The falling rain dissolves the worldly grime,
Pure thoughts illuminate the hills of time.
Cold daggers and dark whispers fail to shake,
The stubborn lamp endures for virtue’s sake.
No numbers sought, no hollow pride displayed,
One golden vow commands the path remade.
In absolute silence, shadows fade away,
The solitary Fa unfolds the day.
The Rectified Ego and the Pure Cadence of Rain
Rain fell steadily against the weathered roof.
Hoa Long had already left the collective practice site at the park and entered a new stage of solitary cultivation. Yet leaving the group did not mean leaving behind his responsibilities.
After the reconciliation beneath his father-in-law's roof, peace had gradually returned to his home. His wife no longer carried the resentment she once had. She quietly cared for their daughter and slowly came to understand that Hoa Long's path was not something he could simply abandon.
For Hoa Long, the most difficult part of the previous trial had not been the separation itself. It had been the realization that he had once tried to impose his own understanding upon the person closest to him. He had learned to let go.
Now, he wanted to make sure that his family could live with greater stability.
A Small House in the City
One evening, Hoa Long sat with his wife and discussed their finances:
“I have a small property I bought several years ago. If we sell it, and add the money I recently received from selling part of my stake in Hoa Sen, we should be able to afford a small house closer to the city center.”
His wife listened carefully, her eyes brightening:
“A place where you and our daughter can have a little more peace,” he continued.
The old house had never been an easy place for her. Hoa Long's older sister had endured a difficult life of her own; her husband had died when their child was barely a month old. Later, her home was cleared for redevelopment, leaving her and her two children with no choice but to build an extra room beside Hoa Long's house to stay temporarily.
The household had also become increasingly complicated due to other relatives:
❖ The Cousin’s Breakdown: Hoa Long's cousin and his wife had previously worked as freelancers in the capital, overflowing with work. However, they later followed his parents back to the countryside to live next door to Hoa Long. Jobs in the countryside were scarce, leading to constant domestic friction and bitter quarrels. Eventually, the wife committed adultery and abandoned the family. Devastated by the betrayal, lacking close friends nearby to share his pain, and overwhelmed by gloomy thoughts, the cousin gradually lost his sanity and developed a severe mental illness. At times, he wandered through the neighborhood shouting aimlessly from morning till night.
❖ The Brother’s Agitation: Another of Hoa Long's older brothers suffered from deep depression and emotional instability. Whenever malicious people enticed him to drink, he lost all self-control and created loud disruptions throughout the alley.
For someone who had grown up relatively sheltered, living in such a turbulent environment day after day was an immense trial. Hoa Long's wife had begun studying the Fa, but enduring such daily hardship required a level of forbearance she had not yet forged.
So when Hoa Long suggested finding a new home, she was genuinely happy. After the property was sold, they found a modest, convenient house near the city center and paid the deposit. For his wife, it felt like the dawn of a quieter chapter.
The House That Would Not Let Them Leave
Before making final arrangements, Hoa Long asked an old friend—a carpenter and fellow practitioner whom he had introduced to the Great Fa—to inspect the house for repairs.
As they walked through the rooms, the carpenter suddenly stopped, looking around in surprise:
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“I've worked on this house before… Several years ago, I did the carpentry here. The owner was an overseas Vietnamese who had his younger brother oversee construction.”
“Do you know what happened to them afterward?” Hoa Long asked.
The friend nodded thoughtfully:
“The house has changed hands several times. The design is attractive, but none of the owners seemed to stay for very long. Some said its layout lacked proper alignment with traditional Feng Shui.”
Hoa Long stood alone in the empty room. He thought of the old house—the noise, the troubled relatives, the cramped friction. Then he looked at this new house, which had seemed like a clean escape to a peaceful life.
A deeper thought arose within his mind: Is this Master's arrangement?
The old house was crowded with ordinary human conflicts and situations that could not simply be avoided. Perhaps that was precisely where he was meant to remain. If a cultivator always sought the easiest environment, how could the stubborn attachments of the heart ever be tempered?
His fellow practitioner reached the same realization and whispered:
“Maybe you were never meant to move.”
Hoa Long smiled, feeling an unexpected sense of relief.
