The Burden of Expectations: A Childhood Lost

This is a record of an interview with Xiu Chang, who sought deliverance 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 approximately 435 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on August 13, 2019.

Xiu Chang speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Xiu Chang. Looking back at my life, I often think of a dream I once held: 'I want to stand on the shoulders of giants to observe this world.' It was my deepest aspiration. I truly hoped that if I could reach such a height, I would be able to see this world clearly, thoroughly, and with absolute understanding. In my village, people always called me a child of dreams. They said I was constantly lost in daydreams, filled with wild, impossible imaginations. Yet, paradoxically, I felt so indifferent and uncurious about the world around me. What was I really dreaming of? I suppose I was dreaming of an escape from the life that had been mapped out for me before I was even born.

The 'Wild Child' of a Noble House

People used to call me a 'wild child.' My parents simply could not manage me. Whatever they asked me to do, I never once took it seriously. Born into a family of great prestige and renown, I was the antithesis of what such a household should produce. Many people whispered behind our backs, wondering if my mother had perhaps brought home the wrong baby from the nursery. How could a family with such a long, illustrious history of excellence produce someone like me? It was as if I had been a wild creature that had wandered out of the forest and into their pristine home. There were even times when my own legitimacy was questioned, with people doubting if I was truly my father's son. Fortunately, my face bore such a striking resemblance to his that it served as the only proof needed to confirm that I was indeed a descendant of the Xiu family.

The Weight of a Mother's Tears

My grandparents often heard the gossip outside. They knew that I had become the laughingstock of the family, and they were convinced that I would inevitably grow up to be the one who ruined the Xiu family's legacy. My mother bore the brunt of this; she was constantly scolded by my grandparents, who accused her of being incapable of discipline and of being far too indulgent with me. This, they claimed, was the root of all my bad habits and failures. Seeing my mother hiding under her covers, weeping in the dark, I felt a pain in my heart that I cannot describe. I would reach out, wanting to comfort her, but I was the very reason for her suffering. How could I even begin to speak? I would whisper, 'Mother,' and she would reply through her tears, 'Can you not just listen for once? Why must you make things so difficult for me?' Seeing her face stained with tears, I knew she had endured so much humiliation on my account. I did not know why I could not just be obedient. For the life my grandparents had so meticulously arranged for me, I felt absolutely no interest.

The Shadow of the Perfect Cousin

Watching my mother cry until she was heartbroken, I had no choice but to force myself to sit at the desk and study. I recognised every single character on the page, yet when they were pieced together into a long, winding essay, they ceased to look like words at all. They became a dense, black, suffocating mass that made me want to look away. I tried my best to summon some focus, but as I stared, my head began to feel heavy and dizzy. I didn't even realise I was holding the book upside down. 'Thump!' The book hit the floor, and the sound jolted me from my stupor. My mother was standing right in front of me, her eyes fixed on mine. I told her, 'Is there some kind of sleeping potion mixed into these books? Why do I feel so drowsy the moment I open them? It is impossible to read!' She looked at me without saying a word. I didn't know what had happened. Seeing her stern expression, I dared not say another word. I simply picked up the book to shield my face and kept my head down, pretending to read. She watched me for a long time before turning to leave. As I watched her retreating figure, she looked so lonely, so helpless. Her thin frame seemed as fragile as a piece of paper, as if a single gust of wind could knock her over. My heart ached for her."

Within my heart, there has always been a profound sentiment, a realization that took root during my childhood. I have always believed that for any person to be born into this world is no simple or easy feat. As a child, I loved to be close to nature and observe the lives of those around me. I remember when I was seven years old, playing alone under a large tree, I witnessed a beautiful butterfly emerging from its chrysalis! Watching that dynamic process—the butterfly slowly vibrating its wings, adorned with black veins and orange patterns—it was so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful. In an instant, it took flight and vanished from my sight. Observing that transformation from chrysalis to butterfly, I finally understood that these insects were also living beings. But why must they be insects or butterflies, and not humans? And why was I able to be born as a human, rather than as that butterfly? In that moment, I realized that my human body was precious.

The Illusion of a Busy Life

How many people truly know how to cherish this precious human body? In my daily life, everyone seems to be working so hard to get by, but are they really cherishing their lives? They work from dawn until dusk, appearing busy, but in my eyes, life is slipping away rapidly. They trade their time for a few coins to fill the household needs, but how can one measure the value of a life that can never be reclaimed? Marriage and raising children seem like a normal part of life, but one spends the better part of a lifetime managing a household, caring for a wife, and raising children, only to end up facing illness, old age, and eventually death. After all that effort, what has one truly gained? Life seems to hold so many mysteries waiting for me to explore. I truly wanted to stand on the shoulders of giants to see this world clearly and thoroughly. Yet, I could not even master my own life; I was forced to pursue fame and official rank. I knew in my heart that even if I achieved success and renown, these titles and status would never truly belong to me. Because the moment I draw my last breath, I must eventually let go of this illusory body and leave this world alone, taking nothing with me.

