An Interview with the Spirit of a Rice Porter
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Cells of Namo Amituofo
This interview was recorded on October 6, 2017, at the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre. The chief writer, Venerable Faxi, conducted the session with a spirit who had taken refuge in the form of a grain of rice. This spirit, once a humble porter at Hubei Port during the early Republic of China, sought deliverance after a tragic death during the chaos of war. He now resides in the .
The Spirit of the Rice speaks:
"Hmph! Ha! Bag after bag, you finally realise we exist! And the flour spirits are saying they want to be interviewed too."
Venerable Faxi: "My apologies! My deepest apologies! We will certainly do our best to interview everyone."
"Oh, very well! I do not mean to frighten anyone. In truth, we have accumulated merit by offering ourselves to true practitioners. During every assembly, the compassionate heart of the Buddha shines upon us—the silent, humble providers. I even queued up for this Dharma assembly myself. I was originally number fifty-two, but I let a few elders go ahead of me, so now I am number fifty-eight."
"Let me tell you about my past. I was a rice porter. I laboured tirelessly, day in and day out, just to provide for my family. I carried so much that my back became permanently hunched. Even in the sweltering heat of summer, I would be drenched in sweat, yet I never uttered a single word of complaint. That was back in the early years of the Republic of China. I lived in Hubei Port, helping to transport imported and exported grain. I spent my life climbing up and down the ships, moving sacks of rice back and forth.
"Then, one day, disaster struck. During an air raid, a large group of Japanese soldiers came to plunder the grain. I was caught in the crossfire and accidentally shot. Even though I fought with all my remaining strength to make it back home, I could not outrun the fading of my own life. I died halfway home. I never made it back to my family. I was left to wander in the void, trapped between worlds."
"I seemed to see the sun rise again, and I walked back into the rice merchant's warehouse. I wanted to pick up the sacks of grain once more, but to my horror, I could not touch them. My hands passed right through the rice bags. I was so heartbroken. I crouched in the corner of the wall and wept bitterly. Suddenly, my hand brushed against a single grain of rice. I touched that familiar texture, and in that moment, I entered into the grain itself. I became a 'rice spirit.' I was never worshipped or remembered by anyone; life is truly just that impermanent. Sigh. But after becoming a grain of rice, I stopped thinking about those things for a long time.
"It is such a massive blessing to have finally arrived here. I am so content, and I am deeply grateful for all of this. In my past life, my family worshipped a sacred image of . It was given to me by a monk who came to beg for alms. Perhaps that was the Causal Conditions that led me here. Very well, please also write down the names of those connected by karmic affinity who suffered during those war-torn years."
(Transferred to the Western Dharma-Nature Land at Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre)
Recorded by the chief writer, Venerable Faxi, on October 6, 2017. Namo Amituofo.
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Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre
Contributed to Pure Land Buddhism knowledge library