關於 speak into the phone to ask me something ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

Read to the end! This is written by an American black officer. People still deny there's racism in the US. They honestly need new glasses and perhaps new thinking cap as well. Perhaps they need a complete metaphorical makeover.

Starbucks.
Alleged events.
Two black males entered Starbucks to wait for a friend to arrive and did not order anything from the business. Prior to ordering and prior to their friend’s arrival, they decided to attempt to use the restroom. An employee denied the men access to the restroom because they had not purchased anything and asked them to leave. The men calmly refused and the employee called the police. The police arrived at the scene and asked the men to leave the facility. The men refused numerous times. The men were told that they would be arrested if they did not leave the restaurant. The men told the officers to arrest them. The men calmly stood up and allowed the officers to arrest them. They were transported to jail, when Starbucks contacted the police department and stated that they did not want to follow through with charges against the men. They were released.

Why did the police officers have to arrest them? Why didn’t the officers investigate further?

Any employee of a business has the right to ask a person to leave their business. If a person refuses to do so, it is trespassing, period. The modern-day purpose of that charge is to reduce physical conflicts, escalating situations and to protect patrons/employees. The number 1 reason why trespassing is important is because the mentally ill and homeless “camp out” inside of businesses scaring/employees and customers. I trained near downtown and I was frequently called to arrest the mentally ill/ homeless for trespassing. It isn’t to discriminate against them, but they cause disturbances. I removed a guy for clipping his toenails on a table. I removed a woman for bathing in the toilet. I removed a man for masturbating in a trash can next to a family with small children. We have a homeless/ mental illness problem in America and there is no real solution to the problem. Trespassing charges are the quickest way to remove them and the nuisances associated with their behavior.

If you have ever been to a parade or any other event, you know that business often post signs stating that no one can use the restroom unless they are paying customers. You can imagine the nuisances caused by hundreds of drunk people creating a line only to use the restroom, pushing actual customers away from a business. It has caused numerous fights and disturbances. Trespassing charges are the easiest way to get people to leave and go on with their day.

In this Starbucks situation, the police were called and an employee wanted the two men out of the store. When the police arrive, it is their job to arrest someone who refuses to leave after being asked to do so by the business. Period. It doesn’t matter if the men were correct or not. A business can ask someone to leave. This prevents escalation between patrons/ employees for the most part. If a patron has a separate civil issue with the company, they are free to file that complaint or seek justice in other methods. The officers did nothing wrong.

As an officer, I know that most officers hate arresting people for trespassing. In an officer’s heart, they are hoping that the person being asked to leave will be gone prior to arrival. Most officers are disappointed to see the person still at the location. Trespassing charges are way too much paperwork and take too long to process at jail considering the charge. It’s annoying, but needs to be done in some circumstances. The officers asked the men to leave several times hoping they would just leave. They refused and told the officers to take them to jail. The officers were forced to take them to jail. They were professional and did their jobs. This is a civil issue and the issue lies with Starbucks and not the officers.

Racism / Cognitive Bias

It is not my place to accuse the employee of being racist, as I don’t know her heart and I wasn’t there. Racism and cognitive biases towards black people are real. I experience it all the time. Both affect black people the same way, regardless of the intention of the person exhibiting that behavior. It is tiring.

The beauty of this incident occurring at Starbucks as opposed to any other restaurant is that Starbucks encourages and cultivates an environment of loitering. College students spend hours there studying without making a purchase. People go on first dates without spending a dime. Business meetings take place there without a dime being spent. Friends gather there to pass time while waiting to go to a concert. People go there to read books. People go there to hang out. Starbucks has less standing to try to enforce a strict bathroom rule because of the environment that it encourages among citizens.

Many people use the restroom before placing an order. I would never order anything prior to using the restroom. You might miss your name being called for your order. I don’t like leaving my food/beverages unattended while in the restroom. I will not take my food/ beverage in the bathroom.

There was nothing about those two men that should have made this employee think they were mentally ill/ homeless. There was nothing about these men that should have made this employee believe they were a threat. There was nothing about these men that should have made the employee believe they were at a parade and using the restroom without intentions of patronizing their business.

Opinion

I get numerous messages from white people who desire to understand why black people get so upset about situations like this and I will try to explain.

I’ve gone to jail to do an interview with a prisoner, wearing the proper credentials and I had a jail worker put their hand on my chest (and the badge allowing me access) telling me that I can’t enter the facility. I was with a white officer, who was not wearing the proper credentials and he was allowed to pass through. When the white officer saw that I had problems passing through security, he came back and told the security worker that I was an officer. I did everything I was supposed to do, but my credentials meant nothing because her racism/cognitive bias told her that most officers are white males and she decided in her mind that I couldn’t be an officer. What if I punched her for putting her hand on my chest? How would I be viewed? She never looked at my credentials. She only saw my hair and face. I needed my white co-worker to validate my existence.

I was talking on my phone in CVS getting ready to buy toiletries for a trip. I was being followed around the store by an elderly white woman. I ignored it and continued to speak on the phone. Suddenly, an officer was called to the store. I saw the officer, but I didn’t care because I am an officer and I just knew he wasn’t there for me. The officer walked up to me and asked what I was doing in the store. I told him I was shopping. He told me that a suspicious person call came out about me. I started laughing and began to look for the elderly white woman. I knew she called because these things happen to me more than they should. She was peeking around a shelf to see what would happen. I knew she called the police. As he began to ask for my name to check and see if I had warrants, I showed him my badge. He stopped gathering my information. The officer was very professional. It wasn’t his fault that he was called there. If he refused to investigate and I robbed the store, he would have been in trouble. He marched me over to the elderly lady and asked her why she called the police. He showed her my badge and she still didn’t believe that I was an officer. He criticized her behavior and stormed out of the store. Good thing I had my “I’m not just another black person” badge. What happens to those who don’t have one? I needed the white officer to validate my existence.

I was at work for nearly 48 hours finishing up a big case. I went to my car to retrieve something and began to walk back into the police department headquarters. I was wearing plain clothes and wasn’t wearing identification. A white officer was in front of me wearing plain clothes and not wearing identification. A uniformed white officer was exiting the building and asked the white undercover officer, who looked like an extra from “Duck Dynasty,” if he was an officer. The guy stated that he was an officer and the uniformed white officer allowed him to enter the building. I was a few steps behind that exchange and the white uniformed officer asked me for my identification as I began to approach the building. I have been through this production many times so I already knew where this was headed. I told him that I was an officer to see if that same privilege would work for me as I entered the station. He repeated that he needed to see my identification and blocked the door. I was tired from being at work for so long and wasn’t as politically correct as usual. He began to try an enforce policy stating that he needed to see my identification. I told him that I would not show him my identification until he chased down the white, homeless looking guy that he didn’t recognize as an officer and ask him for his identification. He was clearly upset. He was upset that his authority wasn’t respected. He asked why everything had to be about race. I told him I’ve been trying to figure that out my whole life. He plead for me to just show him my identification because it wasn’t a big deal. I told him it was a big deal. I won’t comply because that’s what you want me to do and you want your authority respected. I told him to show me his identification and he refused. He got upset and walked away cursing me out. I wouldn’t have had a problem showing him my identification because it is policy. I wasn’t showing him anything because he trusted the white undercover officer’s word, but mine wasn’t good enough. If only I had a white officer with me to validate my presence at the police department.

What would that officer say about me if I filed a complaint? What if I got loud with him? Would he label me as another angry black woman? Would he tell everyone on the department that I am a race baiter to defend his behavior? I didn’t complain.

I went to Gloria’s (Addison) for a birthday party around 2 pm. I had on Timberland boots, but was dressed fashionable. The security guard let the rest of my group in, but told me that I couldn’t wear tennis shoes inside. I told him that I was wearing boots and he said boots and tennis shoes were the same. I politely asked to speak with the manager. I tried to show him my “get out of looking suspicious” police identification and told him that I wasn’t there to cause problems, I drove an hour to get here and I was there for a birthday party. He rudely said that I wouldn’t be attending any party at their business. There were numerous white guys wearing actual tennis shoes and they were immediately allowed inside the business. I pointed to those guys and asked why those tennis shoes were acceptable? He called more security guards to the scene and said that I would not be allowed inside their business. I missed the party, nor did I desire to be there anymore. I never go to that Gloria’s and I think about that experience every time I pass by it. This may not seem like a big deal to you if you are white. These things don’t happen to you all the time.

Every day black people have to be calmer and pick and choose their battles. It is tiring. I understand the frustration of white officers who don’t understand all the frustration exhibited by blacks. These incidents don’t happen to them daily. Their position is validated just by existing. I understand why white people say “just be compliant.” Generally, people should just comply, but sometimes you have to dig your heels in the sand to effect change.

Again, the police did nothing wrong in this situation. There is no recourse when white people call the police because of their own racism/ cognitive biases. What if those men were supposed to see their daughters off to prom and missed it due to their arrests? What if they had to acknowledge this arrest as they applied for jobs? What if their sons had soccer games that they missed because of this incident?

If these white people didn’t step up and say that they come to Starbucks all the time without ordering and are allowed access to the bathroom, where would those black men be? If those white people refused to get involved because the incident didn’t affect them, where would those black men be? If those white people didn’t record the incident, documenting proof of how calm the black men were, where would those men be? If those white people didn’t raise so much hell, that the company called the police station and refused to press charges against them, where would those black men be? Where would black people be without white chaperones to prove their existence is valid and harmless? Black people should not need validation from white people to exist.

Just as criminals don’t wear signs indicating that they are criminals, racists and people with cognitive biases don’t wear signs indicating their status. If you are white, I encourage you to try to imagine going through incidents like this every day as you buy groceries, pump gas, ride the bus, purchase clothes at the mall, attend parties, go to bars, watch your children play sports, and a long list of other everyday activities. It doesn't make you a racist if you don't insert yourself in situations such as this to defend people. It takes a special person to stand up for people dealing with an issue that will never affect you.

【玳瑚師父客人見證】 《不過八月十五的預言》
The Prophecy: Not Beyond Mid-Autumn (English version below)

文 / 李季謙 女士 Written by Ms. Lee Ji Qian

撥電給玳瑚師父的那一天下午，我乘坐的德士，正駕駛在中央快速公路上。那是2006年中秋節的前兩個星期，記憶猶新。眼看我外婆的病情每況愈下，我迫切地想知道外婆還能活多久。那時的我從事空服員的工作，我擔心萬一外婆過世，我在國外無法第一時間趕回來看她最後一面，怎麽辦?

在車上，我不斷祈求玳瑚師父告訴我外婆的壽命還有多久。他不肯，他說做師父的其中一個避忌就是不算壽命，因爲很多人嘴巴說無所謂，知道答案後，心裡卻會七上八下，家人甚至會責怪師父嚇人。那時，外婆已皈依在蓮生活佛門下，我告訴師父家裡只有我和外婆是皈依的佛教徒，我很希望外婆過世時，我能夠為她做臨終關懷八小時，引導她往投極樂。

在電話的另一端，師父沉默許久，一句話也不說。我想慘了，如果師父不肯告訴我，我該如何是好？如何向公司請假？

「不過八月十五。」

什麽，師父，你說什麽？中秋節八月十五？師父，我都還沒告訴你外婆的生辰，你只知道她的名字和生肖，就能斷定嗎？

師父重覆說了一遍，並溫馨地告訴我到時遇到任何問題時，儘管撥電給他。就這樣，我們的通話結束了。

農曆八月十四的早上，在中央醫院復診時，醫生說外婆的血壓忽然降低，需要入院輸血。我便為外婆辦理入院手續，和照料外婆的女傭一直陪伴在外婆左右。幾個星期來，飛行穿梭與五大洲之間，熬夜時差，加上多次帶外婆來往醫院，每一次都花好幾個鐘頭在醫院等待，身心已疲憊不堪。我看著在病床上的外婆，輸血後她氣色開始好轉，醫生說一切穩定。外婆知道我很累，屢勸我回家休息。但師父的預言一直懸挂在我心中，本想留下來陪外婆一晚，但那天的入院來的突然，我沒準備任何衣物。那時的我住在兀蘭，離新加坡中央醫院很遠。我先生在一旁也勸我回家好好休息，才有更好的精神繼續和外婆說佛法及一同唸佛。

我猶豫著。師父為我做的預言從來沒有錯過。但外婆氣色之佳，是近幾個月從未曾有的。我這幾個月，也一直都有修法回向給外婆，可能奇跡出現了吧！

于是，農曆八月十五的淩晨一點二十分左右，我回家了。

早上十點二十分，女傭打了通電話給我。她不大會說英文，只是很情急地說外婆想見我，要我快點來醫院。我天真地以爲是外婆睡醒後，想見我。

早上十點四十五分，表姐打電話給我，哭著說外婆已過世了。那時的我，腦海裡立刻浮現師父所說的「不過八月十五。」 連半天都過不了。我的心一直往下沉。爲什麽我問了師父卻又不淨信他的話？爲什麽我沒有把師父的預言告訴我的家人？爲什麽我就不能在醫院熬多一天？生死皆天定，我怎麽不自量力地以爲自己那點修法回響就能改寫外婆的生死呢？原來人說死前的迴光返照是這麽一回事！天啊！我竟然那麽不孝，讓外婆過世時，身邊只有一個女傭，一個親人都沒有！

在醫院撥打電話給師父時，他很快就接聽了。第一句話一說完，我已泣不成聲了。師父說他一早起床，就不斷地有我外婆和我的影子，他知道事情不出他預料中，因此一直在等待我的電話。師父不但沒有怪我不夠相信他，還提醒我要為外婆做的佛事，也開導我說八月十五是月圓圓滿之日，外婆在這日離去也象徵她的一生已圓滿，她十多年的病業終于還清了，從病苦中解脫了，我應該為她高興。師父知道我性格衝動，再三叮嚀我在外婆停柩期間，勿和家人起衝突。

這也是我第二件遺憾的事。我那時學佛尚淺，包容、平等對待和處事圓融的道理，我無法實踐。我不但在外婆的遺體前爲了她的生後事，向家人耍狠，在喪禮上，因爲不苟同他們的做法，脾氣更是一「發」不可收拾。說什麽佛教徒，真是貽笑大方！我怎麽就沒有好好學師父那般的度量呢？

外婆過世後的那七天裡，家人陸續都夢到她回來和他們敍舊。唯獨我沒有。我很納悶。外婆臨終前，唯一想見的人是我，爲何卻沒托夢給我？她不是有話跟我說嗎？（其實是我多想在外婆面前跟她說萬萬個對不起。）想著，想著，我想到師父常教我在睡前的結界法，保護自己在睡夢中不被鬼魅魍魎干擾盜氣，出國在外也能平安。我睡前也必定會結界，這法非常實用也有真實的法力！

那晚，在紐約的酒店裡，我冒了一個險，沒行結界法。當晚，我就夢到自己在兒時住家附近（也是外婆的舊家）的停車場。我不知不覺走到一輛米色的「馬賽地」旁邊，低頭一看，咦，是外婆，穿著那熟悉的衣裳，坐在駕駛座位上。我叫她，以廣東話問：「婆婆，妳會駕車啊？」（外婆生前沒有駕駛執照）　她轉頭，跟我說：「幫公公皈依吧！」 我答：「皈依啊？好啊！」

我就猛然醒來了，趕緊看時間，是清晨五點多。師父曾說在早上五點至七點之間做的夢是真實的。我梳洗後，即刻撥長途電話給在新加坡的師父。外公已過世十多年，在夢裡，外婆要我為外公皈依時，我已知道他尚未投胎，生前沒聽聞過佛法，更別説往生極樂了。而當外婆提到皈依時，我心裡的直覺說她指的是皈依我們的根本上師，蓮生活佛，絕非他人。最神的是，夢裡外婆的車和家人在喪禮中焚化給她的，是一模一樣的！

師父在電話中花了一個鐘頭的時間，耐心地教導我。他說我得先回到外婆生前的居所，向那裡的祖先牌位請示外公是否真的想皈依蓮生活佛。除了攜帶外公生前愛吃的食物，我也得先上香供養家門外供奉的天公、土地神和門神，祈求祂們允許我外公的魂魄入屋。

回囯後的隔天，我和兩位表姪女一起到外婆家，一一跟著師父的指示照做。我們三人上了香，跪在祖先牌位前，呼叫外公時，不可思議的事情發生了！刹那間，我們三人同時感覺到有股強烈的陰氣從我們背後的大門進來，再看到一個黑影從我們身旁快速地飃過，到祖先牌位的供桌上，頓時，我們全身都起了雞皮疙瘩。卜杯請示外公是否要皈依蓮生活佛時，連續得了三個聖杯！我的夢是真實的！師父教的真管用！

當下，我既讚嘆又感恩玳瑚師父，是他引我皈依蓮生活佛。在他之前，我根本沒聼過蓮生活佛的盛名。因爲我的皈依，我好幾個家人也皈依。師父常說死人的眼睛是雪亮的。外公生前非常疼愛我，沒想到，我和外婆的皈依也會讓他想向佛了！我是多麽的雀躍啊！我讚嘆師父那麽好眼光，有福份，一生只皈依一個上師，而且是一位已開悟成佛的上師，怪不得師父的本領那麽了得。我更感恩他不辭辛勞地廣揚佛法，讓我們這些門外漢能學到人生最大的一件事到底是什麽。

我是一個差勁的弟子，脾氣又不好，兩次被師父「停學」，每一次長達半年，更曾被沒收所有的筆記和課本。但在「停學」期間，師父仍慈悲教導我如何處理外婆的生後事。可能你覺得他是修行人，是玄學師父，不給他錢，他仍然應該幫你消災解厄，給他錢，他更要幫你逢凶化吉。我的看法卻是，自己的問題本來就應該自己解決。沒有人是「應該」幫你的，師父也不是一個你能用錢買的人，更不可以因爲師父沒有幫你這一次或看法不一，便因「愛」成「恨」，來個「秦始王燒書」 般地把過去師父幫過自己的恩都忘得一乾二淨，再來個翻臉不認「師」。這般無情無義的人我看的實在太多了。

這兩天趕緊將這篇個人見證寫完，並翻譯，已此供養玳瑚師父為他的「生日」禮物。農曆八月十五是玳瑚師父皈依真佛之日。他常說這一天才是他真正的生日，皈依學佛前的日子懵懂無意，虛度光陰，貴為佛子後，自己才真正「活」起來，成爲有智慧有貢獻的能人。兒子的事業這麽有意義，我想師父的父母一定會以他為榮。

如果你也像我一樣，曾經請示過師父，卻在信與不信之間進退兩難，希望我這篇文章能給你一點啓發，更盼你不會有我這般的遺憾。

祝大家中秋節快樂。

我在此也誠心地祝玳瑚師父「生日」快樂。謝謝您在無止境的萬難中，仍堅持帶給我們光明。我祈禱，願您的一生有如今晚的月輪一樣地美麗、圓滿、吉祥，願您早日修成正果，速登彼岸。阿彌陀佛。

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It was one afternoon in the year 2006, 2 weeks from the Mid-Autumn Festival. I was travelling along the Central Expressway in a cab when I made a call to Master Dai Hu. The memory was still fresh. My grandmother's health was deteriorating by the day, and I desperately wanted to know how much longer she could hold on. I was working as a flight attendant at that time, and the fear was that I might be overseas and not able to see her the final time when she breathed her last.

During the taxi ride, I pleaded incessantly for Master Dai Hu to answer my burning question. He refused. He said that as a Master, it was a taboo to predict one's life span because the answer would drive many towards anxiety and hysteria, even when they seemed nonchalant initially. At that time, my grandmother had already taken refuge under Living Buddha Lian-Sheng, and I told Master Dai Hu that since my grandmother and myself were the only Buddhists who had taken refuge in the family, I really hoped to provide some form of hospice care, and perform the proper rites during the crucial 8-hour time window after her passing to guide her towards rebirth into the Pure Land.

There was total silence on the other end of the line for a long time. Master Dai Hu did not utter a single sound. I was doomed, I thought to myself, if Master refused to tell me, what should I do? How could I apply for leave of absence from my employer?

"It would not be beyond the fifteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month". Finally the silence was broken.

What, Master, what did you just? You meant the Mid-Autumn Festival? But I had not even tell you the birth date and time of my grandmother. You only knew her name and Chinese Zodiac Sign, how could you be so sure?

Master Dai Hu repeated his prediction again, and told me warmly that I could call him anytime if I encountered any problem. With that, our conversation ended.

This was the fourteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month. The doctor told me that Grandma's blood count suffered a drastic drop, and had to be admitted to hospital for a blood transfusion. After I had done the paper works for the admittance, I stayed with her, together with her maid. I was totally physically and mentally exhausted. Flying around the world had taken its toll on me, with the late nights and jet lags, not to mention the many hospital trips I made with Grandmother over the past few weeks and every hospital visit spanned over a few hours. I looked at Grandma who was lying on her hospital bed. She looked much better after the blood transfusion and the doctor said all was well. Grandma knew I was washed out and kept asking me to go home and rest. Master Dai Hu's prediction was constantly on my mind. I had wanted to stay for one more night to accompany Grandma but the hospital admission that day was unexpected and I did not prepare any overnight bag. I was staying at Woodlands at that time and it was far from SGH. My husband who was by my side advised me to go home to rest too as he felt that I needed to be in a better condition to continue sharing the Dharma and reciting the Buddha's name with Grandma.

I hesitated. Master's predictions for me always rang true. But my Grandma looked quite good, something which I have not seen in months. Furthermore, I have been doing spiritual practices and dedicating the merits to her. Perhaps a miracle had happened!

At about 120am on the fifteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month, I went home.

My phone rang at 1020am. It was the maid. She was not really conversant in English but told me anxiously that Grandma wanted to see me, and asked if I was on the way. I naively shrugged it off, thinking it might just be Grandma wanting to see me after her sleep.

Another phone call came in at 1045am, the sobbing and muffled voice of my cousin on the other end, telling me that Grandma had passed away. At that very moment, the words of Master "Not beyond the fifteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month" reverberated through me. My heart sank to the rock bottom. Why did I ask Master for his prediction when I was not prepared to have complete faith in him? Why had I not told this prediction to my family members? Why could I not just stay in hospital with Grandma for that one more night? Life and death are both predestined. How could I think so highly of myself and believe that meagre merits from my spiritual practice was sufficient to rewrite her fate? Now I realized the truth in the saying that a person before his or her imminent death would look as if he or she is well. Goodness gracious! I was so unfilial to had left Grandma alone, on her death bed with no family member but only the maid beside her!

