The Flying Carpet of the East
By Living Buddha Sheng-yen Lu
Translated by Shan Tung Hsu P.hD., Bekka, Karin Greenway
Translated by Shan Tung Hsu P.hD., Bekka, Karin Greenway
This was translated from Grandmaster Lu's 31st book, 東方的飛氈.
On the other side of the noise in our lives is the Great World of Silence.
While we are sitting near the ocean we listen to the waves pounding the shore.
Yet beneath this is silence.
Most people are not aware of this aspect of silence.
They don't believe it exists.
Although it is the silent world, it does exist.
As sure as there is day and night, this other world exists!
There is a material world and a spiritual world.
The material civilization is progressing rapidly; there is a great change in the silent world too.
When I meditate in this Great Silence, all troubles go away.
Life and death no longer are real.
There is no feeling of loneliness.
History becomes short, and there are wisdom stars everywhere.
I feel I can reach out my hand to touch the stars.
Once I traveled into space.
I allowed my body to float up.
I ascended through layers of clouds to another world.
Celestial beings welcomed me.
Flowers bloomed everywhere.
The peoples' bodies were wonderfully fragrant.
Nature's colors were different; all beautiful and bright.
"Where am I?" I asked one celestial being.
"This is the Great World of Silence," he answered.
"Do I know anybody here?"
Then I met my acquaintance. His form had changed, yet his heart was still familiar to me.
"Uncle Tzu-chih! You are here!"
"Lian Shen! You've come here too!"
"No. No. I still have to return."
"Well then hurry and return!"
"No, Uncle Tzu-chih, I don't mean that. I'm still alive, you know. I still live in the human world."
"Oh! Oh! I understand. You can travel beyond your body."
"Is there anyone else I know who travels here?"
"Yes, there are some. But not many people can leave their bodies.
Some visit here in their dreams, but their consciousness is not very clear and their forms are not definite; just like steam in a tea kettle. The dreamers don't stay long. Sometimes I'd like to remind them of some thing, but when they wake up they never remember."
"Do you miss the human world?"
"No. Once you go back there it's difficult to return here, you know."
When Uncle Tzu-chih was in the human world he was a waste paper collector.
His name, Tze-chih, means printed paper.
He was a Buddhist, yet he spent his days with garbage.
His heart was, and is, very pure.
Every time he picked up papers with letters printed on them he burned them.
He was aware that the knowledge, represented by the printed words, came from the saints.
Burning was a way to keep the knowledge pure.
He advised people always to respect printed paper.
Once he picked up lots of lost money.
He took it to the police and refused a gift from the people who lost it.
He often donated anonymously.
He chanted to Buddha, never stopping.
When he died he didn't have a dime left.
Without anyone knowing, he was able to help in the deliverance of many people.
We met three times when he was alive and talked easily.
Before he died he reminded me to take care of his "students" so that they could return to the Great World of Silence.
I hadn't expected the chance to see him again.
"Ying-chen (one of Tzu-chih's students) has left the spiritual path. I am sorry to see this happen," said Uncle Tzu-chih.
"Oh! That pure and innocent little girl?"
"Yes. I observed her. She's lost the purity and innocence of her soul."
"I will look for her to see if I can help her." I said.
"Please do."
Fifteen minutes later I woke up.
The second evening I was standing in front of Pai-li Night Club. I was alone and, silently, I watched the night club sign flashing. A limousine stopped in front of the club. From the car emerged a woman with a long white dress. She was smoking a cigarette. A gentleman was with her. Holding her around the waist, he escorted her into the club.
Then I heard an announcer say loudly, "Miss Lu-Lu has arrived."
"Yes. Miss Ying-chen has changed," I thought.
"She no longer sells lottery tickets in the street. Her clothes used to be so plain and simple."
This woman looked like a prostitute.
"Ying-chen," I called to her.
She turned and seemed not to recognize me.
I was afraid I'd called to the wrong person.
She wore artificial eyelashes.
Her look had changed.
"I am Lu Sheng-yen, friend of Uncle Tzu-chih."
"Lu Sheng-yen! Oh, you are the one who is famous for spiritual readings! Great! Do a reading for me! Let's see when I will become famous and make lots of money!"
"You don't remember me?"
"I do! I do! You are Uncle Tze-chih's friend. You are the famous author of spiritual books. Even you, like all men, come to the night club. All crows are dark."
"Me! No, no, no."
"You needn't deny it. Life's like this. You don't have to pretend you are a saint. Why don't I cancel two time slots? You can do a psychic reading for me."
"Ying-chen, . . . "
"No! Don't call me Ying-chen: I am Lu-lu now."
The band started playing the blues.
The lights were dimmed. Lu-lu came toward me like a white shadow.
I smelled her makeup.
I left in a hurry.
On the way home I thought about the difficulties that arise because of our entanglements in the physical world.
I prayed for her.
Amituofo
Lotuschef
Pure Karma
True Buddha School
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