The Watermelon's Cycle of Rebirth: A Story of Spiritual Deliverance

October 1, 2017.

I am the spirit of the watermelon. It is truly a strange thing to say, is it not? This week, the watermelon I manifested as was smaller than usual, and I felt a deep sense of urgency to have my story recorded. Last week, I felt a bit slighted; several people came to chat with me, yet no one took the time to write down my account. I had already visited the Western Pure Land, but I carried with me a heavy burden—what you might call regret. However, this place, the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, is also a gateway to the West. I have returned to participate in the Thrice Yearning Ceremony once more. This time, I am not a watermelon; I am a being from the Western Land, standing near the watermelons. I am filled with such joy to participate in this Dharma ceremony. I have joined the others as a volunteer, for there is so much work to be done here, both in the spiritual realm and within the temple itself. I have been working alongside these dedicated people to protect and support this sacred space. I have come to realise that performing acts of Goodness is a source of such profound happiness. When I was alive, I used to mock the very idea that there could be kind-hearted people left in this world. Now, I see that they truly exist, and they are gathered right here.

The Sorrow of the Watermelon's Life

I never imagined there could be people who give without seeking anything in return. This state of being, this selfless action, is something so many cannot achieve. It is true, diligent practice. If I had encountered such people earlier in my life, I might have followed the path of the Buddha, and I would never have become a watermelon. I did not spend many years as a watermelon—only about fifty—before I came here to seek Spiritual Deliverance.

I always insisted on being a large watermelon. I felt that small watermelons lacked the proper stature, and I despised the yellow-fleshed varieties. I craved the large, red, and succulent watermelons. Yet, several times, I made a mistake and was reborn into a poor, stunted seed. I was filled with such sorrow, weeping constantly at my wretched fate. Why would these watermelons not grow? In those instances, I was quickly discarded by the farmers. I would lie in the grass beside the orchard, a tragic figure exposed to the wind, the sun, and the rain. I began to rot, and even the insects would not touch me. I was dried and flattened by the sun, a process that took weeks before my life as a small, miserable watermelon finally ended. It was a tragedy of Causal Conditions; being born in the wrong place is a fate one must endure, but it is not the fault of any individual—it is simply the nature of karma.

The Agony of the Cycle of Rebirth

After experiencing this several times, I grew weary of the game of being a small watermelon. I began to seek out the large, fully grown watermelons and attempted to leave the orchard. Finally, after several tries, I succeeded in leaving, but my first attempt was a disaster. I was consumed, and I had to endure the process of digestion. It was terrifying—the smell was nauseating, and everything was dark, sticky, and viscous. As my red flesh began to dissolve in the digestive tract, I was filled with panic. I spotted a watermelon seed and leaped into it, just as the digestive tract led into the large intestine. I could not avoid the indignity of becoming waste. I had become a seed, and I was not digested; I remained, clinging to the waste. I felt such helplessness, and the person whose body I was in was not fond of using the restroom. I waited for days, compressed and squeezed. It was a painful, difficult, and bloody ordeal, but I was determined to seize the opportunity to escape that wretched place. Oh, the stench! It was unbearable. In that moment, I deeply understood the truth of being ungrateful for the blessings I once had. I had been a watermelon, and yet I was not satisfied. The consequence of trying to escape the orchard was this. However, I quickly composed myself. I realised I was in the toilet, and I acted with composure, ignoring the reality of my situation. Even though the smell was overwhelming, I felt a sense of contentment: at least I was out!

When the flush button was pressed, I was carried into the septic tank. I will not describe it; you can imagine how unpleasant it was. I fainted and woke, fainted and woke again. I saw this as the retribution for my past actions—the karma of a watermelon. I spent a long time in that tank before I was finally processed. I was taken to a factory, and through my own strength, I passed through layer after layer of obstacles. I was a watermelon seed that had almost lost its life force, but I refused to give up the chance to return to being a watermelon. I focused my mind, imagining the form of a watermelon. I wanted to return to being a large watermelon! I wanted to return! Through this intense focus, I returned to the original orchard and entered a large watermelon. This time, I refused to leave. Whenever I was eaten, I would simply find another. Eventually, I was forced to leave because the orchard was destroyed to make way for a construction site. The orchard was gone, and I had nowhere to go. I was a large watermelon, taken to a supermarket. This was my first time in a large supermarket since I became a watermelon. I saw so many people coming and going, and I seemed to know who they were and what they were thinking.

A Father's Heart in the Form of Fruit

Suddenly, I felt a familiar presence. An old woman stood before me, looking to choose a watermelon. I looked at her and began to weep. This old woman was my daughter. When I died, she was still very young. How had she become such an old woman? The joy and confidence of her youth were gone; she had been abandoned by her boyfriend. Her path in life had been filled with emotional turmoil, and she had been deceived by men repeatedly. Her heart was covered in scars, and my heart ached for her. As she picked up the watermelon, she naturally chose me. I saw a flicker of emotion in her heart—a faint memory of eating the watermelons I used to grow when she was a child. She was thinking of her father, though she was so burdened by her own afflictions that she did not even notice. She carried the watermelon home without a smile, unaware that she was holding her own father.

Outside the supermarket, her new partner was waiting in the car—a man she was merely living with. I saw immediately that he was a man of low character. Even though I was furious, I could do nothing. I felt such despair. It was then that I truly awakened. Why was I so attached to being a watermelon? I could not even save my own daughter from her suffering. What was the point of this cycle of rebirth? I was so angry with myself. I stopped clinging to the form of a watermelon, but I could not leave that space until, recently, I finally arrived here to be offered on the altar. It was through the memorial tablets that I was finally able to leave. My name is Peng Bihui. I spent over fifty years in the cycle of rebirth as a watermelon. That I could receive Spiritual Deliverance and be reborn in the Western Pure Land is due to the Generosity and Goodness I practised in the past, and because I did chant Buddha's name. Perhaps that is why I had these Causal Conditions. My story is quite humorous, yet also quite tragic, is it not? I hope that everyone will seek true liberation. Regardless of your current position, or even if you are a human being, I hope you will reflect on my story—the story of the watermelon's cycle of rebirth. That is all. The watermelon has finished telling its story. I am now in the Western Pure Land, no longer a watermelon. Ha, ha, ha! Thank you all. Namo Amituofo.

This message was recorded by the Buddha's disciple, Shi Fazhi.