I phoned Master Dai Hu at the hospital and he answered very quickly. Once the first words were spoken, I had already broken down in sobs. Master said that he woke up early that morning with a premonition. He kept "seeing" images of my Grandma and myself, and knew in an instant that his prediction had prevailed and had been waiting for my call. Not only did Master not reprimand me for not having enough faith in him, he even reminded me on the list of things to do for Grandma's funeral. He counseled me, saying that for Grandma to bade this world farewell on the fifteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month, it signified that she had lived a full and complete life, and that her karmic debt of suffering from illnesses the past 10 over years had finally been repaid. He said I should be glad that Grandma had been released from her pains and sufferings. Master was well aware of my rash temperament, and reminded me many times not to squabble with the family members during the funeral wake.

This has to be the other regrettable thing in this episode. My understanding of the Dharma was shallow then, and I did not practice the ways of endurance, equality, and did not consider the feelings of others in handling things. Not only did I pressurize my family members over the arrangements of Grandma's funeral, my bad temper flared uncontrollably during the funeral as I was not in agreement with the rest of the family members. All this talk about being a Buddhist turned me into a laughing stock! Why could I not learn from Master, who was and still is always so magnanimous and gracious?

During the seven-day period after Grandma's passing, many family members dreamed of her continually. I was the only one not to have seen her in my dreams. This was very puzzling for me. At the time of her passing, Grandma was calling out for me. Why did she not appear in my dreams? Did she not have anything to say to me? (Truthfully, I wanted very much to say a million sorry to her in person). As I was pondering over this matter, I remembered a demarcation method taught to me by Master, to protect myself against spirits stealing my life essence and disrupting my sleep, and to stay safe while I was overseas. This demarcation was something I always did before going to bed, and it really proved itself as a useful and powerful Dharma practice.

That night, in my hotel room in New York, I took a risk and forgo the demarcation procedure before I slept. That very night, I dreamed of Grandma! I was at the car park, near my childhood residence (also near Grandma's previous residence). I was walking along a pavement and ended up beside a cream-coloured Mercedes Benz. I looked down, and there she was! My Grandma was wearing her usual clothing and seated in the driver's seat. I called out to her and asked in Cantonese, "Grandma, you know how to drive?" Grandma did not have a driving license when she was alive. She turned to speak to me, "Help your Grandfather to take refuge!" I answered, "Take refuge? Ok!"

I jolted out from sleep, and hurriedly looked at the clock. It was five plus in the morning. Master once said that dreams occurring between 5am - 7am were real. I washed up, and called Master who was in Singapore immediately. My Grandfather has been dead for more than 10 years. In my dream, when Grandma wanted me to take refuge for Grandfather, I knew then that Grandfather had yet to go through reincarnation. He did not hear the Dharma during his lifetime, so he could not have been reborn into the Pure Land. When Grandma spoke of taking refuge, my intuition told me that she was referring to our Root Guru, Living Buddha Lian-Sheng, whom we took refuge in, and no one else. The next amazing thing was that the car in which Grandma was seated in the dream looked exactly the same as the one the family members burnt as an offering to her during the funeral!

Master spent an hour on the phone with me, patiently guiding me. He said I needed to return to my Grandma's house and seek answers from the ancestors at the ancestral tablet if my Grandfather really wanted to take refuge in Living Buddha Lian-Sheng. Other than preparing my Grandfather's favorite snacks, I had to offer incense and other offerings to the Jade Emperor, the Earth Deity as well as the Door Guardians, who were enshrined outside my Grandma's home, and request for smooth entry of my Grandfather's spirit into the house.

A few days upon my return to Singapore, I went to my Grandma's house, together with my two nieces. I followed Master's instruction to the tee. The three of us offered incense, knelt down in front of the ancestral tablet and called for my Grandfather. Something extraordinary happened next! In the flash of an eye, the 3 of us felt a strong Yin energy coming in from the main door, and witnessed a black shadowy figure slid past us in speed, and onto the ancestral tablet. Momentarily, our hair stood on end and all of us felt goosebumps on our skins. When I threw the divination blocks and asked if it was Grandfather's wish to take refuge in Living Buddha Lian-Sheng, the answer was positive with three consecutive yes! My dream was real after all! The method which Master taught really worked well!

Instantly, I was in awe, and at the same time, extremely grateful to Master Dai Hu. He was the one who guided me to take refuge in Living Buddha Lian-Sheng. Before that, I never hear of Him. Because of my taking refuge, a few of my family members followed suit. Master often said that the dead had the brightest eyes. Grandfather doted on me very much when he was alive, and never did I expect Grandfather to follow my Grandma and I in taking refuge and seek the Dharma. I was totally elated! I praised Master for his foresight, and his great fortune of taking refuge in a one and only one Guru Master, one who had attained perfect Enlightenment. It is no wonder that Master Dai Hu has such great skills too. I am also grateful for his relentless pursuits to propagate the Dharma, enabling layman like us to learn, understand and prepare for the biggest event of our life.

