This is a record of an interview with Tao Yuanming, the legendary pastoral poet, who sought at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Nature. This account reflects upon his life approximately 1,700 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Fa Ning, on March 9, 2026.
Tao Yuanming speaks:
". Time feels as though it were only yesterday, yet seventeen hundred years have vanished in the blink of an eye. To think that I have spent seventeen centuries as a drunkard—is this truly real? I find it difficult to believe, and I am reluctant to admit that my brief life was followed by such an interminable existence as a spirit trapped in the very space of the wine I loved so dearly in life.
Seventeen Centuries in a Bottle
It turns out that the laws of and cause and effect, which the Buddha’s teachings describe, are absolutely real. I was never a practitioner of the Buddha’s path, though I understood that the Dharma offers the only way to resolve the root of all suffering. My life back then was a mixture of bitterness and , joy and bitterness. Yet, I never imagined that after my death, my spirit would remain confined within the space of the wine bottles I frequented, with no hope of release.
Throughout the thousands of years of Chinese history, which scholar or poet did not enjoy a drink? It seems there were none. My life was defined by poetry and wine. To the world, this appeared to be a life of enviable freedom and detachment, but the world did not know that I was often a man who struggled to put food on the table. There were times when I was so destitute that I had to rely on the charity of others just to survive. Even in my deepest poverty, I insisted on drinking—either by brewing my own or relying on the generosity of friends. Of course, after I married and had many children, I was occasionally forced to take up official posts just to make ends meet. My ancestors were high-ranking officials, but by my father’s generation, our family had fallen into decline. I never had any interest in the officialdom, nor was I skilled at navigating human nature and worldly affairs; it was simply impossible for me to persist in that life.
The Illusion of Pride
Ha! Here in the Western Land of Dharma Nature, the word 'personality' suddenly surfaces in my mind. Is this version of myself also a type of personality? Indeed, it is. If a person has too many likes or dislikes, it is merely a personality, a habit. I liked this, I disliked that—in the end, it was nothing more than an inability to let go of my own attachments. What was there to be so proud of?
Today, in the space of the wine, I was incredibly fortunate. When Practitioner Su led Namo Amituofo and His Twelve Lights to perform the Chao Du, I was rescued. At that moment, I was inside a bottle of wine placed on a restaurant counter. Suddenly, I saw the restaurant and the vast space surrounding it filled with golden light—an endless, boundless golden light. When I was touched by this light, I struggled with all my might to squeeze out of the wine bottle, and I was just in time to enter the Western Land of Dharma Nature.
What is so special about this place? It is a place where the Buddha resides! It is where Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su lead us, these countless spirits, to arrive. Looking back at the life of a drunkard I led, I never expected that I could come to such a magnificent and beautiful world. This world is more ideal and more beautiful than the one I described in my 'Peach Blossom Spring' by more than ten million times!
The Truth Behind the Peach Blossom Spring
Many people know me because of 'Peach Blossom Spring,' and they believe that this article is a true reflection of my inner world at that time. Is that the truth? I think it is perhaps half true. When I wrote 'Peach Blossom Spring,' my inner world was not as rich as others imagined. If I were to look back on that past today, to be honest, 'Peach Blossom Spring' was merely an article I wrote after becoming heavily intoxicated, having entered a fantastical space during my drunken stupor. The world presented in that space was simply a manifestation of my daily attachments, fantasies, or a longing for a certain ideal state. Of course, I was also quite curious at the time, wondering what kind of state of mind or inspiration allowed me to write so movingly. Perhaps it was a true reflection of the depths of my soul! Yes, that is exactly it. I feel that what I wrote was like the seeds planted in the , as mentioned in the Buddha’s gate. These things had no place to manifest in daily life, but when they emerged unexpectedly, they became the material for my writing. I think 'Peach Blossom Spring' is one such example. Thus, the article was naturally preserved and has been passed down to this day.
It is well known that I often resigned from my official posts shortly after taking them to return home and farm. However, there were very few old friends who truly understood me and were willing to come and share a drink. Therefore, apart from my family, I did not have much of a social life. My life was plain and uneventful. This was certainly not because I was pursuing a life of quiet solitude or because I disliked outside interference; rather, it was because I was often so impoverished that I scared everyone around me away. But I did not feel overly sentimental. People come and go, relationships form and dissolve—I had long since taken a detached view of it all.
I held official posts about four or five times in my life. Each time, I ended them quickly and returned to my life of seclusion; not long after, I would be promoted again, only to resign shortly after. I could never stay in one place for long. Speaking of this, it was actually a predicament caused by my own character.
The Burden of a Poet
Everyone knows the story of 'Tao Yuanming not bowing for five pecks of rice,' right? It means I did not fear the powerful, I did not like to have any collusion or improper dealings with people in the official world, and I did not like to flatter or fawn over others. I considered this to be a sign of a proud and upright character. It was both a blessing and a curse. However, only after I truly began to follow Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su to study the Buddha’s teachings and hear the Dharma did I realise that I possessed many such personality traits. For instance, my 'not bowing for five pecks of rice' was actually nothing more than an inability to let go of my face, or a desire to protect my so-called dignity because I could not bear to look at others' expressions or endure their slights. This reflected my inner state of extreme insecurity and a desperate craving for validation that I could not obtain. Consequently, I turned to other areas to find comfort, shifting that energy into my hobbies.
Besides drinking, my other interest was writing poetry. I believe everyone is familiar with the poems of Tao Yuanming. People always remember lines like, 'Plucking chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, I gaze leisurely at the Southern Mountain,' or 'Carrying a hoe back under the moon.' These poems were written in a very fresh and natural style, quite different from the poetry of that era. Regarding the act of writing poetry, it was also particularly wondrous. I generally did not need to deliberate over my choice of words; often, I would simply gaze at the sky, and the inspiration would naturally emerge. I would write it down without much thought.
Later, when I looked back at every scene of my poetry writing from the Western Land of Dharma Nature, I could see it clearly and distinctly. It turns out that my poems were not necessarily written entirely by myself. It is true that I was the one holding the brush, but the words or the content were, in part, written in coordination with many beings from the spirit realms. This is a very wondrous thing to hear, and I only realised it after arriving at the Land of Dharma Nature. If a person does not follow the Universal Principle, the Truth, and the Right Way, then it is impossible for them to be the master of their own actions. Therefore, these things were quite natural. Since I, Tao Yuanming, could not be entirely autonomous, the articles and poems I wrote were naturally not entirely my own doing either. This is not strange at all.
If people ask me why I kept drinking without stopping, ha, in the end, drinking to drown one's sorrows is something that countless scholars and poets throughout history have loved to do. Although I, Tao Yuanming, appeared free and unfettered on the outside, how could the world know of the faint sorrow and insecurity I carried within? Carrying this complex state of mind, along with the pride in my character, and unable to yield to my own inadequacies—this was not the Tao Yuanming the world knew, but it was the real Tao Yuanming who constantly drank and wrote poetry at that time.
It seems I did not leave behind many poems for future generations, but I wrote much more than that back then; perhaps many were burned after I wrote them. Regardless, I lived for over sixty years, and half of that time was spent in a daze. I was a poet who lived entirely within his own world."
Namo Amituofo.
Was I always of such a temperament from my youth? Certainly not. When I was a child, I was a boy filled with grand aspirations, genuinely desiring to serve my country and its people. Yet, there was a stubborn streak of pride and a sense of lofty detachment within my character that made it impossible for me to bow my head to others. I lacked the expansive mind-capacity required to sacrifice my own comfort for the sake of the nation and the people. As I faced the relentless shifting of dynasties, I felt utterly powerless. I believed there was nothing I could change, and this sense of helplessness led me into a deep, creeping despair. Gradually, I lost that initial fire and passion that once burned within me. And so, I chose to return home, to retreat into the quietude of the fields and gardens.
