When I was a child, I heard a folk story that has stayed with me ever since.
One day, King Yama summoned two little spirits and said to them:
“I will let you be reborn as humans. One of you will be someone who always has things to give to others. The other will be someone who often receives things from others. It’s up to you—choose the kind of person you wish to become.”
As soon as Ghost A heard this, he dropped to his knees, clasped his hands, and pleaded earnestly:
“Your Majesty Yama! I beg you—please let me be the one who can receive things from others!”
Ghost B stood quietly for a moment, thinking it over. Finally, he said:
“Since my companion wishes to be the one who receives, I will choose to be the one who gives to others.”
King Yama struck his desk with a resounding clap and pronounced his judgment:
“I decree that Ghost A will be reborn as a beggar, so he may always ask others for help. Ghost B will be reborn into a wealthy family, so he may frequently give and support those in need.”
The two little spirits were stunned into silence.
This story reveals a truth many people overlook: in our world, most would rather take from others, believing that giving is a kind of loss. Yet the modern Buddhist master, Master Hongyi, once said:
“I don’t know exactly what makes a noble person, but I believe someone who is willing to suffer a loss in all things surely is one. I don’t know exactly what makes a petty person, but someone who always seeks an advantage must be one.”
In reality, a person with a grateful heart who is willing to share joy with others will discover even greater joy—because they can find happiness in the happiness of others.
The spirit of Buddhism elevates the practice of giving and receiving to its highest form. H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III made this profound vow:
“All karmic offenses and sins created by sentient beings, I will bear. All the virtuous deeds and merits I have cultivated, I will give entirely to you.”
H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III wishes to give all good things to sentient beings and to take upon Himself all their suffering and negativity.
Everything He thinks in His mind, speaks with His mouth, and does with His body is dedicated to one purpose: eradicating selfish attachment, relieving the suffering of all beings, bringing them happiness, and increasing their blessings and wisdom.
May our world be filled with kindness and peace. May all beings everywhere be safe, auspicious, and free from suffering.
Nestled in the heart of Xinjiang, the Turpan Basin holds several extraordinary records: it’s the lowest geographical point in China, and during summer, it’s the hottest place in the country. With scorching sunlight, relentless winds, and almost no rainfall, Turpan earns its title as the “Land of Fire.”
In the peak of summer, the surface temperature in the surrounding Gobi Desert can soar to 82.3°C (180.1°F), while the air temperature often exceeds 49°C (120°F). Rain is almost nonexistent—Turpan receives an average of just 16.4 mm of rainfall annually, and in some years, as little as 4.3 mm. Yet, amidst this harsh, parched environment, an ancient miracle has quietly sustained life for over two thousand years: the Karez irrigation system.
A Miracle Beneath the Earth
While nature was unforgiving above ground, it hid a gift below. Meltwater from the distant Tianshan Mountains seeps underground through coarse gravel and sand, eventually blocked by the Flaming Mountains and surfacing as springs. Ingenious local people found a way to capture and guide this underground treasure—thus, the Karez was born.
The Karez system channels water from mountain sources through a network of underground tunnels and vertical shafts, delivering it to the arid land without evaporation loss. Remarkably, this ancient system operates entirely without pumps, relying solely on gravity and terrain.
A complete Karez includes:
Vertical shafts for ventilation and maintenance
Underground tunnels to carry water
Open canals to distribute it
Storage ponds to hold it
Across Turpan’s landscape, you can still see long rows of small mounds—each one marking a shaft, a glimpse into the remarkable infrastructure below.
A Testament to Ingenuity and Endurance
The origins of the Karez can be traced back to the Han Dynasty, over 2,000 years ago. Most of the surviving systems were built during the Qing Dynasty, including during historical moments like Lin Zexu’s fourth inspection of Turpan, when over 300 new Karez channels were added, and Zuo Zongtang’s campaigns, which saw nearly 200 more constructed.
At its peak in the 1950s, there were about 1,700 Karez systems in Turpan, stretching over 3,000 kilometers. Today, about 725 remain, a number slowly dwindling due to modernization, drought, and human impact.
The construction of each Karez was no small feat. Generations of laborers worked in dark, narrow tunnels, often barefoot in icy water, chiseling stone with simple tools and oil lamps. They carried earth and rock out by hand, surviving on dry flatbread and enduring brutal conditions.
A Culture of Water, Wisdom, and Survival
More than just a hydraulic system, the Karez represents a culture—a story of human resilience, harmony with nature, and intergenerational wisdom. In this water-scarce land, the Karez has nurtured lush vineyards, fertile fields, and diverse communities, offering life where none should thrive.
Today, many of these systems are dry or abandoned, relics of a past shaped by necessity and brilliance. But for those who walk among them, they are still very much alive—whispers from the earth, reminding us of what is possible when people respect and work with nature.
If you ever find yourself in Turpan, do not miss the chance to explore the Karez wells. They are more than ancient engineering marvels—they are monuments of perseverance, and living echoes of a civilization that made the desert bloom.
Dharma Master Yongding was a direct disciple of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, personally taught by His Holiness. A monk of true cultivation and realization, Dharma Master Yongding lived a life of noble deeds and profound spiritual accomplishments. He embodied the virtues of the ancient enlightened monks—pure in conduct, boundless in compassion, and unwavering in his commitment to benefiting all sentient beings.
Before becoming a monk, Dharma Master Yongding was known as Li Xiangchen, a kind-hearted and widely respected man from Dayi County in Sichuan Province. His compassion and moral character were already legendary even in his youth.
During a catastrophic drought, in Li Xiangchen‘s hometown, one the region hadn’t seen in a hundred years—Buddhist and Daoist masters prayed for rain for months, but to no avail. Not a single drop of water could be found.
