A Pure Land of the Buddha in a Tiny Room

February 1, 2021, the twentieth day of the twelfth lunar month, the New Year at hand. Thinking of loved ones far away, my heart surges and I cannot contain it. In the afternoon, alone in my study, basking in the sun, I faced three small Buddha statues, thoughtful yet unthinking, letting time slip quietly by.

This is my Pure Land of the Buddha, where I can silently digest all sorts of uncomfortable feelings in my heart. There are many relatives and friends I have not seen for two years; I have not swept my mother's grave for two years either, and this New Year's Eve my seventy-something father will spend the night alone back home. To say I am not pained would surely be a lie, but how helpless all of this is.

It is hard to leave one's homeland. Although my study here in Beijing is fine and enough to settle my body and mind, my life is incomplete with only it. Sometimes I need to return to my hometown, to reunite with my dearest relatives and friends, raising our cups in joy and recounting the years of separation. I need to go to the side of those I care about, be close to them, share their sorrows and joys. Unfortunately, it is impossible now; I can only let longing devour my heart.

To this day I still do not consider myself a Buddhist, nor do I plan to take refuge in Buddhism in future, let alone shave my head and become a monk. But since early childhood my life has been full of Buddhist elements.

At seven years old, my grandmother—illiterate yet devoutly Buddhist—had me, using the pinyin alphabet, teach her to recite hand-copied sutras she had brought back from various temples. Often, before she could recite them smoothly, I had already memorized them. The sutras I recited as a child I can still recite to this day. Every New Year's Eve and the first day of the New Year, my mother would take our whole family to burn incense and worship the Buddha. Around my hometown, the only places that could barely count as scenic spots were all Buddhist temples.

So now, my study also holds some Buddhist things: a string of prayer beads my junior sister brought me from Mount Wutai, a few Buddhist sutras, some books on Buddhism, and a few Buddhist ornaments. Occasionally, when my mind escapes from medicine and I look at these Buddha statues and sutras in my study, thinking of those Buddhist sages who have existed in our world through the ages, and silently recite Amitabha a few times, my heart also grows much more peaceful.

The monk Xuanzang wrote in his Great Tang Records on the Western Regions: As for the rites between ruler and ministers, and the institutions and standards of governance, the land of the people (meaning China) has nothing further to add. As for the teaching of purifying the mind and freeing oneself from entanglements, the doctrine of escaping birth and death, the land of the elephant-king (India) is supreme in its principles. India is renowned in the world for its spiritual philosophy, and Buddhism is the culmination of Indian spiritual philosophy; it has the effects of purifying the mind and freeing entanglements and of escaping birth and death.

As people tirelessly pursue their ideals, when they suddenly, as the sutras say, bring their minds to a halt and quietly consider the ultimate destination of their fate, they cannot help but negate many things once thought to be of great value.

Medicine remains my dearest calling; I have always been unwilling to waste this life, always hoping that my existence in this world is of some use to others. Medicine has given me a reason to exist: not only do many patients need me, but my relatives and friends also need me to safeguard their health, and when they fall ill they need me to help resolve their suffering and soothe their emotions.

But in my tiny room there also exists an invisible Pure Land of the Buddha. The Buddha's thought has deeply influenced me; my memory holds too many Buddhist elements, and these have fused with my family love. Although I have a burning love for the world and never tire of the attachments of the mortal world, occasionally I also silently converse with the Buddha in my heart, listening to the voice of the wise Buddha, drawing inspiration from his thoughts, and escaping those absurd, laughable cages of this vast world.

Beings do ten things as good and also ten things as evil. What are the ten? Three of body, four of speech, three of mind. The three of body: killing, stealing, lust. The four of speech: duplicity, harsh speech, lying, wanton talk. The three of mind: envy, anger, delusion. These ten things, not in accord with the noble path, are called the ten evil acts. If these evils are stopped, they are called the ten good acts.

I once hoped to find a friend with good calligraphy to write this passage of sutra as a hanging scroll on my study wall, to remind me every day to abandon these ten evils and extinguish afflictions. But in the end I gave up, because I did not want to trouble anyone. The Buddha said many things, but this passage is the one I most accept; all the grudges, loves, and hatreds of the human world arise from these ten evils. Bodhisattvas fear causes, while ordinary beings fear results. Those who can cut off these ten evils have, at the cause, severed endless afflictions. I cannot fully do these things, but I hope I can in the future.

Burning emotions need to cool, uncomfortable feelings need to settle, and life must go on. In this tiny room, utter the name of Amitabha, and slowly return to peace.