Kuan Yin,

The Compassionate Rebel

Article of the Month - November 2005

It is unfortunate that Buddhism's most enduring (and universal) contribution to the

world has been insufficiently translated as compassion. The original Sanskrit word is
'karuna,' which holds within itself traces of the fragment 'ru,' meaning to weep.
While the Oxford dictionary describes compassion as pity bordering on the merciful,
karuna is actually our ability to relate to another in so intense a measure that the
plight of the other affects us as much as if it had been our own.

The term karuna is central to the entire Buddhist tradition. It is frequently described
as a love for all beings, equal in intensity to a mother's affection for her child.
However, it is quite unlike conventional love (Sanskrit: priya, kama or trishna),
which is rooted in dualistic thinking and is egoistic, possessive and exclusive, in
contrast to the all-encompassing nature of compassion. The root meaning of karuna
is said to be the anguished cry of deep sorrow and understanding that can only come
from an unblemished sense of oneness with others 

In fact, the evolution of Buddhism in Asia and its spread throughout the world is,
from a spiritual point of view, none other than the unfolding of karuna in history.
Nowhere is this more explicitly exemplified than in the Chinese assimilation of
Buddhism. Few would deny that the defining symbol of this integration is the
goddess, who with her sweet and merciful disposition, has won the hearts of not only
the Chinese, but also profoundly affected even those who, belonging to a foreign
tradition, have only had a fleeting interaction with her. This divine female is none
other than Kuan Yin, beloved goddess of over a billion people the world over. Her
name too signifies her compassionate nature, literally meaning 'One who hears the
cries of the world.'

It remains a historical fact that Kuan Yin is the Chinese version of the male god
Avalokiteshvara, whom the ancient texts eulogize as the patron deity of compassion.
It is fascinating however to observe that nowhere in India (where he originated) or
Tibet (where he remains the most popular deity) is the latter ever deified as a female
figure. In China too, his worship began as a male god, but over time, changed into a
goddess and by the ninth century her popularity had prevailed over that of
Avalokiteshvara's.

There are many reasons why this gender transformation took place. As
Avalokiteshvara evolved into the supreme personality of the Buddhist pantheon, with
this heightened pedestal came the inevitable elitism. Karuna, however, cannot be
and is not (as it has become today under the pseudonym of compassion), the
exclusive preserve of a charmed circle, but rather a symphonic identification with the
masses, sharing their suffering and pleasure alike. No wonder then that
Avalokiteshvara shed streams of tears observing the plight of his people. Now, any
emanation from a divine form is bound to hold a dynamic potential within itself and
indeed Indian mythology is replete with examples where fluids emerging from deities
have led to enormous consequences. Tears similarly are a spontaneous emotional
response to external stimuli and represent the outward flow of Avalokiteshvara's
infinite karuna.

From these pearls emanated a beautiful female as attractive as she was

compassionate. The goddess Tara, thus born, has continued her upward spiral of
popularity and remains one of the most loved and widely recognized deities of the
Buddhist pantheon today. Truly, even though Avalokiteshvara retains his foremost
status in the gallery of Tibetan gods, in the popular imagination it is Tara, who with
her supple charm, has come to symbolize the tenderness of karuna.

It is relevant here to observe that Kuan Yin is often depicted in art holding a leafy
twig, derived from the 'weeping willow' tree, known so due to its trailing leafy
branches that droop to the ground and along which raindrops trickle down like tears.

One of its distinctive characteristics is remaining green throughout the year, pointing
perhaps to the goddess' fertility aspect, which is further echoed in images showing
her with an infant.

The willow also has a deeper and direct connection with Chinese culture and it is
believed that Lao Tzu, the author of Tao-te Ching, loved to meditate under its shade
(6th century BC). It was under the same tree that the younger Confucius had his
famous interview with Lao Tzu, telling his disciples afterwards:

"I know how birds fly, fishes swim and animals run. But there is the dragon - I
cannot tell how he mounts on the winds through the clouds, and rises to heaven.
Today, having seen Lao Tzu, I can only compare him to the dragon."

