(Minghui.org) Greetings Master! Greetings fellow practitioners!
After my son was born, I was busy with projects and work, and the responsibility of caring for him was always handled by my family members. I hardly got involved. My mother, who is also a practitioner, once reminded me that no matter how busy I was, I should at least look at my son every day.
In the blink of an eye, my son was almost two years old. One day, he asked me, “Dad, before I came here, do you know where I was?” I asked, “Where were you?” He said, “In the sky.” I laughed, thinking that my family must have told him this. I later found out that they had never discussed anything like this with him. He had never asked his mother or grandparents this question. But whenever he saw me, he always asked the same question.
One day, when he asked me that question again, I asked him, “What were you doing in the sky?” Without hesitation, he replied, “I was looking and looking, and then I chose you.” I replied, “Congratulations, you chose the right one.” He immediately asked, “Why?” His sudden question caught me off guard. Without knowing why, the words just came out of my mouth, “Because Dad can help you get onto the path of cultivation.” My answer seemed to connect with some memory in him. He looked at me thoughtfully.
I usually fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow, but I tossed and turned that night. The sentence, “Because Dad can help you get onto the path of cultivation,” kept swirling in my mind. What seemed like a spur-of-the-moment response felt more like a thought that had been sent into my mind. I realized that Master was enlightening me. To be born into a family of Falun Dafa practitioners, my son must have come for the Fa. He was closest to his mother and grandparents, and he hardly saw me. Yet he said such things only to me. Perhaps, this is my responsibility.
I soon adjusted my work schedule and transferred to a department preparing film. Although my income decreased, I was able to have a more regular schedule and spend time with my son.
My son was just over two years old at that time. Since birth, he listened to the Fa every day. I felt that because he was two years old he should start studying the Fa on his own, so I began teaching him to recite Hong Yin, and explained the literal meaning of the words to him. Later, I found that after two days of reading out loud, by the third day, he could recite parts of it intermittently. I encouraged him to memorize the first poem in Hong Yin, “Tempering the Will.” After he memorized it, he was very happy. Then he started memorizing the second poem, the third poem, and so on. In about a year, he was able to recite all the poems in Hong Yin.
I began teaching my son to memorize Lunyu. We memorized one sentence a day, and if a sentence was too long, we memorized half of it. We memorized the Fa on the way to kindergarten. In less than a year, he was able to fluently recite “Lunyu.”
After that, my son and I spent nearly two years studying Zhuan Falun from the beginning to end. When my son was six years old and about to enter first grade, I decided to start teaching him to memorize Zhuan Falun. We still memorized one sentence each day and reviewed what we had already memorized.
Everything went smoothly during the first six months of memorizing Lecture One. However, as he grew older, my son had more things to learn, and I gradually became anxious, always feeling there wasn’t enough time. Unknowingly, the phrase I said most often to my son became, “Hurry up, there’s no time…” At that time, as soon as I got off work, I felt that the truly busy part of my day was just beginning. I often felt pressure and anxiety, worried that my son was dawdling and that things wouldn’t get done. Even if we finished the day’s tasks, sometimes it took so long that it affected his sleep.
I knew this situation wasn’t good. I also knew that I was becoming increasingly attached to my son. He could sense the pressure I was unintentionally placing on him. He had always been very obedient and tried his best to study the Fa, do the exercises, and complete his daily tasks. But I kept thinking that if only he could focus a bit more and manage his time better, things would be perfect.
Seeing his efforts and how he had no time to relax, I felt very distressed. I began to weigh things in my mind, trying to figure out how he could have time for himself. Memorizing the Fa and doing the exercises definitely couldn’t be neglected, or else cultivation would gradually slack off. His academic studies also couldn’t fall behind. Growing up in Western society, English is important, and Chinese even more so—if he doesn’t learn it now, it will be even harder when he grows up. In the future, if he wants to dance, how could he not understand music and rhythm? So the piano lessons couldn’t be dropped either. But knowing music without physical strength is also useless, so swimming couldn’t be neglected. Jumping rope every day would help him grow taller, so that couldn’t be left out either. The more I thought about it, the more it felt like nothing could be let go. In the end, I chose to maintain the status quo.
One day, while listening to Minghui Radio, I heard a sharing from a 13-year-old practitioner who memorized the Fa ten hours a day during summer vacation, and finished memorizing Zhuan Falun in one summer. I thought this was remarkable. I replayed that sharing for my son, and said to him, “Summer vacation is coming. You don’t have to be like this practitioner, but how about we finish memorizing Lecture One?” My son happily agreed.
To finish memorizing Lecture One during summer vacation, he had to memorize half a page of text every day, including reviewing previous content, studying, and memorizing the Fa, which took seven or eight hours a day. I completely forgot that he was only a little over six years old. I simply encouraged him, saying, “You can do it.” He worked very hard and memorized well, never thinking that my demands were excessive. Sometimes he even said, “I can memorize two more sentences today.”
While he was memorizing the Fa, I sat with him and worked on my own things. Sometimes I needed to go to the project team, and hoped he could memorize the new content before I left. Several times, when he couldn’t memorize a particular sentence I got very angry and asked, “Why can’t you remember it? Why aren’t you putting your heart into it?”
My harsh tone often left my son feeling hurt and in tears. After losing my temper, I always regretted it, feeling that I was too hard on him. However, when it happened again I still found it hard to control my emotions, and I spoke and acted harshly. Throughout the entire summer, I felt completely drained. Although I knew it was wrong to lose my temper with my son, and that I should be more patient, I just carried on without truly looking inward.
On the last day of summer vacation, he finally finished memorizing Lecture One. He was very happy. As for me, I merely felt relieved that school was starting the next day.
School started, and it was my son’s first day in second grade at Minghui School. Because he was the only second grader, he attended classes with the first graders. Not long after, a test came. My son was very happy at school every day, but there were always parents complaining that my son bullied their child. His schoolmates often complained to me that he spoke rudely to them, and the teacher gave similar feedback. For a while, whenever I picked up my son from school and saw someone walking straight toward me, I felt nervous, thinking they were coming to complain.
My son had attended a regular private school since he was two, until he completed first grade. The teachers and classmates there all liked him, and his classmates enjoyed playing with him. Why did he change so much in just one summer? Especially since during that summer he spent most of his time memorizing the Fa.
A few days later, the teacher called me into her office and told me that based on her observations, my son lied. The teacher’s words struck me hard. Where did my son learn to lie? Walking out of the teacher’s office, I felt very heavy-hearted.
That day, when I picked my son up from school, his best friend told me that my son hit him. I asked my son, “Why did you hit your friend?” He replied, “I didn’t.” That “I didn’t” completely infuriated me. I thought of what the teacher said about my son lying. Wasn’t this lying right to my face? I was furious and said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Why did you hit your classmate?” My son still answered, “I didn’t.”
I was angry. I pulled him out of the classroom and questioned him in the corner of the parking lot, “If you didn’t hit him, how could he falsely accuse you? Did you hit him or not?” My son was frightened and cried. But he still insisted that he hadn’t hit anyone.
That night, I ignored him and stayed in my room. I felt deeply disheartened, wondering why, after all these years of effort, my son was turning out this way. To calm my racing thoughts, I sat down in meditation posture, legs crossed, and hands forming the mudra. Dafa music gradually slowed my galloping thoughts. The long-missed tranquility slowly washed away the fatigue, grievance, helplessness, and other human emotions.
Once calm, I randomly opened Master’s teachings and saw this sentence from “Fa Teachings Given in Manhattan”:
“With such an enormous Fa here, the Fa will be with you when your thoughts are righteous, and this is the greatest assurance. But on the other hand, when your righteous thoughts are inadequate and not in line with the Fa, you will be cut off from the Fa’s power, and it will seem like you are alone and getting no help.” (“Fa Teachings Given in Manhattan,” Collected Teachings Given Around the World, Volume X)
“...alone and getting no help”—that was precisely how I felt at that moment. For a long time, I appeared busy every day, but my Fa study was superficial, and I regarded doing things as cultivation.
In handling issues with my son, I only demanded things from him without maintaining the state of a cultivator towards him. Could my son feel that cultivation was a joyful thing for me? Was I guiding him in cultivation, or was I pushing him away?
Master gave clear guidance on educating children in Zhuan Falun:
“You should educate children with reason so that you can really teach them well.” (Lecture Nine, Zhuan Falun)
I resolved to change myself first to help my son get rid of the shortcomings pointed out by his teacher and classmates.
The next day after school, I took my son to a restaurant. I sincerely told him that losing my temper the day before was not how a cultivator should act, and I apologized to him. I told him that cultivators must be honest and that Master does not like children who lie, even about the smallest things. I spoke very gently, and he listened attentively.
After dinner, we happily walked out. In the waiting area of the restaurant, there was a decorative bonsai, and my son accidentally knocked over a glass ornament, shattering it. He stood frozen, not knowing what to do. I didn’t get angry or scold him. I let him decide whether he wanted to admit to the staff that it was his fault, and I said to him, “You are a little practitioner. I believe you’ll make the right choice.” My son thought for a moment, then pulled me back into the restaurant and said to the staff, “I broke the glass ornament outside.” The staff member kindly replied, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” I left my phone number in case they needed to contact me.
