In the middle of Taiwan, there is a place called Raised Flower Beds [Hua T'an], but no flowers grow there. To see flowers, one must instead go to Field's End [T'ien Wei] where the flower farms are. I once visited Field's End --- acres of flower beds partitioned and surrounded by wire mesh. Since all kinds of flowers grow there, many people visit just to view the flowers. The sight of flowers brought to my mind the following classical passage:

"Noble are the bones of plum blossoms, subtle are the scents of orchids; refined are the tea blossoms, while plum blossoms excuse themselves from a rich and heavy make-up. Under a light spring rain, apricot blossoms exude an affected sweetness, while chrysanthemums stand proudly amid severe frosts. Daffodils have flesh and bones made of icy jade, while peonies' beauty reigns supreme. Jade plants are assembled of sculptured tiles, while golden lotuses sway delicately in the pond. Few can compare with the beauty of herbaceous peonies and pomegranate blossoms. As the fragrance of orange osmanthus sails to the lunar grottos, the colors of fu-rongs warm a river's chill. Pear blossoms are best admired under the evening moon, just as peach blossoms are under the blazing sun. Camellias are like precious jewels, while the perfume of wintersweet suffuses one's clothing. Crabapple and winter daphne grow most luxuriously in western courts. When roses and rhododendrons bloom riotously, the weave splendid, embroidered tapestries to adorn the landscapes. One can go on forever enumerating the countless number of species, as well as the tens of thousand of different kinds of fragrances." Among the many "odes to the flowers," this is my favorite:

When eastern winds descend, Elegant floral ladies dance;

That is how one knows Glorious youth is here;

Their gentle fragrances tug Tenderly at my heart,

saying anxiously,

"It's one-third into spring, Will the spattering rain be far behind?"

There is also this poem about "fallen petals":

Throughout the night,

the storm has been raging,

Forcing me to latch the wooden door;

All deep crimsons have fallen,

Only the willows have withstood.

With broom in hand,

I went out to sweep the somber terrace,

When traces of floral stains,

Stopped me cold in front of the steps.

The following verse best describes the flower farmers at Field's End:

Though their huts are small,

Their flowers are multitudinous,

Day in and day out,

They sleep Facing the flowers.

I love flowers.

I love their beauty, their delicacy, their unrestrained nature, and their unique fragrances. I cherish them tenderly, and I enjoy them tremendously.

I have heard that there are thousands and thousands of varieties of floral species. Within each specie, the many varieties are then classified into different grades. Take the peonies, for example, the "jade house spring" is the most common variety, while the rare and exotic "yellow house," "silk butterfly," "autumn watermelon," "dancing green monkey," and "bright red lion's head" are considered to be the most coveted.

I am a layman as far as the cultivating of flowers is concerned. I do not know much about planting, watering, or growing flowers. I have asked the experts, "How do you cultivate flowers?" They told me, "You have to know their idiosyncrasies!" When I heard that, I was astonished: so flowers also have their own idiosyncrasies! "How does one take care of them?" "They need tender loving care, and you have to talk to them." "Talk to them?" I felt like a fool. Could this be right? Spending some time each day to chat with them? Aren't we humans and flowers plants? But the experts said, "Although flowers are plants, if you want them to grow well and luxuriantly, you have to lavish them with tender care. When someone pays frequent attention to his plants, caresses them, cares for them, and talks to them heart to heart, they will grow better, stronger, and more beautiful. Flowers are living creatures and they know if you care for them." I knew plants are living creatures, now I also know that they have consciousness.

Since flowers have consciousness, as mentioned above, here I would like to chronicle an unusual happening. A Mr. Sun Hsia came to see me. He was extremely emaciated and fragile, with deep, sunken eyes. He appeared to be just skin and bones. [He was suffering from muscular dystrophy.]

"Master Lu, you have to save me!" implored Sun Hsia.

