Growing up, there was a magnificent tulip poplar tree in our backyard. It was close to the house and could be seen from all three floors. My siblings and I were told that when our folks were building the house, the contractor wanted to take it down as it had some sort of disease. Instead, my folks decided to treat it and let it live.
The treatment ate away at a good part of the lower trunk, creating a small cave just the size for us children to get into.
As a child, this wound caught my attention. One time, I was drawing a picture of this tree, focused on the dark scar of the wound. When my mom saw it, she sighed.
“Why do you do that? Why do you draw the darkness?’ she asked me. I didn’t know the answer. At that time, it just felt natural to look for whatever was hurt or missing.
As the years passed, the tulip poplar grew far beyond that initial wound, soon reaching 75 feet in height and 16 feet around. It was a happy home for birds’ nests and other little creatures. And every year, the hidden hollow at its base grew a bit smaller.
Though its limbs were too high for climbing, I loved to look at it. After my brother moved out, and when I wanted a quiet space, I often went up to his attic bedroom just to watch the branches and leaves blow about in the wind and a family of squirrels run up and down the trunk.
The tulip poplar eventually reached a height of 150 feet. To encircle it now required five people with open arms. And a dark little opening was all that remained of the small cave.
But for so many years, when I thought about this tree, it was the wound that first came to mind. I remembered how big the hole in the tree trunk had been. How damaged it was. How it almost didn’t make it. Instead of actually seeing this tree, I saw what I remembered was wrong about it.
Decades later, long after I’d moved across the country and had raised my own family out west, I came home for a visit. It was a few months after my dad had died, and I was in the backyard, walking around. I looked up, and it was suddenly like I was seeing this tree for the first time. It stood before me in its full beauty: shapely leaves, spreading branches, and a wide and sturdy trunk. How strong, balanced, and powerful it was!
As I stared upward, understanding washed over me. There is nothing wrong with this tree.
Yes, it had once been hurt, but no longer. It had grown way past that and had healed. In place of that old wound, there was so much beauty. So much strength.
One of the hardest things for me in my life was learning to let go of the past and accept what was true now. Much like the tree, I was wounded in my early years. And for a long time I could only see myself as broken and fragile. But that was only part of my story. I, too, had healed and grown. I’d loved, been loved, learned to forgive, and found greater peace. And standing right there in front of me, this magnificent tree mirrored back all its beauty, well-being, and strength, quietly reminding me of my own.
In that humbling and transformative moment, everything shifted. Not only was there nothing wrong with this tree, there was nothing wrong with me.
Two years later, after Mom passed away, the house was sold. The new owners decided to remove the tulip poplar. They wanted a deck, and unfortunately, this beloved tree was in the way.
I was there a few weeks after it was cut down. I gathered some scraps of bark to honor its life and my sweet memories. As I walked up close to the wide, recently-cut base of the tree, I could see saw marks, but the inner bark, the inside of the tree, was free from any rot or decay. The only lingering sign that this tree had once held a large wound was one very small, dark line.
A Thai farmer’s TEDx talk offers a refreshing lesson about happiness, freedom, and what it really means to live well.
What if the secret to a happier life is not earning more money, buying a bigger house, or becoming more successful—but simply learning to live with less?
I recently watched an inspiring TEDx talk by a Thai farmer named Jon Jandai, and his story made me laugh, think, and question many of the things we take for granted.
Jon grew up in a rural village in northeastern Thailand. As a child, he remembered a simple life in which people grew their own food, caught fish, made things by hand, and still had time to rest and talk with their neighbors.
But as television and modern ideas of success reached his village, people began to believe that rural life meant poverty and that a better future could only be found in the big city.
Jon believed it, too.
He left his village for Bangkok, hoping to build a successful life. Instead, he spent seven difficult years working long hours, struggling to afford food, and living in a cramped, uncomfortable room.
Eventually, he began asking himself a simple question:
Why was life becoming harder even though people were working so hard and technology was advancing?
He decided to leave university, return to his village, and become a farmer.
What happened next changed his understanding of life.
Back home, Jon began growing rice. He explained in his talk that he could produce enough rice for his family with only a couple of months of concentrated work each year.
He also dug fishponds and planted more than thirty varieties of vegetables. With food growing around him, his family could eat well, sell the surplus, and enjoy something he had almost forgotten in Bangkok: free time.
He found himself wondering why he had worked so hard in the city just to struggle to afford his meals, when back home he could grow his own food and have time to rest.
Of course, not everyone has access to farmland, and farming requires land, knowledge, hard work, and cooperation with nature. His lifestyle may not be practical for everyone.
But his bigger question is worth considering: Have we made modern life unnecessarily complicated?
We have more technology, more conveniences, and more products than previous generations could have imagined. Yet many people feel increasingly busy, anxious, and exhausted.
Perhaps progress should not be measured only by how much we produce or consume, but also by how much time and freedom we gain.
The Lesson of One Pair of Jeans
One of my favorite parts of Jon’s talk was his story about a pair of jeans.
When he was young, he wanted to look more attractive and fashionable, like the movie stars he admired. He saved money for an entire month to buy a trendy pair of jeans.
When he finally put them on and looked in the mirror, he realized something funny: he was still the same person!
The expensive jeans had not turned him into a movie star.
He began questioning why he needed so many things simply because they were fashionable or because other people owned them. Eventually, he stopped chasing trends and became comfortable wearing secondhand clothes.
He also developed a simple habit before buying anything:
Do I really need this, or do I just want it because I see other people have it?
What a wonderful question!
Think about how often we compare ourselves with others. Someone buys a new car, and suddenly our own car doesn’t seem good enough. Someone takes an expensive vacation, and we feel that we are missing out. Someone buys a beautiful house, and we begin wondering whether our own home is too small.
Without realizing it, we can spend much of our lives chasing things that were never truly important to us.
There is nothing wrong with enjoying beautiful things or buying something we love. But perhaps we should pause occasionally and ask ourselves whether our desires are coming from our hearts or from the pressure to keep up with everyone else.
A House Without Thirty Years of Debt
Another memorable part of Jon’s talk was his experience building his own home.
He explained that he learned to build a simple house using local materials and traditional techniques. Instead of spending decades paying off a mortgage, he could build a house in just a few months.
He compared his situation with a friend who had followed the conventional path: studied hard, found a good job, and bought a house that would take thirty years to pay off.
Jon joked that he had gained nearly thirty years of freedom!
He later built more houses, until he had so many that he joked he sometimes didn’t know which one to sleep in.
His humor makes the story memorable, but the underlying question is serious.
Birds build nests. Animals find shelter. Yet many people spend decades working to afford a place to live.
Of course, modern homes involve safety standards, legal requirements, construction costs, and many other considerations. Building a house as Jon did is not a solution everyone can simply copy.
Still, his example invites us to reconsider the relationship between money, housing, and freedom.
Are we working to create a better life, or have we become trapped in a cycle of working simply to pay for the life we have created?
Jon’s ideas made me think about the way we define success.
I am not against making money. Money can provide security, comfort, and opportunities. It can help us care for our families, support people in need, and pursue meaningful dreams.
But money is a means to live, not the purpose of living.
Sometimes we become so focused on earning more that we forget to enjoy what we already have. We postpone happiness until we buy a house, reach a certain income, achieve a particular position, or finally retire.
But life does not wait for us.
How many beautiful afternoons pass while we are worrying about tomorrow? How many opportunities to spend time with loved ones do we miss because we are too busy pursuing the next goal?
Perhaps real wealth is also having time to enjoy a peaceful morning, prepare a simple meal, take a walk in nature, read a good book, or share a conversation with someone we love.
These moments may cost very little, but they can bring us extraordinary happiness.
Jon’s philosophy also reminds me of an important teaching in Buddhism: attachment and endless craving can become sources of suffering.
This does not mean that we should give up our responsibilities, stop working, or abandon our goals. It means learning to recognize the difference between what we truly need and what our restless desires keep telling us we must have.
When we constantly want more, we may never feel that we have enough.
But when we learn to appreciate what we already have, even an ordinary life can become rich and meaningful.
Jon eventually returned to his roots and helped establish Pun Pun, a learning center and sustainable-living community in Chiang Mai that promotes natural farming, seed saving, and self-reliance.
He did not become wealthy by conventional standards. Instead, he chose a way of life that gave him more independence, a closer relationship with nature, and time to enjoy the things that mattered to him.
We do not all need to become farmers or build our own houses. Everyone has different circumstances, responsibilities, and dreams.
But we can all learn something from his story.
Perhaps we can buy a little less, compare ourselves with others a little less, and spend more time appreciating the simple things around us.
After all, what is the point of working so hard to create a happy life if we are too exhausted and busy to enjoy it?
Maybe a truly rich life is not about having everything we want, but about discovering that we already have enough to be happy.
We don’t have to wait thirty years to enjoy life.
Sometimes, happiness is already waiting for us in a quiet afternoon, a simple meal, a walk in the sunshine, or a little more time with the people we love.
From an early age, many of us were taught by our parents about the importance of developing good habits. Going to bed early, exercising regularly, reading books, and avoiding harmful behaviors were all encouraged as foundations for a healthy and fulfilling life.
Yet, as adults, we often struggle to maintain these good habits. We make ambitious New Year’s resolutions, promise ourselves to exercise for an hour every day, read one book every week, or completely change our lifestyles overnight. Unfortunately, our enthusiasm often fades, and before long, we return to our old routines.
What if the secret to changing our lives isn’t doing more, but starting smaller?
In his book Mini Habits, author Stephen Guise introduces a simple but powerful idea: Instead of setting ambitious goals that require enormous motivation, begin with actions so small that they are almost impossible to resist.
For example:
Instead of exercising for one hour, do just one push-up or one sit-up a day.
Instead of reading one book a week, read just one page a day.
Instead of meditating for thirty minutes, sit quietly for one minute.
Instead of writing a thousand words, write just one sentence.
Instead of walking five miles, start by walking for five minutes.
These actions may seem insignificant, but their real purpose is not the immediate result. Their purpose is to establish consistency.
Once you complete one push-up, you may naturally feel like doing five more. After reading one page, you may become interested in reading an entire chapter.
But even if you stop after that one small action, you have still succeeded. You have kept your promise to yourself.
This is the beauty of tiny habits: You don’t have to depend on motivation, which naturally rises and falls. You simply make the starting point so easy that there is little resistance.
Over time, these small actions can become part of your daily routine. What once required effort may eventually become something you do naturally.
How to Build Good Habits That Last
Here are five practical ways to get started:
1. Start Smaller Than You Think You Should
Don’t overwhelm yourself with ambitious expectations. If you want to exercise, begin with one push-up. If you want to read more, start with one page. Your first goal is simply to show up every day.
2. Connect a New Habit to an Existing Routine
One of the easiest ways to remember a new behavior is to attach it to something you already do.
For example:
After brushing your teeth, do one sit-up.
After drinking your morning coffee, read one page.
Before going to bed, spend one minute reflecting on the day.
Your existing routine becomes a natural reminder for the new habit.
3. Make It Easy and Convenient
If you want to exercise in the morning, prepare your workout clothes the night before. If you want to read more, keep a book beside your bed or on your dining table.
The easier an action is to begin, the more likely you are to repeat it.
4. Focus on Consistency, Not Perfection
You don’t need to be perfect. There will be days when you are tired, busy, or simply not in the mood.
Don’t let one missed day become an excuse to give up entirely. Simply return to your routine the next day.
Building a lasting habit is more important than achieving a perfect record.
5. Celebrate Every Small Achievement
Give yourself credit for every small step. Completing one push-up may not transform your body, and reading one page may not make you an expert, but each action represents a small victory.
Over time, these victories build confidence and strengthen your belief that you can change.
The Connection Between Habits and Buddhist Teachings
Interestingly, the importance of small, repeated actions is also deeply connected to Buddhist teachings.
Buddhism emphasizes that our thoughts, words, and actions shape our character and influence our future. Repeatedly allowing anger, jealousy, greed, or resentment to dominate our minds can strengthen these negative tendencies.
On the other hand, regularly practicing generosity, patience, gratitude, and compassion gradually helps cultivate a more peaceful and wholesome mind.
We don’t become compassionate simply by wishing to be compassionate. We become compassionate by repeatedly choosing to understand others, offering help when possible, and treating people with kindness.
The same principle applies to spiritual cultivation. We don’t become wiser or more peaceful overnight. It takes daily effort, mindfulness, and consistent practice.
Even a few minutes of meditation, one sincere act of kindness, or one moment of controlling our anger can become a meaningful step toward personal transformation.
In this sense, cultivating good habits is not only about improving our physical health or productivity. It is also about shaping the kind of person we wish to become.
We often underestimate the power of small actions because we cannot immediately see their results.
Think about how a tree grows. It begins with a tiny seed, hidden beneath the soil. Day after day, it receives sunlight and water. Its roots slowly deepen, and eventually, it grows into something strong and beautiful.
Our habits work in much the same way.
One page a day can lead to hundreds of pages in a year. One small exercise can establish the foundation of a healthier lifestyle. One moment of patience can prevent an argument. One act of kindness may brighten someone else’s entire day.
We don’t need to transform our lives in one day. We only need to make a small, positive choice today and repeat it tomorrow.
Perhaps the greatest secret of personal growth is this:
Don’t wait until you have enough motivation to make a big change. Start with one small action today.
One page. One push-up. One kind word. One good thought.
Small actions, repeated consistently, can lead to extraordinary changes.
And sometimes, the smallest beginning can become the turning point of an entire life.
In the rush of everyday life, it is easy to focus on what is missing.
We worry about what has gone wrong, what we still need to accomplish, what we cannot control, and what we wish were different. The human mind naturally pays attention to problems and potential threats—a useful survival instinct, but one that can also make life feel heavier than it really is.
But what happens when we deliberately pause and notice what is already good?
We practice gratitude.
And surprisingly, this simple habit may do more than make us feel good for a moment. Research suggests that regularly practicing gratitude can support greater well-being, positive emotions, and life satisfaction.
One of the best-known early studies on gratitude was conducted by psychologists Robert A. Emmons and Michael E. McCullough. Participants were asked to keep brief weekly records. Some wrote about things they were grateful for, while others recorded daily hassles or neutral events.
The gratitude group reported greater optimism and more positive feelings, along with improvements in how they viewed their lives.
Since then, many researchers have continued to study gratitude. A 2025 meta-analysis combining 145 papers, 163 samples, and more than 24,000 participants from 28 countries found that gratitude practices produced a small but measurable improvement in overall well-being.
This does not mean gratitude makes our problems disappear.
It means that what we repeatedly choose to notice may influence how we experience our lives.
Being grateful does not mean pretending that everything is wonderful.
Life includes illness, loss, disappointment, uncertainty, and sorrow. We cannot—and should not—simply wish these experiences away.
Gratitude asks us to widen our view.
We can acknowledge what hurts while also noticing what remains.
We can be worried about tomorrow and still be grateful for today.
We can experience loss and still appreciate the love we once received.
We can face difficulties and still recognize the people, opportunities, and small moments of kindness that support us along the way.
Gratitude does not change reality. It changes what we are able to see within reality.
Think about good health.
When we are healthy, we rarely wake up thinking, How wonderful it is that I can breathe, walk, eat, sleep, and move freely today.
These things seem ordinary.
But when illness takes them away, we suddenly realize how precious they were.
The same is true of peace, family, friendship, a safe home, food on the table, sunlight through a window, or simply having another day of life.
We often recognize the value of something only after we lose it.
That is why gratitude is so important.
It reminds us to appreciate our blessings before they become memories.
A Simple Practice
Gratitude does not require a complicated spiritual practice.
At the end of each day, take a quiet moment and ask yourself:
What am I grateful for today?
Perhaps it was a conversation with someone you love.
Perhaps you enjoyed a good meal.
Perhaps you watched the sunrise.
Perhaps someone helped you when you needed it.
Perhaps you were simply healthy enough to walk outside and enjoy the fresh air.
These things may seem small.
But life itself is made of small moments.
You can also try writing down three things you are grateful for each evening. They do not need to be extraordinary. The important thing is to pause long enough to truly notice them.
And gratitude becomes even more meaningful when we express it.
Tell someone, Thank you.
Write a message.
Offer a sincere word of appreciation.
Sometimes a simple expression of gratitude can brighten another person’s day while deepening our own sense of connection.
Perhaps one of the greatest changes gratitude can bring is a shift in the questions we ask ourselves.
Instead of:
What am I missing?
We begin asking:
What do I already have?
Instead of:
Why isn’t my life better?
We begin asking:
What is already beautiful in my life?
This does not mean we should stop pursuing meaningful goals. We can still work hard, learn, improve, and dream of a better future.
But we do not have to postpone happiness until everything becomes perfect.
We can appreciate today while still working toward tomorrow.
There is something beautiful about gratitude because it is available to almost everyone.
We do not need wealth.
We do not need special equipment.
We do not need a perfect life.
We only need a moment of awareness.
Pause.
Look around.
Notice what is already here.
A breath.
A meal.
A friend.
A family member.
A peaceful morning.
A healthy body.
A roof over our heads.
Another day of life.
Perhaps these things are not ordinary at all.
Perhaps we have simply become so accustomed to our blessings that we have forgotten how precious they are.
Gratitude teaches us to see again.
And sometimes, when we learn to appreciate what we already have, we discover that happiness was never as far away as we thought.
Maybe the secret is not always to have more.
Maybe it is to notice more, appreciate more, and be grateful for what is already here.
“There is no greater calamity than not knowing what is enough. Therefore, knowing that enough is enough is always enough.” — Laozi,Tao Te Ching, Chapter 46
How often do we overlook the blessings we already have because we are always wishing for something more?
The ancient wisdom of Laozi offers a simple but profound answer: knowing what is enough is itself a blessing.
There is a beautiful story from the Ming Dynasty about a man named Hu Jiushao.
Hu was a farmer who also taught his son to read and study. His family lived simply, with enough to meet their basic needs. Every day, however, Hu would burn incense and offer prayers, thanking Heaven for blessing his family with another day of peace and contentment.
His wife found this amusing.
“We eat vegetable porridge for all three meals,” she said. “How can you call this a blessed life?”
Hu smiled and replied:
“First, we live in a time of peace. We do not have to suffer through war.
Second, our family has food to eat and clothes to wear. We are neither hungry nor cold.
Third, everyone in our family is healthy, and none of us has suffered the misfortune of imprisonment.
“Aren’t these blessings?”
His simple words carry a profound lesson.
Hu did not measure happiness by wealth, luxury, or abundance. He looked at what he had—and recognized how precious it was.
We often think happiness comes from having more—more money, a bigger house, greater success, better possessions, or fewer problems. Yet when we constantly focus on what we lack, we can easily overlook the blessings already present in our lives.
As Namo H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III has taught:
“A person not appreciative of the good life he is living is one who has forgotten his past miseries. A person in good health is not aware of its blessings until he loses it.”
How true this can be.
When we are healthy, we may hardly think about what a precious gift good health is. We go about our daily lives without giving it much attention. But when illness comes, something as simple as getting out of bed, walking freely, enjoying a meal, or sleeping peacefully can suddenly become deeply precious.
The same is true of many other things.
When we have peace, we may take it for granted. When we have enough food, a safe home, family, friends, and the freedom to live our daily lives, these things can seem ordinary simply because they are always there.
But ordinary does not mean insignificant.
Sometimes, we only recognize a blessing after it is gone.
Perhaps true happiness does not always require us to acquire something new. Sometimes it begins by seeing what we already have with a grateful heart.
Peace. Health. Food. Shelter. Family. The ability to wake up each morning and live another day.
These may sound like simple things, but they are among life’s greatest treasures.
Hu Jiushao’s story reminds us to pause and ask ourselves:
What blessings am I enjoying today that I have stopped noticing?
Contentment does not mean giving up our dreams or never seeking a better life. It means learning to appreciate the life we have while continuing to grow.
When we learn to cherish what is already in our hands, we may discover that happiness was never as far away as we thought.
Perhaps the secret to a happier life is not always having more, but learning to recognize, appreciate, and cherish what we already have.
Laozi’s ancient words still speak beautifully to us today:
When we truly know what is enough, we may discover that we already have much more than we realized.
In this article you will know how mindfulness can bring simple moments of your day, according to Mayo Clinic.
When you hear the word mindfulness, you may imagine sitting quietly with your eyes closed and focusing on your breath. But mindfulness does not always need a meditation cushion or a long period of silence.
In an article published on January 21, 2026, Mayo Clinic explains that you can bring mindfulness into simple moments of your day. You can practise it while eating, brushing your teeth, walking or simply paying attention to what happens around you.
Mindfulness simply means paying attention to the present moment without judging what you notice. You can observe your thoughts, feelings, body and surroundings as they are.
You do not need to push thoughts away or try to make your mind completely quiet. Mayo Clinic explains that mindfulness means becoming aware of your thoughts without getting caught up in them.
You can start with something you already do every day.
When you brush your teeth, notice the movement of your hand, the taste of the toothpaste and the feeling of the brush. When you eat, slow down and notice the smell, taste and texture of your food.
The goal is simple. Give your full attention to what you are doing instead of rushing through it while thinking about the next task.
Try a mindful walk
Walking can also give you a simple way to practise mindfulness. You do not need a special place or a long walk.
As you walk, notice how your feet touch the ground. Pay attention to the sounds around you, the air on your skin and the sights you pass. Mayo Clinic says you can practise mindfulness while walking, sitting, standing or lying down.
This can help you step away from autopilot and notice the moment you are actually living.
You only need a few minutes
You do not have to set aside an hour for mindfulness. Mayo Clinic says even brief moments of mindful awareness during daily activities count. It also notes that you can start with a few minutes of practice.
You can pause for a few breaths between tasks. Look around you. Notice what you hear. Feel your feet on the floor. Then return to what you were doing.
Can mindfulness become part of your spiritual life?
For some people, mindfulness can create space for quiet reflection and self-awareness. You may use an ordinary moment to slow down and notice what you feel instead of moving through the day without thinking.
You do not have to follow a particular spiritual tradition to practise mindfulness. You can simply use it as a way to become more present in your own life.
Mayo Clinic says mindfulness can support focus, stress management, mood and a greater sense of awareness. Sometimes, being present does not require you to stop your life. You can simply learn to be fully there while you live it.
Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only and not for medical substitute. Reader’s discretion is advised.
We study nutrition, exercise, sleep, supplements, medical treatments, and the latest science of aging. We count our steps, monitor our heart rate, change our diets, and search for new ways to add more years to our lives.
But there is another kind of nourishment that is easy to overlook: the nourishment of the heart and spirit.
A Buddhist story from the Treasury of Miscellaneous Treasures (Za Bao Zang Jing) offers a beautiful perspective on this.
During the time of the Buddha, there was a wealthy elder whose young son was deeply loved.
According to the Buddhist scripture, when the child was about five or six years old, a fortune-teller examined him and said that the child had great blessings—but one serious weakness: his life would be short.
The father was devastated. He searched for ways to help his son live longer and eventually brought him to the Buddha.
The Buddha did not give him a special medicine or promise that death could simply be defeated.
Instead, the Buddha taught the child to cultivate humility, patience, and respect.
The child was instructed to respectfully bow to people entering and leaving the city.
One day, a being who had intended to take the child’s life appeared in the form of a Brahmin. When the child respectfully bowed to him, the being instinctively blessed him, saying, in essence, “May you have a long life.”
Because he had spoken those words, he could no longer go against them.
The scripture concludes that through the child’s humility, patience, and respectful conduct, his life was extended.
The story is recorded in Za Bao Zang Jing（杂宝藏经）, Volume Four, in the story known as “The Elder’s Son Seeks Long Life from the Buddha.”
What If Longevity Is More Than Taking Care of the Body?
This ancient story makes me think about how differently we sometimes approach longevity today.
We are very concerned about what we put into our bodies, but perhaps we should also ask:
What are we putting into our hearts?
We carefully consider food, but what about anger?
We worry about toxins in the environment, but what about resentment?
We exercise our bodies, but do we exercise patience?
We try to strengthen our immune systems, but do we strengthen compassion?
We may spend years searching for ways to extend our physical lives while forgetting that the quality of those years also matters.
Many years ago, I heard an elderly Chinese doctor say something that stayed with me:
“Medicine nourishes the body, food nourishes the body better, movement nourishes it even more—but while nourishing the body, never forget to nourish the heart. Wherever you do good, there is nourishment.”
I have always loved the wisdom behind these simple words.
Taking care of our bodies is important. Eating well, exercising, sleeping properly, and receiving appropriate medical care all matter.
But perhaps taking care of the heart is another form of longevity practice.
What Are We Nourishing Every Day?
Every act leaves something behind in us.
When we constantly become angry, anger becomes easier.
When we hold on to resentment, resentment becomes heavier.
When we practice kindness, kindness becomes more natural.
When we help someone, we may discover that our own heart becomes lighter.
When we forgive, we release something that we have been carrying.
When we sincerely help others, perhaps we are not only giving something away—we are also nourishing something within ourselves.
This is one reason Buddhist teachings place such importance on compassion, generosity, patience, and wholesome actions.
The goal is not simply to have a longer life.
It is to cultivate a better life.
Of course, doing good should not be viewed as a transaction: “If I help others, I will definitely live longer.”
The deeper lesson is about how we live.
We can take care of our bodies while also taking care of our minds and hearts.
We can eat nutritious food and also “feed” ourselves with kindness.
We can exercise our bodies and also practice patience.
We can seek medical treatment when we are ill and, at the same time, work on releasing anger, jealousy, resentment, and fear.
Perhaps true wellness requires both.
Nourish the body, but do not forget to nourish the heart.
And perhaps the simplest nourishment is kindness.
What Kind of Life Are We Trying to Extend?
The Buddhist story of the young child does not tell us that we can control the length of our lives simply by doing good deeds. Life and death involve causes and conditions far beyond our understanding.
But the story reminds us of something important:
While we cannot completely control how long we live, we can pay attention to how we live.
Perhaps the question is not only:
“How can I live longer?”
but also:
“How can I make the years I have more compassionate, meaningful, and beneficial to others?”
Maybe that is another kind of longevity—one measured not only in years, but in the goodness we leave behind.
We spend so much time trying to add years to life.
Perhaps we should also spend some time adding life to our years.
Because sometimes, the best way to nourish ourselves is to nourish someone else.
Charlie White was retired in 1997 when this photo was taken, but he still practiced medicine a bit, flying to Haiti on a medical mission. “It’s a doctor’s fundamental dedication to take care of people whether we get paid or not,” he told The Star at the time. Jeff Roberson The Kansas City Star
What does it take to live well—not simply to live a long life, but to remain hopeful, curious, and strong through difficult times?
Dr. Charlie White lived to be 109 years old. He experienced more than a century of enormous changes, but what fascinates me most about his life is not his age. It is how he faced adversity.
When Charlie was only eight years old, his father died suddenly in a tragic elevator accident. His father was just 42. Charlie’s mother was left a widow with five children and no job or obvious means of support. Charlie’s mother turned their home into a boardinghouse to make ends meet. She expected her children to help and gradually taught them to become independent and responsible for their own lives. Charlie later remembered that his mother had essentially put “the responsibility of life” on them. Because she believed they could manage, they learned to believe in themselves.
Something else important happened during those difficult years. Among the people who stayed in their home were medical missionaries. Meeting them helped inspire Charlie to become a doctor.
He did not allow the loss of his father to become the definition of his life.
Instead, he continued his education, entered medicine, and eventually built not one but two medical careers. He lived through the Great Depression, two world wars, enormous changes in medicine, personal losses, and many other challenges.
What strikes me most about Charlie’s story is that resilience did not mean that life stopped hurting. It meant that he continued to participate in life after the hurt.
He learned to adapt.
When medicine changed, he changed with it. When opportunities were lost, he looked for new ones. When he made mistakes, he did not seem to spend his life regretting them. He remained curious about what could come next. His biographer, David Von Drehle, described him not simply as a survivor, but as someone who learned how to thrive through change.
Sometimes we misunderstand resilience.
Being resilient does not mean that we never feel sad, afraid, or discouraged. It means that pain does not have to become the end of our story.
We may lose someone we love.
We may fail.
Our plans may suddenly change.
Someone may disappoint us.
Life may take us in a direction we never expected.
We cannot always choose the circumstances. But we can ask:
What can I do now?
That simple question can give us the strength to take the next step.
Adaptability Is a Form of Wisdom
Charlie lived through a world that changed almost beyond recognition.
Yet he continued to learn and adapt.
This is something we all need today.
The world changes quickly. Technology changes. Our circumstances change. Our bodies change. Relationships change. Sometimes even our dreams change.
Adaptability does not mean abandoning our values.
It means learning how to carry our values into new circumstances.
We can remain kind while adapting.
We can remain honest while adapting.
We can remain hopeful while adapting.
