A Love from a Past Life

On that morning, soft sunlight stretched across the village path leading to the monastery. A young bhikkhu, draped in his yellow robe and holding his alms bowl, walked slowly on his rounds. He stopped before a small house with a green bamboo gate. A young woman came out, offering him a bowl of hot rice with eyes full of kindness. She respectfully made offerings, then suddenly spoke: “Venerable sir, from now on, you need not wander everywhere. Please come directly from the monastery to this place, and I will provide for your needs.”

The bhikkhu felt relieved. After days of tiring visits to many homes, having a fixed spot seemed convenient. From then on, he regularly visited her house. She did not just offer food; she sat and whispered sweet words that poured into his ears. As time passed, he returned to the monastery earlier than his fellow practitioners, yet his mind remained unsettled. He tried meditative concentration, but his thoughts wandered, recalling her smile and gaze. The dharma talk did not penetrate his heart; his complexion grew pale, and he appeared distracted.

His fellow monks noticed something was wrong and asked, “Why do you look so weary lately? You seem lost, lacking any peace.” The young bhikkhu sighed and confessed, “I do not understand why, but ever since returning, I cannot stop thinking about that female donor.” Alarmed, his brothers rushed to inform their teacher. The teacher investigated the situation and brought the young monk to see the Buddha.

The Buddha looked at the young bhikkhu with compassion and spoke slowly: “My child, the woman you are attached to was your wife in a past life, and she betrayed you. Listen as the Tathagata recounts the story.”

The bhikkhu sat still, his heart pounding. The Buddha continued: “In a previous existence, you were an exceptional archer, famous throughout the land. You had a beautiful wife, who is that very woman. One day, rebels rose up, and the king sent you to capture them. You entered their lair and shot down bandit after bandit. But when facing the final leader, you ran out of arrows. You captured him by hand and tied him up. You called to your wife: ‘Bring me my sword!’ As she approached and saw the bandit—a muscular man with a thick beard and a reckless gaze—she was suddenly moved. In that moment, instead of handing the sword to you, she gave it to the bandit. He seized it and stabbed you dead on the spot. Then he stripped her of all her gold jewelry, knocked her down, and left. She lost everything, filled with regret, and drifted along with her karma.”

The young bhikkhu trembled, tears rolling down his cheeks. The Buddha said gently: “The attachment you feel now is merely an echo of a past romance, not a lasting truth. It arises from old karma, but you died before understanding the betrayal. Now meeting again, it repeats itself, but only as an illusion.”

Then the Buddha recited a verse: “Unwholesome thoughts disturb the mind; pleasures cause intoxication. The bond of craving is strong; the tighter it pulls, the deeper it binds. Those with inner tranquility observe impurity with mindfulness; the bond of craving loosens, freeing one from afflictions (kleshas).”

Hearing this, the bhikkhu’s mind awakened like someone rising from sleep. He clearly saw the fragility of emotions, like a flame near gasoline, ready to flare up and burn out. He resolved to keep his mind pure, refusing to let attachment lead him. From then on, he practiced diligently, no longer bound by the image of the woman from years past.

The Meaning of the Story

This tale reminds us that romantic love is a dangerous addiction, easily causing intoxication and binding us. Feelings of affection often arise from karmic conditions (dependent origination) across many lifetimes, yet they are not real or permanent. Practitioners must remain vigilant, ensuring that material comfort and physical beauty do not shake their minds. We must always maintain mindfulness to escape these afflictions (kleshas).

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang