The Light of Blessings

Years ago, my younger brother was checking into a hotel lobby when three monks draped in gray robes approached him. The one in front pressed his palms together and said softly, “Young man, you are sheltered by the radiant blessings of your ancestors. Three generations of your ancestors are buddhists. You, in particular, are graced by your mother’s virtuous merit. In time, your career will surely flourish, and you will be very successful.” 

My brother looked up in astonishment. The monks’ eyes were clear and their words sincere, leaving no room for doubt that they spoke in earnest. At that time, he was merely an ordinary businessman, building his path from scratch. How could he have dared to dream of such a future? Yet their words fell like seeds, quietly taking root in his heart.

As the years flowed by, who could have predicted that my brother’s career would indeed thrive? Starting from a small private enterprise, his business grew into a publicly listed company, its branches spreading like sparks across the nation and even reaching Europe and America. Though the business world is fraught with peril, he repeatedly navigated through dangers and turned adversity into fortune. 

One day, the feng shui master who often consulted for him remarked with wonder, “I have studied your facial features and your birth chart, yet they do not suggest great wealth or high status. All these years, I have been perplexed as to why your career has been so smooth.” After a moment’s thought, he continued, “It was not until I met your mother that I finally understood—you are deeply blessed by her virtuous merit. The old lady’s cultivation has built spiritual merit that is truly inconceivable.”

Upon hearing this, memories came flooding back to my brother like a tide. He recalled how mother had spent her life managing the household with diligence, always ready to help others. Every morning, without fail, she would burn incense and chant the sutras before the Buddha’s altar. In the curling wisps of incense smoke lay countless silent prayers.

What was even more remarkable was an incident that took place one day in 2005. As my mother was shopping on the street, she was stopped at a corner by a lay practitioner. He introduced himself as a cultivator from Mount Jiu Hua. Gazing intently at my mother for a moment, he said solemnly, “I see an auspicious light surrounding you, and I know you are a person of spiritual practice. Your children are destined to stand above others, and in your later years, you will enjoy boundless blessings.” 

When mother returned home, she mentioned the encounter to me casually, her expression calm, as though it were merely a trivial event in the neighbourhood. Yet from then on, I paid close attention and came to realise that from the very start of my brother’s entrepreneurial journey, my mother had, after her daily chanting, dedicated all the merit she had accrued to the success of his endeavours. Each recitation of the Buddha’s name, each line of the sutras,  wove itself into an invisible net, quietly safeguarding her son’s path. 

Whenever I reflect upon this true story, my heart is deeply moved. Spiritual practice, it turns out, is not solely for one’s own benefit; it also nourishes one’s family. This lineage of blessings, passed down from our ancestors, and through our mother’s steadfast devotion, finally blossomed in my brother’s life. In the simplest way, she embodied the essence of love—not as control or worry, but as the gentle act of entrusting those she loved to the boundless light.

Looking back today, I realise what profound fortune it is that we have taken refuge in the venerated Living Buddha Lian-sheng and embarked upon this path of True Buddha practice. This connection to the Buddha Dharma is not easily won, and we must cherish it dearly. Through sincere practice, we can, in this worldly life, dispel calamities, accumulate blessings for ourselves and our families, and ultimately, transcend the cycle of birth and death to reach the serene shore of liberation.

Mother still rises early each day, kneeling in devotion before the Buddha. The morning light streams through the window lattice, falling upon her wrinkled yet serene face. The same auspicious radiance that the lay practitioner saw twenty years ago remains with her still. Brother’s enterprise continues to thrive, and Mother simply smiles as she counts her prayer beads—one Buddha-name, one pure heart.

Spiritual practice, in the end, is the deepest form of love—for oneself and for one’s family. This love transcends the three realms of existence and illuminates the ten directions.