The Silence That Built a Prison

Huang Liping, a former prison guard who suffered from a lifetime of suppressed emotions, sought deliverance through the guidance of Practitioner Su. This interview, recorded on May 25, 2025, details his journey from a life of silent endurance to his eventual rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Huang Liping speaks:

"I am deeply grateful. The power that taught me to change has allowed me to relearn how to live, to become a truly positive and radiant person, rather than just being a 'good man' in the eyes of the world.

I am so thankful that I have the opportunity today to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am grateful to Namo Amituofo, and I am grateful to Practitioner Su. On behalf of all the prison guards, I bow in gratitude for the Buddha's grace and for the grace of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo."

The Mask of the 'Good Man'

"For as long as I can remember, I was the 'good man' of the village. I never spoke much, I never fought for anything, and I never competed. Whenever I encountered a problem, I would simply say, 'Let it be.' If others took advantage of me, I would just smile and let it pass. If I was misunderstood, I would not defend myself. If my children were rude, I would bow my head and apologise for them.

The villagers said I was steady, quiet, and kind-hearted. Others would laugh behind my back, saying I had 'no temper and was easy to manipulate.' In truth, it was not that I had no temper; I just did not let anyone see it. I once said, 'If a person is too sharp, they easily invite trouble.'

When I was a child, I saw with my own eyes my father being dragged away to receive thirty lashes for contradicting a county official. From that moment on, I learned what it meant to 'keep my composure.' As I grew up, I did business, married, and had children, all while living by the single word: 'Endure.' I swallowed my words, suppressed my anger in my heart, and hid my tears under my quilt in the dead of night.

The Boiling Pot Within

"As time went on, I spoke less and less. When others experienced joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness, I would only nod and smile, never offering an opinion. Some called me mature; others called me cold. But no one knew that my heart had long since become like a pot that could no longer contain the pressure.

The thought that crossed my mind most often was: 'I do not know who I am.' Until the age of sixty, when I collapsed without warning and fell into a coma for three days. During those three days, I felt as if I had lived through a dream.

I arrived in a grey-white world. There was no sound in any direction, and all things were formless. It was not hell, yet there were no human voices; it was not a wilderness, yet it was completely empty. I walked through streets, houses, and mountains, calling out, but no one responded. I wanted to speak, but I could not make a sound. I ran, stomped my feet, and roared, trying to make this world move and brighten, but no matter what I did, the heavens and the earth remained unmoved.

The Truth Behind the Silence

"Finally, I sat on a rock, as powerless as a collapsed scarecrow, and tears flowed silently down my face. I asked, 'I have not done anything wrong in this life; why have I come here?' At that moment, a voice came from afar: 'It is not that you did not do anything wrong, but that you always hid yourself in silence, never letting anyone know your heart.'

The voice did not carry blame, yet it shook me to my core. It continued: 'You thought silence was a virtue, but in reality, you were always suppressing your emotions and compressing your true self. You did not speak of your sadness, nor did you express your grievances, leading others to think you did not care about anything. But your heart was not without feeling. You felt annoyance, loss, and resentment, but you chose to bottle it up. You said, "It is fine," but in reality, you were enduring a raging storm. You said, "It does not matter," but you were actually grinding your teeth in anger. You claimed to follow the flow of nature, but your heart was like a ball of fire, burning hotter the more you suppressed it, never truly extinguished.

This is not practice, nor is it compassion; it is the accumulation of years of suppression. You never learned to process your emotions; you just kept pushing them inward until, in the end, even you became blurred. You appeared gentle and harmless, but in reality, you made it impossible for others to get close to you. You did not do nothing wrong; you used suppression to replace change, making your silence the greatest misunderstanding and injury.'"

A Glimpse of Light

"These words pierced my heart like ten thousand arrows. I felt as if I were cracking from the inside out. I asked with a trembling voice, 'Then what should I do?' The voice replied calmly, 'If you are willing to wake up and truly change yourself—not to please others, not to escape—the heavens and the earth will naturally open a path for you.' In that instant, I felt a faint light pour from the top of my head into my chest. I woke up.

When I woke, my pillow was wet, and the sunlight shone on my greying hair. I knew this was not just a dream, but a final grace. The moment I woke, I felt as if I had been burned and then cleansed; my heart was empty, yet bright. I suddenly discovered that I could stand up, speak, and even walk with more strength than usual. My family saw my sudden improvement in spirit and called it a miracle. But I knew in my heart that this was not a recovery, but the final grace of life, allowing me to say what needed to be said, do what needed to be done, and let go of what needed to be let go.

The Final Days of Truth

"I walked toward my son and said softly, 'I did not mean to be indifferent to you; I was just afraid that if I said something, you would like me even less. Actually, I really wanted to talk to you properly.' I said to my wife, 'I always pretended to be fine because I was afraid you would be burdened. But I am tired, truly tired.' I said to myself, 'I do not want to live like a shadow anymore.'

That morning, the weather was cool and overcast. After I woke, there was an indescribable pull in my heart. It did not come from anyone's words or any particular thought, but from an intuition that naturally emerged as I neared the end—I felt I should go to the temple. This thought brought me peace. I supported my weak body and walked into the temple. Inside, there were only a few elderly lay practitioners, and the sound of their sutra recitation was steady and unhurried. I found a corner to sit in and listened quietly, my heart gradually settling.

When I followed everyone in chanting Buddha's name for the first time, my voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. Each sound was slowly pushed out from deep within my chest, as if squeezing through a door that had not been opened for years. After only a few chants, tears began to flow. It was not a sobbing of agitation, but a silent shedding of tears, as if a long-hidden place in my heart had finally been opened. I chanted 'Namo Amituofo' very slowly and very lightly. But I knew that this was not to seek protection, nor was it for show; it was me surrendering myself at that moment. Finally, there was a moment where I was willing to live honestly, even if I only had a few days left to live.

The Prison of the Soul

"During those few days, every word I spoke and every step I took was filled with a clear sense of farewell. And then, I truly passed away. The doctor said it was acute multi-organ failure; my liver, kidneys, heart, and lungs collapsed almost on the same day, like a fruit that had been corroded from the inside for too long—the exterior was still there, but the inside had long since collapsed. I knew it was not sudden; it was the result of a lifetime of suppression and silence, hiding emotions, stress, and grievances within my body until they finally burst. But fortunately, in the last few days of my life, I woke up. I spoke the truth, voiced my heart, and stepped into my wishes. Those were the most authentic days I had ever lived, and the most peaceful moments.

When my soul left my body, I saw what I looked like on the inside: my body was filled with cold stones and viscous tumours. That was the result of my years of suppression. Every stone was the anger I had swallowed. Every tumour was the resentment I had held back. Inside, it was full of foul-smelling pus—the truth I had never spoken in my life. My soul was sucked into a space that corresponded most closely to my state: dark, hard, damp, and full of stench. I did not walk into it; I 'became' a part of it—a silent stone. I still had consciousness. I was awake. I felt the oppression, the misery, and the cold isolation.

The True Meaning of Practice

"I was like a stone buried in a knot of the heart, unable to move and unable to cry out. But because of the transformation before my death, I was not entirely unconscious. In this realm of suffering, I quietly reflected: How did I reach this point in my life? Until one day, a cool light approached. It was a practitioner, with steady steps and simple attire. He did not look like the eminent masters I had imagined; he did not display any outward brilliance, but in his every gesture, he made the entire space feel cool. He stopped in front of the stone I was attached to, squatted down quietly, and said nothing, just joined his palms and bowed his head, as if he were speaking to me, and also to the heavens and the earth.

A moment later, he spoke, his voice gentle yet possessing a stillness that could penetrate the heart: 'In the past, I was afraid of troubling others, so I always said I was fine. I was afraid others would not like me, so I always suppressed myself. As a result, the more I suppressed, the more miserable I became; the more I endured, the lonelier I grew.'

'Later, I discovered that true practice is to first learn to let go of the heart and allow oneself to be approachable. It is not that being quiet is steady; it is that the words you speak make people feel at ease and make them want to become better.' When he spoke, his eyes were peaceful, without emotion, and he was not in a hurry to show compassion. He was simply living naturally, showing me the life he had learned. He added: 'I remind myself every day to remember only one thing—how to live so as not to waste the time of this life. It is not for anyone to see, nor to prove anything, but to recognise the illusion of this body and to understand what this life is truly meant for. When I am willing to stop hiding and stop acting, even if it is just speaking one true word or taking one true step each day, life begins to brighten slowly.'

A New Life and Deliverance

"'Practice is not about suppressing all feelings, but about being willing to face, organise, and transform them, so that others gain strength from you, rather than more pressure.' Listening to these words, not a single one was harsh, yet they cut through the silence I had mistaken for practice. I suddenly understood that my past 'steadiness' was what made me unapproachable; my 'considerateness' was actually avoidance and coldness. He did not say any grand theories, but for the first time, I understood: 'So, being someone people want to be near is practice.' At that moment, my heart loosened.

I made a vow: If I could be a human again, I would not live in a way that makes people avoid me or makes me unapproachable. I wish to live as someone who brings peace to others and whom people want to be near. This thought triggered a turning point. My soul was guided by a ray of Buddha-light, reborn into the human realm, born into a kind family. In this lifetime, I was physically weak from childhood, but I had a gentle temperament and was kind to others. In my youth, I was often misunderstood because of my silence, but I no longer retreated as I had in my previous life. Facing misunderstandings, I would bow my head to apologise and quietly speak my truth, no longer letting grievances fester in my chest.

As a young man, I was cautious in my actions and did not like to show off, but I never avoided problems. Once, an elder in the village scolded me loudly due to a misunderstanding. The old me would have chosen to swallow it, but that day, I stepped forward and said softly, 'You are right, and I am willing to learn more and try to make changes.' That sentence was not a retreat, but a sincere approach, which allowed the other person to gradually calm down. I learned to speak up in front of others, to express my needs, and to express my gratitude. I did not try to be strong when helping others, nor did I feel inferior when being helped. I understood! True Goodness is not suppression, but making people willing to be near and making them feel at ease.

I still do not speak much, but every word I say carries sincerity and a vow—not to let anyone suffer another injury because of me. I became someone who brings peace, a friend people want to be near, and a life that does not allow itself to become blurred again. In this life, I did not do anything great, nor did I seek fame or wealth; I only repaired the suppression and coldness of my previous life, bit by bit, in every daily action. Until my old age, I sat by the window, watching the sunset slowly sink, and I knew with certainty in my heart: My life was not lived in vain!

Later, I arrived at the Hall of the Yama King. The Yama King nodded and said, 'Your heart in this life was sincere, and you have accumulated merit through good deeds. You may assist sentient beings, accumulate Blessings, and then seek liberation.' I served every day, enthusiastically helping others. Until one day, I heard Practitioner Su giving a Dharma talk. The voice penetrated the ten directions and went straight into my heart. I knelt and wept, vowing to practise diligently and help others leave suffering behind. Finally, today, the Causal Conditions have matured, and Practitioner Su has helped me be reborn in the Western Pure Land. I weep and bow before the Buddha, thanking Him for His grace: 'If not for that dream, I might still be trapped in my own silence. Namo Amituofo, this disciple has attained rebirth, and I vow to save the boundless.' I am very grateful that I can be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss today. On behalf of all the prison guards and sentient beings with karmic affinity, I bow in gratitude for the Buddha's grace and for the grace of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo.

Huang Liping, with palms joined."