Atisha: The Buddhist Master Who Followed Tara’s Guidance to Tibet

His remarkable journey, the devotion of Tibetan kings, and the legendary guidance of Tara

More than nine hundred years ago, an Indian Buddhist master undertook a difficult journey to Tibet that would profoundly influence the future of Tibetan Buddhism. His name was Atisha Dipankara Shrijnana (982–1054), a renowned scholar, meditation master, and spiritual teacher whose life was devoted to the liberation and well-being of sentient beings.

His story is not simply about the spread of a religion. It is about the power of compassion, the courage to leave behind worldly comfort, and the willingness to sacrifice personal interests for the benefit of others.

A Prince Who Chose the Spiritual Path

According to traditional biographies, Atisha was born into a royal family in eastern India. His birth name was Chandragarbha, and he grew up surrounded by the wealth and privileges of palace life.

Yet he was not satisfied with worldly success. Even as a young man, he felt drawn toward spiritual practice and the search for a deeper understanding of life.

Traditional accounts relate that Tara, the female Buddha associated with enlightened compassion and swift assistance, appeared to him in a vision when he was young. This encounter strengthened his determination to follow the spiritual path rather than pursue the life expected of a prince.

Atisha eventually renounced his royal future and became a monk. He studied with many distinguished Buddhist masters and developed an extraordinary command of Buddhist philosophy, meditation, ethics, and tantric teachings.

But one of the most important influences on his life came from a journey far beyond India.

Atisha traveled by sea to Suvarnadvipa, traditionally identified with present-day Sumatra, where he studied for twelve years under the great master Dharmakirti, also known as Serlingpa in Tibetan tradition.

There, Atisha received profound teachings on bodhichitta—the aspiration to attain enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings.

He later regarded these teachings as among the most precious gifts he had received. His life reminds us that genuine wisdom requires more than accumulating knowledge. It requires cultivating a heart that sincerely wishes to benefit others.

By the eleventh century, Buddhism in Tibet was undergoing a period of revival after earlier political upheavals and the disruption of Buddhist institutions.

The rulers of western Tibet wished to restore the teachings and strengthen the understanding and practice of the Dharma. They were particularly concerned about confusion surrounding Buddhist doctrine and the relationship between different forms of practice.

King Yeshe Ö became deeply committed to finding a qualified Indian Buddhist master who could help Tibetans recover a clear and systematic understanding of the teachings.

According to traditional Tibetan accounts, he sent young Tibetans to India to study Sanskrit and search for an appropriate teacher. Their journeys were dangerous, and many did not return.

Eventually, the name of Atisha emerged as that of a master whose learning, discipline, and compassion made him especially suitable for the mission.

The king’s efforts to invite him became one of the most moving stories in Tibetan Buddhist history.

Traditional biographies recount that Yeshe Ö was captured during his efforts to gather resources for the mission. When his nephew Jangchub Ö was unable to meet the captor’s demands for his release, Yeshe Ö urged him not to spend the remaining gold on rescuing him. Instead, he asked his nephew to use it to invite Atisha to Tibet.

In this traditional account, the king placed the future of the Dharma above his own life.

Whether every detail of this story can be historically verified or not, its spiritual message is unmistakable: the king believed that preserving the Dharma for future generations was more important than his personal safety.

After Yeshe Ö’s death, his nephew Jangchub Ö continued the mission. He sent the translator Nagtso to India with an earnest request for Atisha to come and help the people of Tibet.

Tara’s Guidance: A Decision That Changed History

Atisha did not immediately agree to leave India.

He was already an established teacher at Vikramashila, one of the great Buddhist monastic universities of the time. Leaving would mean abandoning familiar surroundings, colleagues, and responsibilities for a long and uncertain journey into a distant land.

Goddess in blue robe sitting on a lotus flower surrounded by lotus pond and traditional Asian pagodas at dusk

Traditional biographies tell us that Atisha sought guidance from Tara, his revered spiritual protector.

According to these accounts, Tara appeared to him in a vision and explained that traveling to Tibet would bring great benefit to the Dharma, although it would shorten his life.

Atisha faced a profound choice: remain in India, where he could continue his work in familiar surroundings, or travel to Tibet, where his help was urgently needed.

The traditional story says that he chose Tibet, accepting the personal cost because he believed the journey would benefit countless beings.

This is one of the most inspiring parts of his life.

Tara’s appearance belongs to the spiritual narratives preserved by the Buddhist tradition; it is not something that can be independently established as a historical event. For devotees, however, the story expresses an important understanding of spiritual guidance: wisdom is not merely about choosing what is comfortable or advantageous for oneself, but discerning where one’s efforts can bring the greatest benefit.

In 1042, Atisha arrived in western Tibet, in the kingdom of Guge.

His arrival was a moment of great significance. According to traditional accounts, monks, laypeople, and local leaders gathered to welcome him in a grand procession. People had traveled to meet the Indian master whose arrival they hoped would strengthen the Dharma in their homeland.

Imagine the scene: after years of hardship and repeated efforts to bring him to Tibet, the people finally welcomed the teacher for whom they had waited so long.

Tibetan people welcoming an Indian guru

Atisha was deeply moved by their enthusiasm. He was also impressed by the intelligence and dedication of the Tibetan practitioners he encountered.

Yet he recognized that many people needed a clearer understanding of how the various Buddhist teachings fit together and how they could be applied in everyday life.

King Jangchub Ö therefore asked him to teach in a way that ordinary people could understand and practice.

Rather than asking for teachings that sounded profound but were difficult to apply, the king wanted guidance on ethical conduct, karma, compassion, and the steps that lead toward enlightenment.

Atisha responded by composing one of his most influential works, A Lamp for the Path to Enlightenment (Bodhipathapradipa).

This concise text organized the Buddhist path into a clear framework, integrating ethical discipline, the cultivation of wisdom, and the development of bodhichitta. It became a foundational influence on later Tibetan Buddhist teachings about the stages of the path to enlightenment.

Atisha did not merely bring more books or philosophical ideas to Tibet. He helped present the Dharma as a coherent path that people could study, contemplate, and practice.

A Statue of Tara That Could Speak

Among the many fascinating stories associated with Atisha is the tradition that sacred images spoke to him.

This is the statue of Tara that Venerable Atisha is said to have kept with him at all times. According to tradition, the statue once spoke to him and communicated with him.
The statue is now enshrined at Tara Temple (Drolma Lhakhang) in Lhasa, Tibet.

According to his traditional biography, while circumambulating the great Buddhist stupa at Bodh Gaya in India, Atisha heard sacred statues speaking about the importance of bodhichitta. Their message was that the essential path to enlightenment lay in cultivating love, compassion, and the aspiration to benefit all beings.

The story is a reminder that, within Buddhist devotional traditions, sacred images are not always regarded as mere objects of art. They can serve as powerful reminders of the qualities that practitioners seek to develop.

Tara held a particularly important place in Atisha’s spiritual life. Traditional accounts describe her appearing in visions to guide him, including in his decision to travel to Tibet.

These narratives are cherished by many Buddhist practitioners as expressions of faith and spiritual inspiration. They are best understood as traditional religious accounts rather than independently verified historical events.

Whether one approaches them through faith, cultural history, or symbolic interpretation, their central message is meaningful: spiritual guidance should lead us toward greater compassion, wisdom, and responsibility for others.

What Can Atisha Teach Us Today?

Atisha lived in a very different world from ours, yet the questions he faced remain familiar.

We live in a time when information is abundant, opinions are everywhere, and people often disagree about what is true. It is easy to accumulate knowledge without allowing it to transform our behavior.

Atisha’s life points toward another way.

First, knowledge must be accompanied by practice. Learning about compassion is not the same as treating people compassionately. Understanding karma is not merely discussing cause and effect; it is taking responsibility for our intentions, words, and actions.

Second, true spiritual growth requires humility. Despite his extensive education, Atisha continued to learn from qualified teachers. His example reminds us that wisdom is not a reason to feel superior to others. It is an opportunity to understand ourselves more deeply and serve others more effectively.

Third, compassion sometimes asks us to step beyond our comfort zone. Atisha left a respected position in India to help people far away. We may never be called to undertake such a journey, but we can respond to the needs around us—in our families, communities, and wider world.

Sometimes compassion means giving our time. Sometimes it means listening patiently, helping someone in difficulty, or admitting that we were wrong. Small actions, when guided by sincere concern for others, can also make a meaningful difference.

Finally, Atisha’s story reminds us that the most valuable teachings are those that help us change our lives. The Dharma is not simply something to admire from a distance. It is a path to be walked.

The Light That Continues to Shine

Atisha passed away in Tibet in 1054, but his influence did not end with his life. His writings, his disciples, and the traditions that developed from his teachings helped shape the course of Tibetan Buddhism.

His journey was made possible by the devotion of Tibetan rulers, the dedication of translators and messengers, and the willingness of a great teacher to respond to a distant people’s spiritual needs.

The story of Atisha and Tara adds another dimension to this legacy: the belief that a life guided by wisdom and compassion can accomplish far more than a life devoted only to personal success.

We may not be able to travel across mountains to revive a Buddhist tradition, as Atisha did. But each of us has opportunities to bring a little more understanding into the world.

We can study sincerely, practice humbly, and treat others with compassion. We can use what we know not to elevate ourselves above others, but to lessen suffering wherever possible.

Perhaps this is one of the most enduring lessons of Atisha’s life: the true light of the Dharma shines not only through what a person teaches, but through the compassion that person is willing to put into action.

Link: https://peacelilysite.com/2026/10/21/atisha-the-buddhist-master-who-followed-taras-guidance-to-tibet/

Do We Truly Practice What We Learn? A Timeless Lesson from the Buddha

We live in an age when information is everywhere. We can read books, listen to lectures, memorize wise sayings, and discuss spiritual teachings with others. Yet an important question remains: Has what we learned truly changed the way we live?

A story from the Dhammapada, verses 19 and 20, offers a powerful answer.

Two Monks, Two Different Paths

During the Buddha’s time, two monks from noble families were close friends. One became highly learned in the Buddhist scriptures. He mastered the Tripitaka, taught many monks, and became a respected teacher.

The other monk chose a different emphasis. He devoted himself diligently to meditation and the direct practice of the Dharma. Through sustained effort, he attained Arhatship, the state of liberation described in the Buddhist tradition.

One day, the two monks met at Jetavana Monastery. The learned monk did not realize that his old friend had attained such a high level of spiritual realization. Looking down on him because he knew fewer scriptures, he intended to test him with difficult questions and expose his lack of knowledge.

The Buddha understood what was happening. Out of compassion, he intervened and questioned the two monks himself.

The learned monk could answer questions about teachings he had studied, but he could not answer questions concerning spiritual attainments he had never personally experienced. His friend, through diligent practice and realization, answered correctly.

The Buddha praised the monk who had put the Dharma into practice.

When the other monks wondered why their learned teacher had not received the same praise, the Buddha explained the difference between knowing the teachings and living them.

He compared the person who recites the Dharma without practicing it to a hired cowherd who counts and tends another person’s cattle. Although he spends his days among the cattle, he does not own them or enjoy their produce. By contrast, the person who practices the Dharma receives its genuine benefits.

The lesson was not that learning is useless. Rather, knowledge becomes truly valuable when we put it into practice.

1. Knowing the Truth Is Not the Same as Living It

We may know that anger harms us, yet lose our temper when someone criticizes us. We may understand that greed brings dissatisfaction, yet continue to compare our possessions with those of others. We may speak beautifully about compassion, yet turn away when someone needs our help.

Why does this happen?

Because understanding something intellectually is not the same as transforming our habits, thoughts, and actions.

We can memorize a hundred teachings about patience, but patience is tested when someone treats us unfairly. We can read countless passages about forgiveness, but their meaning becomes real when we face someone who has hurt us.

The same is true of kindness, humility, and generosity. They are not demonstrated merely by what we say we believe, but by how we respond when life becomes difficult.

The real question is not simply, “How much do I know?” It is, “How much of what I know have I put into practice?”

2. Spiritual Pride Can Become an Obstacle

The learned monk’s greatest mistake was not his knowledge. It was his pride.

Because he knew more scriptures, he assumed that he was spiritually superior to his friend. He judged another person’s attainment by what he could see and measure, without understanding what had taken place within that person’s mind.

How easily can we make the same mistake?

We may judge others by their education, profession, wealth, social position, religious knowledge, or public reputation. Even in spiritual communities, people can become attached to titles, recognition, and the appearance of being wise.

Yet genuine wisdom should make us more humble, not more arrogant.

The more deeply we understand ourselves, the more carefully we should judge others. We rarely know the full extent of another person’s struggles, efforts, or inner growth.

A quiet person may possess a depth of kindness we have not yet developed. Someone who speaks little about spirituality may live with greater patience and compassion than someone who speaks about it every day.

We should therefore be cautious about assuming that outward appearances reveal a person’s true spiritual condition.

3. The Dharma Must Transform Our Everyday Lives

The Buddha’s teaching is not meant to remain confined to books, temples, or meditation halls. Its value is revealed in the ordinary moments of daily life.

When someone offends us, can we pause before reacting?

When we see another person succeed, can we feel happy for them instead of becoming jealous?

When we make a mistake, can we admit it honestly rather than finding excuses?

When someone needs help, can we offer what we reasonably can without constantly asking what we will receive in return?

These moments may seem small, but they are opportunities to practice.

Buddhist teachings emphasize overcoming greed, hatred, and delusion. This does not happen simply because we can explain these concepts. It requires observing our own minds, recognizing unwholesome tendencies, and repeatedly choosing a wiser response.

Every time we replace anger with patience, selfishness with generosity, or prejudice with understanding, we take a step toward making our lives more consistent with what we believe.