I am a lousy disciple with bad temperament. Twice, I was booted out by Master and not allowed to learn from him for as long as 6 months. My notes and books were confiscated. However, even when I did not see Master during those periods, he showed compassion and guided me through the ordeal of my Grandma's passing. Perhaps you might think that it is his duty as a spiritual practitioner and Chinese metaphysicist to show compassion and help others in need even if no money is paid to him, and if money is paid, all the more he should help the clients out of their troubles.

My take on this: We must take responsibility for our own problems. No one owe us any form of help or assistance. And Master Dai Hu is definitely not someone you can buy with money. If he does not render his help to you or both of you have a different opinion on certain issues, you cannot go from having admiration to bearing resentment towards him over that. I have seen too many ungrateful people who erase all the memories of the good that Master had once done for them, pretty much like how Emperor Qin burnt the books, with no trace left and turned their backs on Master, like they had never known him.

Over the last two days, I rushed to complete this testimonial as a present to Master Dai Hu on his "birthday". It was this auspicious day, the fifteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month, that Master Dai Hu took refuge in True Buddha and became a Buddhist. He often said that this day felt more like his real birthday. Before learning the Dharma and taking refuge, he led a life of meaningless existence, squandering away youth and time. Only when he became a Buddhist did he truly come to life, begin to live in wisdom and gain great ability, while making useful and meaningful contributions to the society. With such a noble career, I guess his parents must be very proud of having a son like him.

If you are to be in my shoes one day, having asked Master for advice but still teetering on the border and unsure if you should believe him, I hope my story will inspire you and not let you suffer the same regrets as I did.

Wishing everyone a Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.

And I genuinely wish Master Dai Hu a "Happy Birthday". Thank you for bringing the Light to us, despite the endless obstacles you constantly battle. I pray that your life will be as beautiful, complete and auspicious as the full moon tonight. May you soon attain the fruit of perfect and complete Enlightenment. Amituofo.

www.masterdaihu.com/the-prophecy-not-beyond-mid-autumn/

Michael Aris proposed to Aung San Suu Kyi in Bhutan~ Enjoy reading the untold love story. Good weekend~ L
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The Untold Love Story of Burma's Aung San Suu Kyi
Aung San Suu Kyi, whose story is told in a new film, went from devoted Oxford housewife to champion of Burmese democracy -- but not without great personal sacrifice.
By Rebecca Frayn

