The Rope of Life and the Path of Filial Piety

This is a record of an interview with the 598th Venerable, Peng Tai, who lived approximately 875 years ago. He sought deliverance through the teachings of the Buddha and now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account was recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on August 30, 2018.

Venerable Peng Tai speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. It was my very first day at school, a day I remember with vivid clarity. The teacher stood before us, his expression solemn yet kind, and handed each of us a simple, plain white rope. He looked at us and said, 'Use this rope to represent your life.' I sat at my desk, staring at the coarse texture of the string, pondering how such a mundane object could possibly capture the profound complexity of a human existence. My mind raced with questions, trying to find a way to translate the abstract concept of a life into this tangible, physical form.

The Many Faces of Life

My classmates began to work with their materials immediately, their enthusiasm filling the room. One student painted his rope in vibrant, multi-coloured hues, his eyes sparkling with ambition. 'I want my life to be as colourful as this rope,' he declared, 'filled with wonder, novelty, and happiness every single day.' Another student, seeking stability and perfection, fashioned his rope into a flawless, unbroken circle. 'I hope my life is like this circle,' he explained, 'forever complete, fulfilled, and without any jagged edges.' Others shaped their ropes into clouds, dreaming of a life of absolute freedom, or adorned them with glitter, hoping for a future of great wealth and brilliance. One by one, they shared their visions of the future, each rope a testament to their youthful dreams. I remained seated, hesitant and deeply contemplative, until the teacher noticed my silence and asked why I had not yet come to the front. I walked up slowly, my head bowed in humility. When I finally revealed my rope, the entire room gasped in collective shock. I had taken the liberty of cutting my rope into two distinct pieces—one long, one short. I spoke softly, my voice trembling with emotion: 'This short piece is my life, and the long piece is for my mother. I do not need to live a long life; I only wish to give the remaining years to her, so that she may finally find peace.'"

A Childhood Forged in Hardship

"I was a child of a single-parent household, and the weight of our reality was heavy. My mother raised me alone, her health constantly failing under the crushing burden of caring for my grandfather, grandmother, father, and me. She worked from the first light of dawn until the stars appeared in the night sky, day after day, year after year, just to keep us fed. She sacrificed her entire life for our family, her own needs always relegated to the background. By the time I was five, I had lost my grandfather, grandmother, and father. It was just the two of us left, clinging to one another in a world that seemed determined to break us. Mother worked tirelessly, her hands calloused and her body weary, hoping I would not have to endure the same back-breaking labour. She wanted me to be educated, to have a stable life, and to escape the cycle of poverty that had defined her own existence. The heavy burden of our family had left her looking unrecognisable, worn down by years of relentless toil. I longed to take over the household duties, to be the provider, but she would not allow it. She insisted that my only job was to study, to excel, and to build a future that was not tethered to the soil.

The Weight of a Mother's Love

When I was not in school, I would go to the mountains to gather firewood. I would bundle the wood, hoist it onto my shoulders, and walk long distances to sell it in the city. Business was often slow, and I had to walk for miles to find buyers, my feet aching and my spirit tested. I always made sure to return home before Mother so that she would have hot food waiting for her, a small comfort in our difficult life. Once, I fell and scraped my skin until it bled, but my only concern was my clothes. Mother had worked so hard to buy them; they could not be ruined. From that day on, I would take off my shirt while working and only put it back on once I reached the city. I didn't care about the blisters on my skin, as long as the clothes remained intact. Mother saved every penny to pay for my books and stationery. I couldn't bear it. 'Mother, I don't want you to suffer so much just to pay for my schooling,' I would tell her, my heart aching for her sacrifice. She would only shake her head, her eyes filled with a fierce, unwavering love, insisting that I continue my studies so I could escape a life of manual labour. Her devotion was the light that guided me through the darkest nights."

A Fateful Encounter

"On the eve of my school term, Mother collapsed from exhaustion. I carried her on my back, running all the way to the city to find a doctor. After checking her pulse, the doctor shook his head, his face etched with pity. She was suffering from extreme fatigue and coldness; her body was depleted. Even if she survived, he told me, she had little time left. I wept, crying out, 'Why is Mother's life so bitter? I haven't even grown up enough to repay her kindness!' I was inconsolable, but I eventually pulled myself together to buy her medicine. Later, while rushing home from school, I collided with a young boy. We both fell to the ground, and I was stunned to see that he looked exactly like me. He told me he had been abandoned at a temple shortly after birth and raised by a monk. I brought him home to show Mother. When she saw us both, she rubbed her eyes in disbelief. 'Mother is old and useless,' she whispered, 'I am seeing double.' I told her, 'Mother, you are not mistaken. This is a boy I met on the road who looks just like me.' Mother gasped, 'Peng Xi! My child!' It was my twin brother. Mother had been unable to afford both of us and had left him at the temple, hoping he would survive. She had never forgotten him, visiting when she could, but her work kept her away. My brother, Peng Xi, was gentle and kind. He did not blame Mother for abandoning him; instead, he was grateful she had left him at the temple, as it gave him the chance to encounter the Buddha's teachings."

The Light of the Dharma

"Seeing Mother's grave condition, he began to teach her about chanting Namo Amituofo. He explained the benefits of keeping the Buddha-name in her heart, waiting for the Buddha's guidance. Mother, who had never had the time or energy to practice, was deeply moved by my brother's kindness and the wisdom of the Dharma. She began to chant with sincerity. After three months of daily practice, she passed away peacefully, surrounded by the fragrance of lotus flowers. She had been led back to the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss by Namo Amituofo. I was moved to tears; after a lifetime of suffering, she was finally free. After laying Mother to rest, I joined my brother at the temple to practice. I worked tirelessly, never letting myself slacken, always keeping the Buddha-name in my heart. I am now known as Dao Yong, and my brother as Dao He. We both became monks, dedicating our lives to helping sentient beings find the light in the darkness. We teach the Dharma, hoping to untangle the suffering of others just as we were helped. Practitioner Su, with her great compassion, views all beings as one. She uses her Dharma Body to save countless spirits across the vast universe—from entire galaxies to the smallest particles of dust. Many planets in the universe face energy crises, and their inhabitants often struggle for survival. When Practitioner Su's Dharma Body arrives, she brings the golden light and the incredible power of the Buddha-name. This energy brings new hope to these beings, who, upon realising the magnificence of the Buddha-name, willingly chant and seek rebirth in the Western Pure Land. Namo Amituofo."