Berättelsen om Quan Yin.

The story about Quan Yin. This story is in english!

The Age of Quan Yin

Quan Yin in one story gives a disabled boy the impossible task of saving her, then catches him mid-air as he leaps off a cliff in abject failure, sets him on firm ground and orders him to "walk," which he suddenly can accomplish. Another time she is born to a good king, the perfect soul parent who, when she comes of age, finds a perfect prince for her to marry. There are thousands of Quan Yin stories and in all of them the one thing she never does is marry. All number of pains are inflicted upon her for refusing. She transforms them, transforms the cruelty, forgives the oppressor, is her shining self no matter what, and everyone who touches her is better for it. This time she runs away to live in exile, returning late in life to find her father dying. When they see each other, immediately both are wrapped in forgiveness. The perfect parent/child love floods back. She orders her arms be cut off and ground into a poultice to cure him. They are. He is cured. At the instant he is restored to health, she sprouts a thousand arms and ascends into heaven. In another story it is one arm and an eye that makes the medicine. In one story just before she is to enter Nirvana, she returns to earth because there are so many people who have not progressed through the stages of reincarnation, who need her help, she can’t leave them. She vows not to go to the next level until everyone is ready. In another story the king is a jerk and when his beautiful daughter, Quan Yin, comes of age, he marries her to a prince similarly unenlightened. She refuses to marry and he kills her. Or tries to. Everything he tries — fire, swords, starvation, backfires, doesn’t work until she allows herself to be killed whereupon a magical tiger appears and transports her to the underworld where Quan Yin, whose name means "one who weeps the tears of the world" weeps upon seeing the lost souls there. Each time one of her tears touches a lost soul they are turned into flowers. Hell becomes paradise. In one story the son of the Dragon King swimming about as a fish is caught by fisherman who bid up the price of him at the fish market until a sweet voice in the sky rings out saying, "a life should belong to one who tries to save it, not to one who takes it." The Dragon King sends his daughter to Quan Yin to give her the Pearl of Light. Quan Yin accepts it on the condition the owner of the treasure will be the girl herself, who becomes her disciple. In some stories Quan Yin is the many-armed Mother of All. Sometimes she is a Buddha. In every home, place of worship, on buses, in schools all over the Far East Quan Yin statues, prayers, calendars, stories abound which revere compassion, forgiveness, tranquility. Every family has stories of how she has helped a lost soul, healed the sick, brought the world back to essential values through forgiveness, compassion, tranquility, mercy. ©Susan Bright, 2007

Prayer for the Abuser

To those who withhold refuge,
I cradle you in safety at the core of my Being.

To those that cause a child to cry out,
I grant you the freedom to express your own choked agony.

To those that inflict terror,
I remind you that you shine with the purity of a thousand suns.

To those who would confine, suppress, or deny,
I offer the limitless expanse of the sky.

To those who need to cut, slash, or burn,
I remind you of the invincibility of Spring.

To those who cling and grasp,
I promise more abundance than you could ever hold onto.

To those who vent their rage on small children,
I return to you your deepest innocence.

To those who must frighten into submission,
I hold you in the bosom of your original mother.

To those who cause agony to others,
I give the gift of free flowing tears.

To those that deny another's right to be,
I remind you that the angels sang in celebration of you on the day of your birth.

To those who see only division and separateness,
I remind you that a part is born only by bisecting a whole.

For those who have forgotten the tender mercy of a mother's embrace,
I send a gentle breeze to caress your brow.

To those who still feel somehow incomplete,
I offer the perfect sanctity of this very moment.

©Susan Bright, 2007

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