(Minghui.org) I was in my 20s when I found out that Shakyamuni left several million scrolls of Buddhist scriptures behind when he passed away. It was mind-boggling to me, “How is that even possible? What kind of supernatural power did Shakyamuni possess that he was able to write so many scriptures in his lifetime?” I wanted to find out exactly what happened.
I started a business so I could make a lot of money. With that money, I bought a car and went to the Buddhist Academy in Sichuan Province. I spent six years there studying Buddhism. I wanted to find out what the “Buddha Fa” was all about. Whenever I was on business trips I visited local bookstores, fairs, and used book flea markets, looking for cultivation books as if hunting for treasure. I came away disappointed every time. I couldn’t help feeling lost and without hope.
Children’s Park is a big park in my hometown, and many people gathered there in the mornings to exercise, practice martial arts, and meditate. While strolling through the park one morning in May 1992, I saw a banner with Buddha school symbols and a person next to it moving his arms up and down. A white substance was shooting out of his finger tips, forming energy columns that followed his movements. I watched, mesmerized. The next moment, the space around me changed. Everything disappeared except a pyramid-shaped structure. The rectangular blocks that were stacked together were a beautiful transparent green.
Additional supernatural powers emerged in the following days, including the “real eye,” which was as big as a cow’s eye. Of course, I didn’t understand any of the things that were happening to me at the time.
I traveled back to my hometown in 1996 to spend the New Year holiday with my family. Both my sisters-in-law had lumps in their breasts. The lumps were as hard as rocks and the pain was so debilitating that they couldn’t cook or do laundry. The families had sought treatment near and far, yet nothing worked. My brothers had run out of ideas as to what to do. I casually waved my hands a few times and, to everyone’s surprise, the lumps disappeared. Even the dark bruises and swelling on their feet were gone.
I had never treated illness before that and had no clue how to. I was surprised it actually worked. A few days before the holidays were over, one of my brothers pleaded, “Could you treat your sisters-in-law again before you leave?” I told him I didn’t know if it would work but I would give it a try. The next day, I waved my hands again as I had done before. Only this time, things didn’t go well. As if I was being punished for casually using my superpowers, my energy left me. I collapsed onto the bed, completely depleted.
I was scared and thought I was dying. But after about 15 minutes, I felt better. A distant voice told me, “Superpowers are without form.”
I got up at 4 a.m. one day early in the summer of 1996. I got on my bike and rode to the wholesale book market. I had no idea what had gotten into me—even on my way there, I kept wondering, “Why am I in such a hurry to get to the book market? It’s so early—the market has not opened yet.” When I got there, only a small retail shop was open. I walked in and found the owner back in the corner sorting and restocking. I looked through the books on the big table aimlessly, when suddenly a book titled Zhuan Falun caught my attention. I knew it was a book of the Buddha school—I had seen banners at a Buddhist temple that said, “Falun is constantly rotating.”
I looked at the table of contents and my heart was instantly moved. The book gave me all the answers to life’s mysteries—answers I had been searching for all these years but hadn’t found. I felt so fortunate—the higher beings must have been helping me. I thought that I had been gifted such a precious book without much effort at all. I paid 12 yuan for the book and left. Happy as a bird, I climbed back on my bike and went straight home. I read the entire book that day and declared, “I don’t need to go to Sichuan anymore. Mr. Li Hongzhi is going to be my Master from now on.”
I later realized it was Master’s fashen that brought me to the book market that day and arranged for me to find Zhuan Falun, the main text of Falun Dafa.
I officially obtained the Fa in May 1996 and started my cultivation journey of returning to my true self. I finally learned that to return to one’s origin and true self is the only purpose and meaning to life for all beings on this planet.
When I first started studying the Fa I read it word for word. If I didn’t understand each and every single word I was reading, I wouldn’t move on. It took me a while to realize that was not the right way to study the Fa. This great Fa of the universe is unparalleled. Any pursuit or being overly eager to make progress is an attachment. Learning to study the Fa with the right mentality early on laid a solid foundation for my cultivation.
I quickly gained new supernatural powers, including telekinesis, mind reading, and Wisdom Eyesight.
While talking to a local coordinator one time, I placed my hands behind me against the wall and leaned back. Suddenly, my upper body fell into a thick wall in another dimension. Even my thinking conformed to that dimension’s state of being. The coordinator kept talking without noticing anything.
