The Accumulation Effect: The Love of Many Kind People Every Day to Help Others

In 1966 Master Cheng Yen was contemplating a move from Hualien, Taiwan's poor eastern coast, in order to obtain further studies with Venerable Master Yin Shun in the western coast. But by then she had developed a small following, mainly housewives and a few nuns, who with much devotion requested her to stay. After some consideration, Master Cheng Yen decided to stay -- under the condition that her students saved the equivalent of two US cents a day to help the poor.

Practically, pennies, saved over time, would then be pooled among her followers to buy supplies for the local poor. The winter could be especially rough for the poor: supplies like food, clothing, and bedding would be needed (perhaps not unlike the winter relief that we embarked on a few days ago).

That marked the beginning of Tzu Chi Foundation and the beginnings of the mission of charity. Here are what I see as remarkable features about these events.

Giving is a privilege of the sincere, not of the rich
First, in 1966 Master Cheng Yen's followers were not rich, and few in the sleepy town of Hualien were wealthy, certainly none wealthy by today's standards. As for Master Cheng Yen and her monastic disciples, she adhered to a strict philosophy of "a day without work is a day without food". She declined any donations for her daily living, and was not reliant on support from her lay followers. Instead, the nuns earned their livelihood by making handicrafts such as baby shoes and sweaters as well as keeping agriculture.

The livelihood was not one with large profit margins, financially. At that time she and her followers were living subsistence -- a bowl of rice a day. By some measures and by today's comparison, they would have probably been classified as 'poor'. Yet by earning their living, even the nuns were able to save, and they too were able to benefit and help others. They may have been 'poor' from a conventional perspective, but they were far from poor. In fact they were very rich -- rich in love. As Master Cheng Yen says, "giving is not only the privilege of the poor; it is the privilege of the sincere."

Many drops of water make a river; many grains of rice make a bushel. 
Second, saving money -- pennies really -- took a long time before there was enough for a relief distribution. It certainly was not overnight. Once sufficient funds were saved, they identified people in need, people who were poorer than them and some were disabled or elderly, and purchased the relief goods for distribution.

When a follower asked Master Cheng Yen whether she could save the equivalent of 14 cents once a week or 60 cents once a month, Master instructed her that she was instructing a daily practice of giving. Each day as we drop that coin into the piggy bank (or back then it was a bamboo bank) and as we hear that coin hit the bottom, we think, "Today, I wish to benefit others." With this daily practice and daily prayer, we remind ourselves without fail of our aspiration, our wish to help.

This daily giving, accumulating over time, with many people -- this is one of the most amazing aspects about Tzu Chi, I believe. I call it the "accumulation effect" because it is the accumulation of many individuals over time of small quantities, together forming an incredible whole. It is grounded in daily individual effort, no matter how small we may perceive it to be, that are especially powerful accumulating over time and in groups. They are psychology's "Baby Steps", Lao-Tzu's "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Or as Master Cheng Yen puts it, "Many drops of water make a river; many grains of rice make a bushel." In other words, those seemingly small, negligible actions matter. Or as the Sutra of Infinite Meaning indicates -- a sutra that Master Cheng Yen has quoted often -- "one gives rise to infinity" (一生無量).

Indeed, most of us cannot donate billions of dollars overnight like Bill Gates or Warren Buffett. But over time and saving each day, with the wish to help others, people of all walks of life can help. As her early followers said back in 1966, filled with joy, in spreading the word, "Even two cents a day can help others!" Thus, we should not underestimate ourselves or our abilities, even though they may seem to us incredibly meager.

Because of the way Tzu Chi collects its funds, recipients of Tzu Chi's 'charity' are also acutely aware that these funds are not negligible or marginal. The 'charity' is not to be taken for granted, and it is not a hand-out. They are saved, cent by cent, dollar by dollar, by people like them. Thus, charity recipients slowly stand up on their own, too. No matter how rich or poor a person may be, they can be rich in love. They can help others. Thus, this turns upside-down the notion that the "rich" must help the "poor". One need only be rich in love to help others less fortunate.

After the Gujarat Earthquake in 2001, Tzu Chi Malaysian volunteers gave their social work cases (what Tzu Chi calls "gratitude households" -- because of mutual gratitude) the opportunity to give something back, no matter how tiny. In Malaysia, with so many cases, small donations eventually accumulated to US$2 million, which was donated to our brothers and sisters in Gujarat, India. These charity cases were not forced to donate; they did so with the joy of giving and helping others.

This belief in equality of giving is also the core reason behind why the Buddha and his followers would beg for food from all walks of life. On one occasion, one of his followers decided to only ask for food of the rich. Gautama Buddha told him to not discriminate between rich or poor; that we should not withhold the opportunity from the poor or the rich to give; and that giving is in the sincerity of that gift, not in the size of that gift. Through giving, a connection to a previous stranger is developed, and if lucky, joy arises spontaneously.

Key takeaways:

• Giving and helping others is not the privilege of the rich; it is the privilege of the sincere. Thus, even those are poor can sincerely wish to benefit and help others. Poverty mentality is worse than economically poor. Master Cheng Yen learned and realized this firsthand in the early days of Tzu Chi. 
• Giving and helping others takes time, accumulating gradually each day, and when combined with the efforts of many, this force is large. Hence individual small, daily efforts are never to be underestimated or undervalued. 

When Reason Met Sentiment: Left- and Right-Brain Activity in Tzu Chi Volunteer Work

In my last post I described my observations and experiences from a simple vantage point, without too many thoughts or concepts or analysis. You could call it my "sentimental mind" or alternatively my right-brain thinking.

But sometimes, when I think about Tzu Chi, another part of my brain turns on. I call it my rational, conceptual mind. Conceptual mind means I am critical not only of myself but of the way we do things. It's the left-brain thinking. This mind promises to give suggestions and recommendations for improvement. But it also opens one up to criticism.

For future blog posts, I will link as a label whether I think the post has elements of "right brain" and "left brain" thinking.

Returning to the simple premise of yesterday's charitable activity: Find poor people and help them. This simple basis, however, can be translated to many different activities and channels, not only the one I described yesterday. On the basis of this, two questions naturally follow:

• What does it mean to be poor?
• What does true "help" mean? 

I will be analyzing these two questions further in the coming days... Stay tuned! 

Warmth in the Bitter Cold: Tzu Chi's Winter Relief in Washington, DC

A cold Saturday morning filled with the wish to help others. A warm greeting with a smile and a handshake, a conversation with someone unknown who becomes known, an expression of our concern and care. Small actions expressing kind intentions are not to be underestimated. 

7:47am. That was the time that David, our team leader, told us to meet him at Union Station. 7:47, not the Boeing jet. But the message was the same: be there on time! And a trip it would be on an early Saturday morning. As I understood it, our group of eight would be embarking on a trip to care for the homeless this winter.

As Saturday dawns, I get up a few times: 5:00am, 5:22am, 6:00am. I don't want to be late. Pulling myself out of my bed, I give myself an hour to get ready -- to give greetings and prayers to the world, the universe and all the beings in it; to drink my breakfast power-shake; to shower and grease myself up with coconut oil to avert the cold; to pile on three layers of clothes; and finally to don my blue and white Tzu Chi uniform, and to pack my bag with some water, snacks, chapstick, and baby-wipes (for our hands).

As I step out of my apartment, I call Vikrant who is out of the country. "I'm going to a Tzu Chi charity activity right now, going to care for some homeless people," I say. "Okay, be sure to wear your gloves!" he reminds me.

My gloves! I forgot my gloves all week despite the cold front. Telling Vikrant I will call him later, I turn back down the hallway to my apartment and pick up my gloves. Now, I am ready.

I walk to the metro station near my home. The Metro officer is opening the gates just as I arrive. In the station I am momentarily dismayed to see that the first train that morning will be arriving in 18 minutes. Washington, DC's metro station is notoriously neglected and delayed, especially on the weekends. What to do; I arrive at Union Station at our meeting spot in 7:52. Being the first one there, I wait not long and shortly in waves all eight of us arrive. Of the last four, David, our team leader, in his black leather jacket makes him look like Morpheus. You know, from the Matrix but without the pills.

As we stand in the middle of Union Station, David divides us into two groups, with two separate driving paths. His instructions are deceptively simple: Look for homeless people. Bend down to their eye level, rather than look down at them. Ask them how they are and if they'd like some coffee and pastries. Observe if they need anything such as a jacket, blanket, gloves, or scarves (all of which we have limited quantities) and offer as appropriate. And men, protect the women. His two fists and arms take a strongman's pose.

At which point I must interrupt, hiccupping in Chinese. "But of course, in Tzu Chi, women are like men" -- and Yijun, another volunteer, attempts a fill-in "and men are like ______" (pause): There is a saying, concocted by an anonymous volunteer, that in Tzu Chi women are like men and men are like superman (女人當男人用，男人當超人用), in observing that Tzu Chi volunteers work incredibly hard, irrespective of traditional gendered roles. (As an aside, there is a response to that saying, that women are like men and men are like women, 女人當男人用，男人當女人用. Both sexes adopt qualities of the opposite sex, with men gentler and women more assertive and strong.)