Spiritual practice is not only what happens when we close our eyes in meditation. It is also what happens when we open them and meet the world.

4. From Collecting Knowledge to Cultivating Wisdom

Today, we can spend hours watching inspirational videos, listening to spiritual talks, and sharing meaningful quotations on social media. These activities can be helpful, but they can also create the illusion that we are growing simply because we are constantly consuming information.

Sometimes, one teaching sincerely practiced is more valuable than a hundred teachings merely remembered.

Instead of asking how many books we have read, perhaps we should ask whether we have become more patient. Instead of counting how many spiritual talks we have attended, we might reflect on whether we have become more compassionate toward our families, friends, strangers, and even those with whom we disagree.

We do not need to master every scripture before beginning to practice. We can start with what we already understand.

If we learn about compassion, we can practice it today. If we learn about impermanence, we can cherish the people and moments we have instead of taking them for granted. If we learn about letting go, we can begin by loosening our grip on one resentment or one unnecessary desire.

Knowledge points the way. Practice helps us walk it.

The story of the two monks invites us to look inward rather than use spiritual knowledge to measure other people.

At the end of each day, we might quietly ask ourselves:

  • Was I kinder today than I was yesterday?*
  • Did I respond to difficulties with greater patience and understanding?*
  • Did my words and actions reflect the values I claim to believe in?*

We will not always succeed. We may still become angry, act selfishly, or make mistakes. The purpose of reflection is not to condemn ourselves, but to recognize where we can improve and begin again.

True progress does not require us to appear perfect before others. It requires the honesty to see ourselves clearly and the willingness to change.

The Buddha’s message in these verses remains as relevant today as it was more than two thousand years ago: reciting the teachings alone does not bring their full benefit. We must embody them in our lives.

The measure of wisdom is not simply how much we know, but how deeply that knowledge transforms the way we think, speak, and treat others.

May we learn not merely to speak about the Dharma, but to live it—one thought, one word, and one action at a time.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/10/15/do-we-truly-practice-what-we-learn-a-timeless-lesson-from-the-buddha/

The Monk Whose Body Survived Five Days in the Fire

What happens to the body after death?

For most of us, the answer seems obvious. The body eventually returns to the elements. Yet in Buddhist history, there are extraordinary stories of great practitioners whose remains have been preserved in ways that inspire generations of people.

One such story is that of the Seventeenth Ganjurwa Khutukhtu, a highly respected Tibetan-Mongolian Buddhist master whose life eventually brought him to Taiwan.

A Life Devoted to Buddhism

Ganjurwa Khutukhtu was born in 1914 in the Amdo region of Qinghai. According to historical accounts preserved by the Ganjurwa Hermitage, he was recognized as a reincarnated spiritual master when he was very young.

As a child, he entered the monastery and devoted himself to Buddhist study and practice. He later studied at Wudangzhao, one of Inner Mongolia’s important Buddhist monasteries, and received full Buddhist monastic ordination from the Ninth Panchen Lama.

In 1949, he came to Taiwan. From there, he spent many years teaching Buddhism, giving Dharma teachings and initiations, and traveling to places including Hong Kong, Thailand, Cambodia, Canada, and the United States.

He was also elected chairman of the Buddhist Association of the Republic of China in 1957, following the passing of the Seventh Zhangjia Khutukhtu. Yet despite his respected position, accounts of his life describe him as a person who preferred spiritual practice and a quiet life to fame and status.

Eventually, he settled at Ganjurwa Hermitage (甘珠精舍) in Xindian, Taiwan, where he continued his practice and taught the Dharma.

Five Days and Five Nights in the Fire

The most extraordinary chapter of his story came after his death.

Ganjurwa Khutukhtu passed away peacefully at Ganjurwa Hermitage on June 13, 1978, at the age of 65.

On June 29, his body was taken to Fayusi Temple in Beitou for the traditional Buddhist cremation ceremony, known as tuhuo or j̄hāpiṭa (荼毗).

According to accounts preserved by the hermitage and Taiwan’s Veterans Affairs Council, the fire continued for five days and five nights.

When the cremation chamber was opened, those present were reportedly astonished. Rather than finding only ashes, they found that the master’s body had remained largely intact. His robes and prayer beads were reportedly still recognizable.

His disciples regarded this as an extraordinary manifestation of a vajra-indestructible body and preserved the remains as sacred relics.

For Buddhists, such accounts are not simply about the physical body. They point toward a deeper question:

Can spiritual practice transform the way we understand life, death, and impermanence?

A Sculpture Created to Preserve His Sacred Remains

There is another remarkable part of this story.

To preserve the master’s remains, his disciples invited two of Taiwan’s most important modern sculptors, Yang Ying-Feng (楊英風) and Ju Ming (朱銘), to create a bronze statue.

