The Island of Self

The atmosphere in the small house on the outskirts of Shravasti was heavy, almost suffocating. Flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the aged, gaunt face of the old man lying on his sickbed. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his sunken eyes stared into a void where the shadow of death was gradually becoming visible. Beside him, his sons and daughters wore anxious expressions, fingers moving through prayer beads while their lips chanted the Buddha’s name in supplication. They had just organized a grand ceremony of making offerings to the Sangha, inviting the Buddha and the monks to dedicate merit for their father. Yet instead of bringing comfort, when the Buddha entered the room, his compassionate gaze plunged the entire space into an eerie, haunting silence.

The Buddha looked at the old man, his voice deep and warm yet resonant like a warning bell ringing in the dead of night. He spoke gently but firmly about the reality before them.

"Old man, your body is now like a withered yellow leaf, ready to fall from the branch. The messengers of death are waiting right outside your door. The gate of mortality has swung wide open, yet you have nothing left to carry with you."

The old man tried to move his lips, wishing to speak words of repentance or ask for forgiveness, but his dry throat could only produce weak moans. His children fell to their knees, tears streaming down their cheeks as they pleaded.

"Venerable Sir, we have performed many good deeds and made offerings to the Sangha to seek blessings for our father. Please grant him some hope."

The Buddha shook his head slightly, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the harsh reality of karma. He explained that blessings must be earned individually.

"Blessings from merit belong to those who create them. All his life, he lived in ignorance, never accumulating moral sustenance to serve as luggage for crossing the ocean of suffering. Time has run out. Make yourself a bright island of diligence and clarity. Quickly purify your mind to escape the sinking cycle of samsara."

That statement cut through all illusions of relying on others for salvation. To understand why the Buddha was so stern, we must travel back in time three generations, to the origin of this story.

In a remote village, there lived a butcher who specialized in slaughtering cattle. At that time, cow worship was not prevalent, so killing cows was considered ordinary. He was famous throughout the region not only for his swift and skilled butchery but also for his extremely stubborn and violent temperament. He had one peculiar habit: if the most tender piece of beef—the part he always set aside for himself—was missing from dinner, he would refuse to eat and even smash the furniture in rage.

One afternoon, after selling all the meat for the day, he went to bathe. His wife hurriedly prepared dinner, placing the special piece of beef her husband had saved onto the kitchen table. Suddenly, a close friend of his rushed in, sweating profusely, begging desperately.

"Sister, unexpected guests have arrived at my home, and my pantry is completely empty. Could you lend me that piece of beef? I promise to return double tomorrow!"

His wife hesitated, knowing her husband’s hot temper, but seeing her husband’s friend plead so intensely, she reluctantly agreed. The friend grabbed the meat and vanished instantly. When the butcher emerged, finding his favorite piece of meat missing from the table, blood rushed to his brain. He roared, his shout echoing so loudly that neighbors jumped in fright.

"Where is my meat? Who dared to take it?"

Trembling, his wife recounted the incident. Blind anger seized his mind. Without saying another word, he grabbed his sharp butcher knife and charged straight toward the cowshed. A cow standing quietly suddenly sensed the murderous intent; she mooed pitifully, struggling in terror. The butcher tied her tightly to a post, pried open her mouth, stretched out her tongue, and... severed it. Blood sprayed everywhere. The cow let out her final screams before collapsing.

Inside the house, his wife and children were pale with fear, forced to cook the fresh, raw cow’s tongue for him to eat. He sat devouring it greedily, his eyes red and wild, showing no trace of compassion. But the moment he swallowed the last bite, a terrible thing happened. His throat constricted, his tongue suddenly went numb and fell out of his mouth, and blood gushed forth uncontrollably. He collapsed onto the floor, crawling around the house, his mouth gaping open, emitting sounds identical to the cow he had just killed. The family panicked, unable to approach him. He writhed in agony from the previous afternoon until the next morning, when he finally breathed his last, leaving behind a gruesome death that signaled the weight of karmic retribution.

The only son, who witnessed his father’s death, suffered profound psychological trauma. He feared this profession and dreaded the karma of taking life. Taking some money given by his mother, he fled his hometown and sought refuge in Pataliputra, the most vibrant academic center in India at that time. At the renowned University of Taxila, he chose to study jewelry making, a gentle and delicate craft. Through diligence and intelligence, his teacher gave him his daughter’s hand in marriage. His life turned a new page: wealthy, successful, and blessed with obedient children.

However, unlike their grandfather, these children had favorable conditions connecting them to the Buddha's teachings. Upon hearing that the Buddha was teaching in Shravasti, they took refuge and practiced diligently. Realizing that their parents, though rich, lived in ignorance and had never planted seeds of blessings, they brought their parents to Shravasti to care for them and guide them toward the path. It is precisely at this moment that the story returns to the scene of the old man dying on his bed, facing the Buddha’s final advice.

### The Meaning of the Story

This narrative emphasizes the immutable law of cause and effect (karmic law): "Blessings belong to those who make them; enlightenment is attained by those who practice." The children’s dedication of merit for their parents can only offer minor support; it cannot fully replace the personal karma accumulated throughout one’s lifetime. If one does not strive personally to practice, uphold precepts, and purify the mind while still alive, then no amount of merit from relatives can easily salvage a painful outcome. Each person must build their own "island" of enlightenment through wisdom and diligence, because when the gates of death open, only a pure inner mind serves as the sole luggage to help us cross the ocean of suffering and samsara.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang