Category: Culture Exchange

The Body Listens to How We Live

linda changLeave a comment
A mage casting a spell to levitate books in a grand circular library filled with glowing crystals

The Life We Live Beneath Our Genes

Sometimes, when illness runs through a family for generations, people quietly carry a hidden fear in their hearts.

“My parents had this disease.”
“My grandparents suffered from it too.”
“Perhaps one day, it will happen to me as well.”

For a long time, science itself seemed to support this worry. We were taught that our genes determined much of our future, as though our health had already been written into the body from the very beginning.

But modern research is beginning to reveal a more hopeful and more compassionate understanding of human life.

In recent years, scientists studying the field of epigenetics have discovered that while our DNA sequence remains largely unchanged, the body possesses another powerful system — the epigenome — that helps regulate how genes behave.

If the genome is like the body’s library of instructions, the epigenome acts more like the librarian, helping decide which pages are opened, which are closed, and which instructions are emphasized or quieted.

This process does not change the genetic code itself. Instead, it involves tiny chemical markers that attach to DNA and surrounding proteins. These markers can influence whether certain genes become more active or less active over time.

Two of the best-known mechanisms are called DNA methylation and histone modification.

DNA methylation occurs when small chemical groups attach to certain regions of DNA, often reducing the activity of nearby genes. Histone modification affects how tightly DNA is wrapped around proteins called histones. When DNA is tightly packed, genes become harder for the body to “read.” When it loosens, those genes may become more active.

What makes this discovery so fascinating is that the epigenome is not completely fixed. It responds continuously to life itself.

DNA double helix surrounded by icons representing exercise, relaxation, nutrition, positive relationships, quality sleep, and stress management for strong immunity
Healthy lifestyle choices positively impact your genes and overall health.

Researchers have found that factors such as nutrition, sleep, stress, exercise, pollution, smoking, emotional health, and even social environment may influence epigenetic patterns over time.

In other words, our bodies are listening to how we live.

This does not mean we can control everything, nor does it mean genetics no longer matter. Some inherited conditions remain powerful and complex. But epigenetics suggests that biology is not simply destiny. The environment we create within and around ourselves may help shape how certain genetic tendencies are expressed.

This is both humbling and deeply encouraging.

It reminds us that health is not built in one dramatic moment.
It is shaped quietly through small choices repeated day after day.

A simple home-cooked meal.
A daily walk.
Enough sleep.
Fresh air and sunlight.
Learning to calm the mind instead of living in constant stress and tension.

These habits may seem ordinary, but science increasingly suggests they can influence the body in profound ways over time.

Modern life often pushes people toward speed, overstimulation, and exhaustion. Many live under continuous pressure, with minds that rarely rest and bodies that rarely recover. Yet the human nervous system was never designed for endless stress.

One of the most hopeful messages from epigenetics is that positive change may still matter greatly, even when there is a family history of disease.

A person may inherit certain risks, but risk is not always certainty.

Good habits cannot guarantee perfect health, but they may help support the body, reduce vulnerability, and improve resilience across a lifetime.

Perhaps this is why simple living has always carried quiet wisdom.

Eat more naturally.
Sleep more deeply.
Move the body regularly.
Reduce unnecessary stress.
Live with greater balance and peace.

The body responds not only to medicine, but also to the way we live every day.

And maybe that is one of the most beautiful discoveries modern science is beginning to confirm:

Our genes may shape the beginning of our story,
but our daily lives continue helping to shape what comes next.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/05/09/the-body-listens-to-how-we-live/

When Noise Becomes Blindness

linda changLeave a comment
Wizard at desk surrounded by books, scrolls, potions, and magical screens displaying symbols and star constellations

The most dangerous thing is not that we are surrounded by falsehood, but that we slowly lose our desire to seek what is true.

In 1906, Hannah Arendt was born into a world that would soon reveal both the brilliance and the fragility of human society. She later witnessed how a highly educated and cultured nation could slowly lose its clarity, drifting into confusion and darkness.

In her important work, The Origins of Totalitarianism, she reflected on a troubling question:
How do people lose their ability to see what is right in front of them?

Her answer was not simple, but one part stands out quietly and powerfully—when truth becomes unstable, people begin to lose their ability to think clearly.

Today, we may not live in the same world she did, but in some ways, her observations feel closer than ever.

Every day, information rushes toward us from all directions. News, opinions, arguments, videos, headlines—especially on platforms like Facebook, X, and TikTok. Everything moves quickly. Everything competes for attention.

At first, we try to follow.
We read. We watch. We react.

But slowly, something changes.

The more we see, the less certain we feel.
The more voices we hear, the harder it becomes to know which one is true.
Contradictions pile up. Emotions rise. Clarity fades.

And without noticing it, we grow tired.

Not physically tired—but mentally tired.

When the mind is tired, it stops asking questions.
It stops examining.
It stops distinguishing.

We begin to accept things without really understanding them.
Or we reject everything, thinking, “Maybe nothing is true anyway.”

This is a quiet kind of blindness.

Not because we cannot see,
but because we no longer take the time to look carefully.

In her later essay, Truth and Politics, Arendt warned that when truth is constantly distorted, it does more than mislead—it weakens our trust in truth itself. And when that trust fades, something deeper begins to erode: our sense of judgment, responsibility, and even compassion.

This is not a distant problem.
It is something we face every day.

So what can we do?

Perhaps the answer is simpler than we expect, but not easier.

We pause.

We step back from the noise, even for a moment.
We resist the urge to react immediately.
We allow ourselves time to think.

Not quick thinking,
but careful thinking.

We ask:
Is this true?
What is the source?
Am I reacting, or am I understanding?

And just as importantly, we question even the ideas we already agree with.

Real thinking is not comfortable.
It requires patience.
It requires honesty.
Sometimes, it requires us to admit we were wrong.

But this quiet effort is what keeps the mind alive.

In a world filled with endless information, the greatest danger is not that we are misinformed.
It is that we stop thinking altogether.

So, in the midst of all the noise, we can choose something different.

To slow down.
To look carefully.
To think clearly.

And in doing so, we begin to see again.

#OriginsofTotalitarianism#HannahArendt #Germany #TruthandPolitics #Philosophy

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/05/05/when-noise-becomes-blindness/

Seeing a World Within Emptiness — An Appreciation of a Lively and Serene Ink Painting

linda changLeave a comment
Myna Birds Drunk Among the Willows by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III

Some paintings do not rely on complexity to move us. With only a few deliberate strokes, they unfold a world full of life. This fresh and tranquil ink painting is one such work. Quiet and unassuming, it reveals a profound artistic tension and depth within simplicity and stillness.

The composition is anchored by three strong yet supple ink lines. Their texture is rich and full, their force penetrating the paper. They resemble trees, yet are not trees—more like structural forms that divide the flat surface into a grid of interwoven spaces. Within these spaces, branches stretch and intersect, while willow-like lines sway gently, creating a rhythmic sense of motion.

What is most remarkable, however, lies in what is not painted.

The empty spaces are far from void; they are charged with meaning. In these areas of intentional absence, the viewer’s imagination is invited to wander. As the saying goes, “where nothing is painted, there lies the true realm of the painting.” The composition, in its entirety, feels almost like a montage—a sequence of visual moments carefully arranged. From this minimal structure emerges a surprisingly rich and intriguing visual experience.

Bringing the scene to life are several mynah birds, rendered in bold, expressive ink. These small creatures become the focal point of the painting.

They are divided into three groups, each occupying different sections of the grid. In a small triangular space near the top, three birds gather closely together. The density of life within such a confined area creates an immediate visual tension. In contrast, a large quadrilateral space in the lower middle is occupied by just a single bird, as if it has claimed the entire openness for itself—perhaps even becoming the quiet center of the composition.

Then there is a particularly playful detail: a bird in the upper right seems to occupy the intersection of four spaces at once. Though not placed at the center, it establishes its own presence, as if declaring that even at the edge, one can still become a focal point.

These birds preen their feathers, tilt their heads, hum softly, and seem to communicate with one another. Bathed in a sense of freshness, they revel in the gentle beauty of spring, fully immersed in a life of ease and freedom. The entire painting begins to resemble a small, self-contained paradise.

This delightful and imaginative work is created by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III. Art, at its highest level, is not merely a display of technique—it is a reflection of the inner world. A truly great work reveals the artist’s state of mind and spiritual depth.

In this painting, what we witness is not only mastery of brush and ink, but also a sense of calm, freedom, and purity—a state of being that transcends complexity and returns to essence.

The diverse artistic creations of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III stand as enduring treasures of human civilization. And this seemingly simple piece gently reminds us:

In a world of endless complexity, true beauty often resides in simplicity—
and true freedom may be found in the space between what is left unpainted.

LinK:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/05/04/seeing-a-world-within-emptiness-an-appreciation-of-a-lively-and-serene-ink-painting/

Your Aura is a Map of Your Soul: The Ancient Chinese Wisdom of “Xiang You Xin Sheng”

linda changLeave a comment

A Turn of Thought, A Turn of Fate — A Story of Conscience and Choice

Ever wonder if people can ‘sense’ what you’re thinking? In Chinese culture, we call this ‘Xiang You Xin Sheng.’ It’s the idea that your aura is a mirror of your soul. I found this traditional story particularly striking today, as it shows how changing your mind is the ultimate way to change your luck.

In Chinese culture, there is an ancient proverb: “Xiang You Xin Sheng” (相由心生). While it literally translates to “one’s appearance is born from the heart,” its wisdom goes far deeper than physical beauty.

In this context, “Xiang” (相) refers to much more than just the face; it encompasses one’s “aura,” “vibe,” or the invisible energy one radiates to the world. The teaching suggests that our persistent thoughts eventually sculpt our features and our presence, and this shift in our “countenance” often signals a pivotal turn in our destiny.

There is a traditional story that perfectly illustrates this profound connection between thought, aura, and fate.

Long ago, a wealthy man with no children of his own adopted a young orphan. He raised the boy as his own flesh and blood, providing him with a fine education and teaching him the intricacies of business and integrity. As the boy grew into a young man, he became exceptionally handsome and capable. To any observer, he was the clear heir to a vast fortune.

However, the human heart can be like a dark, fathomless pond. In moments of solitude, a shadow began to creep into the young man’s mind: “Since all of this will eventually be mine, why shouldn’t I have it sooner?”

At first, this thought was a mere spark. But over time, it began to smolder. It subtly changed his “Xiang”—his once-clear eyes grew clouded with a trace of calculation, and his once-welcoming aura took on a subtle edge of coldness.

One day, a guest skilled in the ancient art of physiognomy (face reading) visited the house. After observing the young man, the guest whispered to the father: “This young man’s spirit is darkened. There is a hidden greed between his brows. He may harbor betrayal in his heart; you must be on your guard.”

The young man happened to overhear this from behind a wall. In that moment, he felt as though he had been struck by lightning. He wasn’t angry at being insulted; he was terrified of being seen. He realized that his inner “vibe” had betrayed him—the “thief” in his heart had indeed been lurking there for a long time.

“My father has treated me with the kindness of a mountain, yet I covet his life and wealth. How am I different from a beast?” he thought. This intense shame acted like a mirror, reflecting the stains on his soul. In that instant, he made the most important decision of his life: he would cut off his greed, leave his comfortable home, and find his true, clean self again.

He bid farewell to his father and set out to make his own way. Not long after, while traveling a lonely path, he found a heavy pouch filled with gold and silver—enough wealth to change a man’s life instantly.

In the silence of the wilderness, with no one watching, the old greed flickered for a second. But he immediately remembered the shame and the awakening he had experienced. Instead of taking the pouch, he waited. He stood his ground from noon until dusk, until a frantic traveler appeared, searching in despair for his lost property.

Young man giving a bag labeled GOLD to an elderly woman crying with gratitude

When the young man returned the wealth, the owner was moved to tears. Impressed by such rare integrity, the traveler used his influence to recommend the young man for a prestigious and honorable career. From that point on, the young man no longer relied on an inheritance. Through his own hard work and “righteous spirit,” he built a life of genuine dignity and peace.

Years later, when people spoke of him, they saw a man with a gentle face and a clear, peaceful aura. The gloom of his youth had vanished. He finally understood that what changed his fate wasn’t the bag of gold or the new job; it was the moment he chose to face his own inner ugliness and personally extinguish the fire of greed.

The turning points in our lives rarely happen during grand, public moments. They happen in the silent depths of the heart. One thought can lead a person into an abyss; one shift in thought can lead them back to the light.

We cannot guarantee that we will never harbor a dark thought, but we can choose—the moment we become aware of it—not to follow where it leads.

As the old wisdom teaches: Good and evil exist within a single thought. And destiny? It often waits at the corner of that very same thought, ready to turn your life in a whole new direction.

#Mindfulness #AsianCulture #SelfImprovement #ChineseWisdom#AsianPhilosophy #TraditionalCulture#Chinesestories #Chinesetraditionalconcepts

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/05/04/your-aura-is-a-map-of-your-soul-the-ancient-chinese-wisdom-of-xiang-you-xin-sheng/

Awakening Life in the Deep: An Appreciation of Deep Sea Purple Moss

linda changLeave a comment

Among many spiritually expressive works of art, Deep Sea Purple Moss stands out for its simplicity and depth, offering viewers a striking, almost visceral impact. This Western-style painting by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III may appear abstract at first glance, yet it carries profound reflections on life and inner awakening.

The entire composition is built from just three colors—black, white, and purple—yet it reveals remarkable layers and tension. The black areas resemble a boundless deep sea, mysterious and unfathomable, as if there is no visible end. This depth evokes a sense of stillness infused with latent power. This “black” not only represents the unknown world but also symbolizes the unpredictable circumstances and challenges we encounter in life.

In contrast, the white surges forward like rolling waves, powerful and unstoppable. It breaks the silence of the black, injecting movement and dramatic force into the scene. These waves seem to echo life’s turbulence—the sudden changes, hardships, and trials that compel us to confront reality head-on.

Most captivating is the vibrant touch of purple. Like sea moss growing in the depths, it persists between waves and currents, embodying a resilient and vigorous life force. Here, purple is more than a visual accent; it becomes a symbol—of endurance, of hope, and of life’s ability to thrive even in adversity.

As we contemplate this painting, we begin to see that it is not merely a depiction of the sea, but a reflection of life itself. The black deep sea represents the environment we live in; the white waves, the challenges we must face; and the purple “moss” represents who we are.

In an ever-changing world, we cannot choose every circumstance, but we can choose how we respond. Just like the purple life form in the painting that continues to grow amid stormy waters, we too must learn to adapt, to temper ourselves through trials, and to seek upward strength even in difficult situations.

With its minimalist form, this work conveys a profound truth: true growth is not gained in calm waters, but forged in the midst of surging waves.

Perhaps, the next time we face the “great waves” in our own lives, we may remember this purple moss in the deep sea—growing upward, even in the darkest depths.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/30/awakening-life-in-the-deep-an-appreciation-of-deep-sea-purple-moss/

The Water-Splashing Festival: Where Tradition, Faith, and Renewal Meet

linda changLeave a comment

Every year in mid-April, the streets of Xishuangbanna and Dehong in Yunnan, China transform into a vast ocean of water.

To many, the Water-Splashing Festival is simply a joyful, all-out “water fight.” But what is often overlooked is that this grand celebration does not begin with noise or excitement—it begins with a single, quiet drop of perfumed water falling gently on the shoulder of a Buddha statue.

Today, let us step into Sangken Bimai—the New Year shared by the Dai, De’ang, and Blang peoples—and discover how traditional Chinese folk customs and Buddhist culture come together, blending seamlessly through the gentle yet powerful symbolism of water.

“Sangken Bimai” in the Dai language means “the turning of the New Year.” Its roots trace back to Sankranti, a Sanskrit term meaning “transition” or “passage,” tied to ancient Indian calendrical and religious traditions. With the spread of Theravada Buddhism, this observance took root across Southwest China and Southeast Asia, gradually evolving into a festival rich in both spiritual and cultural meaning.

Before the streets erupt in splashing water, every temple begins with a solemn and tranquil ritual: bathing the Buddha.

Devotees gather fresh flowers, soak their petals in clean water, and create a lightly scented infusion. One by one, they approach the Buddha statue, gently pouring the water over it with branches or cupped hands, symbolically washing away dust.

In this moment, there is no noise—only reverence.

This act is not merely an offering of respect to the Buddha; it is also a ritual of inner purification. It represents washing away the greed, anger, and ignorance accumulated over the past year, allowing the heart to return to clarity and light as the new year begins.

The Water-Splashing Festival typically lasts three to four days. While details vary by region, the structure follows a meaningful progression—from letting go of the old, through transition, to welcoming the new.

Day One: Farewell to the Old Year
This day resembles New Year’s Eve.

Along the Lancang River, dragon boats race across the water, sending waves splashing into the air. “Rising rockets”—traditional homemade fireworks—shoot skyward, carrying people’s wishes with them. Dressed in festive attire, people gather at lively markets filled with laughter and celebration, bidding farewell to the passing year.

Day Two: The Day Between Time
This is a deeply symbolic day—belonging neither to the old year nor yet to the new.

People building and decorating sand pagodas with flags and flowers on a beach during a festival

People visit temples to build sand stupas, shaping fine white sand into small pagodas adorned with colorful flags and flowers. Each grain of sand represents a good deed or kind thought.

This act of merit-making expresses hopes for favorable weather, peace, and stability in the coming year.

Day Three: Blessing and Rebirth Through Water
The first day of the New Year begins again with the Buddha-bathing ritual, followed by the festival’s most exuberant moment—water splashing.

For elders, water is gently poured over the shoulders as a sign of respect and blessing. Among peers and younger generations, however, the mood shifts into joyful abandon—buckets, basins, and water guns come into play, and laughter fills the air.

The more water, the deeper the blessing.

At this point, water is no longer just water—it becomes a tangible expression of good fortune and joy, symbolizing the washing away of the past and the arrival of new life.

A Celebration of Culture and Spirit

The Water-Splashing Festival is not only a holiday—it is a vibrant expression of culture.

The rhythmic beat of elephant-foot drums echoes like thunder, while the graceful peacock dance reflects harmony between humans and nature. As night falls, people release floating lanterns onto rivers and send sky lanterns drifting into the night, symbolizing the release of misfortune and the rising of hope.

IP上海 代傲辰 图

In these moments—both dynamic and still—people express reverence for nature and heartfelt wishes for the future.

One Drop of Water, A Shared Cultural World

This festival does not belong to Yunnan alone.

Across Southeast Asia, it appears under different names, yet carries the same cultural essence.

In Thailand, Songkran is not only about water—it is a time of gratitude and family connection. Younger generations gently pour scented water over the hands of elders to receive blessings, while also participating in merit-making rituals such as building sand stupas. Bright floral shirts have become a modern symbol of the celebration.

In Myanmar, the festival—known as Thingyan—has an especially strong spiritual atmosphere. Many people observe periods of fasting, visit temples, or even temporarily ordain as monks to welcome the New Year with purity and reflection. Traditional foods, such as soaked rice infused with fragrant water, are prepared, while large city celebrations feature grand stages where water is sprayed over joyful crowds.

Though names and customs vary, they all trace back to the same origin—Sankranti, marking not only the passage of time, but the renewal of life.

From the valleys of Yunnan to the cities of Southeast Asia, this single drop of water travels across geography and culture, quietly connecting the entire region.

It begins in stillness before the Buddha, and flows into laughter among people.
It symbolizes both letting go and renewal—purification and blessing.

What makes the Water-Splashing Festival so moving is not merely its liveliness, but what it reveals:

Even in the simplicity of everyday life, people continue to express kindness, cherish life, and hold hope for the future in the gentlest of ways.

A drop of water falling on the Buddha’s shoulder is an act of practice.
A splash of water shared among people is a blessing.

And when that water flows through the heart, perhaps what is truly cleansed…is ourselves.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/30/the-water-splashing-festival-where-tradition-faith-and-renewal-meet/

A Golden Bowl and an Awakened Heart — A Story of Awareness and Transformation

linda changLeave a comment

Nāgārjuna was a great Buddhist master from ancient India, widely respected as a profound philosopher and teacher who illuminated the path of wisdom and emptiness. Known for his deep insight and compassionate guidance, he helped many turn their minds toward awakening.