The sacred remains were placed inside the sculpture, and the statue was installed at Ganjurwa Hermitage so that devotees could continue to pay their respects.

According to the Veterans Affairs Council, the full-body relics of Ganjurwa Khutukhtu remain enshrined there today.

It is an unusual meeting of Buddhism, history, sculpture, and faith—a spiritual legacy preserved not only through religious practice, but also through the hands of two remarkable Taiwanese artists.

Whether one approaches this story through faith, history, or simply human curiosity, it raises a profound question:

What remains of a person after the body is gone?

A building can disappear. Wealth can be lost. Fame eventually fades.

But wisdom, compassion, and the example of a life devoted to helping others can continue long after a person has left this world.

Perhaps this is the deeper meaning behind the story of Ganjurwa Khutukhtu.

The most precious legacy of a spiritual master may not be the physical remains left behind.

It may be the Dharma he taught, the lives he touched, and the goodness he inspired in others.

And perhaps that is the kind of legacy worth leaving behind.

A glowing lotus flower with pastel colors floating on water under moonlight.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/10/09/the-monk-whose-body-survived-five-days-in-the-fire/

Source: https://www.storm.mg/article/4494305, http://m.fosss.net/SheLi/GanZhu/Index.html

A Hidden Wonderland: The World Within a Landscape

An Chinese Ink Painting by H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III

The first time I saw this magnificent landscape painting, A Hidden Wonderland (別有洞天), I was immediately captivated by its dreamlike atmosphere and dazzling colors. For a moment, I even forgot to ask myself: Is this an oil painting or a traditional Chinese landscape?

The more I looked, the more fascinating the painting became.

Its colors, composition, and harmonious overall tone have the richness and realism of a Western oil painting. The luminous, almost surreal forms in the foreground appear to glow with extraordinary depth and texture. Creating such a convincing visual world requires a strong foundation in realistic Western painting.

Yet at the same time, the spirit of the work is unmistakably that of traditional Chinese landscape painting. Its atmosphere, poetic feeling, and especially its central landscape are deeply rooted in the aesthetics of Chinese shanshui—the art of expressing not only mountains and rivers, but also the spirit and energy of nature.

The longer I studied A Hidden Wonderland, the more I sensed that there was something beyond visual beauty. The composition seemed to contain a philosophical idea about perspective—about how the world can look completely different when we change where we stand.

It reminded me of a famous poem by the Chinese poet Bian Zhilin:

You stand upon the bridge, looking at the scenery;
The one looking at the scenery from the tower is looking at you.
The bright moon decorates your window;
You, in turn, decorate another’s dream.

The poem presents two perspectives at once. Someone believes they are simply observing the scenery, while from another viewpoint, they themselves have become part of someone else’s scenery. With this subtle shift in perspective, the poet reminds us that what we see depends greatly on where we stand.

A Hidden Wonderland carries a similar idea, but takes it even further.

The space surrounding the central landscape seems like a world beyond ordinary human life—a peaceful, radiant realm resembling a paradise. At the center, however, lies the familiar human world.

The artist creates a kind of visual frame within the painting. By changing the viewer’s position, the distance between “here” and “there,” between the world we inhabit and the world we imagine beyond it, suddenly becomes much greater.

For a moment, we seem to be standing outside the ordinary world, looking back at it from a higher and more peaceful place.

And then something remarkable happens.

After allowing our eyes to wander through the magnificent scenery beyond the frame, we look back toward the human world—and discover that it, too, is beautiful.

The morning sun has just appeared. Golden light gently pushes away the soft white mist floating above the river. Quiet sails drift across the water. Lush vegetation covers the riverbanks, while graceful trees partially conceal small houses scattered among them.

On the fertile hillsides, peach and plum blossoms fill the air with fragrance. In a beautiful pond, groups of geese and ducks play and call to one another. A winding mountain path leads into the distance, while the familiar sounds of village life—roosters crowing and dogs barking—rise and fall in the peaceful landscape.

Suddenly, the ordinary world we thought we had left behind no longer seems ordinary at all.

It is beautiful.

Perhaps this is one of the deepest messages hidden within A Hidden Wonderland. Sometimes we need to step outside our familiar perspective before we can truly appreciate the beauty of the world in which we live.

The artist, H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III, has not only created a visually breathtaking landscape, but also a kind of window through which we can look at our own lives from a different perspective. The radiant world beyond the frame resembles a pure and luminous realm, while the human world below gradually reveals its own extraordinary beauty.

After being immersed in such a magnificent vision, we return our eyes to everyday life with a changed heart.

Perhaps the world itself has not changed.

Perhaps we have.