Charlie lived for 109 years, but longevity itself was not his greatest lesson.
A meaningful life is not measured only by the number of years we receive.
It is measured by how we use those years.
Can we continue learning?
Can we forgive?
Can we help others?
Can we remain curious?
Can we appreciate what we have?
Can we face uncertainty without giving up hope?
Charlie understood that life would never be perfect. Yet he continued to meet it with optimism and openness.
Perhaps that is why his story speaks to me.
When something painful happens, we can allow ourselves to grieve—but still move forward.
When circumstances change, we can adapt without losing ourselves.
When we make mistakes, we can learn rather than remain trapped in regret.
When tomorrow is uncertain, we can still choose hope.
Dr. Charlie White could not choose what happened to him when he was eight years old.
But he could choose what he did with the life that followed.
And perhaps that is the deepest lesson of his 109 years:
We cannot always choose what happens to us. But we can choose how we meet what happens.
Sometimes, that choice becomes the beginning of our greatest strength.
Through participating in group study, respectfully and deeply listening to the Dharma discourses expounded by my Buddha Master, Namo H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, and sharing what I had learned with others, I gradually came to understand and feel the pain deep within my mother’s heart.
For as long as I can remember, my parents were constantly arguing. During holidays and festivals in particular, our home would become filled with tension. After an argument, my mother would always wear a stern expression and remain silent, while my father would sigh repeatedly, not knowing what to do.
After encountering the Tathagata’s True Dharma taught by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, I wanted to resolve a question that had puzzled me for a long time: My mother had everything she needed in terms of food and clothing and was free from serious illness or misfortune, so why did she complain every day? She would either say that my father did not treat her well or feel that my younger brother and his wife did not treat her well. She would become so upset that she sometimes could not sleep all night.
My mother cared greatly about maintaining appearances, even when doing so caused her hardship. She especially doted on my younger brother, whom she treasured dearly. To ensure that he could hold his head high in front of his wife’s family, my mother used almost all of her savings to buy them a home and a garage.
Whenever there was an important occasion or even a smaller matter involving my sister-in-law’s family, my mother always handled everything generously and properly. She would rather live frugally herself than allow my brother to lose face.
Yet despite all she had done, my brother seldom contacted her. Although they lived in the same city, he rarely checked in on her, much less came to see her. I could feel how deeply my mother missed her son. She would often ask me, “I wonder what your brother has been so busy with lately?”
To tell the truth, seeing my mother like this made my heart ache, and I also felt deeply concerned about my inability to help her. How I wished she could learn the true Dharma of the Tathagata with me! After all, it was through learning the true Dharma of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III and developing right understanding and right views that I myself had been able to free myself from the suffering caused by my divorce.
Having personally experienced the benefits of learning Buddhism and cultivating myself, I tried to persuade my mother not to dwell on the things that troubled her. I explained to her that these circumstances were the result of causes, conditions, and karmic forces planted in the past. But she did not agree with what I told her.
To avoid upsetting my mother, I tried to take care of nearly all the household chores myself so that she would have to do as little as possible for my single-parent household. Yet strangely, the more responsibilities I took upon myself, the more upset she seemed to become. No matter what I did, I could not seem to make her happy.
Back then, I lived very cautiously around her, afraid that something I said or did might cause her to become upset and silently resentful. I also tried communicating with her, but she would often remain silent and keep everything bottled up inside.
Through respectfully studying Expounding the Absolute Truth Through the Heart Sutra, I brought forth right mindfulness and finally came to understand how I should correctly practice the Four Immeasurables of loving-kindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity. I first needed to begin with equanimity and selfless giving—to be willing to devote my time to considering the needs of my family. Caring for them was not merely about making sure they had enough food, warm clothing, and money to spend. I also needed to learn to recognize and understand the suffering within their hearts.
I began to sincerely spend time with my mother, and gradually I discovered that the ice within her heart was beginning to melt. Instead of telling her, “Don’t be angry anymore” or “Don’t hold on to resentment,” I began placing the responsibility upon myself: I needed to understand the pain within my mother’s heart, listen to what her heart was trying to tell me, help heal her emotional wounds, and help her establish right understanding and right views.
When my mother complained, I became willing to set aside my time and sit quietly beside her, listening attentively. I no longer used the principle of “cause and effect” to argue with her until she had nothing left to say.
When she felt physically tired, I would take the time to massage the acupressure points on her feet and ask her whether the pressure was too light or too strong. When she felt bored, I would willingly spend time with her and chat about everyday family matters instead of lecturing her about principles and doctrines.
The more I tried to understand the pain in my mother’s heart, the more she began saying things like, “Don’t waste your time on me. I don’t need you to keep me company. Go take care of the children. Once you’ve taken care of everything for them, go do whatever you need to do.”
What surprised and delighted me even more was that my mother eventually began reminding me herself, “It’s almost time for your Buddhist group study. Don’t forget to join the meeting. I’ll help you look after the children.”