Over centuries, Kuan Yin's visual depictions have highlighted her lithe, flowing form,
much like the willow tree itself, which has the ability to bend during the most
ferocious winds and then spring back into shape again. Indeed, who wants to stand
rigid like the tall oak that cracks and collapses in a storm? Instead, one needs to be
flexible like the willow, which survives the tempest.

Or perhaps, Kuan Yin merely uses the willow branch to sprinkle the divine nectar of
life on her devotees, which is stored in the vase she holds in her other hand.

The Chinese (ever disposed to envisage friendly divinities in idealized human forms),
seem to have been initially perplexed by Avalokiteshvara's complex iconography. Not
for them his thousand hands or even the seven eyes of Tara. Exposed for eons to the
essentially humanistic philosophy of Confucianism, such images were alien and felt
to be unsuitable for portraying the 'soft' emotion of karuna, the yearning passion a
mother feels for her child. 

The Tibetan mind solved the craving for a down to earth, visual embodiment of
karuna by envisioning the goddess Tara; the Chinese genius did the same by
enclosing this virtue in the graceful and beautiful Kuan Yin, who was eminently
human in appearance and approachable by all. Indeed, she gradually became the
favored goddess of the peasants and fishermen of China, retaining her place in their
hearts to the present day.
Additionally in China, not only had popular gods always been real people who had
once lived in specific times and places, even mythical figures were turned into
historical cultural heroes who were then venerated as the founding fathers of
Chinese civilization. Unlike Greece, where human heroes were transformed into
Olympian gods, in China the reverse held true and if a god or goddess was not
perhaps originally a human being, there was often an effort to turn her or him into
one. Kuan Yin thus again had to change from a goddess into a living woman, so that
she could be worshipped as a Chinese goddess. Truly, the human character of
Chinese deities is one of the most distinctive features of their religion, and like
ordinary mortals they too have birthdays, ancestries, careers and titles. Therefore,
even though Kuan Yin is not given a date of birth in any of the Buddhist sutras, her
birthday is widely celebrated on the nineteenth day of the second month of the lunar
calendar.

The legend describing how Kuan Yin was once a woman gives a fascinating insight
into the working of the Chinese genius and the process by which she was given a
distinctively local flavor and absorbed into their pantheon:

It is said that in the past, there once lived a king under whose rule the people led a
peaceful existence governed by Confucian ethics. He had three daughters; the eldest
two having already married the grooms of their father's choice. The youngest
offspring however, was unlike any other normal child. Firstly, when she was born,
her body glowed with an almost unearthly light so much so that the palace seemed
on fire. She was thus befittingly named Miao Shan (Wonderful Goodness).

Secondly, as she grew up, she wore only dirty clothes and never did display any urge
to adorn herself. Further, she would subsist on only a single meal every day. In her
conversations she would talk about the impermanence of material things and how
human beings suffer because of their attachment to such objects. Naturally worried
about their daughter's detached inclinations, her parents proposed that (as per the
Confucian ideals of filial piety) she too marry a husband of their choice. To this she
replied:

"I would never, for the sake of one lifetime of enjoyment, plunge into aeons of
misery. I have pondered on this matter and deeply detest this earthly union
(marriage)." Nevertheless, when her parents insisted, she agreed to comply with
their wishes if only her future mate would save her from the following three
misfortunes:

1). When people are young, their face is as fair as the jade-like moon, but when they
grow old, the hair turns white and faces become wrinkled; whether walking, resting,
sitting, or lying down, they are in every way worse off than when they were young.

2). Similarly, when our limbs are strong and vigorous one may walk as if flying
through air, but when we suddenly becomes sick, we are confined to the bed.

3). A person may have a large group of relatives and be surrounded by his flesh and
blood, but when death comes, even such close kin as father and son cannot take the
person's place.

Finally she concluded: "If indeed my future husband can ensure my deliverance
against these misfortunes, I will gladly marry him. Otherwise, I vow to remain a
spinster all my life. People all over the world are mired in these kinds of suffering. If
one desires to be free of them, the only option is to leave the secular world and
enter the gate of Buddhism."