"Of course." I quieted my thoughts and brought them into focus. A man appeared on the internal screen of my mind. He was carrying a broken basket which held some food that had been given to him earlier; also inside the basket were a chipped bowl and a pair of chopsticks. This man was a beggar. In his other hand he was holding a staff used to protect himself from attacking dogs. I watched him stealthily enter a garden. Perhaps he was driven by jealousy, because he started brandishing his staff and smashing the flowers. He worked up such a frenzy that not even a single stamen or pistil was spared. The whole garden was in shambles. Still he was not satisfied, and he proceeded to trample the flowers until they were a total ruin. The scene then exited from my mind in a flash.

It was then my turn to become hesitant. Mr. Sun Hsia had come to ask me about his muscular dystrophy, yet my meditation had revealed a beggar smashing and trampling flowers. What kind of answer was this? Would this kind of answer be accurate? I could not fathom it and Mr. Sun Hsia also would be puzzled by it. How should I explain to him?

Honestly, during my past sessions of spiritual consultation, I only had to close my eyes, and scenes would spontaneously appear on my mind's screen. When I explained the scenes to my visitors, the visions always turned out to be very accurate and efficacious. The Helper Guide who gave me guidance was none other than the vividly alive High Being of the Golden Mother of the Jade Pond.

But, what was the connection between muscular dystrophy and a beggar destroying flowers? I asked Sun Hsia, "Do you believe in me?"

"Yes, otherwise I would not have come here."

"I hope you don't mind what I am going to tell you."

"Go ahead, I will not mind."

"All right. In your previous life, you were a dirty beggar with ragged clothes."

"I may have been a beggar in my previous life, but I am a rich man this life. Past is past, and I am living a different life this time. It really doesn't matter."

"But I saw you, as a beggar, completely smashing and destroying a whole garden of flowers. You even trampled them with your feet!"

When Sun Hsia heard this, he appeared to be terrified but he did not say anything. "What is the matter?"

I asked. "This is somewhat strange."

"Why?" Sun Hsia then said, "Frankly, in this life of mine, the only hobby I have is that of growing flowers. Whenever I find out that someone has some particularly good or rare flower seeds, I long for them, and I will spend any kind of money to get my hands on them. Oftentimes I become so entranced at gazing at flowers that I forget to go home. Inside my house, I am completely surrounded with flowers: roses, mu-hsiang, Indian shots, sunflowers, birds of paradise, garden balsams, cockscombs, lilies, snap-dragons, and irises. My garden is filled with flowers, and my house is filled with flower pots. I have such an attachment for flowers that even my bedroom is full of growing flowers. Isn't this quite strange?"

When I heard him, I was taken aback! I thought to myself, Mr. Sun Hsia was a beggar in his previous life and smashed up a garden of flowers. In this life he is a wealthy man who is addicted to flowers. We are beginning to get somewhere with this. I told Mr. Sun Hsia that I would like to take a look at his house and his flowers, as therein must lie some kind of explanation to our puzzle.

However, when I stepped inside the expensive home of Mr. Sun Hsia, I received a shock. What I saw were not flowers, but "flower beings":

Lounging there, Weakly and wearily, Were the beautiful beings; While suddenly their dreams Were ruptured by my intrusion; Coyly they looked into Their make-up mirrors, As the whole thing Finally came to light.

I pretended that I did not see anything, and after walking around the house, I pulled Sun Hsia aside. "Do you want to recover from your illness?"

"Of course."

"If you want to get better, you have to do what I ask you to, do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Good, you must quickly ask someone to take away all these flowers and shrubs from your house and garden. Then I will perform a ritual to set up a Dharma boundary around your house. Only this will help you recover."

"This....," he was hesitant.

"Don't hesitate, just quickly get this done. These flowers are not really flowers, they are all flower spirits, flower ghosts, and flower demons."

"Do such things exist?"

"At night when you dream, you always dream of many beautiful women coming to you. They are so lovely, with soft skins and fragrant bodies that your bones are turned into jelly. The flower spirits are stealing your chi from you. If it goes on any longer, you won't be far from death!"

"Master Lu, how do you know about this?"

"Of course I know," I said.

