The Pure Heart of Hu Zhong

This interview features the 179th Venerable, Hu Zhong, who lived approximately three hundred years ago. Having sought deliverance through the Buddha’s teachings, he now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account was recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fajing, on July 10, 2019.

Venerable Hu Zhong speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. The name 'Hu Zhong' was not chosen at random. The character 'Zhong' represented my parents' expectations for me. They hoped I would live a life of integrity, free from bias, and that I would never engage in unnecessary conflict. They wished for me to be neither ahead of others nor falling behind—much like the beauty of the character itself, which signifies balance, moderation, and walking the middle path.

A Legacy of Virtue and Humility

I was born into a prominent family. My grandfather and my father were well-known figures in our region. This fame was not merely a matter of status or reputation, but a reflection of the virtue they displayed throughout their lives, which earned them the respect of all. My mother, though born into a wealthy and noble family, never harboured arrogance. She was humble and modest, always treating others with respect. She viewed everyone she met as a teacher, humbly seeking wisdom from them.

My mother once told me that before I was born, many people hoped my parents would have several children. They believed that because the Hu family raised their children so well, continuing our lineage would be a great benefit to society. Strangely, despite being married for many years, my parents had no children. Many were puzzled as to why a family that performed Goodness for generations remained a single-lineage household. Even after years of marriage, my mother could not conceive. Kind-hearted villagers often introduced my grandfather to feng shui masters, fortune tellers, or Taoist practitioners, urging him to use their special abilities to uncover why the Hu family struggled to have children. My grandfather was grateful for their concern, but he never adopted these methods. He believed that everything should follow its natural course; as long as we continued to perform Goodness, fate would make its own arrangements, and there was no need to force things and cause ourselves unnecessary anxiety.

The Natural Path of Rebirth

My birth was not the result of my parents' desperate grasping. It was the natural union of their essence, gathered through deep love. Everything unfolded as it should. Therefore, when my intermediate state entered the womb, I felt no pressure or negative emotion from my mother; there was only natural joy. While in the womb, though separated from the outside world by a layer of skin, I could still clearly perceive the magnetic fields and the atmosphere of the world outside. My return to this world was driven by a vow to save beings. I made the vow to enter the womb, to undergo the synthesis of essence and blood, to endure ten months of suffering in my mother's womb—which felt like a hellish ordeal—and then to push through the birth canal to emerge into this world as a human.

While my body was forming in the womb, karma was already at work. Many karmic creditors from my past began to occupy my body as it took shape. They pulled at my eyes, my face, my ears, my nose, and my mouth, shaping the appearance I would have in this lifetime. While this face was inherited from my parents, was it not also a combination of karma and Causal Conditions between us? My consciousness in the womb could not exert any influence; no matter how much suffering my body endured, my spirit remained in a state of stillness, completely unaffected by the physical pain.

The Struggle for Purity

The chaos of the world is terrifying; it can easily disturb a pure and clean body, staining the original white with grey, and eventually turning it black. Every soul that is reincarnated into this world must carry a burden of sins to the place where they are destined to continue their cycle of rebirth. Only through pure meditative concentration can one resist this. Although my mother was reincarnated as a woman in that lifetime, she had once been my Dharma brother, and the meditative concentration she possessed was something I deeply admired. In this life, I could still see that same power of concentration within her—it was something cultivated from the past. I learned from her concentration, using purity to govern chaos and using stillness to control all movement. This was not about the body remaining still, but about the heart not being easily influenced or interfered with. Like a lotus that remains unstained by the mud, I sought to keep my spirit clean.

When I picked up a brush to write, my father taught me to write slowly, stroke by stroke. When writing, my heart was still, undisturbed by the outside world. I wrote in a deep meditative state, clearly recording every stroke, and each character revealed the true state of my heart. When my heart found it difficult to settle, I would put down the brush and walk to the quiet riverbank to feel the purity of nature. Through the stillness of the external environment, I was led to see the impurity within my own heart. I realised that this body carried endless desires. When these desires could not be satisfied, the body would naturally fluctuate, and only when the desire was met would the fluctuation cease. Yet, I believed this phenomenon could be adjusted. When a desire arose—like the sudden thought of a delicious pastry that triggered fond memories of eating it—my body would begin to fluctuate with the craving. At that moment, I would calm my heart and observe it. I realised that it was because I had 'moved my heart' while eating the pastry in the past that such a deep memory remained in my body. I began to extend the time before my desires were satisfied. When I wanted to eat a pastry, I would delay it. Through constant practice, even when a desire surged, I could use meditative concentration to control it, preventing the fluctuation from affecting the purity of my heart.

Retreat to the Mountains

Although I was born into a prominent and wealthy family, I did not indulge in the enjoyments of this world. I chose to relinquish the vast family fortune my grandfather and father wanted me to inherit, trading it for peace and contentment. I gave away all the wealth that was rightfully mine to various places, allowing those in greater need to be helped. At the age of fifteen, I left the Hu family and lived in seclusion in the mountains. A simple thatched hut and light, natural ingredients were enough to satisfy my needs. I chose this simple life, stripping away the colourful distractions of my wealthy background to return to a state of pure, unstained whiteness, regaining the clarity of my soul.

However, as I continuously sought purity, my seemingly peaceful life began to experience a disturbance after some time. This turmoil was different from anything I had known before, and I could not use my usual methods to subdue it. I did not know what was happening or what this strange feeling was. It seemed I had encountered a dilemma in my pursuit of purity. No matter what I did, my heart began to lose its purity. The more I tried to be pure, the more chaotic my heart became. During a heavy rainstorm, I ran out of the hut and sprinted through the forest, running until I was exhausted and collapsed to the ground. I remained there, even after the rain had stopped.

When the sunlight finally broke through the gaps in the leaves of the great trees and shone upon me, I looked up at the light and decided to go down the mountain to find the missing piece of my heart.

The Encounter with the Dharma

Walking down the mountain step by step, with every stride, I drew closer to the noise of the world. My body seemed to clearly sense the changes in the magnetic fields along the way. When I walked into the bustling market, the complex space and the intricate magnetic fields made my body feel as if it were under pressure. I sat down under a large tree by the roadside and quietly observed this small world before me. The busy street was filled with all sorts of things, and people of every appearance could be seen, yet the faces and hearts of everyone seemed to carry a hidden trace of sorrow. What was going on?

As I watched intently, a monk in a kasaya robe walked past me. A boy of about ten years old immediately approached him. The boy bowed respectfully to the monk and asked, "Master, can you help me resolve my sorrow?" The monk smiled with compassion and asked, "Little Bodhisattva, what sorrow is in your heart?" The boy replied, "I cannot find the meaning of life." When I heard these words, my heart was stirred—a feeling I had never experienced in all my time in seclusion. I did not expect that as soon as I came down the mountain, my heart would be shaken by this single sentence. Could it be that my heart felt the same as the boy's? I continued to listen. The monk asked the boy, "What kind of life are you seeking?" The boy shook his head and answered, "I do not know." The monk told him, "It seems you truly cannot find your life's goal. This is a good thing, not a bad thing." The boy looked at the monk in confusion: "A good thing? How can that be?" The monk smiled and said, "Of course it is a good thing. A life without a plan is the only way to live the most natural life." The boy still looked confused, so the monk added, "Just like the Causal Conditions that brought you to meet me today—that is a natural connection. A natural connection is 'round' and complete; it is not something you can get by forcing it. If you want to find the direction of your life, then follow me to the temple and listen to a sutra!" Hearing this, I stood up and hurriedly asked the monk, "May I accompany you?" The monk smiled and said, "A Bodhisattva's heart is also without a master; though it is pure, it is aimless. Come along with me!" I happily followed behind the monk, walking toward the temple.

The Magnificence of the Temple

Before even entering the temple, I felt a sense of compassion, gentleness, and a natural dignity that inspired respect. As I stepped inside, the silence within was a world of difference from the outside. It was a stillness so profound that one could hear a needle drop on the ground. I walked lightly into the main hall, and the radiant Buddha stood before my eyes. I bowed respectfully to the Buddha, and the compassionate voice of the Buddha seemed to appear faintly in my ears, though I could not yet distinguish what the sound was.

Every word of the scriptures the Master spoke, I heard clearly. My eyes widened as I listened; this was a Dharma I had never heard before. I was deeply moved and filled with admiration. I knelt before the Buddha and bowed. I realised that the missing piece in my heart was the vow to learn the Buddha’s teachings and deliver sentient beings. The Buddha settled my heart, and my heart returned to purity once more. This time, my heart became more grounded, more pure and concentrated, and I understood the true voice within my heart more clearly than ever.

I entered the temple to practice. When I clearly saw the suffering of sentient beings, a vow to save the world surged from the depths of my heart. This power was immense. I clearly felt that this was the vow left over from past lives and the mission I had come to this world to fulfill in this lifetime.

A Life Fulfilled

Ordination was my great vow. I fulfilled my dream at the age of twenty-five. When my practice reached maturity, I left the temple to spread the Dharma everywhere, following Causal Conditions to propagate the Buddha’s teachings far and wide. Only by following the Buddha's path can one truly be at ease in all actions.

I am filled with gratitude for the Buddha's compassion toward me. In this lifetime, I have successfully returned to the Western Pure Land, where my parents are already waiting for me. My parents were always compassionate; once they learned of the Buddha’s teachings, they rectified their hearts and minds, chanting Namo Amituofo with purity, wishing to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. In the end, they passed away peacefully and naturally, chanting the name of Namo Amituofo. I am grateful for the Buddha's compassion.

To seek the end of suffering, one must find coolness in the heart. The method for this coolness is nothing other than 'letting go'. In Practitioner Su, I have seen what it truly means to let go. It is to be without attachments, with a heart entirely dedicated to all beings.

The True Dharma Body

The Dharma Body is not attained overnight. It is something Practitioner Su has sought through years of diligent effort, overcoming countless trials and tribulations with a compassionate heart. Those who wish to learn should see the sincerity of Practitioner Su's heart for all beings—there is not a shred of selfishness mixed within it. If there were selfishness, one could not deliver ten thousand spirits across the universe and various spaces as she does today. Only a true Buddha-heart can achieve such things.

The changes in the universe cannot be seen through technological instruments. The spreading of the power of Goodness and the proclamation of the Buddha’s teachings permeate the entire space. If one has not personally visited the universe, it is difficult for the people of the world to clearly understand the changes in the cosmic magnetic field. As the True Teachings reside in the Milky Way, the original chaos has begun to be regulated by the True Teachings. Many planets that were previously unrestrained have now surrendered to Amitabha. The six-character name of Namo Amituofo has been translated into the various languages of different planets and is being widely propagated in every world, delivering endless sentient beings to be reborn in the Western Land. If the people of the world could see such a magnificent scene, they would surely be filled with the utmost gratitude. I am grateful for Practitioner Su's compassion. Namo Amituofo."

This interview was recorded by the Buddhist disciple Shi Fajing.