I had finally gained my mother’s support. And it happened simply because I had learned to recognize the pain within her heart and was willing to devote my time to sincerely being there for her.
This is exactly what the H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III teaches in the Dharma discourses: we must put our cultivation into actual practice and cultivate ourselves with respect to the three karmas of body, speech, and mind. We must be sincere in our words and actions and in the way we interact with and treat others. Only by putting genuine effort into our conduct in everyday life can we truly touch the hearts of others.
This is yet another real-life example involving one of my relatives who experienced blessings through the Buddha Dharma.
Over the years that I have been learning the Buddha Dharma, I have introduced quite a few people to Buddhism. Regrettably, perhaps because my own cultivation has not been good enough, none of them ultimately continued. Yet there was always one wish in my heart: I wanted to bring my mother-in-law to listen to the Dharma.
I knew that she was sincere and genuine in the way she treated others. Although she had little formal education and was hearing-impaired, I felt certain that she might actually learn better than I did. However, because she was elderly and physically frail, and because the journey was rather long and transportation inconvenient, I kept the thought to myself for quite some time and did not dare bring it up with her.
In April 2025, after we had finished a life-release activity, I finally decided to ask her.
“Mom, it’s still early today. Why don’t you come with me to listen to the Dharma discourses of Namo H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III?”
Afraid that she might refuse, I added, “Mom, the matter of birth and death is of the utmost importance, and impermanence comes swiftly. You are already in your seventies. You should quickly begin learning the true Tathagata Dharma and listening to the Dharma discourses of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III so that you can attain liberation from birth and death in this lifetime. You are such a kindhearted person. I’m sure you will learn even better than I do.”
After hearing this, she agreed, and we went to the Buddhist altar room in my home to respectfully listen to a Dharma discourse.
After she returned home, she called me and said that she could not understand it and wondered whether she should stop going. Perhaps because she was family, I spoke to her rather directly. Raising my voice so that she could hear me, I said, “Mom, if you don’t understand it now, you can learn gradually. There are many things I don’t understand either. But think about how much suffering there is in life. If we do not learn Buddhism, we will suffer even more as we continue to reincarnate within the six realms. The opportunity to encounter a Buddha in this world is exceedingly rare. Only by learning the true Tathagata Dharma taught by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III can we have hope of attaining accomplishment and liberation in this lifetime. Learning Buddhism requires a sincere heart and perseverance.”
Seeing that I was unhappy, she reluctantly replied, “All right, then.”
When she agreed to continue coming to listen to the Dharma, I was overjoyed. I thought it might be better to first show her videos about the true Buddha Dharma. They presented many extraordinary and inconceivable manifestations of the Buddha Dharma, which I hoped would strengthen her faith.
Sure enough, the videos sparked her interest. I then began having her listen to Dharma discourses, starting with the first lesson, The Unsurpassable, Supreme Dharma.
From then on, regardless of bitter cold, scorching heat, wind, or rain, she faithfully made the trip to my home every day, relying on others for transportation so that she could listen to the Dharma. Later, I also brought her to our Dharma center to participate in group study and practice so that she could experience the atmosphere of learning Buddhism together with others.
She increasingly came to appreciate how wonderful and extraordinary learning Buddhism was. She has continued steadfastly ever since and has never again thought about giving up. She often feels filled with Dharma joy.
Although she has little formal education and is not very good at sharing her thoughts, she often expresses her feelings in her own simple and heartfelt way:
“Oh, what is being taught is truly wonderful!”
Her Hearing Recovered After More Than a Year of Learning the True Buddha Dharma
After persevering in respectfully listening to the Dharma discourses of H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III for more than a year, she began experiencing significant changes in her physical condition.
At first, some of her hair began turning black again. Then the pain in her legs disappeared, and she became much more agile when walking.
Most astonishing of all was the change in her hearing. Because her hearing had been very poor for many years, she had always needed to wear hearing aids. One day in early July of this year, she told me that a large amount of pus had suddenly drained from her ear. I wondered whether this might be a response associated with receiving blessings.
I said to her, “Mom, you are so sincere and devout. Every day you travel such a long distance to come here and listen to the Dharma. The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas will surely bless you.”
Then, this morning, I received a phone call from her. In an excited voice, she told me:
“My ear is better! I can hear sounds even without my hearing aid now. This is wonderful! This is wonderful!”
I was so happy for her. For someone who had suffered severe hearing loss for so many years, being able to hear again without a hearing aid undoubtedly felt like being given a new life.
I said, “Mom, this is all due to the compassionate blessings of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. The sincerity you have devoted to learning the Dharma has touched the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. The Buddha Dharma is truly magnificent and inconceivable!”
The changes she experienced have also strengthened my own confidence and determination to learn and practice the Buddha Dharma well.
When I reflect upon myself, I realize that I have sometimes allowed myself to become entangled in family matters and have not been nearly as diligent as she has. The Buddha Dharma is so real and true, and the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are so greatly compassionate. What, then, is there that I cannot let go of?
