The Weight of Silence and the Path to Liberation

This is a record of an interview with Liu Jinchuan, who sought to be saved at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his subsequent journey through the spirit realms. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on July 13, 2025.

Liu Jinchuan speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Liu Jinchuan. There were so many times in my life when I knew I needed to strive for something better, yet I completely neglected how to properly adjust my own heart and mind.

I am profoundly grateful that today I can achieve rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I offer my deepest gratitude to Namo Amituofo and to Practitioner Su. On behalf of all the prison guards in the spirit realms, I bow in thanks for the Buddha’s grace and the grace of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo.

A Life Built on Suppression

I was never a bad person; I was simply a man who grew up terrified of poverty. My father passed away early, and my mother had to support the family alone. As the eldest son, seeing how hard my mother worked, I developed a habit of shouldering everything myself. I would always say, 'It’s fine,' or 'I can handle it.' I never allowed myself to say, 'I can’t do this,' or 'I don’t want to.'

I studied hard, worked hard, and tried my best to please everyone, just to ensure others felt at ease and would not worry about me. I thought this was what it meant to be filial, mature, and responsible. In reality, I had never learned what it meant to live in a state of balance.

Day after day, I lived like a machine. I never relaxed, and I dared not rest. It felt as if a heavy stone were pressing against my chest. I suffered from insomnia at night, and in my dreams, I was always walking along an endless road. People’s faces were everywhere around me, yet I had no idea where I was going.

The Silent End

Then, one day, I collapsed at a construction site. My heart ruptured, and I died without a sound. The last thought I had before I passed was: 'In this entire life, did I ever truly live?' I had never committed any negative karma, nor had I ever harmed anyone. Yet, I ended my life without even knowing who 'I' was.

When my spirit left my body, I did not feel a sense of liberation. Instead, I felt an indescribable heaviness. It was the weight of all the words I had never spoken and the suffocating state of repression I had lived in. Like a thick fog, it enveloped me, pushing me toward the unknown.

The World of Suffocating Breath

When I woke up again, I was no longer human. I had become a mass of unformed consciousness, swept into a drowsy, damp, and cold space. All around me was a thick, grey mist, mixed with sighs and a sense of suffocation. There was no time and no light. It was as if countless suppressed heart-cries were floating there, unable to take form.

This was the 'World of Suffocating Breath,' a middle-state realm formed by spirits who were silent, formless, and devoid of vows. Every existence here shared one common trait: in the human world, we had over-repressed, disguised, and denied ourselves, never living with a sincere heart.

I finally understood that my previous life was not simply about being 'too kind' or 'sacrificing for others.' In truth, I had been forcing myself to hold on for far too long. Because I feared being a burden, feared failure, and feared being rejected, I forcibly suppressed all my true feelings—my exhaustion, my sorrow—never giving myself a moment to breathe.

The Cruelty of Self-Control

On the surface, I said, 'It’s fine,' but internally, I was already poisoned. Layer upon layer of stress accumulated, my energy and blood could not circulate, my emotions were in chaos, and even my nights were suffocated by my own repression. This was not simple restraint; it was a form of cruelty toward myself, a refusal to allow any weakness.

I thought I was being diligent and supporting my family, but in reality, my long-term internal imbalance was causing me to disintegrate. Everything I refused to face, everything I never released, and everything I swallowed hard—all of it became a distorted energy that sealed me in, trapped me, and eventually left my soul with nowhere to go. That is why I ended up there.

It was not because fate was unfair; it was because my heart had long ago taken the wrong path. It had begun to collapse, but I refused to stop and face it. I hid everything away, suppressing my emotions, my desires, and my voice. These 'unspoken' things became turbid energy that flowed back into me. I was not being punished; I was simply in sync with everything I had suppressed, left to linger there by my own energy.

The Sound of the Buddha-Name

At times, I felt like silt in a thick fog—wanting to move but having no strength, wanting to scream but having no voice. Then, one day, a monastic walked by. He did not scold me, nor did he speak. He simply stood quietly before me and chanted the Buddha-name: 'Namo Amituofo.'

The sound was not loud, but it was repeated over and over. Like water dripping on stone, it pierced through my layers of turbid energy and through my long-numbed heart. In that instant, I suddenly felt that this Buddha-name was not speaking to me, but responding to my long-imbalanced character.

Everything I had forced myself to hold, to swallow, and to suppress began to surface, layer by layer, within that Buddha-name. I had never been truly strong; I had only been too afraid to fall. I had not been willingly patient; I had been too afraid to refuse. My life had not been without regrets; it had been a life where I never had the courage to live as myself.

A New Direction

As the chanting continued, I finally heard a voice in my heart trembling in pain: 'I really... do not want to be like this anymore.' In that thought, I stopped struggling outward and, for the first time, walked toward the Buddha’s vow. The turbid energy that had once bound me began to loosen. That single thought of a vow was like a seam, cracking open my long-closed heart.

I was reborn into an ordinary family. Though my parents were not wealthy, they were full of love. For the first time, I learned that one does not have to be perfect to be accepted. Growing up, I was sensitive and keenly aware of emotions, always able to perceive the pain others left unspoken. That was a perception left over from my past life, and it became my guide in this one.

When I grew up, I chose to become a teacher. Not for the money, but because I knew that in this world, there are too many people like I once was—living in silence and self-repression, with no one to listen. I accompanied them as they changed; I taught them how to express themselves, how to adjust, and how to learn and grow. These were lessons I had taken two lifetimes to learn.

The True Turning of the Wheel

In my old age, I sat quietly before the Buddha, my heart without attachments. One afternoon, I peacefully departed from the human world. Suddenly, the King of Hell appeared before me, smiling as he said, 'Liu Jinchuan, in these three lifetimes, you have gone from repression to awareness, from suffocating breath to the arising of a vow. Now, you no longer live for survival, but to act in order to reflect your true heart. This is the true turning of the wheel.'

He gave me a task: to serve as a guide, assisting those souls still sleeping in self-denial and repression to find their lost selves. I began to lead souls at the boundary of life and death. Watching those souls who were as silent, disguised, and eager to please as I once was, I did not blame them. I only asked softly, 'Are you willing to change?'

Some wept because of this; others finally found the willingness to speak a single truth. This was not because I had any special ability, but because—I had once been them. Until one day, I guided a soul who cried and said, 'I never thought I could say, "I don’t want to be like this anymore."'

Returning to the Path

Over these years, I have tried my best to help souls find their way out, and in the process, I have seen many things that have brought me to realization. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity to learn and serve. Later, I heard Practitioner Su giving Dharma talks, which made me clearly understand that I needed to seek liberation.

For the first time, I understood that it was not really me guiding these souls. Rather, every time I led someone, the Buddha was allowing me to see clearly: if I did not truly make a vow and truly practise, I would eventually sink back into that silent, turbid energy. At that moment, I truly woke up.

I no longer just accompany others in waking up; I have begun to return to the path I should be walking—chanting Namo Amituofo every day, gathering my body and mind, honestly examining my own character, and bit by bit, turning my vow into action. I am no longer satisfied with just helping souls leave suffering behind; I know I must cut off suffering at the root.

I want liberation—not just for myself, but to help even more souls in the future so that they can truly see the direction they need to take. I am so grateful that today I can achieve rebirth in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. On behalf of all the prison guards and all sentient beings with karmic affinity, I bow in thanks for the Buddha’s grace and the grace of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo.

Liu Jinchuan, with palms joined."