When I began to research a screenplay about Aung San Suu Kyi four years ago, I wasn’t expecting to uncover one of the great love stories of our time. Yet what emerged was a tale so romantic -- and yet so heartbreaking -- it sounded more like a pitch for a Hollywood weepie: an exquisitely beautiful but reserved girl from the East meets a handsome and passionate young man from the West.
For Michael Aris the story is a coup de foudre, and he eventually proposes to Suu amid the snow-capped mountains of Bhutan, where he has been employed as tutor to its royal family. For the next 16 years, she becomes his devoted wife and a mother-of-two, until quite by chance she gets caught up in politics on a short trip to Burma, and never comes home.
Tragically, after 10 years of campaigning to try to keep his wife safe, Michael dies of cancer without ever being allowed to say goodbye.
I also discovered that the reason no one was aware of this story was because Dr Michael Aris had gone to great lengths to keep Suu’s family out of the public eye. It is only because their sons are now adults -- and Michael is dead -- that their friends and family feel the time has come to speak openly, and with great pride, about the unsung role he played.
The daughter of a great Burmese hero, General Aung San, who was assassinated when she was only two, Suu was raised with a strong sense of her father’s unfinished legacy. In 1964 she was sent by her diplomat mother to study Politics, Philosophy and Economics at Oxford, where her guardian, Lord Gore-Booth, introduced her to Michael. He was studying history at Durham but had always had a passion for Bhutan – and in Suu he found the romantic embodiment of his great love for the East. But when she accepted his proposal, she struck a deal: if her country should ever need her, she would have to go. And Michael readily agreed.
For the next 16 years, Suu Kyi was to sublimate her extraordinary strength of character and become the perfect housewife. When their two sons, Alexander and Kim, were born she became a doting mother too, noted for her punctiliously well-organised children’s parties and exquisite cooking. Much to the despair of her more feminist friends, she even insisted on ironing her husband’s socks and cleaning the house herself.
Then one quiet evening in 1988, when her sons were 12 and 14, as she and Michael sat reading in Oxford, they were interrupted by a phone call to say Suu’s mother had had a stroke.
She at once flew to Rangoon for what she thought would be a matter of weeks, only to find a city in turmoil. A series of violent confrontations with the military had brought the country to a standstill, and when she moved into Rangoon Hospital to care for her mother, she found the wards crowded with injured and dying students. Since public meetings were forbidden, the hospital had become the centre-point of a leaderless revolution, and word that the great General’s daughter had arrived spread like wildfire.
When a delegation of academics asked Suu to head a movement for democracy, she tentatively agreed, thinking that once an election had been held she would be free to return to Oxford again. Only two months earlier she had been a devoted housewife; now she found herself spearheading a mass uprising against a barbaric regime.
In England, Michael could only anxiously monitor the news as Suu toured Burma, her popularity soaring, while the military harassed her every step and arrested and tortured many of her party members. He was haunted by the fear that she might be assassinated like her father. And when in 1989 she was placed under house arrest, his only comfort was that it at least might help keep her safe.
Michael now reciprocated all those years Suu had devoted to him with a remarkable selflessness of his own, embarking on a high-level campaign to establish her as an international icon that the military would never dare harm. But he was careful to keep his work inconspicuous, because once she emerged as the leader of a new democracy movement, the military seized upon the fact that she was married to a foreigner as a basis for a series of savage -- and often sexually crude -- slanders in the Burmese press.
For the next five years, as her boys were growing into young men, Suu was to remain under house arrest and kept in isolation. She sustained herself by learning how to meditate, reading widely on Buddhism and studying the writings of Mandela and Gandhi.
Michael was allowed only two visits during that period. Yet this was a very particular kind of imprisonment, since at any time Suu could have asked to be driven to the airport and flown back to her family.
But neither of them ever contemplated her doing such a thing. In fact, as a historian, even as Michael agonised and continued to pressurise politicians behind the scenes, he was aware she was part of history in the making. He kept on display the book she had been reading when she received the phone call summoning her to Burma. He decorated the walls with the certificates of the many prizes she had by now won, including the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize. And above his bed he hung a huge photograph of her.
Inevitably, during the long periods when no communication was possible, he would fear Suu might be dead, and it was only the odd report from passers-by who heard the sound of her piano-playing drifting from the house that brought him peace of mind. But when the south-east Asian humidity eventually destroyed the piano, even this fragile reassurance was lost to him.
Then, in 1995, Michael quite unexpectedly received a phone call from Suu. She was ringing from the British embassy, she said. She was free again! Michael and the boys were granted visas and flew to Burma.
When Suu saw Kim, her younger son, she was astonished to see he had grown into a young man. She admitted she might have passed him in the street. But Suu had become a fully politicised woman whose years of isolation had given her a hardened resolve, and she was determined to remain in her country, even if the cost was further separation from her family.
The journalist Fergal Keane, who has met Suu several times, describes her as having a core of steel.
It was the sheer resilience of her moral courage that filled me with awe as I wrote my screenplay for The Lady. The first question many women ask when they hear Suu’s story is how she could have left her children. Kim has said simply: “She did what she had to do.” Suu Kyi herself refuses to be drawn on the subject, though she has conceded that her darkest hours were when “I feared the boys might be needing me”.
That 1995 visit was the last time Michael and Suu were ever allowed to see one another. Three years later, he learnt he had terminal cancer. He called Suu to break the bad news and immediately applied for a visa so that he could say goodbye in person. When his application was rejected, he made over 30 more as his strength rapidly dwindled. A number of eminent figures -- among them the Pope and President Clinton -- wrote letters of appeal, but all in vain. Finally, a military official came to see Suu. Of course she could say goodbye, he said, but to do so she would have to return to Oxford.
The implicit choice that had haunted her throughout those 10 years of marital separation had now become an explicit ultimatum: your country or your family. She was distraught. If she left Burma, they both knew it would mean permanent exile -- that everything they had jointly fought for would have been for nothing. Suu would call Michael from the British embassy when she could, and he was adamant that she was not even to consider it.
When I met Michael’s twin brother, Anthony, he told me something he said he had never told anyone before. He said that once Suu realised she would never see Michael again, she put on a dress of his favourite colour, tied a rose in her hair, and went to the British embassy, where she recorded a farewell film for him in which she told him that his love for her had been her mainstay. The film was smuggled out, only to arrive two days after Michael died.
For many years, as Burma’s human rights record deteriorated, it seemed the Aris family’s great self-sacrifice might have been in vain. Yet in recent weeks the military have finally announced their desire for political change. And Suu’s 22-year vigil means she is uniquely positioned to facilitate such a transition -- if and when it comes -- exactly as Mandela did so successfully for South Africa.
As they always believed it would, Suu and Michael’s dream of democracy may yet become a reality.