"I have not done any harm to the flower spirits, why do they want me to die?"

"How can you say this? You killed all those flowers in your past life!"

"What kind of crime is killing flowers?"

I was stumped by this question. Indeed, does the killing of flowers constitute any crime? Murdering a man is, of course, a crime, but in the human world there is no legal sanction against killing flowers. I was not sure whether or not the first of the Five Precepts for Buddhists, the one that pertains to the prohibition of killing, included the killing of flowers and plants. Yet, I told him, "In any case, I believe that people who care and cherish flowers will be blessed, while those who maim and destroy flowers will meet with misfortunes." "But, how about my love and care for the flowers this life?" Sun Hsia was puzzled again. "Chronologically, one event happened before the other," I replied.

From the tone of Sun Hsia's words, I knew he was reluctant to part with the flowers he had been growing for such a long time. It was of course a pity to abandon them, but he had no other solution. He had already visited many famous doctors for his muscular dystrophy, all to no avail. Now, he had no alternative but to follow my instructions. After Sun Hsia finished sending away all of his flowers, I used the Tantric method of Sitatapatre the Buddha Mother to set up a sacred boundary around his house. I formed the Sitatapatre Mudra: my left hand held a fist with the index finger pointing up, my right hand extending and resting on top of the left index finger, as if it were a canopy. I chanted the mantra: Hum, mama, Hum-ni, So-ha. A week after I performed the ritual, Sun Hsia was sound asleep when an old lady appeared in his dream. She handed him a tea cup and urged him to drink from it saying, "I am the Buddha Mother. Quickly drink this magical soup."

Sun Hsia said, "I don't know who the Buddha Mother is. How can I drink this soup?" The Buddha Mother told him, "I have been entrusted by Living Buddha Lian-sheng, Grand Master Lu, to personally fix this medicine to save you. I won't harm you, have no doubt!" When Sun Hsia heard that the soup was from Grand Master Lu, he drank it all. The old lady then smilingly left, with cup in hand. The magical soup was warm and sweet and delicious, so it was no poison. Next a soothing comfort flooded his whole body and Sun Hsia could feel chi moving inside. He felt energized and wonderful and fell fast asleep. When he woke up, he felt as if he were no longer sick. He found himself quite hungry with the return of a great appetite. Slowly he gained back his weight. In a month's time, he was completely recovered and just like a normal person. Sun Hsia was extremely grateful to Living Buddha Lian-sheng, and he absolutely believed that the old lady who had appeared in his dream was the Great Buddha Mother Sitatapatre. Since then Sun Hsia has enshrined the statue of Sitatapatre in his home. He offers incense and prostrates morning and night to the Buddha Mother. He has, indeed, completely recovered from his muscular dystrophy. The strange event of Sun Hsia brings to my mind the lyrics from this famous song, "Flowers are No Flowers":

Flowers are no flowers, mist no mist; They come in the middle of the night And leave when dawn breaks; When they come, The dream of spring will not last long; When they depart, They can no longer be found, Like the morning mist.

(I don't know what else the lyrics could be referring to, if not the spirits of flowers?)

At the time, the incident concerning Sun Hsia was well-known to many people and they all found it incredible. People found the existence of flower spirits and flower demons strange, yet Sun Hsia was healed of his illness. It was a fact that cannot be refuted. This, however, has also raised some issues. Some people have questioned, if flowers have spirits, then are we killing flowers when we cut them down to offer them to the Buddhas? If flowers have spirits, then grass will also have spirits. Wouldn't people who frequently mow their lawns be creating severe transgressions? What about the spirits of huge trees? Wouldn't wood cutters and lumberjacks be creating karmic hindrances? Also, wouldn't this mean that even a vegetarian is not exempt from transgressions --- what are we Buddhists supposed to eat? In my opinion, people were not wrong in voicing these questions. However, these are small and fragmented questions, and there will be no easy answers to satisfy the askers or convince them beyond any doubt. I can only offer this, "What matters in the law of karma is the intent of the action." Please give some thought to this statement.

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