This narrative of course, is parallel to one of the most significant episodes from the
life of the Buddha when he encountered the three maladies of physical existence:
sickness, old age and death.

Exasperated to no end, the king summoned an old and experienced nun of his
kingdom. He asked her to take the princess under tutelage and expose her to as
much hardship as possible in the nunnery, so that she realize the futility of her
desired path. The instruction was tinged with a threat of annihilation if after seven
days Miao Shan was not 'reformed'.

Needless to say, all the travails she had to undergo at the monastery, including hard
manual labor, were insufficient to deter her from the path of Dharma. However, Miao
Shan did realize that she was being thus subjected because the inhabitants of the
nunnery were under the threat of death. She addressed them, saying:

"Don't you know the stories about the ancient prince Mahasattva, who plunged off
the cliff in order to feed the hungry lions, or King Sivi's cutting off his flesh to save a
dove? Since you have already left the life of a householder, you should regard this
material body as illusory and impermanent. Why do you fear death and love life?
Don't you know that attachment to this dirty and smelly leather bag (body) is an
obstacle?"

At the end of the stipulated period, the monarch, in a mad and frenzied reaction,
ordered that Miao Shan be beheaded. As her executioners approached the
monastery gates, Miao Shan rushed out of the building, eager to embrace her
impending death. No sooner had she kneeled at the stake and the deadly sword been
raised, than a blinding thunder rose. Before the assailants could regain their
composure, a tiger darted out of the darkness and carried away the swooning girl
into the nearby hills. The king, now beyond the bounds of reason, ordered the
hermitage to be burnt down with all its inhabitants.

It was not long before his karma caught up with him and he fell sick with kaamla
(jaundice). He was restless for days on end, finding no rest even in sleep. The
disease spread all over his body and the best doctors throughout the land were
unable to cure him. One day, a holy mendicant came to his door and predicted: "If
some person would willingly consent to give his or her arms or eyes without the
slightest anger or resentment, the elixir made of these potent ingredients will surely
relieve you from your suffering."

"Where alas will I find such a compassionate being?" lamented the king. "In this very
land," said the monk. "Go southwest in your dominion, on top of the mountain there
is a hermit who possesses all the characteristics which are necessary for your
healing."

No sooner had he heard this than the king ordered his envoys to hurry to the abode
of the recluse. On being informed of his plight and its prescribed remedy, the hermit
readily agreed to undergo the supreme sacrifice, requesting them to ask the
suffering king to direct his mind to the three treasures of Buddhism and then very
calmly proceeded to gauge out both the eyes and asked one of the men to sever the
two arms. The three worlds shook under the impact of this terrible sacrifice.

When he had fully recovered, the king made haste with his wife to pay homage to
the one who had so miraculously saved his life. After bowing low before the
mutilated form, as soon as they raised their heads they let out a shriek of astonished
horror; the hermit's true identity lay bare before them. She was none other than
their youngest daughter Miao Shan. Realizing what she had done for him, despite all
that he had done to her, the king fell prostrate upon the floor and asked for
forgiveness. Overcome with emotion, the parents embraced her and the father said:
"I am so evil that I have caused my own daughter terrible suffering." Miao Shan
replied,

"Father, I have suffered no pain. Having given up these human eyes, I shall see with
diamond eyes. Having yielded the mortal arms, I shall receive golden arms. If my
calling is true all this will follow."

Much sobered by this intense experience, the king returned to his palace and ordered
a statue to be made of her, which, emphasizing her sacrifice was to be without eyes
and hands. Now, in Chinese, the sound for 'bereft' or 'deficient' are virtually identical
with 'thousand.' At some stage in the transmission of this message, the two words
were confused and the sculptor toiled away, desperately seeking some way to
capture the essence of the king's wishes. He very imaginatively (or perhaps following
Indian or Tibetan models) placed one eye on each palm, making the number of eyes
equal to the arms,

giving rise in the process to an awesome and complex image of breathtaking

splendor. 

