Shadows on the Tree and the Lesson of Continuity
The afternoon air in a small village, perhaps in Turkey or a similar setting mentioned in the dharma talk, was unusually still. Pale golden sunlight slanted through the leaves, creating dancing spots of light on the dry ground. In this space, the image of a young soul hovering, yet to find refuge, appeared hauntingly beautiful and deeply peaceful.
The story begins with a strange event many have heard: some children, as soon as they learn to speak, clearly remember another life. These are not vague dreams, but sharp memories of their own death, old relationships, and especially the waiting period between two lives. Venerable Thich Chan Quang cites a typical case to illuminate this profound philosophical issue.
Imagine a man named Nguyen Van A. After his last breath, his body grows cold under the white burial shroud. Yet his consciousness does not extinguish. He remains there, still carrying the name Nguyen Van A, with familiar thoughts, worries, and ego. He sees his descendants weeping by the sickbed, wanting to comfort them, but his invisible hand passes only through the air. This is the stage of the intermediate state, or the spirit, existing temporarily in a metaphysical realm.
However, the interesting point lies here. If one stops at this observation, it is easy to fall into Eternalism, believing the soul exists forever with that intact self of "Nguyen Van A." But reality is far more complex. In cases like the child’s story, the soul does not rush to rebirth immediately. It lingers somewhere, perhaps high on a tree branch or in an invisible space, waiting for conditions (dependent origination) to converge.
During this waiting process, the child-soul sees a woman passing by. She is its mother in the next life. A thread of affection from many past lives suddenly vibrates. The soul feels compassion, follows the woman home, and enters her womb. At the moment of conception, everything changes completely.
When the baby is born, the name "Nguyen Van A" disappears. Memories of standing on the tree, the pain of dying, and the days of waiting are all wiped clean from the newborn’s mind. The child now bears a completely new identity and a new life. To ordinary eyes, one might think "Nguyen Van A" has truly died, leaving no trace behind. This is the error of Nihilism.
But looking deeper, we see that karma remains. The good and bad actions of "Nguyen Van A" do not vanish; they transform into energy guiding this child to grow, meet new friends, and face new challenges. The old ego has disconnected, but the flow of cause and effect (karmic law) continues uninterrupted.
Venerable Thich Chan Quang poses a tricky question to test our understanding: "If I stand today at the street corner where I begged in my previous life, is the 'I' of today and the 'beggar' of yesterday one or two?"
If you answer "two," you deny the connection, which is Nihilism.
If you answer "one," you cling to an unchanging self, which is Eternalism.
Both definitive answers are wrong. The correct answer lies in the suspension of the Middle Way: "Seeing it as oneself, yet no longer being oneself." It is like a river: the water flowing under the bridge is different every second, not the same water, but also not a completely foreign river. It is still that river, continuing to flow toward the sea.
The subtlety of Buddhism lies in understanding that death is not the end, refuting Nihilism, nor is it an eternal, unchanging soul, refuting Eternalism. Between these two states is the transformation of karma. Upon rebirth, the old personality is erased, but karmic force carries over. Therefore, only practitioners capable of deep meditative concentration can perceive the metaphysical realms. Those who only recall human past lives may mistakenly believe there is no spiritual world.
The Meaning of the Story
This story illustrates the Buddha's teaching of the Middle Way, rejecting the two extremes of Nihilism, which claims death is the absolute end, and Eternalism, which claims the soul exists forever unchanged. In reality, life is a continuous flow of karmic force. When we die, the old ego dissolves, but karma continues into the next life through the mechanism of rebirth. Understanding this helps us avoid extreme fear of death or casual disregard for cause and effect (karmic law). We realize that every wholesome or unwholesome action shapes the future, even if form and identity change completely.
Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang
AI-assisted translation from the Vietnamese original.
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