There is a story often told about him:

Nāgārjuna lived a simple and pure life, traveling from place to place, guiding others with wisdom.

One day, he arrived in a prosperous kingdom. The queen, a devoted follower of the Dharma, was overjoyed to hear of his visit. She had a beautiful golden bowl specially made, inlaid with precious jewels, and offered it to him with great respect.

When Nāgārjuna entered the city on his alms round, the queen personally presented the golden bowl. He accepted it calmly, without excitement or attachment, just as he would accept any ordinary offering.

Carrying the bowl, he quietly left the city and returned to a dilapidated hut where he was staying.

A thief saw everything.

He thought to himself, “Such a valuable bowl in the hands of a man who lives with nothing—how long can he keep it? If someone is going to take it, why not me?”

So he followed Nāgārjuna in secret.

As night fell, Nāgārjuna returned to his crumbling shelter. There were no doors, no roof—hardly a place anyone would visit.

The thief hid nearby, waiting for the right moment, planning to act once the master fell asleep.

After finishing a simple meal, Nāgārjuna gently placed the golden bowl outside, in a visible spot, and then sat down quietly.

The thief was stunned. He had not expected this.

After hesitating, he stepped forward and asked softly, “Aren’t you afraid someone will take your bowl?”

Nāgārjuna looked at him calmly and said, “Since you are already here, why hide? If you need it, you may take it.”

The thief was taken aback and found himself unable to reach for it.

“Do you not know how valuable this is?” he asked.

Nāgārjuna smiled gently. “If the mind is bound by it, even something precious becomes a burden. If the mind is not attached, even something simple is enough.”

The thief fell silent for a long moment, then said, “If you can see a golden bowl this way, then what you have must be far more valuable. Can you teach me?”

Nāgārjuna nodded. “Yes. But first, you must learn to observe your own mind.”

“How do I do that?” the thief asked.

“When a thought arises—whether of desire, grasping, or wanting to take something—simply be aware of it clearly. Do not follow it, do not suppress it, do not act on it. Just see it as it is.”

“That sounds easy,” the thief said.

“It sounds easy,” Nāgārjuna replied, “but it is not.”

The thief agreed to try.

Person meditating with illustrated thoughts about present moment, past memories, future dreams, sensations, and emotions

When he next attempted to steal, he began to watch his own thoughts. Yet each time he clearly saw the moment of greed arise, something within him shifted. His hand could no longer move forward.

Again and again, he tried—but whenever awareness was present, the urge lost its force.

After some time, he returned to Nāgārjuna, empty-handed.

“I can no longer steal,” he said quietly. “The moment I truly see my thoughts, the desire disappears.”

Nāgārjuna looked at him and said, “It is not that you have lost something. It is that you have begun to see clearly.”

Tears filled the thief’s eyes. “I once believed that gaining more would bring satisfaction. Now I see that when the mind becomes still, the peace and ease I feel are greater than any wealth.”

He knelt and said, “Please allow me to follow you and learn.”

Nāgārjuna replied, “The moment you are willing to face your own mind, your practice has already begun.”

This story has been passed down not to suggest that one should ignore right and wrong, but to remind us:

True transformation does not come from force, but from clear awareness.
True letting go is not merely giving things up, but releasing attachment in the heart.

When we begin to truly see our own minds, many attachments naturally fall away. And perhaps, the real turning point begins the moment we are willing to truly see ourselves.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/27/a-golden-bowl-and-an-awakened-heart-a-story-of-awareness-and-transformation/

When Anger Wears the Mask of “Protecting the Dharma” — A Reflection on My Practice

linda changLeave a comment

After years of practice, we often believe we are walking the right path. We may even feel completely confident in our own “devotion.” Yet sometimes, in a single moment, a line of true Dharma strikes like thunder—and we suddenly realize that all along, we have only been practicing on the surface.

Recently, while listening to Fundamental Dharma Expounded in the East, Volume 8 by Namo Dorje Chang Buddha III, I was deeply shaken. In the teaching, a disciple shared her confusion: she was extremely respectful toward the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and her guru, yet her practice did not truly resonate, and she gained no real benefit. In particular, whenever she saw others showing disrespect or even slandering the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, her heart would fill with anger and aversion.

