy I have been searching for, which cannot be found in the mundane world, so I cherish it immensely. At the end of this life, I continued to chant the Buddha-name, the sound never ceasing, and attained rebirth in the Western Pure Land with ease. I am grateful for everything, grateful to all beings.

Where has the vanished ocean gone? There was once a boundless ocean in space, but as 'evil' manifested in the world, the ocean gradually shrank back into the void. There were once priceless treasures in space, but as 'greed' appeared in the world, the treasures gradually returned to nothingness. The Western Pure Land was once right before our eyes, but as the heart stopped being in sync with the Buddha, the Western Pure Land existed only in imagination.

People of the world! How many more eons of suffering must you endure before your spiritual awareness manifests? How much longer will you entangle yourselves before you are willing to save yourselves? Practitioner Su transmits the Dharma every day, and the sound of the Dharma has never ceased in the void. Those spirits who have suffered great agony are all weeping and begging for deliverance within the sound of Practitioner Su's Dharma. They truly know their suffering and regret their past. But what about those living in the world today? Do you know suffering? Does the false joy of the world still make you complacent? Are the treasures you hold in your hands truly yours? Too much ignorance cannot awaken the spiritual light within. No amount of pure water can wash clean a heart stained by dust.

Practitioner Su’s Dharma Body manifests in countless billions, delivering sentient beings at every moment. One Buddha-name sweeps away beings as vast as the boundless ocean, saving countless crying spirits. The intersecting space-time layers are stacked upon one another, and in every space-time, there are countless sentient beings. Practitioner Su’s compassionate heart hopes that for every one more person who makes a vow, another group of beings will be saved. If you wish to make a vow, your heart need not seek far; seek only the purity and clarity of this very moment. Always be in purity, in compassion, and in wisdom; always be in no-self, no-discrimination, and no-selfishness. That is truly for the sake of all beings; it is diligent compassion.

Gratitude to the boundless compassion of Practitioner Su.

Namo Amituofo."

This interview was recorded by the Buddhist disciple Shi Fajing.