Echoes from a Past Life

The afternoon air in the temple’s living room seemed to thicken with lively debate. Sunlight slanted through the window, illuminating faces deeply engaged in discussing the Dharma. Among this group of devotees sat a middle-aged man named Nguyen Tho Truong. He sat with his back straight, his eyes bright with confidence, even pride. His voice echoed throughout the room, each word sharp and precise, revealing the profound understanding he had diligently accumulated over time.

Tho Truong was a lay practitioner who had been connected to yoga and qigong since childhood. He shared that he could enter meditative concentration, slowing his heartbeat until it nearly stopped—a state many people spend their entire lives trying to achieve. Consequently, he always felt himself standing on a different plane, superior to those around him. Although I was only a young teacher at the time, about ten years before this event occurred, I listened patiently. I noticed that within his gaze lay not just wisdom, but also a vast sense of self—the ego that wished to assert its own excellence and uniqueness.

Suddenly, Tho Truong turned to look at me. His tone remained challenging, yet tinged with curiosity. He asked, "Venerable Sir, there is one thing I have never understood. Why do I still feel that elderly people, those in their seventies or eighties, are small and immature compared to me? This feeling is very clear, as if they were merely children."

The room fell silent. All eyes turned toward me. This was a difficult question. An ordinary answer would convince no one, while a wrong answer might inflate his ego further or wound it, leading to a negative reaction. I took a deep breath, observing his face with stillness. In that moment, a thought flowed through my mind—not born of logical calculation, but arising from a gentle yet certain intuition.

I smiled, my voice low, warm, and decisive. "Perhaps in a past life, you cultivated as an immortal, living for two or three hundred years. Therefore, those elderly people in their seventies or eighties seem like mere children to you."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the space seemed to freeze. No one dared to breathe heavily. I did not expect myself to say such a thing; it simply poured out naturally. But immediately, a detail startled me: his name was Nguyen Tho Truong. The character "Tho" means long life, and "Truong" means length. These meanings were neatly contained within his name. It was a strange coincidence, chillingly precise.

A friend sitting next to Tho Truong then spoke up, his voice trembling with astonishment. "Yes... exactly, Venerable Sir! This brother’s name is Nguyen Tho Truong. Since childhood, he knew how to cultivate immortality practices and practiced qigong with great success. He can keep his pulse steady and his heart from beating. This sign is karma from the past; meeting these old methods again in this life allowed him to practice so early."

Tho Truong stood stunned. The proud look in his eyes softened instantly, replaced by wonder and reverence. He said nothing more. For the rest of that afternoon, the man who had loved to demonstrate his knowledge became quiet. He began to listen to the teachings with a completely different attitude. His ego settled down, making way for humility.

Later, I reflected on this event. It was not necessarily supernatural power or extraordinary ability on my part, but rather the application of cause and effect (karmic law) combined with intuition. When a practitioner cultivates sincerely and maintains a pure mind, they can see through external manifestations to discern the inner state and karmic forces. That answer did not merely explain the phenomenon; it served as a skillful means for teaching. It helped him recognize the source of his illusory "self," allowing him to return to genuine practice.

The Meaning of the Story

Speech is not merely a tool for communication; it is a mirror reflecting the speaker’s inner state and level of cultivation. Through this story, we see that using speech grounded in cause and effect (karmic law) and intuition can help others awaken, reducing their arrogant ego. Practitioners must train themselves so that their words become sharp and timely, aimed at teaching and helping sentient beings overcome suffering (dukkha), rather than boasting or proving oneself. Truthfulness and wisdom in speech are the keys that open the doors of trust and spiritual transformation.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang