Dharma doors are boundless; I vow . . .

We never know when 
a bodhisattva-to-be

is coming to help.

Arriving at our center mid-afternoon and thus having missed lunch, I went to the kitchen in search of something to eat. Perusing the shelves, I selected a package. While gazing intently at it (apparently thinking that concentration and a furrowed brow would enable me to read Chinese), a fellow nun came in.

Seeing the bag, she laughed and said, “No, not that one.”

I understood what she meant—it was something I either didn’t eat or was unsuitable for what I had in mind. Laughing with her, I put the bag back, grateful once again that others know what I can and cannot eat.

She carefully examined the cabinet and pointed out two bags, one with almond powder and the other with black bean powder. Still chuckling, she said I would enjoy those two together. I mixed them and, of course, she was right. The drink was just what I needed.

We never know when those around us are bodhisattvas in training.

Afflictions are inexhaustible; I vow . . .

A daily choice: 

self-indulgence or simple joys.

Running an errand at a mall, we were a group of nuns looking after one another and laughing. And observing. I saw a mother hugging her crying child, a young woman laughing along with the blind man who held her arm. But mainly I saw self-engrossed people amidst the upscale shops and numerous eateries.

A woman mindlessly eating her lunch while flipping through a catalog. A well-dressed man striding by while venting angrily into his earbuds. A couple looking at the store displays while ignoring each other. People were spending money, shopping, dining—doing things that were supposed to make them happy. But they weren’t. Perhaps they sensed the futility of searching for happiness in possessions and self-indulgence. 

No happiness there. 

Where was it?

In the laughter between friends. In the eyes of a mother and her child. On the face of an elderly, blind man laughing with his companion. The observed happiness was not from any self-indulgence. It was from friendship and caring for others.