This brings to mind a profound teaching from the Vimalakirti Sutra:

“If a bodhisattva wishes to attain a pure land, he should purify his mind. As the mind becomes pure, the Buddha-land becomes pure.”

Maybe the “hidden wonderland” is not simply somewhere far away.

Perhaps it begins with the way we see.

When the mind becomes peaceful, the ordinary becomes beautiful. When the heart becomes pure, the world we see may also appear more pure.

And perhaps that is the true masterpiece hidden within A Hidden Wonderland—not only a beautiful landscape to look at, but a quiet invitation to look at ourselves, our world, and life itself from a higher perspective.

Link: https://peacelilysite.com/2026/10/02/a-hidden-wonderland-the-world-within-a-landscape/

We Spend So Much Time Trying to Live Longer—But Are We Learning How to Live Better?

Modern people are fascinated by longevity.

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.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/09/22/we-spend-so-much-time-trying-to-live-longer-but-are-we-learning-how-to-live-better/

There Is No Generation Gap—Am I the North Wind or the Sun?

I Chose to Be the Sun—and My Relationship With My Father Changed

There is a saying that has stayed with me:

“If you have never experienced what others have gone through, do not be quick to judge their faults. If you have never endured their suffering, do not be quick to tell them how they should behave. If you had suffered what I have suffered, you might not have done any better than I did.”

It sounds like such a simple truth. Yet for many years, I failed to truly understand it.

Growing up, my father was strict and authoritative. My relationship with my mother was completely different—we were close, comfortable, and deeply connected.

As I grew older, conflicts between my parents became more frequent. I instinctively took my mother’s side and rarely tried to understand my father’s perspective. Over time, my judgments about him became deeply rooted.

Even when I became seriously ill and my father cared for me tirelessly, without complaint, I still struggled to let go of my resentment. I continued to hold on to painful memories of the arguments between my parents.

I was looking at my father through the lens of the past.

After my mother passed away, my father was overwhelmed with grief. Yet he tried to remain strong for me, knowing that talking about my mother might make me sad.

Suddenly, there were only the two of us.

When we went for walks together, my father often talked about things that had happened many years ago. Instead of recognizing the loneliness behind his words, I became impatient. I corrected him, contradicted him, and sometimes lost my temper.

Eventually, he quietly said something that touched me deeply:

“If you don’t like talking to me, at least don’t lose your temper with me.”

His words made me stop and look at myself.

One day, I suddenly saw my own behavior clearly.

I realized that I had been holding on to the painful history of my parents’ marriage and using it to justify my inability to understand my father.

But how could I possibly know all the causes and conditions behind their relationship? How could I know everything my father had experienced, feared, endured, or carried silently in his heart?

I began asking myself a different question:

Instead of waiting for someone else to change, can I change myself first?

I decided that I could.

I wanted to become a more patient and understanding daughter. I wanted to listen instead of judge, to let go instead of cling to the past, and to practice filial love through my everyday actions.

I remembered Aesop’s fable The North Wind and the Sun. The North Wind tried to force a traveler to remove his coat, but the Sun simply warmed him, and eventually the traveler took it off himself.

I decided that I wanted to be the sun.

Little by little, something changed.

When I was away from home, I began calling my father at the same time each day just to check on him. When I was with him, I made a conscious effort to sit down, listen, and talk rather than hurry away.

I did not change him.

I changed myself.

And as I changed, our relationship changed too.

The coldness between us gradually softened. The two people who had once struggled to communicate began sharing a much more peaceful and harmonious life.

Looking back, I realize that sometimes the distance between two people is not created by a lack of love. Sometimes it is created by old judgments, unresolved attachments, and our unwillingness to see beyond our own version of the past.

This transformation came through sincerely learning and practicing Buddhism, and through receiving guidance from the Dharma discourses of Namo H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III.

I came to understand more deeply that Buddha Dharma is not separate from ordinary life. It is practiced in the way we speak to our parents, how we respond when someone frustrates us, and whether we can recognize our own faults before pointing out the faults of others.

We often wish that other people would become more patient, more understanding, or more compassionate.

But perhaps the first question should be:

Have I become the person I am asking others to be?

Every person carries a story we may never fully know. Before judging someone, perhaps we should remember that we have not walked in their shoes.

There may be painful knots in our relationships that seem impossible to untie. But sometimes the first knot begins to loosen when we stop asking, “Why doesn’t this person change?”

And instead ask:

“What can I change in myself?”

Sometimes, one small change in ourselves can bring warmth into an entire relationship.

And sometimes, becoming the sun is enough.

Link: https://myhappylifestyle.net/2026/09/08/there-is-no-generation-gap-am-i-the-north-wind-or-the-sun/

#DorjeChangBuddhaIII #Spirituality #Buddha #Buddhism

Can a Cow Painted on a Wall Give Milk?

Indian monk milking a painted cow

Bodhisattva Candrakīrti: Milking a Cow in a Painting

Recently, I came across a video about Bodhisattva Candrakīrti, one of the great Buddhist masters of ancient India.

The video told a remarkable story: according to Buddhist tradition, Candrakīrti was able to obtain milk from a cow that existed only in a painting.

When I first heard this, I was amazed.

How could a cow painted on a wall or in a picture possibly give milk?

Curious, I looked into the story and discovered that it is more than a fascinating Buddhist legend. Behind it stands a great master in the history of Buddhism and, more importantly, a profound teaching about emptiness.

Candrakīrti lived in India around the sixth or seventh century. He was one of the most important masters of the Madhyamaka, or Middle Way, school of Buddhist philosophy, and an important commentator on the teachings of Nagarjuna.

His best-known work, Madhyamakāvatāra (Introduction to the Middle Way), became an important text for the study of Madhyamaka philosophy.

Candrakīrti deeply explored a central Buddhist teaching:

All things arise in dependence upon causes and conditions. Nothing exists with an independent, permanent, unchanging essence.

This is one of the meanings of emptiness.

According to a story preserved in Buddhist tradition, Candrakīrti once lived and practiced at a monastery. Because some people did not understand his way of practicing, they misunderstood him.

Later, he was given responsibility for providing milk for the monastery. It is said that Candrakīrti released the cows into the forest, allowing them to roam freely.

Yet somehow, milk continued to appear at the monastery.

People were puzzled.

If the cows were far away in the forest, where was the milk coming from?

Some people secretly followed Candrakīrti.

According to the traditional story, they saw him approach a painting of a cow—and somehow draw milk from the painted cow.

It is an extraordinary story.

But perhaps the most important question is not whether the event sounds miraculous.

It is what the story invites us to think about.

We normally think:

A real cow can give milk.

A painted cow cannot.

That seems obvious.

Yet the story of the painted cow quietly asks us:

What exactly do we mean when we say something is “real”?

This question goes to the heart of Candrakīrti’s teachings on emptiness.

Emptiness does not mean that nothing exists.

Rather, it means that things do not exist independently, permanently, or entirely on their own. Everything depends upon causes, conditions, relationships, and the way we designate and understand it.

For example, someone is called a “teacher” because there are students. Someone is called a “parent” because there is a child. These identities arise through relationships and conditions.

When we look more deeply, we begin to see that many things we regard as fixed and permanent are actually dependent upon countless conditions.

What I find most meaningful about this story is that it encourages us not to be too quick to conclude:

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

“Things must always be this way.”

“That is absolutely impossible.”

“I already know the answer.”

Our understanding of the world is often shaped by our past experiences, habits, assumptions, and fixed ideas.

Buddhist practice encourages us to hold our views more lightly—to have less attachment, more observation; less prejudice, more humility.

When we loosen our attachment to the belief that “I must be right,” we may begin to see possibilities and truths that we could not see before.

So when I think about the story of Candrakīrti and the painted cow, I no longer see it simply as a miraculous tale.

To me, it feels more like a doorway.

A doorway inviting us to question our ideas about reality, to recognize our own attachments, and to explore the deeper wisdom of dependent origination and emptiness.

Perhaps the story was never meant simply to leave us amazed.

Perhaps it is inviting us to look more deeply.

Just when we think we have completely understood the world, there may still be much more for us to discover.

And perhaps that is one of the most beautiful lessons we can receive from the wisdom of Bodhisattva Candrakīrti.

Link: https://peacelilysite.com/2026/09/09/bodhisattva-candrakirti-milking-a-cow-in-a-painting/

Source: https://www.fjdh.cn/wumin/2009/04/06452346128.html?utm_source=chatgpt.com, https://tricycle.org/magazine/truth-about-truth/?utm_source=chatgpt.com, https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E6%9C%88%E7%A7%B0/9958686

When I Came to Understand the Pain Deep Within My Mother’s Heart

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.

Contributed by: Ji Cheng / Kui Xing

Link: https://myhappylifestyle.net/2026/09/06/dorjechangbuddhaiii-when-i-came-to-understand-the-pain-deep-within-my-mothers-heart/

How Did an Elderly Woman Who Had Been Hearing-Impaired for Years Regain Her Hearing?

How Did an Elderly Woman Who Had Been Hearing-Impaired for Years Regain Her Hearing?

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?

Author: Cili

Learn more about H.H. Dorje Chang Buddha III

Link: https://hhdorjechangbuddhaiiidharma.com/2026/09/06/how-did-an-elderly-woman-who-had-been-hearing-impaired-for-years-regain-her-hearing/

#DorjeChangBuddhaIII #MasterWanKoYee #BuddhaDharma #BuddhistTeachings #DharmaDiscourses #BuddhistBlessings #LearningBuddhism #HearingRecovery #BuddhistTestimony #TrueBuddhaDharma

From Invisibility Spell to Enlightened Master: The Wild Life of Nagarjuna

A Tibetan depiction of Nagarjuna; the snakes are depicted as protectors around Nagarjuna’s head and the nagas rising out of the water are offering Buddhist sutras

Throughout the two-thousand-year history of Buddhism, if one were to ask which master’s life was the most thrilling and dramatic, the answer would undeniably be Nagarjuna Bodhisattva.

He was not only the founder of the Madhyamaka (Middle Way) school and a foundational pillar of Mahayana Buddhism, but also an enlightened master whose incredible wisdom was matched only by his extraordinary life story. Revered by later generations as the “Ancestor of Eight Schools,” this legendary figure actually began his youth walking a path of extreme rebellion and reckless indulgence.

Nagarjuna was born into a noble Brahmin family in Southern India, displaying gifts from an early age that far exceeded ordinary human limits. As a child, he possessed a photographic memory—listening to the four sacred Vedas of Brahmanism just once before reciting them by heart with a complete grasp of their deepest meanings. By the time he reached his youth, he had transformed into a true polymath, mastering everything from astronomy and geography to divination, worldly arts, and various esoteric sciences.

Young scholar studying maps and arcane instruments in a candlelit library

However, genius without wisdom often becomes fuel for pride and unchecked desire. Believing he had already learned everything the worldly realm had to offer, the young Nagarjuna gathered with three like-minded friends to ponder a fateful question: “Life is short, and we have already mastered all human knowledge. What is left for us to pursue?” Their conclusion was as absurd as it was dangerous—to pursue ultimate pleasure and indulge in every sensory distraction.

Determined to indulge without restrictions, the four young men sought out a sorcerer and learned the art of invisibility. Armed with this miraculous power, they brazenly snuck into the royal palace, engaging in reckless escapades and chaotic antics for months while plunging the court into fear and suspicion. Realizing something unnatural was occurring, the King devised a clever trap by ordering fine sand scattered across the palace hallways and gates to track the invisible intruders’ footprints.

When the four entered the palace once more, soldiers surrounded their footprints and swung their swords wildly through the air. Nagarjuna’s three friends were unable to dodge the blades and were executed on the spot. Showing quick thinking under intense pressure, Nagarjuna saved his own life by pressing himself tightly against the King’s throne—knowing the soldiers would never dare swing their swords near the monarch’s seat.

Watching his closest companions cut down in a flash of blood and terror, Nagarjuna experienced a profound, shocking epiphany:

“Desire is the root of suffering, the source of all calamity. Misconduct and defilement know no greater depth than this!”

In that single, terrifying moment, he saw through the illusion and danger of worldly desires, resolving to abandon his past and walk the path of virtue.

Immediately after escaping the palace, Nagarjuna renounced the worldly life and took monastic vows. He fully mastered the entire Tripitaka—the Buddhist canon—in a mere nine months. Unsatisfied with basic mastery, he journeyed deep into the snow-capped mountains to seek out renowned masters and broaden his spiritual horizons.

According to tradition, sensing that the teachings available in the human realm were incomplete, Nagarjuna was guided by the Great Naga (Dragon) Bodhisattva to the underwater Dragon Palace. Inside its vast scriptural library, he discovered profound, high-level Mahayana sutras, including the Avatamsaka Sutra (Flower Garland Sutra), which he brought back to the human world to spread among spiritual seekers.

Upon his return, Nagarjuna authored countless seminal treatises that transformed Buddhist philosophy forever. He penned foundational texts such as the Mulamadhyamakakarika (Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way), the Twelve Door Treatise, and the Mahaprajnaparamita Upadesa (Commentary on the Great Perfection of Wisdom). Through these works, he formulated the profound doctrine of Dependent Origination and Emptiness (Pratītyasamutpāda and Śūnyatā), establishing the core philosophy of the Madhyamaka school while shattering the worldly attachments and misconceptions of his era.

Nagarjuna’s life is a remarkable journey from extreme pride and confusion to ultimate enlightenment. Through his own transformation, he proved to the world that delusion and awakening exist only a single thought apart. It was precisely that thrilling trial on the edge of life and death that forged his supreme wisdom to break all worldly attachments, ultimately creating one of the most revered spiritual grandmasters in human history.

Link:https://peacelilysite.com/2026/09/03/from-invisibility-spell-to-enlightened-master-the-wild-life-of-nagarjuna/