His wife, however, was deeply disappointed. She had already imagined a tranquil life in the new home. Hoa Long understood her pain and did not criticize her. He simply said gently:
“Perhaps we don't need to run from every difficult environment. Maybe we just need to learn how to live well within it.”
She remained quiet. Though disappointed, she did not argue. In the end, they relinquished the purchase and lost the deposit. Yet another door had opened.
Freedom Measured in Time
The remaining funds were no longer needed for a new house. Hoa Long used part of the money to buy back shares in his former company, placed a portion into savings, and continued strategic consulting for a pharmaceutical firm.
Because the consulting work provided sufficient income, he no longer needed to devote his days to conventional employment. For the first time, he possessed something far more valuable than property: Time.
❖ Time to study the Fa.
❖ Time to practice the exercises.
❖ Time to send forth Righteous Thoughts.
❖ Time to clarify the truth and fulfill the sacred vow of a Dafa disciple.
His life did not become free of difficulties—the old house, the noisy relatives, and the mundane troubles remained. But his schedule became light, and his path became remarkably clear.
Studying the Fa Amidst Daily Survival
On rainy days, Hoa Long sometimes sat beneath an old tree in a quiet corner of the park, opening the True Scripture of the Great Fa.
Without the collective practice ground, there were no banners, no crowd, and no expectations. There was only a cultivator sitting alone with the Fa. Passersby occasionally glanced at him with curiosity, but Hoa Long no longer felt the need to validate himself before the mortal world.
The pressure from the Old Forces had not vanished, but the suspicious looks of strangers were now merely dust in the wind. He quietly turned another page.
The Unrolling of Fated Ties
As Hoa Long's mind grew increasingly steadfast, fated connections began to unfold naturally:
❖ An Old Acquaintance: One rainy afternoon, a former schoolmate met him under a shelter, remarking on how peaceful Hoa Long looked. Seeing the True Scripture in his hands, the acquaintance hesitated before asking to borrow it. Hoa Long handed him the book with a calm smile, placing no pressure upon him.
❖ A Struggling Colleague: Days later, a former colleague whose career and marriage were collapsing sought Hoa Long out in despair. Hoa Long listened compassionately and shared: “I cannot solve your external problems, but perhaps the Fa can help you find the strength within to face them.” The colleague gratefully accepted the scripture.
Clarifying the truth had seamlessly integrated into Hoa Long's daily life. He kept no tally of who accepted or refused. Whether speaking to a roadside driver, a market vendor, or a passing stranger in a narrow alley, he focused simply on offering an opportunity to awaken their conscience.
Facing Secular Cynicism
Not everyone responded with understanding. One afternoon, as Hoa Long sat reading beneath the trees, several pedestrians scoffed:
“What is he reading so seriously?”
“Do people still believe in Buddhas and Gods these days?”
The cynical words drifted past. Hoa Long did not raise his head nor offer an argument. The mortal world would always be filled with varied notions; his sole duty was to keep his Dao-heart immovable.
He gently closed the book. The city rushed on, but his tranquility remained untouched.
Walking the World as If Walking Home
Night settled over the city as the rain softened to a gentle mist. Hoa Long walked home through the familiar streets.
The old house was still waiting for him—the same weathered walls, the same difficult surroundings, the same ordinary troubles. Yet he no longer viewed them as an ordeal to escape. The house had become his altar of cultivation, a place to temper his mind and fulfill his responsibilities.
He thought of the lost deposit on the new house and smiled. It was merely the small price paid to realize that true peace cannot be bought with bricks and mortar.
His life had become simpler, his heart lighter, and his family balanced once more. The time he had gained belonged to something far greater than worldly success. He would continue to study the Fa, practice, send forth Righteous Thoughts, and clarify the truth—walking through the mortal world without seeking applause, recognition, or escape.
He walked through the night as though he were walking home. For wherever the path of cultivation led, he understood that his true home was not a physical structure—it was the realm where his Dao-heart remained upright and unwavering.
Canto 65 — Walking the World as If Walking Home
The falling rain dissolves the worldly grime,
Pure thoughts illuminate the hills of time.
Cold daggers and dark whispers fail to shake,
The stubborn lamp endures for virtue’s sake.
No numbers sought, no hollow pride displayed,
One golden vow commands the path remade.
In absolute silence, shadows fade away,
The solitary Fa unfolds the day.