Perhaps such a life was, in its own way, a blessing. In a defiled world, one must be incredibly cautious, for a single misstep can lead to the creation of heavy karma. Had I ventured out to engage in the struggles and wars of that era, how many soldiers' lives would have been lost by my hand? That would have created immense sins. Perhaps, in the end, that life of seclusion was the path most aligned with my original nature.
The Illusion of the Poet's Solitude
The words I, Tao Yuanming, speak today may be difficult for many to fully believe. In the hearts of the people, I am the perfect embodiment of the 'poet of the fields.' Every poem I penned has been passed down through the generations; they are found in the textbooks of children, and my poetic style has been emulated by countless poets who followed. My life was a mixture of Goodness and evil—not great Goodness, but certainly not great evil either. My Goodness stemmed from my refusal to collude with others or to wallow in the corruption of the times. In that defiled world, I was unwilling to do anything that would harm the people. However, I also lacked the courage to stand up, to protect the civilians, and to take action for their sake. This was my karma and my Causal Conditions, and now, I see it all with absolute clarity.
The moment I, Tao Yuanming, truly awakened was when the Twelve Lights of the Buddha shone upon me. I leapt out of that 'space of wine' I had lived in for so long and entered into the Buddha-light. Only then did I become the true version of myself. China is so vast, and yet I am so incredibly fortunate to be one of the spirits saved by Practitioner Su and brought to the Western Land of Dharma Nature. I am certain that among the many historical figures, there are countless others who have been saved by Practitioner Su, though many have not yet had the opportunity to share their stories in an interview like this.
A Miracle Beyond Words
Such an event is what we in the Buddha’s gate call 'difficult to encounter in millions of years.' Throughout history, the Buddha’s teachings have spread far and wide in China, and many highly virtuous practitioners have appeared. Yet, never before has anyone reached such a level of practice as Practitioner Su—someone who can manifest countless manifestations to truly save suffering beings, and who can even move Namo Amituofo to reside in the human world. It is truly magnificent, utterly incomparable! Watching the vastness of Practitioner Su’s mind-capacity and the power of his vow to save beings, I, Tao Yuanming, feel a profound sense of shame. I was merely a small, insignificant figure who failed to do anything meaningful for the people, wasting a lifetime lost in my own personal interests and squandering so much precious time.
Through this great reversal, I have learned so much. I now realise that life, spanning only a few decades, was not meant for me to simply seek comfort or to live a quiet, small life. I had the opportunity to serve the people and to seek welfare for the civilians, but I failed because of my own arrogance. I was unwilling to bend, unwilling to lower my head to those I looked down upon, and unwilling to work under them. These traits forged my tragic fate; it was all a result of my own karma.
A Lesson in Cause and Effect
Looking at the mind-capacity of Practitioner Su, I am overwhelmed with guilt. I know that my story, as it is told now, might become a laughingstock for future generations. But that does not matter. This is a perfect example of the laws of karma and cause and effect, which are never empty, and it serves as a lesson for everyone to learn from. If you all know that the life of Tao Yuanming was so absurd, you should also know that many other poets were no different—they, too, lived entirely within their own worlds. Even the famous poet Li Bai lived as a ghost for a long time, and he, too, was fortunately saved by Practitioner Su! Hahaha! All of this is truly inconceivable.
I, Tao Yuanming, am now awake. I know that time is precious, and I will not waste another moment. I will diligently chant Namo Amituofo to make amends for my past shortcomings. I will attain Buddhahood through Buddha recitation, follow closely in the footsteps of the Buddha, and set a good example for those who come after me.
I am filled with gratitude for the of Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su, and I am grateful to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia.
Namo Amituofo.
Tao Yuanming
IN THIS COLLECTION
More from Twelve Rays Deliverance to China (Chinese Historical Figures)
