The Courage of a Fragile Life

This is a record of an interview with Kang Zhenhua, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He reflects on his life as a child battling a rare, debilitating disease. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa Jing, on November 13, 2021.

Kang Zhenhua speaks:

"The magnificent and towering form of Namo Amituofo stood right before me. I quickly led my fifty-nine fellow prison guards to kneel and prostrate, our hearts overflowing with gratitude for the boundless compassion of Namo Amituofo and the mercy of Practitioner Su.

I have always deeply cherished the life I lived in this world. I knew that it was a life hard-won, and I dared not squander it lightly. My life was a gift my mother worked so hard to give me, and I could never bring myself to waste it.

A Mother’s Unwavering Choice

I am Kang Zhenhua. Even while I was still in my mother's womb, the doctors had already identified my condition. They asked my mother, 'Are you sure you want to bring this child into the world?' My mother did not hesitate for a single moment. She answered with absolute firmness, 'He was meant to be born as my child. I cannot abandon him. No matter what he looks like, or whether his limbs are complete, I want to bring him into this world.'

Friends and relatives around her tried to dissuade her, saying, 'Don't do it. This child is not physically whole. If you give birth to him, you are only condemning him to a life of suffering. It would be better to let him go and be reincarnated elsewhere; perhaps he can be born as a normal person then. You can always have another child later. Don't be so attached—have an abortion! If you hesitate any longer, it will be too late.'

So many people urged my mother not to give birth to me, claiming that I was a 'karmic creditor' and that my mother would surely suffer for the rest of her life if she kept me. Someone even asked my father, 'What about you? Do you want this child?' My father had always respected my mother's decisions. He told them that if my mother chose to give birth to me, he would support her; if she chose not to, though his heart would ache, he would still respect her decision.

In the end, I was born. That was my mother's choice. She could not bear the thought of my life being taken away just as I was meant to grow, nor could she bear the thought of me having to return to the cycle of rebirth before I even had the chance to experience being human. She had made her decision, and she was prepared for whatever the future might hold.

The 'Medicine Jar' Child

At the moment of my birth, the doctors told my mother, 'The child's limbs will continue to atrophy, and his heart will weaken along with them. Twenty years of life would be the absolute maximum for a child like this.' My mother held me tightly in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she told my father, 'No matter how long our child lives, I will do my absolute best to care for him. He is a piece of my own heart; I will never give up on him.' My father said nothing, but he pulled us both into his embrace, his own eyes brimming with tears he fought hard to hold back.

Our family was financially stable, which meant we could afford the medical expenses for my rare condition. I called myself a 'medicine jar child.' From the day I was born, I had to take handfuls of medication. Every two weeks, I went to the hospital for check-ups, and there were times when my condition became so critical that I had to be hospitalised for observation.

Most children learn to walk by the time they are one, but I could not. Two years passed, then three, then four—I still could not walk. My right leg was constantly atrophying, twisting and deforming until it was completely unable to bear any weight. I had to rely on my left leg to learn to move. My father kindly crafted a sturdy little cane for me, which allowed me to support myself as I practiced.

During those days of learning to walk, my face and my entire body were covered in bruises and wounds. I would often fall after taking fewer than three steps. But every time I hit the ground, I would bravely pull myself back up, enduring the pain in my legs to keep moving forward. That was how I cherished my own life. I did not want to give up easily, and I certainly did not want to spend my life lying in bed, feeling like a useless person.

I thought to myself: if I had only come into this world to drain my parents' savings and make them worry about me twenty-four hours a day, then I would rather not have this life at all. I did not want to be a burden. So, no matter what, I had to stand up. It was my way of taking responsibility for my own life, and it was the only way I knew how to show filial piety to my parents.

Finding Strength in the Dharma

When I was six, I finally learned to walk. I was so excited to walk in front of my parents and tell them, 'Look, Dad, Mom! I can walk! I can go from here to there all by myself without falling!' Seeing my joy, they smiled, but I saw the tears still lingering in my mother's eyes. My heart tightened in an instant; it was so painful to see.

I wanted to do everything I could for myself because I didn't want my parents to worry or to work so hard on my behalf. I tried my best to learn everything, at least enough to manage my own basic needs. That same year, my parents took me to a temple. I leaned heavily on my cane as I walked inside, and when I saw my parents prostrating before the Buddha, I followed suit. A master at the temple gave me a string of Buddha beads to form a connection with the Dharma. He taught me, 'Little one, keep these beads with you. Chant Namo Amituofo every single day. Namo Amituofo! If you do this, Namo Amituofo will protect you. Do you understand?' I smiled and nodded, thanking the master.

