When my father was in his early twenties, he traveled by ship from China to Thailand seeking a better life. He didn’t bring many possessions with him, only some extra clothes that he stuffed in a Chinese traveling case, a woven bamboo shoulder pack. When he finally made his way to Thailand, he settled in the province of Chanthaburi, where he lived in Klong Naam Khem district in the coastal town of Laem Sing on the Gulf of Thailand. That’s where he met my mother, who was born in Chanthaburi province to a Chinese father and a Thai mother. After they married, they moved ten miles north along the main Chanthaburi Canal to live at Nong Bua village. My whole family, including my parents and grandparents, had a strong faith in Buddhism. After all, we were all born Buddhists.

My father adopted the Thai name Sunchae Pothikit. My mother’s name was Fae Pothikit. My parents made their living as merchants, operating a general store from the ground floor of our home, selling local produce such as fruit, rice, and fish. In those days, there were no motorcars, so people traveled from one place to another on foot. My dad used to walk the length and breadth of Chanthaburi province collecting the rent from his rice fields. His trekking covered long distances: three miles from Nong Bua to Priw, six miles from Priw to Dong Ching, and another six miles to Srijomthian. He walked the whole route and then returned home straight after finishing his business. My dad was a strong and diligent man who worked very hard to build our family business.

As for me, I was born on June 6, 1916 in Tambon Khlong Naam Khem, Laem Sing district, Chanthaburi province. This date was equivalent to Tuesday, the sixth day of the seventh lunar month in the Year of the Dragon. I was the fourth child of a loving family with two older sisters, one older brother, two younger sisters, and one younger brother. My parents adopted our eldest sister, Pim, who was adored by all of us.

Initially, my parents called me Ow Jia, which means “black stone,” because I have a large black birthmark on my back. Later they shortened my name to Jia, which means “eat” in Chinese—maybe I used to eat too much! The black birthmark, which stretches from the center of my back across my shoulder blade and down toward my waist, was said to be a very auspicious sign. I wasn’t aware of that when I was growing up, but after I became a monk, I met a man in the south of the country who told me that it was very rare for anyone to be born with a black birthmark of such size on his back.

It is claimed that people who have this type of birthmark tend to be as solid as a rock. They can endure anything. Whether it’s extreme heat or extreme cold, ecstasy or misery, they can cope with every situation and overcome every obstacle. This makes for a good Dhamma teaching, reminding us to be emotionally firm, strong, and stable as a rock. When somebody pours filth on it, the rock is unmoved; should someone pour perfume on it, it’s equally unmoved. There is no reaction from the rock.

My childhood home was a two-story shophouse located at No. 82, Unit 7 in the Muang district in Nong Bua near where the main canal empties into the sea. The house stood on the canal side of the road with its back to the water. The front of the house faced a hard, earthen street crowded with many homes and small businesses. The rear of the house backed right up to the main canal which flowed down to the sea. A small area on the side between the house and the water, hugging the canal’s edge and cordoned off by a fence made of driftwood slats, contained a dozen enormous, round earthenware jars used for storing fresh rainwater. On the other side, a narrow bamboo walkway along the back of the house provided access to the landing pier where our boats were docked. Where the pier jutted out into the slow current, the tall wooden post that anchored it stood out distinctly against the rows of neatly moored boats that lined the canal. Tidewater filled the canal at high tide each day, raising the boats to the level of the pier as water flooded the wide basin in all directions. The long island that formed the opposite shore of the canal was sparsely populated. Only a few dwellings were visible from my house. For the most part, mango and lychee orchards grew all the way to the water’s edge.