Unable to relate to the thousand-armed Avalokiteshvara, the above legend provided

a rational explanation to the bewildered viewer and helped integrate the goddess
into the Chinese ethos.

The story of Miao Shan represents the fusion of the Buddhist theme of the gift of the
body and the Confucian concept of filial piety. In the former tradition, giving is one of
the six perfections performed by a bodhisattva (would be Buddha). Amongst the
different forms of gifts, that of one's own body is the best. The only difference is that
while the bodhisattvas give up their bodies in order to feed or save sentient beings
regardless of any formal relationship with them, the fact that Miao Shan does so for
her father is where the Confucian model comes in. In the former context, a tale is
narrated of the Buddha, who in one of his previous births was a pigeon. He saw a
man lose his way during a snowstorm, driven to the point of starvation. The pigeon
gathered twigs and leaves, made a fire and threw himself wholeheartedly into it, to
become food for the distressed soul. It is this lofty ideal that Kuan Yin was following,
a self-sacrifice par excellence, motivated by pure (selfless) and indiscriminate
compassion (karuna).

On the other hand, Kuan Yin as Miao Shan gives a bold and provocative message,
challenging Confucian value systems as delineated in the 'Classic of Filial Piety'
(published by the emperor Xuan in AD 722). Her life glorifies austerity, celibacy and
renunciation, which, as per Buddhism, are highly valued (against the householder,
who is necessary in Confucianism for creating offspring to perpetuate the lineage). In
times of the Ming for example, one could achieve religious sanctification by
performing one's domestic obligations to the fullest degree. Eventually, Chinese of all
social strata and both sexes came to know Kuan Yin as the strong-willed yet filial
girl, who refused to get married and rebelled against stifling authority.

Conclusion:

The goddess Kuan Yin is a symbol, not only of the Chinese assimilation of Buddhism,
but also of the many hued flavor of karuna, expressed through the softer wisdom of
a woman. She is a pointer to the re-emergence of the goddess and the gender
transformation of Avalokiteshvara in China represents perhaps a universal
imperative, which is similarly reflected in the emanation of the goddess Tara from
the compassionate tears of the same bodhisattva. Though often images are
encountered, which show her sporting a moustache, emphasizing masculinity; this is
negated by the softness of her demeanor.

Can anything be more subtly female than her graceful poise - modest and inward
looking, yet potent enough to generate and compassionately nourish the whole
outside world? In the words of Martin Palmer: "The divine feminine cannot be
suppressed for long. In China, it emerged by the transformation of the male into the
female," only god (or the goddess) knows how it will transpire in other cultures.

References and Further Reading

 Blofeld, John. Bodhisattva of Compassion The Mystical Tradition of Kuan Yin:

Boston, 1988.
 Boucher, Sandy. Discovering Kwan Yin, Buddhist Goddess of Compassion:
Boston, 1999.
 Cabezon, Jose Ignacio. Buddhism, Sexuality, and Gender: Delhi, 1992.
 Colin, Didier. Dictionary of Symbols, Myths and Legends: London, 2000.
 Farrer-Halls, Gill. The Feminine Face of Buddhism: Illinois, 2002.
 Jones, Lindsay (ed). Encyclopedia of Religion (Previously Edited by Mircea
Eliade) 15 volumes: MI, 2005.
 Keown, Damien. Oxford Dictionary of Buddhism: Oxford, 2003.
 Kinsley, David. The Goddesses' Mirror Visions of the Divine from East and
West: Delhi, 1995.
 Palmer, Martin and Jay Ramsay, with Man-Ho Kwok. Kuan Yin Myths and
Prophecies of the Chinese Goddess of Compassion: London, 1995.
 Phillips, Kathy J. (Photography by Joseph Singer). This Isn't a Picture I'm
Holding: Kuan Yin: Honolulu, 2004.
 Watson, Burton (translator). The Lotus Sutra: Delhi, 1999.
 Wright, Arthur F. Buddhism in Chinese History: Stanford, 1959.

Yu, Chun-Fang. Kuan Yin The Chinese Transformation of Avalokiteshvara

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