The Buddha’s teaching was like a clear mirror. It revealed not only her blind spot, but also something hidden deep within my own heart.

The Buddha compassionately taught that when facing the ignorance and slander of others, a practitioner should not give rise to anger, but to compassion.

When we see someone slandering the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas out of ignorance, we should think: “Because of her ignorance, she may fall into suffering. Her pain is also my responsibility.” This willingness to take others’ suffering as one’s own is the heart of a Bodhisattva.

Not only that—we should quietly pray for them, wishing that they awaken as soon as possible. We may even make this vow: “I must attain realization as quickly as I can, so I can help liberate her. Otherwise, how could she endure the suffering of lower realms?”

The Buddha gave the example of King Kali cutting the body. When Śākyamuni Buddha was subjected to extreme physical harm, there was not the slightest hatred in his heart. Instead, he vowed that after attaining Buddhahood, he would be the first to liberate that very person. This state—where there is no separation between self and others—is true great compassion, the genuine expression of the Four Immeasurables.

Multi-generational family sharing food and laughter at dinner table

As I listened, I broke into a cold sweat. I was reminded of something that happened in 2025, when I returned to my hometown to visit family.

At a family gathering, my cousin’s husband was filled with anger. He had suffered a stroke and complained that he had never done anything bad in his life, yet had not been protected. My cousin, who has faith in Buddhism—perhaps more from a wish for protection—kept a statue of Guanyin at home. After recovering, he angrily threw the statue onto the ground.

In that moment, a surge of anger rose within me. I felt this was a serious insult to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. I argued with him fiercely, my heart filled with resentment. I even thought to myself, “For someone like you, I will never dedicate blessings or prayers again.” After that, I have not contacted with them again.

What is more unsettling is that, at the time, I even felt a subtle sense of righteousness—as if I were “protecting the Dharma,” as if I were standing on principle.

Only after hearing this teaching did I truly see clearly: my anger was not for the sake of the Dharma—it came from my attachment to self.

To “protect the Dharma” without compassion is already to go astray.
The moment I gave rise to anger, refused to communicate, and gave up caring for them, I had already lost the four limitless states of mind. As the Buddha taught, if we turn away from someone, they are more likely to fall. What I thought was “holding my ground” was actually pushing away someone who needed help.

That was merely futile practice.
My mouth recited sutras and mantras, but my heart built a wall of resentment. Outwardly respectful, inwardly hardened—how could such practice bring any true benefit?

Worse still, it was faulty practice.
Facing others with anger creates no merit—it only accumulates karma.

This teaching helped me see the deepest blind spot in my practice.

I came to understand that the essence of practice is not how devout we appear on the outside, but this: when we encounter misunderstanding, slander, or ignorance, what arises in our heart—fire, or light?

Now, I feel both shame and gratitude. Shame for my ignorance and attachment, and deep gratitude for the Buddha’s teaching, which allowed me to turn back in time.

In my heart, I have quietly repented to my cousin’s husband. I have also begun again to pray for them, wishing that they may be free from suffering and awaken soon.

Practice is, in truth, a long process of “tearing down walls”—walls built from self-attachment, prejudice, and emotional reactions.

May we all, guided by the true Dharma, cleanse the dust from our hearts and cultivate a mind that is truly soft and vast—a heart that sees all beings as our own family.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/24/when-anger-wears-the-mask-of-protecting-the-dharma-a-reflection-on-my-practice/

A Quiet Offering: Reflecting on National Volunteer Week

linda changLeave a comment
Volunteers serving food and offering support to elderly people at an outdoor community care event

This week is National Volunteer Week, April 19th-25th, a time to recognize those who quietly give their time, energy, and care to others.

In many ways, volunteering is not about doing something extraordinary. It is about doing small things, with a sincere heart, again and again.

Some people offer food.
Some offer time.
Some offer skills.
Some simply offer presence.

These actions may seem simple, but they carry great meaning.

When we think of service, we may remember people like Mohamed Mashally, who spent his life caring for those who could not afford treatment. He did not seek recognition. He simply did what he felt was right.