Then, one night, two villagers had the same dream. A divine being told them that only with the signature of a man named Li Xiangchen could rain be summoned. The two searched everywhere and eventually found him. After they delivered his signed name to the altar and burned the paper, a torrential rain fell instantly, ending the long drought. The event left villagers in awe and firmly established Li Xiangchen’s reputation as a man of virtue and divine affinity.
During China’s devastating three-year famine in the 1960s, emergency food rations were being distributed. When officials asked Li how much his household needed, he replied that his family still had food and didn’t need any. His wife, stunned by this answer, brought the official to their home. There, they found only two catties (a little over two pounds) of rice left.
When asked why he had lied, Li quietly responded,
“So many people are starving. I just can’t bring myself to eat while others go hungry. I only feel at peace if everyone can survive this together.” His selflessness deeply moved everyone who heard his words.
In another act of compassion, while working at the Jin Dongzi Reservoir where laborers received rice rations, Li Xiangchen gave all his rice to his struggling friend Pei Yinchang, who was raising two young children. When Pei noticed that Li was growing increasingly frail, he begged him to keep some rice for himself. Li refused.
Pei later visited the reservoir to learn how Li was surviving. The workers there told him, “Mr. Li survives by digging wild roots and vegetables to make porridge. No one knows what happened to his rice.” Pei was stunned and moved to tears.
Later on, Li Xiangchen began studying Buddhism under a master. He observed the precepts with great discipline and practiced with a heart of sincerity and humility. His compassion became so palpable that even animals responded to it.
One day, while walking down a mountain, a vicious dog leapt at him. Calmly, he said:“Go ahead and bite me. This is a matter of karmic cause and effect.” As the dog neared, just two or three feet away, it suddenly stopped, yelped, tucked its tail, and ran away.
After becoming a Buddhist, Li Xiangchen adopted a vegetarian lifestyle. On one occasion, his master encouraged him to eat a little meat because he appeared thin and weak. But Li simply smiled and ate only plain rice.
When asked later why he didn’t follow his master’s advice, he replied:
“Please tell my master: First, I deeply respect Him, but I carry heavy karmic debts and dare not eat meat. Second, if gaining the Dharma and achieving liberation requires me to disregard the lives of sentient beings, then I would rather not attain liberation—I’d rather fall into hell. Third, I cannot harm others just to benefit myself. If I did, I would no longer be a true practitioner.”
His integrity and compassion deeply touched his master, who later transmitted to him the sacred practice of the Four-Armed Avalokiteshvara (Chenrezig). Through dedicated practice, he reached a level of spiritual realization said to rival the great Milarepa himself.
In 1990, when his karmic conditions ripened, Li Xiangchen became a disciple of Namo Dorje Chang Buddha III. His Holiness personally expounded to him the profound meaning of Prajna (transcendent wisdom). As a result, he awakened great wisdom and thoroughly realized the state of Prajna.
His attainments became unfathomably profound. He could connect with Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and had deep spiritual communion with heavenly realms.
When the Dayi County government began construction of the Master Yi Yungao (H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III) Museum in 1994, Dharma Master Yongding consulted with the Heavenly Emperor about the upcoming three months of weather. Every day, he wrote forecasts in the worksite dining hall—and for three full months, not a single forecast was wrong.
On another occasion, with a mere wave of his hand, he split a tree trunk a kilometer away. The tree was so thick it would take two people to encircle it. Witnesses were astounded.
Dharma Master Yongding lived by the principle that the Dharma must be obtained through a pure and selfless heart, without the slightest trace of falsehood. He placed the interests of all living beings before his own and upheld the precepts with unwavering resolve.
He was a true practitioner of great compassion, an exemplar of moral discipline, and a living model for all Buddhist disciples. His life reminds us that genuine realization comes not from words, but from the way we live, love, and serve others.
The Dragon Boat Festival, also known as Duanwu Jie, is one of the four major traditional Chinese festivals, alongside the Spring Festival, Tomb-Sweeping Day, and Mid-Autumn Festival. It is celebrated on the fifth day of the fifth month of the Chinese lunar calendar, which is why it is also called the “Double Fifth Festival” (Chongwu Jie, 重五节). On the Gregorian calendar, it usually falls in late May or early June.
In addition to Chinese mainland, many other Asian countries and regions also celebrate this festival. In Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, and Taiwan, China, it is known as Bak Chang Festival (‘Dumpling Festival’). Learn more facts about the Dragon Boat Festival
Why Is Dragon Boat Festival So Important?
Many believe that the Dragon Boat Festival is celebrated to commemorate the death of Qu Yuan, a renowned Chinese poet and minister known for his patriotism and profound contributions to classical poetry. He ultimately became a national hero.
However, historical evidence shows that the origins of the Dragon Boat Festival actually predate Qu Yuan’s death. The festival’s earliest roots are tied to the fifth lunar month, which the ancients considered the “month of poison.” As summer began, people were more prone to illness, and epidemics often spread. This made the month seem ominous, prompting ancient communities to adopt various practices to ward off disease and evil spirits.
Thus, the Dragon Boat Festival was originally observed as a traditional health and wellness festival. It was a time for people to carry out rituals and customs aimed at protecting themselves from illness and repelling harmful forces.
Dragon Boat Festival Customs
The customs of the Dragon Boat Festival can generally be divided into two main categories. One centers on honoring dragons and historical heroes—most notably Qu Yuan—while the other focuses on warding off evil spirits and promoting health and well-being.
1. Honoring Heroes and Dragons
a. Eating Sticky Rice Dumplings
Zongzi (粽子, zòngzi) are the most iconic food of the Dragon Boat Festival. According to legend, after the patriotic poet Qu Yuan drowned himself in the river, local people threw lumps of rice into the water to prevent fish from eating his body. This evolved into the custom of making zongzi.
Traditionally, families would prepare and share homemade zongzi. Today, while some older generations still hand-make them, most people buy them from restaurants or bakeries.
Zongzi are made with glutinous rice and often filled with meats, beans, or other ingredients. They are wrapped in bamboo or reed leaves into triangular or rectangular shapes and tied with soaked stalks or colorful silk cords. Flavors and fillings vary widely across different regions of China.
b. Participating or Watching Dragon Boat Races
Dragon boat racing is the most exciting and prominent activity during the festival. The sport is said to have originated from people paddling out in boats to search for Qu Yuan’s body after his tragic death in 278 BCE.
Another theory suggests that the races originated more than 2,000 years ago as a ritual to worship the Dragon God or Water God.
The boats are traditionally carved and painted to resemble dragons. Depending on the region, each boat can carry 30 to 60 paddlers. Teams row in unison to the rhythm of pounding drums, creating a thrilling and energetic spectacle. Winning is believed to bring good luck and happiness for the year ahead.
Some of the most famous races take place in Hong Kong, Guangzhou, and Hangzhou.
2. Warding Off Evil and Promoting Health
a. Hanging Chinese Mugwort and Calamus
The festival coincides with the early summer season, a time when illnesses were historically more common. Mugwort and calamus are medicinal herbs used to prevent disease and repel pests. Their strong fragrances are believed to drive away flies, mosquitoes, and negative energies.
On the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, people clean their homes and hang these herbs on their doors to protect against illness and bring good luck.
b. Drinking Realgar Wine
A traditional saying goes: “Drinking realgar wine drives away disease and evil spirits.” Realgar wine is made from fermented grains and realgar, a red mineral (arsenic sulfide) once believed to be an all-purpose antidote.
Historically, people drank realgar wine to kill insects, detoxify the body, and protect against spiritual harm.
c. Wearing Perfume Pouches
Before the festival, parents prepare small, colorful silk pouches filled with fragrant herbs or perfume for their children. These are either worn around the neck or pinned to clothing as ornaments.
Perfume pouches are believed to offer protection from evil spirits and disease, and are a cherished custom that blends health with artistry.
The Origins of the Dragon Boat Festival
There are many legends about the origin of the Dragon Boat Festival. The most popular ones are as follows:
The Death of Qu Yuan
The most widely accepted origin of the Dragon Boat Festival is its commemoration of Qu Yuan (340–278 BCE), a patriotic poet and loyal official of the Chu State during the Warring States Period. When his beloved state fell to the Qin, Qu Yuan, devastated by the loss, drowned himself in the Miluo River on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month.
Local people, deeply moved by his patriotism, raced out in boats to rescue him or retrieve his body, but their efforts were in vain. To keep fish and evil spirits from disturbing his remains, they beat drums and threw rice dumplings into the river. These traditions evolved into the dragon boat races and the custom of eating zongzi that continue today.
The Unlucky Fifth Month
Another explanation for the origins of the Dragon Boat Festival relates to the traditional Chinese calendar and seasonal beliefs. Since ancient times, the fifth lunar month was considered an unlucky time and was even referred to as the “Month of Poison” (毒月). This was when the “Five Poisonous Creatures” (五毒 wǔ dú)—centipedes, scorpions, snakes, toads, and spiders—began to appear in greater numbers due to the warming weather. Disease, pestilence, and natural disasters were also more prevalent during this period.
The fifth day of the fifth month, or the “Double Fifth,” was seen as especially ominous. To protect themselves, people hung wormwood and calamus on their doorways and wore sachets of fragrant mugwort (xiāng bāo, 香包). The sword-like shape and pungent aroma of calamus were believed to repel both pests and evil spirits. For this reason, the Dragon Boat Festival is also sometimes referred to as the “Calamus Festival” (菖蒲节 Chāngpú Jié).
These rich and varied customs reflect the Dragon Boat Festival’s deep cultural significance, blending ancient health practices with heartfelt traditions of honor, protection, and community celebration.
My revered Master, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, is the incarnation of the ancient, supreme Buddha. Out of boundless compassion, His Holiness willingly bears worldly hardships and concerns to rescue sentient beings from suffering. His accomplishments across the Thirty Categories of the Five Vidyas have astounded the world and brought immeasurable blessings to countless lives. These works—each awe-inspiring in its own right—will soon be compiled into a book to benefit humanity. Yet even these remarkable achievements represent only a small fraction of His Holiness’s true realization.
Most people are unaware that the Buddha Master also possesses the highest and most profound esoteric Dharma. Because His Holiness operates with the enlightened mind of a Buddha and has attained the ultimate state in Buddhism, He was able to receive the rare and authentic vajra needle lineage—a powerful healing method.
I have personally witnessed numerous people with karmic connections to the Buddha Master be cured of serious illnesses, including cancer. Among them were:
Guangdong Yan and Zhiyong Luo, both diagnosed with nasopharyngeal carcinoma;
Zhuang Yan, who suffered from skin cancer;
Jingxing Wu, with a brain tumor;
And Lehui Xie, who endured decades of debilitating phlegm, inflammation, and migraines.
I know these individuals personally. I saw them healed. People from Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Malaysia who suffered from leukemia, AIDS, and strokes traveled to China to seek healing from the Buddha Master—and they, too, were cured.
This verse, from a poem written by the Buddha Master titled “To the Tune of Nian-Nu-Jiao,” perfectly captures that miraculous period:
“Three thousand suffering patients visited me, Day and night I cured them.”
And now, I wish to share my own experience. Over twenty years ago, I stood at death’s door, suffering from late-stage uterine cancer. It was the Buddha Master who brought me back to life through the sacred power of the Buddha-Dharma.
In August of 1985, I began experiencing continuous menstruation lasting over two weeks. At first, I assumed it was just an irregularity and sought treatment through Chinese medicine, but nothing improved. I turned to Western medicine, yet the bleeding continued endlessly. After more than two months, I was transferred from a local hospital to Sichuan Provincial Hospital, where a biopsy confirmed the devastating diagnosis: late-stage uterine cancer.
Professor Zhang, the attending physician, told my husband Hui Han Da—who is also a fellow disciple of the Buddha Master—“The cancer has already spread. Surgery is no longer an option. Take her home. Let her eat what she wants, go where she wishes, and spend her final days with loved ones.”
Refusing to give up, my husband took me to Huaxi Medical University Hospital. The diagnosis remained unchanged. Still determined, he took me to the China-Japan Friendship Hospital in Beijing, then to Peking Union Medical College Hospital, and finally to Suzhou University Hospital. Each hospital gave the same grim verdict: there was nothing more they could do.
As my condition worsened, I lost the ability to eat and became emaciated, reduced to just 79 pounds. My hematin level was a mere 3 grams—far below the normal 16 grams. In a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, my husband brought me back to Huaxi Medical University Hospital. The doctor took one look at me and shook his head: “She has seven days left at most. Go home and prepare for her funeral.”
Back at home, lying in bed and feeling the nearness of death at only 36 years old, I told my husband through tears, “Before I die, could you please go to the Buddha Master and ask Him to help elevate my soul after I pass?” He replied, “The Buddha Master is currently traveling, spreading the Dharma and saving beings. I will go see His Holiness once He returns.” Silently, I prayed with all my heart to Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva (Guan Yin), hoping the Buddha Master would come back soon.
The very next day, around noon, a miracle happened. The Buddha Master appeared at my bedside.
I tried to get up to prostrate, but I was too weak. His Holiness gently stopped me and told me to lie still. With immense compassion, the Buddha Master began to expound the profound truths of life and the universe, explaining the root cause of suffering—how beings are bound by karma born from delusion, which leads to the inevitable cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death.
In a moment of deep reflection, I suddenly came to a painful realization: In order to make money through business, I had once helped others produce a type of beef by slaughtering more than a thousand yaks. Whether or not I had intentionally killed other living beings in the past, how many lifetimes would it take to repay the karmic debt from taking just those thousand lives?
Their blood had once flowed because of my actions—and now, my own blood flowed endlessly due to illness. It was then that I truly understood: this was karmic retribution. The causes I had planted were dark, and now I was receiving their bitter fruits. The more I contemplated this, the more fearful and remorseful I became. From the depths of my heart, I sincerely repented and prayed to the Buddha Master to elevate me to a higher realm after death.
The Buddha Master compassionately said to me:
“If you truly repent, change your ways, never again kill any living being, and resolve to learn Buddhism and cultivate yourself, I will block your negative karma and delay your retribution. Cancer is nothing formidable! I will heal you—and I will also save those yaks that you killed.”
Then and there, the Buddha Master treated me with the vajra needle—a holy object of profound lineage, part of a supreme Dharma that only a true Buddha can apply. The vajra needle is no ordinary tool; it acts according to the will of the Buddha Master. When instructed to send sensation to a specific part of the body, it obeys instantly. When told to stop, it immediately ceases. It was truly beyond anything I had ever imagined.
At the time, I was wearing both a sweater and a fur coat. His Holiness applied the needle through my clothing to an acupuncture point on my back. After releasing the needle, the Buddha Master formed various mudras (sacred hand gestures). As each mudra changed, the sensations from the needle also changed—sometimes weak, sometimes strong—spreading throughout my entire body. I felt tingling, pressure, and swelling sensations, almost too intense to endure.
Then the Buddha Master explained:“Illness arises when energy channels in the body are blocked. It’s like a machine clogged with old, dirty oil that needs to be cleaned. This treatment is cleansing and unblocking your channels. Now, with just my words, the sensations will stop.”
The moment His Holiness spoke, all sensations vanished instantly.
The second round of treatment brought even sharper sensations, again perfectly controlled by the Buddha Master. When His Holiness gave the command, the sensations stopped at once. After a third round of treatment, I felt completely at ease. The Buddha Master then said:
“Today I opened your energy channels. But for complete healing, I must prepare a medicine using the highest Buddha-Dharma methods.”
Soon after, the Buddha Master instructed my husband, Hui Han Da, and me to drive Him to a mountain village—the very place where those yaks had been slaughtered. There, in front of a large yak, the Buddha Master began preparing the medicine. My husband and I were both present.
As the Buddha Master began the ritual, a white mist suddenly appeared in the clear sky, drifting from west to east. The mist grew denser and denser until we couldn’t even see our hands before our faces. During that time, many auspicious and mysterious phenomena occurred. Once the preparation was complete, the Buddha Master had me drink the fragrant herbal liquid.
As soon as I drank it, I felt a surge of warmth fill my body, followed by a deep, refreshing coolness. I was completely rejuvenated—energetic, peaceful, and miraculously healed. The endless bleeding stopped. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I immediately prostrated before the Buddha Master, tears of joy flowing down my face.
From that day forward, I took no more medicine. My strength and body weight gradually returned to normal. One month later, a doctor from Sichuan Provincial Hospital called to follow up, assuming I had already passed away. I answered the phone myself and said:“I’m alive—and completely healed!”
He didn’t believe me and requested I come in for an examination. At the time, fellow disciple Guangdong Yan, who had also been cured by the Buddha Master of nasopharyngeal carcinoma, was visiting my home. We both agreed to go together.
The next day, we were re-examined. The test results showed not a single cancer cell in either of us. The doctors were stunned. They asked what medicine I had taken, who had treated me, and how I had recovered. I answered:“It was the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas who saved me.”
It has now been twenty-one years since the Buddha Master healed me. Ever since I began sincerely practicing the Buddha-Dharma under His Holiness’s guidance, my health has only improved. Recent physical exams show that all my health indicators are excellent. I now weigh 165 pounds, more than double my weight when I was sick.