I almost said out loud, but instead thought, “What is going on? Come on—we’re having a serious conversation here.” With that thought, I snapped back instantly. Although it had only been a year since I took up Dafa cultivation, Master had already pushed me to the level of Fa Eyesight. I had no way of knowing how immensely profound the Fa is, but I was determined: “Master has given me all I will ever need. I must follow Master and return to my true home.”
I traveled to Beijing to petition the central government in September 1999, two months after the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) launched a groundless persecution of Falun Dafa, or Falun Gong as it is commonly known in China. Our group of more than ten practitioners was intercepted by the railway police and arrested. We were held in custody with murder suspects, drug addicts, burglars, and prostitutes.
A middle-aged inmate had a seizure. She rolled on the floor convulsing and foaming at the mouth. She lost control herself and peed all over herself and on the floor—it was such a mess. The more than 60 cellmates, including the team leads, stayed as far away as possible. Nobody was willing to lend a helping hand and nobody called for the guards.
I was borderline germophobic and really didn’t want to deal with it, but I was a Dafa practitioner and knew that I everything I did would reflect Falun Dafa. I needed to show people Dafa was good and expose the Communist regime’s lies. This was a good opportunity to get rid of people’s prejudice against Dafa.
I helped the inmate take off her soiled clothes and wiped her clean with warm water. I brought her a change of clothes and helped her get dressed. I mopped the floor several times to make sure it was really clean. Then I hand-washed her clothes and hung them out to dry. All the inmates and even other practitioners were touched. When she regained consciousness, the inmate didn’t know what to say. She came to me several days later and said shyly, “Thank you so much. Falun Gong is good.”
The female guard on duty rushed to our cell one morning, followed by three plainclothes officers. They stood in front of the middle window and watched us. None of the inmates had a clue what they were up to.
The guard called me by my name and asked, “Why don’t you tell us if it is a conflict of interest to practice Falun Gong and be a member of the CCP?” I didn’t expect to be put on the spot, but I knew it was an important test for me. With Master right by my side, I stood up, humble yet confident. I told them my cultivation story and how my health and character improved. I listed major changes in my realm of thought and my outlook on life.
I told them that, of all the things I identify with, nothing comes close to being a Falun Dafa practitioner. The universal principle of Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance can truly guide and change a person from her core. Whatever one’s social status, wealth, or power, as long as he cultivates in Dafa, his way of thinking will be cleansed and elevated. He will rise to a higher state of being. No other theory or belief can compare to Dafa. I have gained wisdom and purpose since taking up Dafa cultivation, as I now understand the true meaning of life. I gave two examples to show how Dafa had changed me.
I spoke for 15 minutes, and when I was done, the man in the middle nodded and said, “Please sit.” The three of them didn’t show much expression or say much the entire time except those two words. They seemed disappointed and left.
The female guard accompanying the officers came back that afternoon and asked me, “Do you know who those men were this morning?” I shook my head. She said, “The one in the middle is higher up than even our boss’s boss. He hadn’t visited our facility in two years.”
The inmates were told to memorize and recite the rules and regulations of the detention center. When it was my turn, a team lead swapped her usual serious look for a smile. I said to her, “You and I must have a pretty good predestined relationship or we wouldn’t have met. Falun Dafa practitioners will not strike back when punched, nor curse when insulted—we are good people. In fact, the highest standard for being a good person is Truthfulness-Compassion-Forbearance. We have not committed any crime or broken the law. How about, instead of the detention center rules, I recite ‘On Dafa,’ the introduction to our book of principles called Zhuan Falun? A person is most fortunate to be able to hear the Buddha Fa—you all are going to benefit tremendously from it.”
The cell was dead silent when I recited the Fa, despite having more than 60 inmates in the audience. From start to finish, no one interrupted. I could feel that their thinking was restricted. Master was strengthening me and saving these predestined beings.
Other practitioners told me later they didn’t want to recite the rules either but were afraid of retaliation. They asked for my advise on how to overcome fear. I shared my thoughts that we should not think that we are criminals or have done something wrong and should just validate the Fa in an upright and dignified manner. Everyone agreed. I suggested that we work together as one body. The next morning, we recited “On Dafa” in unison. Inmates in all the other cells stopped reciting the rules and listened.
That must have angered the evil spirits in other dimensions, and our group of over ten practitioners was broken up. Most were re-assigned to others cells—only a few of us remained in the original cell.
It took two weeks for us to adjust our mindsets and figure out what to do moving forward. We decided to protest by not doing the work in the workshop and continued to recite the Fa and do the exercises. Things quickly escalated. Led by a male chief, a few guards came in one day and dragged us to the lobby, where they and more guards, male and female, beat us for over 20 minutes.
The chief barked at me, “You don’t recite the rules. You don’t work. You do your exercises and recite your teachings. Is this your own private facility to do whatever you want?” He shouted hysterically and hit me with rolled up magazines. They handcuffed and shackled the other practitioners in pairs but singled me out. I was chained with two sets of extra large shackles reserved for death row prisoners.
A guard came and fetched all the officers and guards. Left to ourselves for a brief moment, the other practitioners and I agreed that we didn’t do anything wrong—how could we be cultivators if we didn’t cultivate and do the exercises? We arrived at a mutual understanding: “We shouldn’t comply with their demands or cooperate.”
All of a sudden, I was the “ring leader” in openly violating the rules. It caused quite a stir among the authorities, guards, and inmates alike. The afternoon after we were beaten, the air seemed tense. All the inmates were quiet and cautious. I actually felt fine and was quite calm, because I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. The suppressors and perpetrators were in the wrong. As cultivators, we have to cultivate and do the exercises wherever we are. The world was not created for the evil. Any way we can help people learn the truth about Dafa is worth it.
My bedding was taken away and I was to sleep on a bare wooden board, restrained in handcuffs and shackles. I couldn’t fall asleep that night. Those huge shackles sucked away all my warmth and a chill seeped into my heart. I curled up in a ball and shivered in the cold. The shackles made a lot of noise whenever I moved, even just slightly—I’m sure nobody got a good night’s sleep that night.
A few young inmates were assigned to monitor me. I struck up a conversation and quickly made friends with them. I told them why Jiang Zemin, the former head of the CCP, launched the persecution of Falun Dafa. I explained why I refused to recite the rules. I told how I obtained the Fa and how my life changed because of it. I shared insights I’d gained through cultivation, about humankind, the universe, atheism vs theism. I wanted them to know that this great Fa of the universe created all beings and all things. I taught them “On Dafa” and poems from Hong Yin.
They gave me a thumbs up and told me they admired Falun Gong. They were happy to keep me company. The inmates immediately to my right and my left told me one night, “You’re not alone. We’re now Dafa practitioners, too.” I knew it was all Master’s arrangement.
The lead inmate monitoring me was a very pretty young lady. She had been in and out of the detention center several times because of her drug addiction. She grabbed me after lunch one day and asked me out of the blue, “Can I be your goddaughter? Would you be my godmother? You can discipline me. I know I can change. I want to start over.” I told her, “Thank you for trusting me. You’ve got the right idea. But I suggest you build a relationship with Dafa. Having Master is far better than having a godmother.” She became teary eyed and nodded.
It was such an ordeal to even use the bathroom with two sets of heavy shackles. I couldn’t lower myself to use the squat toilet—two people had to hold me. I made messes that others had to clean up, plus rinse me off. I felt so bad for those assigned to help me. Something had to be done—I couldn’t go on like this. With no precedent, I needed to figure something out myself.
Master’s poem “Composure Amidst Calamity” in Hong Yin popped into my head. I knew Master was right by my side and I was not afraid. Evil should be scared of me, because it will never win.
The chief showed up unexpectedly on the fifth day I was shackled. He stepped onto the wooden board I slept on without removing his shoes. I didn’t wait for him to start and asked for pen and paper to write a letter to the director. He was happy to hear this, “Sure. I’ll get pen and paper for you right away.” A few moments later, a guard delivered what I requested.
A young inmate chuckled after the guard left, “I could hardly keep from laughing.” I asked her what was so funny and she said, “The chief was so pleased that you asked for pen and paper. He probably thought you were going to write a letter and admit you were wrong.” Hearing this, all the inmates burst out laughing.
I calmed my mind to organize my thoughts before picking up the pen. Once I started, the words poured onto the paper. I explained why Dafa cultivation is not wrong and that all unjust treatment of Dafa practitioners, including myself, would bring great calamities. I wrote that afreedom of religion is protected by the Constitution and practicing Falun Dafa is legal in China and that the practice does not harm anybody whatsoever yet it could benefit the country and the people in so many ways. At the end, I demanded that all detained Falun Dafa practitioners be released.
I also touched on the issues in the operations of the detention center. I pointed out that detainees in a correctional facility are not required by law to participate in physical labor. A cellmate of mine was ordered to finish eight packages of toothpicks in one day. She worked from morning until after midnight and had still only finished half of it. Exhausted, she dozed off and fell on a toothpick that pierced her eyelid. She was so stressed that she was on the brink of a mental breakdown.
I said that just being detained in such harsh conditions could cause a lot of physical and emotional harm. Having to do intense labor for over 12 hours a day on top of it is inhumane. If this cellmate’s eye injury leaves her permanently disabled, who will be held accountable? The authorities cannot put the inmates’ health and life on the line for profit. I clarified that my purpose for including this example was to hopefully make everybody involved think about what could happen if something went wrong.
The chief sent a guard to get me after lunch the next day. I dragged the heavy shackles to his office. He pointed at a chair and told me to sit down. He said, “We have read your letter. About releasing all practitioners, I can’t do that. It is beyond my jurisdiction. But I will remove the shackles for you today.”
My arrest was approved four months later. I was transferred to the No. 1 Detention Center where I was later joined by several inmates I knew from the other detention center. They told me the forced labor operation was officially abolished after I left. It has been more than 20 years and, as far as I know, the workshop was never re-opened.
The No. 1 Detention Center was even more gloomy and terrifying. I fell into a state of depression and felt so lonely. I asked Master, “Please, Master. I only need one practitioner so I don’t go crazy. Even if she just sits there without interacting with me.” Each time a new inmate was assigned to our sell, I couldn’t help wishing it was a practitioner.
A dark thought popped into my head a few days later, “That black metal door right there—why don’t I run at it as fast as I can and slam my head into it.” But I caught myself, “Oh, my goodness. How could I have such a horrible thought?” I suddenly realized, “Isn’t this demonic interference brought about by my attachment?” I tried to calm myself and control my thoughts, “Where did this idea come from?”
I longed for companionship in the depths of my being—I disliked being alone. I dug further and realized I had always been this way. Ever since I was a child, in everything I did, I wanted to do with someone. Going to school, relocating to the countryside for re-education during the Cultural Revolution, working, cultivation—I had always been part of a group. But I am a cultivator now. If I am still attached to always being with someone, isn’t this a pursuit?
I asked myself, “Could you still cultivate if you were on a remote mountain or in a forest by yourself?” Master’s Fa popped into my head,
“...Physical pains count little as suffering,Indeed, cultivating mind is hardest ...” (“Tempering the Will,” Hong Yin)
True. It was time to truly cultivate my mind.
After my attachment was gone, I had a thought: “If I spread the Fa to these women around me and, say, if they take up the practice, wouldn’t I have then practitioner friends? This too can be an environment for cultivation.” I started telling the inmates about Dafa and clarified the truth about Dafa to them. Slowly, they became interested.
We had from 18 to sometimes over 20 inmates in the cell. The two to my immediate right and left were both on death row. The guard told me, “It will make my job easier to keep them close to you.” The guards didn’t interfere when I talked to them, which was convenient. I had the perfect opportunity to tell them about Dafa.
They were both young, pretty, and smart. The only reason they ended up on death row was that they’d made terrible choices. I talked to them every day and treated them like family. I told them reincarnation is real, that life comes and goes, and that everything has a reason. I encouraged them, “Now that you know the true meaning of life, you have to stay positive and do the best you can.” They both started to smile more.
The young woman to my right told me one night, “Auntie, sometimes I forget that I’m here waiting to be executed. My mind just goes blank. But I feel calm being here with you. I believe what Master said about good deeds bringing blessings and bad deeds incurring retribution. I feel I can find hope again.”
She married a man who was divorced, yet he cheated on her. Overcome with anger when she found out about the affair, she threw sulfuric acid on her husband’s daughter and two of the daughter’s friends. The three girls were severely burned on their faces and eyes. This impulse ruined her life, and she regretted it deeply. She wanted to cultivate in Dafa but dared not hope for any blessings in this lifetime, maybe in the next. She told me she would never forget Master and me and wished she could spend more time with me.
I told her not to worry, “What else matters now that you’ve obtained the Fa? Don’t fret or fear anything. Place your complete faith in Master and the Fa. Master will take care of you even if you leave this world.” She nodded and gave me a big smile.
The eight months I spent in the No. 1 Detention Center were split between two cells. All of my cellmates, without exception, took up Dafa cultivation one way or the other. We studied the Fa and did the exercises together.