From that day on, I wore those beads on my right wrist. Whenever I thought of it, I would take them off, chant, and turn the beads before putting them back on. Especially when I felt sad, I would do this. The beads became my spiritual anchor. When I was sad, I turned them; when I was afraid, I turned them; even when I was happy, I turned them to share my joy. At that time, I considered those beads my best friend, accompanying me through every trial of my life.

A Beacon for Other Suffering Souls

When I was eight, my parents took me to a gathering for children with rare diseases. It was my first time attending such an event. I bravely walked onto the stage with my cane, took off my beads, and introduced them to all the children in the audience. I said, 'Look! This is my best friend. I turn these beads every day, and with every turn, I chant Namo Amituofo. When I feel down, this friend makes me feel better; when I am afraid, it teaches me to be brave. I know this friend is Namo Amituofo. So today, I have asked my parents to prepare many strings of beads for all of you, hoping to give you each a Namo Amituofo friend, just like I have.'

I walked off the stage and, with my parents' help, personally placed a string of beads on the wrist of every child there. With every gift, I smiled and chanted Namo Amituofo to them. I knew their hearts were just as fearful as mine, especially when the pain flared up and they felt helpless. Only Namo Amituofo could help us face these invisible monsters that caused us such terror, and only Namo Amituofo could bring peace to our hearts.

I often asked my parents, 'What else can I do for this world?' I wanted my life to have meaning. No matter how long I lived, I wanted to help others. So, my parents took me to do charity work and practice generosity from a young age. Although there wasn't much I could do, I participated with all my heart. Even when my body was in agony, I would endure it and wear a bright smile. I realised then that when I bring happiness to others, I feel happy myself—that was my deepest insight."

My muscles began to wither away rapidly. Eventually, even the muscles in my face succumbed, and I could no longer manage even a faint smile. Yet, I could still smile with my eyes—that was during the very final stages of my life. At that time, there was not a single part of my body that did not ache. I felt as if my internal organs were being churned and twisted every single day, and the atrophy of my muscles caused me such excruciating, searing pain. Those days were truly, deeply agonising, but I endured it all with every ounce of my strength, simply because I did not want my parents to worry or feel sad for me.

On my twelfth birthday, a massive, beautiful birthday cake was placed right before me. So many people came to offer their well-wishes, cheering for my twelfth birthday! I thanked them all with a smile in my eyes. I was truly happy that day, but my heart was also in such intense pain. I thought I could hold on just a little longer, but I never expected that this time, I had finally reached my limit.

A Final Act of Kindness

The doctors rushed to perform emergency resuscitation, but in the end, my life had reached its final chapter.

Before my life came to an end, I donated every organ that was still viable. That was the very last thing I could do for this world.

Looking back, I feel that my life, though short, was incredibly meaningful. I want to thank my father and my mother for accompanying me through these twelve years of life. They have truly suffered so much for my sake.

The Weight of Past Sins

After my spirit left my body, I was swiftly taken by the prison guards to stand before the King of Hell. When I saw the sins I had committed in my past lives, I was so overcome with grief that I burst into tears. I never imagined that in a previous life, I had used chemical solutions to soak newborn infants. Under the influence of my concoctions, their tiny bodies would shrivel up into small, hard balls. Those chemicals were all developed by me personally, and there was no antidote. Once I threw those poor babies in, they would inevitably perish.

The one who instigated this was my own mother. To possess the emotions and affections she craved, she sought me out to carry out these deeds, rewarding me with many benefits. We thought we were working in perfect harmony, never realising that we were accumulating such heavy, unpayable karmic debts. That is the reason I had to endure such a rare, debilitating disease in this life, living for twelve years in the torment of constant pain.

The Path to Deliverance

Fortunately, in this brief life, I still possessed a kind heart and a sincere desire to help others. This is what gave me the opportunity to serve as a prison guard after my death.

When I heard Practitioner Su giving Dharma talks in the hells, my heart was so moved, so stirred. Practitioner Su’s words reminded me of the sacred name of Namo Amituofo. I began to chant Buddha's name continuously, never stopping. I listened to Practitioner Su’s Dharma talks every single day with great sincerity, and only then did I realise that there exists a Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, a place where there is no suffering at all. I knew then that I wanted to go there.

I encouraged every single being in the hells to chant along with me and to seek rebirth in the Western Pure Land together. When I was finally placed on the list to be sent to the West, I was so happy—so incredibly happy! My heart was filled with such profound gratitude towards Namo Amituofo and Practitioner Su.

A Bright Smile in the West

Now, I have finally arrived in the Western Land, and I am smiling so brightly.

The cycle of rebirth is truly, truly bitter. I hope that everyone who has the opportunity to hear the Buddha’s teachings will understand how to stop suffering, leave suffering behind, chant Namo Amituofo with a single heart, and seek rebirth in the Western Pure Land.

Namo Amituofo.

With deepest reverence, Kang Zhenhua