His life reminds us that helping others does not always require great resources. What matters most is the heart behind the action.

From the teaching of Gautama Buddha, we learn that true giving is not measured by how much we give, but by the intention within. A small act, done with kindness and sincerity, can have a lasting impact.

During this week, we may ask ourselves a simple question:

In our daily life, how can we help others, even in a small way?

It may be offering a kind word.
It may be listening with patience.
It may be giving time to someone in need.

These small actions are like seeds. When planted with care, they grow in ways we may not immediately see.

Volunteering is not only about helping others—it also changes our own mind. When we focus less on ourselves and more on the well-being of others, the heart becomes softer, more open, and more at peace.

In a busy world, it is easy to think that we do not have enough time. But often, it is not about having more time—it is about using a little time with sincerity.

This National Volunteer Week, we do not need to do something grand.

We can begin with something simple.

A small act of kindness.
A moment of patience.
A quiet willingness to help.

And from there, something meaningful can grow.

Because sometimes, the most powerful offering is not something big—

but something done with a true and caring heart.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/21/a-quiet-offering-reflecting-on-national-volunteer-week/

No One to Blame: Understanding the Root of Anger

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When Anger Has Nowhere to Stay

In our daily lives, anger often appears without invitation. A single word, a small inconvenience, or an unmet expectation can stir something deep within us. Before we realize it, the mind is no longer calm, and the heart feels as though it is burning.

There was once a woman who had a very bad temper. She often got angry over small things. Afterward, she would regret it. She knew her anger hurt others, and she truly wanted to change. But when anger came, she felt she could not control it.

One day, a friend told her, “There is a wise monk nearby. Maybe he can help you.”
So she decided to go.

When she met the monk, she told him everything—how easily she lost her temper, how much pain it caused, and how helpless she felt. She hoped he would give her some advice.

Elder woman talking to a Buddhist monk inside a temple with statues and worshippers in the background

The monk listened quietly. When she finished, he said nothing. He simply led her to a small room, stepped outside, and closed the door.

Soon she realized—the door was locked.

At first, she was confused. Then she became angry.

“I came here for help, and he locks me in?” she thought.

The room was dark and cold. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She started shouting, knocking on the door, and scolding the monk loudly.

But there was no answer.

No matter how much she shouted, the monk did not respond.

After a long time, she became tired. Her voice grew quiet.

Then the monk asked from outside, “Are you still angry?”

She said, “I’m angry at myself! Why did I come here?”

The monk replied, “If you cannot forgive yourself, how will you forgive others?” Then he left.

The room became quiet again.

After some time, the monk returned and asked, “Are you still angry?”

She said, “No, I’m not angry anymore.”

“Why?” he asked.

She said, “What’s the use of being angry? I’m still stuck in this dark, cold room.”

Her anger had weakened, but it was still there.

Later, when the monk asked again, she said, “I’m not angry anymore, because you are not worth my anger.”

The monk said, “The root of your anger is still there. You have not let it go.”

His words stayed in her mind.

After a long silence, she asked, “Can you tell me—what is anger?”

This time, the monk came to the door. He did not speak. He simply poured the tea in his cup onto the ground.

The woman watched quietly.

Suddenly, she understood.

“If I do not get angry, where does anger come from?” she thought.
“If my mind is clear, what is there to be angry about?”

At that moment, she saw the truth: anger does not come from others. It comes from our own mind.

From the teaching of Gautama Buddha, we learn that anger arises when the mind is not open—when we hold on too tightly to our own thoughts, feelings, and expectations.

If we do not hold onto anger, it cannot stay.

In our daily life, anger often feels very real. We think others cause it. But if we look carefully, we see that it begins inside us.

When anger comes, we can pause and ask:
Why am I reacting this way?
What am I holding onto?
Can I let it go?

If we become more patient, more tolerant, and more willing to step back, anger will slowly lose its power.

Letting go of anger does not make us weak. It frees us.

When we put down the fire in our heart, we will see that things are not as bad as we thought. Other people are not as terrible as we imagined.

In the end, the lesson is simple:

If we do not create anger, it has nowhere to stay.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/04/21/no-one-to-blame-understanding-the-root-of-anger/