I complied with my grandmother's arrangements for my life, working diligently for several years until I finally secured a minor official position in the local region. Although my family was not yet entirely satisfied with my achievements, compared to the wild child I was called in my youth, they dared not ask for more, hoping only that I would perform my duties well. I remained faithful to my post, without the slightest indulgence or slackness. Yet, as the days turned into years, the melancholy in my heart only deepened, as if I were a person with great ambitions that could not be realized, or dreams that I was forbidden to pursue.

The Breaking Point

When I was forced to marry and start a family, I began to feel deeply that the greater part of my life had already passed. If I were to continue following the instructions and demands of my grandparents, I would soon face old age, sickness, and death. I was unwilling to finish my life in such a manner, but what was I to do? As my age increased, those around me began introducing me to many daughters of noble families for me to choose from. I would sit in my study, unwilling to face this reality, while my grandmother had already begun making decisions on my behalf.

There was something I was doing in secret, something I had not told my family, especially my grandmother. On the day of my wedding, as guests arrived one by one, the groom was nowhere to be found. Yes, I had run away! I secretly resigned from my post and left home with nothing but a pack on my back. Although I did not know where I was going, I understood in my heart that I could no longer waste my life. Once married and with children, this irreversible life would never be reclaimed.

A Chance Encounter and the Truth of Impermanence

I stepped onto a vast grassland, a place with a scent so familiar to me. As a child, I had run freely across these very fields; the joy of my childhood still felt vivid even now. Just as I was enjoying the purity of nature, someone suddenly called out, 'Master Xiu!' I was startled, fearing that my grandmother had sent someone to pursue me! Turning around, I was relieved to see a stranger. This person said, 'I found this jade pendant on the ground; it has the character Xiu carved on it. Seeing that few people pass through here, I assumed it must be yours.' I took the pendant from his hand and looked at it, saying, 'This is indeed my pendant. It was a gift from my grandmother. Its value lies not in its price, but in the expectations she had for my life when she gave it to me.' I kept the pendant with me, telling myself, 'I must cherish my life.' I was so caught up in thoughts of my grandmother that I momentarily forgot to thank the man, so I quickly expressed my gratitude. When I looked up, I noticed he was also carrying a pack, so I asked him out of curiosity, 'Where are you heading with that pack?' The man replied, 'I am going to practice.'

I looked at him with curiosity: 'Practice?' He continued, 'My parents passed away one after another within a year. Beyond the sorrow, grief, and sadness I felt, once I calmed my heart, I realized that their departure left a profound impression on me. We were a poor family living in the countryside. Father worked hard his entire life, while Mother took care of me and managed the household, often helping in the fields as well. I did whatever I could to help. Although we were not wealthy, we were content, and thus we lived quite happily. This year, Father fell ill. Mother stayed by his side day and night, and I took over the household chores. Seeing the deep bond between them, it felt cruel that Father was struck by an incurable disease with so little time left. How could Mother bear it? So, I did not tell her the doctor's diagnosis, knowing that if she knew, she would do something desperate. Watching their interactions during those days, I finally understood how much suffering exists in this world. Father was never liked by Grandmother because he wasn't as clever as my uncles; he was honest and simple, and from childhood, he was bullied by them. Whenever they did something wrong, they blamed Father. He didn't know how to argue, so he silently bore those innocent accusations and suffered Grandmother's harsh discipline. When he grew up, he received no inheritance; it was all seized by my uncles. He lived alone in the declining countryside until he met Mother. They were deeply in love and had twelve children. They spent their whole lives working to raise us. We thought that once we grew up, they could finally enjoy their lives! But Father fell ill and passed away before we could repay his kindness. Then, Mother, overcome with grief and longing, left this world a few months ago. We twelve siblings are very close, and now that our parents are gone, we support each other. But their passing made me deeply realize the impermanence of life. If even our own lives are not under our control, what else can we truly master? I really cannot think of anything. One can live a spectacular life, enjoying wealth and having everything one desires, but in the end, when one leaves this world, it is just a coffin carrying a corpse to be buried on the mountain. I see clearly that if one pursues a life of worldly enjoyment, it is absolutely meaningless. If one pursues the happiness and joy of a family, it inevitably leads to the pain of separation. There is no eternal joy in this world; behind every pleasure lies the price of extreme suffering. So I chose to leave. I am going to practice in the deep mountains. I want to live out the highest value of this physical body.' His view on life was so similar to mine! This was the first time in my life that I had heard someone express such an understanding of life! I was filled with joy and asked if I could accompany him. He happily agreed, and together, we headed toward the deep mountains to begin our life of practice.

This person was named Wude. I asked him, "Why are you so familiar with the path here?" Wude replied, "When I was a child, my mother brought me here once. Just that one time, and I remembered this path! Perhaps it was destiny—it was fated that I should return here once more!" Along the way, Wude guided me to observe the flowers, the grasses, and the various landscapes of nature. I had seen these things since I was small, but I never expected that I had only been looking at the external appearances of nature. I did not know how to look at a deeper level. Every flower and every blade of grass can lead one to an awakening. Wude shared his insights with me one by one. The one that left the deepest impression on me was probably the fruit that fell from a tree and hit me on the head! The fruit was quite large, and it hurt so much that I let out a cry. Wude said, "Do you know what I just saw?" I asked in confusion, "Wasn't it just a fruit that fell on my head?" Wude replied, "No! It was a monkey! That fruit was actually a monkey! Just as you walked by, it intentionally dropped it on your head! Because you were a family in a past life!" I was astonished and said, "A monkey? Does that mean I was a monkey before? No wonder people always called me a wild child since I was little! It turns out I still had the habits of a monkey!"

The Vision of a Practitioner

Wude said, "Since I was young, my eyes have been able to see worlds that the ordinary physical eyes cannot see. People are afraid of ghosts, but I am not afraid at all, because they often appear right in front of me. The reason I chose to walk the path of practice is because I saw that these beings who are still suffering are in extreme pain. If I can contribute even a little bit to help them, they can be liberated from suffering sooner." This heart of Wude’s stirred me. Over these past few years, I have seen the suffering of life quite clearly. I do not crave anything in this world; I only hope to find the Dharma for liberation. Now that Wude has introduced the Buddha’s teachings to me, I finally understand that we can seek rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am grateful to the Buddha for his great compassion in establishing the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. If such a place did not exist, so many suffering souls would still be suffering today, with nowhere to go, just like that monkey.

The Path of Diligent Practice

In the temple, Wude and I each engaged in diligent practice. In this pure land, free from right and wrong, free from idle chatter, our hearts remained pure. Our goal for daily practice was purification and no-self. To remove the "self" within my heart, I exhausted every method to temper myself. My teacher spoke of a phrase from the Diamond Sutra: "No-self, no-person, no-beings, no-life-span." If one can let go of ego-attachment, let go of worries and delusions, then thoughts disappear, discriminations disappear, and all comparisons vanish. This is true no-self, no-discrimination; it is true emptiness. I used this to sharpen myself, learning to let go of this false body that I had been attached to for so many years. I wanted to use this body to deliver sentient beings, to dedicate this body and heart to the countless worlds, to help beings pull out the root of birth and death, to attain the Way and achieve liberation, and to be reborn in the Western Land. This is the true meaning of practice.

A Vow to Return

I attained rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss at the age of seventy-three. The Western Land of Ultimate Bliss is pure and dignified beyond compare. I chanted the holy name of Amitabha Buddha aloud, yet I saw that the beings in the worldly realm were still suffering endlessly, unable to escape. My heart was filled with sorrow, and I made a vow that I would return to the human world to save beings. Now that I have come to this world, it is because Practitioner Su bears the suffering for all beings, and her legs have tasted every kind of suffering for the sake of beings. Many venerable ones have come from the Western Land to the worldly realm to assist Practitioner Su in her mission to save the world.

The Compassion of Practitioner Su

Today, Practitioner Su is the only one in this world saving beings. Although there are many monastics in famous mountains and large temples, only Practitioner Su possesses the Dharma Body and can use the Dharma Body to perform Chao Du for countless beings. Beings are in extreme suffering, a suffering that cannot be described in words. Practitioner Su’s heart of compassion sees everything through the Buddha’s eyes. No matter how much suffering she endures, she still resolves to save them. Such a spirit of great power and great compassion is hard for people of this world to see. This is because beings in the Dharma-ending age have deep ego-attachment, small selves, small love, and heavy selfishness. It is difficult to save beings with a heart of no-self. The depth of Practitioner Su’s compassion is present in every moment of her life. Her golden body shines with great light within the Land of Eternally Quiescent Light. She is the manifestation of cells coming to the human world as a woman to demonstrate the Dharma and deliver sentient beings. Such a heart of great compassion is respected by all Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and all beings. I am grateful for the great compassionate conduct of Practitioner Su.

Namo Amituofo.

This interview was recorded by the chief writer, a disciple of the Buddha, Shi Fajing.