Walking out of the restaurant, I squatted down to my son’s level and told him, “You are a brave and honest little practitioner.” He smiled happily. At that moment, I suddenly realized that this was Master’s ingenious arrangement, giving me an opportunity to teach my son how to be an honest person.
I suddenly understood that his lying came from my overly harsh attitude toward him. If I spoke gently to him, he wouldn’t speak rudely to other children at school.
Master said:
“…if the parents have problems in certain respects, the kid will reflect that. Those will be intentionally shown to Dafa disciples and to the parents.” (Teachings at the 2004 International Conference in New York)
It turns out it wasn’t that my son changed; he was my mirror, reflecting my own issues. The problem was entirely with myself.
Two weeks later, when I saw the teacher again, she happily told me, “Zixiang no longer lies, and he speaks kindly and patiently with his friends at school. Thank you, for your cooperation.” I was grateful for Master’s guidance and for the teacher’s thoughtful care of my son.
I later met some other parents, and they said to me kindly, “Boys are like this—they roughhouse. Your son is bigger than the others, so even a light push makes the other kids fall. He’s not doing it on purpose. Don’t take it to heart.” Remembering how bitterly my son cried that day fills me with deep regret. Yet he never resented me for misunderstanding him and always greets me with a bright smile and clear, innocent eyes.
Through this experience, I suddenly gained a deeper understanding of the saying, “The appearance stems from the mind.” In fact, our environment is created by ourselves—it is shaped by our own xinxing.
While my son was memorizing the Fa one day, I also memorized. He asked me, “Dad, how come you’re memorizing the Fa too?” I replied, “Dad wants to ‘compare in studying, compare in cultivating.’” He was very happy.
After memorizing, we checked each other’s recitation for mistakes. When he came to places that were hard for him to memorize, they often turned out to be the same places where I made mistakes. It turned out that the bottlenecks my son encountered in memorizing the Fa were not necessarily due to his lack of focus.
As I memorized the Fa word by word, I felt layers of murky substances in my mind being cleansed by Master and washed away by Dafa. My thinking became clearer, and my mindset more peaceful. The previous impatience, anxiety, and pressure that hung over me for nearly a year, disappeared. Gradually, my son and I returned to the light and joyful atmosphere we once had while studying the Fa together.
Through this period of memorizing the Fa, I discovered many of my attachments. I was no longer a domineering father. I no longer forcefully told my son what he should or should not do. I allowed him to do things at his own pace and permitted him to make mistakes. I found that he was more relaxed and composed than before—and yet he became even more diligent and valued his time more than before. When I let go of my human attachments, my son changed. All of this stemmed from my son’s diligent Fa study.
Just when my son and I returned to a normal, relaxed routine of studying the Fa, learning, and living, changes occurred at my work. The director of photography and the gaffer of a film approached me, wanting me to participate in their filming. My boss told me that they wanted to teach me skills on set, which was a rare opportunity that I should seize. I agreed, but in my heart, I was concerned about my son. Would he maintain his Fa memorization while I was away? Would he slack off? While working on location, during idle moments, these concerns sometimes emerged.
One morning, I learned from my family about a dream my son had the previous night. After falling asleep, suddenly a hole appeared in a corner of his room, emitting a white light. In an instant, my son was taken away by this white light and arrived in a world of golden splendor. He saw heavenly maidens scattering flowers, and layers upon layers of Vajras and Buddhas. He saw Master wearing a yellow kasaya. Master smiled kindly at him, and said, “Study the Fa well, practice the exercises well, dance well, grow tall quickly, and join Shen Yun.” I knew this was Master encouraging my son and enlightening me—that my son is under Master’s care and that I should let go of my worries.
During the six months of filming, I gained a great deal. On the day of wrapup, we finished work at 7 a.m. Walking out of the studio, I felt no fatigue at all. Facing the sunlight, feeling the wind as I drove home, I thought to myself, “Cultivation is truly wonderful. Having Master is truly wonderful!”
One night, after we finished memorizing the Fa and closed the book, my son suddenly said to me, “Dad, I didn’t choose the wrong person.” I knew his words were encouragement from Master.
My son’s innocence and kindness have shown me the state that life is supposed to be. At the same time, he is my mirror, reflecting my attachments and helping me continuously rectify myself according to the Fa, and do better. He has also been able to see an imperfect father who is striving to change himself through cultivation.
I feel that I am growing in cultivation together with my son. Speaking of education, guiding my son to walk the path of cultivation is, in my view, the best education I can give him.
Thank you, Master! Thank you, fellow practitioners!
If anything in my sharing is not in line with the Fa, please kindly correct me.
(Selected Sharing Article Presented at the 2025 Canada Fa Conference)