Friends and family who saw me during my illness are astonished when they see me now. Many say I look like a completely different person.
The Buddha Master also performed special Buddhist rites to liberate the yaks whose lives were taken. The compassion and grace the Buddha Master has shown me and my entire family are immeasurable.
From this life onward, all I can do to repay His Holiness is to devote myself wholeheartedly to cultivation, do good for others, and strive to attain true realization in order to be worthy of the sacred blessings and infinite kindness of my most revered Buddha Master.
Buddhist disciple, Chi Lie Er (This is a complete translation of the Chinese text that follows originally written and signed by Chi Lie Er.)
“Those who genuinely help others always end up helping themselves.” This powerful truth was the headline of a Washington Post article recounting the inspiring life story of Carlos Gutierrez. From humble beginnings as a working-class youth, he rose to become one of the most respected figures in American business and government. His secret? A simple yet profound practice: doing one good deed a day.
Carlos Gutierrez is best remembered for saying: “A person’s destiny is not necessarily shaped by a single great act. I believe that more often, it is shaped by small acts of kindness in everyday life.”
Born into a privileged family, Gutierrez’s early life was marked by comfort and stability. But everything changed after a revolution forced his family to flee their island home. They arrived in Miami with nothing. At the age of fifteen, to help support his family, Carlos took his first job as a waiter in a small seaside restaurant.
He was diligent, eager to learn, and even willing to work without pay. His commitment caught the eye of the restaurant owner, who invited him into his home and introduced him to his children to help Carlos improve his English.
Thanks to his strong work ethic and positive attitude, Gutierrez was soon recommended for a second job—this time as a salesman and delivery driver at a food company. Before he began, his father passed on a simple family principle: “Do one good deed a day.” He explained that this habit had helped build their once-successful life, and urged Carlos to live by it.
Carlos took that lesson to heart. While delivering oatmeal to mom-and-pop shops around the city, he went out of his way to help others—carrying letters to nearby towns, giving children rides home from school, offering small kindnesses without ever expecting anything in return. He did this joyfully, for four years.
In his fifth year, the company recognized his contributions in a remarkable way. They promoted him to lead marketing operations for Latin America from their Mexico office. His performance review noted: “This employee, over the past four years, has personally accounted for 40% of Florida’s total sales volume. He should be promoted.”
From there, his rise was meteoric. He took on leadership across Canada and the Asia-Pacific region, eventually becoming CEO of the company.
Later, as top American corporations like Coca-Cola and Colgate considered him for their CEO positions, President George W. Bush nominated him as Secretary of Commerce in the United States government.
Carlos Gutierrez’s story reflects a timeless truth found in Buddhist teachings. A Buddhist master once shared how, in the early days of his Dharma teaching, only a few rural housewives followed him. He taught them to practice kindness in the simplest way: “Take a small coin from your grocery money—just a dime—and use it each day to do a good deed.” At the end of the month, they would have performed thirty selfless acts from the heart. One good deed a day, and one’s merit grows.
The practice may seem simple, but when carried out with sincerity and perseverance, it awakens our inner awareness. Like a stream that flows quietly but never ceases, daily kindness trains the mind to stay rooted in goodness and deepens our spiritual cultivation—from surface-level thoughts to the very heart of intention.
Traditional Chinese culture also upholds the principle of “doing one good deed a day.” This value is deeply reflected in the classic text The Four Lessons of Liaofan, where Yuan Liaofan outlines a path of self-transformation through the active cultivation of virtue. By committing to perform a thousand good deeds, he not only benefited others but also profoundly changed his own destiny.
Even a single kind thought toward others is an act of goodness. A word that uplifts or benefits someone is a good deed. And a small action—no matter how minor—that helps another person is still a meaningful expression of kindness.
Whether through our thoughts, speech, or actions, if we put others first, we are cultivating virtue. That is the essence of being a good human being.
And importantly, we must remember: never withhold kindness just because it seems too small. Do good whenever the opportunity arises. Act from the heart, with sincerity and joy—not for show, not for praise—but naturally and spontaneously, with the intention to benefit others. This is the foundation of true bodhisattva conduct.
Goodness does not need an audience. “Virtue does not require recognition; Heaven always sees our good deeds.” A seed of kindness, planted in silence, will one day bloom with beautiful results—often when we least expect it.
So let us each begin with just one small act of kindness a day. It may seem simple, but over time, it has the power to change not just our lives—but the world.
Tucked within the tranquil halls of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art stands a breathtaking wooden sculpture of Water-Moon Guanyin from the Liao Dynasty—a work hailed as “the most magnificent surviving sculpture in China” and “a triumph of religion and aesthetics.” It has also been honored by the media as “one of the thirty finest works held in American public institutions.”
Officially labeled by the museum as “Guanyin of the Southern Sea,” this statue rises to an impressive height of 2.4 meters. Aside from the right forearm, the entire figure—including its base—was masterfully carved from a single block of wood. Dating back to the 11th or 12th century (Liao or Jin Dynasty), the sculpture has been remarkably well-preserved over the centuries.
This Guanyin is an extraordinary example of religious artistry. Her face is gently sculpted with refined features—serene, graceful, and quietly majestic. Adorned with a jeweled crown, her eyes are softly closed, gazing downward in meditation and compassion. The statue’s pose reflects the elegance and wisdom traditionally associated with the feminine form, especially in the flowing hand gestures—while still retaining some subtle masculine traits in the upper body, a nod to Guanyin’s transcendent nature.
In classic iconography, Water-Moon Guanyin is often portrayed seated on a rock or lotus throne, gazing compassionately at the world. In this sculpture, she sits with one leg bent and the other gracefully draped downward. Her right arm rests lightly on her knee, fingers gently curved, as she gazes diagonally downward with a calm smile—evoking the image of the moon reflected in water. This visual metaphor powerfully symbolizes a core Buddhist teaching: the illusion of form and the essence of emptiness.
Every aspect of the statue—the proportions, the flowing posture, the tranquil expression—conveys a sense of effortless grace, inner freedom, and compassionate presence. It is a piece that invites quiet reflection, stirring something deep within the soul of the viewer.
The Legend Behind the Water-Moon Guanyin
The form of Water-Moon Guanyin, also known as “Auspicious Water Guanyin” or “Auspicious Water Bodhisattva,” is one of the most beloved among the thirty-three manifestations of Guanyin in Chinese Buddhist tradition. Interestingly, the name “Water-Moon” does not come from early Buddhist scriptures, but rather from Chinese folklore—born of the fusion between Buddhism and indigenous Chinese culture.
According to legend, Guanyin once appeared in Suzhou during a time of war, where she witnessed the brutal slaughter of civilians by the Jin army. Out of great compassion, she transformed into a beautiful woman, built a ritual platform, and began chanting sutras to deliver the souls of the dead. When her recitation was complete, someone among the crowd recognized her divine aura and asked to see her true form.
The Bodhisattva pointed to the riverbank. There, reflected in the still waters, was the image of a radiant full moon, within which her sacred figure appeared—graceful and ethereal. Among the witnesses was a talented artist named Qiu Zijing, who quickly sketched the vision. As his painting circulated, this image came to be known and venerated as the Water-Moon Guanyin.
A Space Worthy of the Divine
To properly honor this extraordinary statue, the Nelson-Atkins Museum created an expansive Chinese Temple Gallery. Behind Guanyin stands a Yuan Dynasty mural titled “Assembly of the Radiant Buddha,” originally from Guangsheng Temple in Shanxi Province. Above hangs a carved Ming Dynasty coffered ceiling adorned with dragons, while in front, finely carved lattice doors from a Qing Dynasty official’s residence in Beijing complete the immersive setting.
This harmonious environment allows visitors to experience the sculpture not just as a museum piece, but as a living expression of faith, beauty, and timeless spiritual insight.
The Water-Moon Guanyin at the Nelson-Atkins Museum is more than an ancient sculpture—it is a sacred embodiment of compassion, artistry, and transcultural storytelling. Whether viewed through the lens of religion, history, or aesthetics, it stands as a serene reminder of the enduring power of beauty to transcend time and touch the human spirit.
A walkway in Enshi Canyon, China’s Grand Canyon. Jean Spoljaric photos.
A Visit to the Chinese Grand Canyon in Enshi
By Jean Miller Spoljaric
My trip to the Hubei (Hu-bay) Province of Central China proved to be a real eye-opener. It was a culture shock for me, but life as they know it for them. I traveled from Beijing to Wuhan, China, and on to Enshi, the home to China’s Grand Canyon.
Enshi city was vibrant and alive, but nothing could have prepared me for the China I was about to see in the mountainous areas of Enshi Canyon. Several times during the trip, I reminded myself that, sometimes, ‘Less is More.’
Location
The view from the top of Enshi Canyon is breathtaking.
Enshi is the capital city of Hubei Province and is located inland, in the southwest region of Hubei. It’s an area of immense natural beauty with soaring mountains, deep canyons, meandering rivers, and great waterfalls. The mountain village is a two and a half-hour car ride from the bustling city.
The mountaintops are high above the skyline and the thousand-zhang waterfalls that tumble to the canyon floor below, feeding the underground rivers that flow through the Qungjiang River Valley of virgin forests and ancient villages.
Enshi proudly displays the peaks and valleys of what is known today as China’s Grand Canyon.
Enshi Grand Canyon
The Enshi Grand Canyon is located in Tunbao Village in the Town of Banqiao, high above the clouds. I climbed my way to the summit and experienced the views of a lifetime. Altogether, I hiked three of the five precipices in Enshi Canyon.
I was in awe as I gazed out toward the mystical land. The puffy clouds seemed close enough for me to touch and the precipices were like giant stalagmite stone fingers reaching toward the heavens.
Free from the hustle and bustle of the rest of China, there were no beeping horns, no crazy mopeds; just the serene stillness and beauty of nature.
A 67-Mile Canyon
The Enshi Canyon has a total length of 108 km (67 miles) and the total area is more than 300 sq. km (about 74,000 acres, or 115.8 sq. miles). As it’s only 1.7 miles wide, it makes the canyon long and narrow.
By comparison, the American Grand Canyon (1,218,560 acres/ 1,904 sq. miles) could hold sixteen Enshi Grand Canyons.
The significant difference between the two is that Enshi Grand Canyon is lush as opposed to the barren desert-like topography of America’s Grand Canyon.
Still, all the splendor and physical features that one would find in America’s Grand Canyon are contained within this smaller area, so it makes it a great place to visit for a day trip or longer.
All hard work and smiles, always, in Enshi.
The Magic
As I climbed the steep ridges of the mountains, at each turn, I came across villagers selling cold drinks, cooked potatoes, and hard-boiled eggs soaking in tea. Not an easy day’s work!
I was amazed at how the elders set up camps every day, hiking up and down these mountains with large sacks strapped on their backs. Great exercise keeps them fit.
As I paused to drink my water and catch my breath, a woman twice my age, with a gentle smile on her face, passed me. I used the universal sign for a photo to ask if I could take a picture. Her look of concern was followed by a big smile.
Moments after snapping the image, I shared it with her and several others who had stopped to watch. They seemed amazed at seeing themselves in the viewfinder. It was magic and they wanted more pictures.
This pretty little girl hiked the Enshi Grand Canyon with her family. I was proud of her as she kept up with everyone!
Then, a little boy stopped and pointed to my iPod. I let him listen to a song and his face beamed with amazement! More magic!
And, just like that, any concerns were replaced with trusting smiles. As we smiled and laughed together, the language barrier seemed to disappear.
Giant Golden Panda
As a tall, blond, westerner, I felt the introspective eyes of the locals on me in the more urban areas, but nothing prepared me for my reception in the isolated mountain settlements.
For many of the mountain people of Enshi, it appeared to me that I was the first American they had ever seen.
The children surrounded me, seemingly mesmerized by my blonde hair and green eyes. Mothers shooed their children closer to get a better look; the shy little ones hid behind their mother’s skirt, peeking out just enough to fill their curiosity.
My tall stature and lightly colored hair had the men following my every move with their eyes. Women would gather around just to hear me speak.
I felt like a giant golden panda. I laughed to myself as I thought that I haven’t turned this many heads since I was nineteen!
They wanted to know everything about me: who I was, where I came from, why I was there! I’m happy to say, I think I left a lasting positive impression.
Large statues oversee the grounds at Tusi Castle in Enshi, China.
The People Of Enshi’s Mountains
The people of rural Enshi are kind, hard-working, self-sufficient, and very isolated from the world. They live a hard life off the land, but their big smiles never seem to fade.
They are farmers of vegetables and tea and are proud of their daily life with each other. There is no running water for most and squat toilets for all.
I saw children with no shoes or with one worn pair, and I thought about my children with too many shoes. I saw all the diseased and sick dogs lying in the comfortable shade of old, tired trees and wanted to rescue them all.
I guess it’s all relative. My daily life of iPods, cell phones, and laptops is a world away from the mountain people of Enshi. They are surrounded every day by trees, lakes, rivers, waterfalls, and beautiful lush green mountains. Maybe, they have it right!
The Other Enshi
There is another world below the mountains in the city of Enshi. By day, I would recommend a visit to Tusi Castle. It dates back to 700 AD and is a lesson in the culture of the area.
This Chieftain castle was destroyed by a fire in 2004 and perfectly restored soon after.
It is home to the largest archaized Pagoda style buildings in China.
As I wandered through the exhibits of architectural and decorative arts, I felt like I was walking through a living book. It tells the story of the Tujia folk cultures through sculptures, gardens, artwork, and furnishings.
Afterward, there is a must-see play that features the primitive reenactment of the local Chinese culture. It will make you feel as if you’ve been transported back in time.
Enshi City is alive and beautiful in the evening.
Lunch in Dingshihui
Make sure you head to Dingshihui for lunch! During a long hot day, I was looking forward to lunch and a drink, but I could never have imagined the surprise that Dingshihui had in store for me.
As I followed my guide up the stairs, my eyes became wide with amazement.
This fish dish is just one of the specialties at Dingshihui in Enshi City.
Dingshihui was like walking through a boutique-style hotel in Manhattan, and the food was incredible! I couldn’t believe that a luxurious oasis such as this existed in this city.
The city came alive in the evening. Neon lights lined the buildings and bridges in the Central Square and reflected off the river below.
There were men gathered in groups playing Mahjong and residents participating in a huge outdoor aerobics class.
The Lesson
The people of Enshi are an extended community where divisions of labor know no age and responsibilities are learned.
And who would have thought that the highlight of my trip to China would be the Grand Canyon of Enshi and the people who live there?
Enshi City
For all I thought I knew about China, it was all that I discovered I didn’t know that has added to the quality of my life. I want to return to this great experience and, if you’re as fortunate as I was, you’ll find a new world to discover.
Useful Information about Enshi China
Dried snake anyone?
For more information on travel in this area of China contact the CNTO- China National Tourist Office. They were extremely helpful and knowledgeable about all things China.
List of China tourism offices
While in Enshi I used Enshi Railway Travel Service Co., Ltd. They do not have a website so it makes it difficult to book anything in advance, but I assure you if you contact them directly upon your arrival in China they will make sure you have the time of your life.
They are located at No. 64 Hangkong Road, Enshi City. the phone number you can reach them at is (0086-718-) 8236262. Ask for Lucy to be your trusted guide; she will take wonderful care of you from start to finish.
To and From
I flew Air China from JFK Airport in NYC into Beijing Airport. I also flew China Southern throughout Hubei Province, Wuhan, and Enshi. Both airlines went out of their way to make me comfortable, the staff was friendly and the seating spacious.
The Enshi Dingshihui Dining Management Company, Ltd. Restaurant has no website. It remains a bit of a mystery. Ask your guide or taxi driver to bring you to the fanciest place to eat in Enshi City; I promise they will know. I do have phone numbers. Once you arrive in Enshi you can try your luck: 0718-8411717 or 0718-8495282.
While in Wuhan I was lucky to stay at the beautiful Shangri-La Hotel. The Shangri-La is located in the Hankou business area and is only 25 minutes from the Tianhe International Airport and only 15 minutes from the Yangtze River Pier.
In the Mountain Tree chapter of the ancient Taoist classic Zhuangzi, there’s a simple yet profound story:
A man was crossing a river in a small boat when he noticed another boat drifting straight toward him. He shouted several times to warn the oncoming boat, but received no reply. Furious, he began cursing the other “reckless” person. But when the boats collided, he realized the other vessel was completely empty. In that moment, his anger vanished into thin air.
This story reveals a timeless truth: Often, what triggers our anger isn’t real harm but our judgment about the intention behind an event—our belief that someone shouldn’t have acted a certain way, or that people like that shouldn’t exist.
Imagine the same situation, but this time with a person steering the other boat. Most of us would react with outrage: “What’s wrong with you? Watch where you’re going!” A conflict would likely erupt. But when we know the boat is empty, we simply steer around it and move on.
This is beautifully explained in psychology by the ABC model:
A stands for the Activating event
B is our Belief about the event
C is the Consequence—our emotional response
It’s not the event itself that causes our reaction, but how we interpret it. Change your mindset, and your entire emotional response changes with it.
“The weak blame, the strong adjust, the wise let go.” How you choose to interpret the world shapes the emotional and spiritual life you live.
Zhuangzi’s parable invites us to practice a mental shift: what if we saw others as “empty boats”? When a coworker unintentionally bumps into you, instead of assuming hostility, think, “Maybe they were just distracted.” When a friend speaks harshly, perhaps they’re struggling with something you don’t know. Instead of reacting with pain or revenge, consider that it may not have been personal.
Seeing others as “empty boats” helps us release resentment, practice compassion, and expand our emotional resilience. It allows us to heal ourselves faster, without getting trapped in cycles of blame and victimhood.
German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer once said:
“To be angry at someone’s behavior is as foolish as being angry at a rock blocking your path.” True wisdom lies in seeing through the illusion of control, and responding with tolerance rather than judgment.
When life doesn’t go our way, it’s easy to fall into the trap of self-pity: “Why is this happening to me?” But such thoughts only darken our mood and invite more misery.
The real shift happens when we stop blaming others and start examining our own mindset. By applying the “Empty Boat” perspective, we reduce conflict, soothe emotional storms, and gain a wider, calmer view of life. This isn’t just emotional regulation—it’s a deeper level of personal growth.
Zhuangzi also wrote:
“If a person can empty themselves and move through the world with humility, who can harm them?”
When we’re too attached to ego—too quick to feel offended, too focused on saving face—we inevitably clash with others. But if we release pride, prejudice, and the need to control, we become unshakable. No one can truly hurt us when we no longer take things personally.
Our mindset is the foundation of how we face adversity. Approach life with a peaceful, open heart, and life will respond in kind. Let go of the need for constant validation. Don’t let others’ words disturb your inner calm.
The journey of life is like sailing through mist—we never know what lies ahead. Complaining or getting angry doesn’t change reality; it only slows us down. But when we practice acceptance and face life with serenity, we go farther, and with greater ease.
Imagine all the unpleasant people or events in your life as “empty boats.” Let go of resentment and emotional baggage. You’ll find that forgiveness is not weakness, but a deep, penetrating wisdom. No longer a slave to your emotions, you become the true master of your mind.
May you carry an empty and serene heart, navigating life’s storms with grace, and holding on to peace amid the noise of the world.
As the saying goes, “Don’t be afraid of not knowing the quality of something—be afraid of comparing one thing with another.” Comparison is a double-edged sword. Without it, there is no disappointment. But once we begin measuring ourselves against others, dissatisfaction creeps in. Comparison is one of the root causes of suffering, and often the very reason happiness eludes us. Much of our pain in life arises not from reality itself, but from our attachments and the distinctions we draw in our minds.
I recently came across a thought-provoking story: A king once posed a question to a wise man—“If I draw a line on a piece of paper and you’re not allowed to shorten it, how can you make it appear shorter?” The wise man calmly stepped forward and drew a longer line next to it. Suddenly, the original line seemed shorter, not because it changed, but because of the comparison.
This simple parable reveals a profound truth: dissatisfaction often comes not from our actual circumstances, but from comparing them to someone else’s.
Take a look at real life. I weigh 170 pounds and carry a round belly. But if I constantly compare myself to someone who weighs 140 pounds and is lean and fit, I’ll label myself as “fat.” If I live on $2,000 a month and compare my lifestyle to someone spending $20,000, I’ll think I’m “poor.” But what if I didn’t compare? What if I simply appreciated what I had?
Survival is only part of life’s weight. The heavier burden is comparison. Many people spend their whole lives chasing after what others were born with, only to realize too late that what they’ve always had was someone else’s lifelong dream.
In the classic novel Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, the character Murong Fu dedicates his entire life to a goal that Duan Yu was born into. Ironically, the woman Duan Yu longs for is someone Murong Fu already had from the beginning. And Ding Chunqiu, who went to great lengths and harmed countless people to get what he wanted, lost in the end to Xuzhu—who gained it all effortlessly, through virtue and sincerity.
We come into this world busying ourselves, striving, chasing after happiness. Yet we become trapped in appearances, constantly looking outward for fulfillment. We complain about stress and pressure, but when we pause to reflect, we often find that we’ve created most of that pressure ourselves—through endless comparison and unrealistic expectations.
It’s unwise—and even harmful—to judge the value of your own life by someone else’s standards. In life, not everything goes our way. If we spend all day comparing ourselves to others, we’ll always feel like something’s missing. But what if we started each day with gratitude instead?
Try this: When you wake up, take three minutes to feel content. Say to yourself with sincerity: “I am grateful for what I have right now. I am content. I am thankful.” It’s a small act, but it can change your entire mindset.
Comparison doesn’t have to be harmful. It can also be a mirror for growth—if we use it wisely. Rather than feeling inferior and falling into envy or resentment, we can choose to let comparison inspire self-improvement. Let it motivate us to become a better version of ourselves.
And most importantly, compare yourself to your past self. As a Buddhist disciple, I ask myself daily:
Have I improved my spiritual practice compared to yesterday?
Have I reduced negative thoughts and actions?
Have I done more good today than I did yesterday?
Over time, these small reflections add up. Bit by bit, we grow in virtue, in clarity, in compassion. And when we live this way—progressing each day, anchored in gratitude—we naturally find peace. We naturally move toward liberation and fulfillment.
Be thankful for what you have, right here, right now. Don’t compare. Don’t compete. Contentment is the true path to lasting happiness.
Fill your life with kindness and righteousness. Strengthen your heart and spirit. In a world full of comparisons, choose instead to grow, to give, and to be deeply, joyfully alive.
Peace LiLy 