Anyway, keeping those instructions in mind and with supplies in our car, we are off. As we roam around in our heated vehicle, we see our first case, a large man sitting by himself on a bench, holding a cup with change. "Good morning sir!" "How are you?" our team of four chime in. "Can we offer you a cup of coffee?" He nods. One of us pours the coffee, another pours the sugar and cream. The man, we notice, never speaks. He simply nods or shakes his head, mouthing mumbled words with no sounds. He holds his cup, jingling it. "I'm sorry," one of us responds, "We do not have change on us today." He looks disappointed. We wish him well and take leave.

Continuing on the road, we look for homeless, left and right. Where are they today, I wonder? "I think they've gone for shelter in the cold," I ponder aloud. The streets seem more empty this morning, and a few times we see someone, our thoughts turn into "Hmm, maybe nots"; after second thought they do not really seem homeless after all. Does a big heavy jacket with two grocery bags stuffed with newspapers make you a homeless person? Hard to say, really.

After driving a few blocks, we soon discover that it is not so easy to randomly encounter homeless people on the streets. We need a bit of so-called 'luck' in encountering these rare circumstances. Indeed, it is not so easy to help people in general, as it requires at least three conditions: (1) someone wishing to give (the giver); (2) someone willing to receive (the receiver); and (3) something to be given (the gift). If any of these conditions are not met, the exchange cannot happen.

In Tzu Chi there is an emphasis on the equality of these three. I think this is wonderful. What does that mean, you ask? The giver recognizes that the receiver is no different from the giver in wanting happiness and freedom from suffering; they are equal. That also means that there is mutual gratitude between each. It should never be the case that the giver in Tzu Chi feels that the giver has something to give (like a naggy friend telling you "I am giving you this," arms on waist with I-am-so-important look.) Instead, Tzu Chi volunteers practice by bowing down in gratitude to the recipients of Tzu Chi's relief, Tzu Chi volunteers also bow in gratitude to its donors, and Tzu Chi volunteers also bow to each other. This magical practice (at least I think so) is called the "emptiness in three spheres" (三輪體空) and is something that Tzu Chi volunteers strive to realize. (See here for an exposition of this concept by Master Cheng Yen in Chinese.) These three spheres are overlapped with the three values of gratitude, respect, and love.

Slowly, we meander over to Foggy Bottom, not far from George Washington University, and we catch a glimpse of clumps of blankets on benches in the Foggy Bottom circle -- at last, some people. "Good morning sir!" we say as we approach them. The first man recognizes us, "I know you guys! You've been here before," he says to one of our volunteers. He is so happy to see us that he falls over on his pile of stuff. We too are happy to see him. "Could we offer you some coffee?" "You most certainly may." And we offer the two gentleman coffee. The first man eagerly pulls us to the bench as he has many stories to tell us. As he plops down on the bench, he begins to recount his military career history across many countries in Asia during the Reagan era.

As he continues, for maybe 10 minutes, our fingers and toes go numb. Eager to wrap up the conversation, I ask, "Do you have any need for blankets or jackets?" The cold has reminded me of not only my needs, but the needs of the people we are supposed to be serving.

The military man says, "Actually, I could use a jacket. Thank you, folks! You're so kind."

"No, thank you; I've got plenty," says the psychiatrist in his Caribbean accent, pointing to his warm jacket and shoes. He pauses.

"But our friend over there," he says, looking to the opposite bench, "could use one. He needs a jacket and a blanket and some gloves."

I am touched by this man's concern for his fellow companion. As he walks me over to see this man, "You see, he got drunk last night and fell down. We had to pick him up and put him on the bench, cover him up in blankets. Can you imagine that? No gloves!"

All one could see from the bench was his feet touching the floor, while the blankets wrapped his upper body and head completely. Were it not for his feet, it would seem only like a pile of blankets. "He's Japanese," the psychiatrist tells me. "A PhD in electromagnetism. He's an alcoholic. His name is Mo-something Tanaka."

"Ohio-gazaimasu" (meaning good morning in Japanese), I say in a loud voice, glad that finally my high school Japanese having some use and hoping it might wake him up. But the man doesn't budge.

"When he wakes up, I am going to have a long heart-to-heart talk with him, to go to the detox lab. I've been sitting here all night to make sure that the police don't come and pick him up, but I can't do that every time," the psychiatrist explains.

He also tells me his uncle is Li Kai Shing, and his father is an engineer from China. I don't know whether to believe that part, but nevertheless he conveys a genuine concern for his fellow man. I thank him for caring for his fellow friend, and I'm touched. Would I have the courage and energy to sleep on the bench over night to watch someone drunk and passed out? Probably not. And there we were in Foggy Bottom, to discover people benefiting others, regardless of who they are in the world, people like this homeless psychiatrist.

By experiencing the bitter cold first hand juxtaposed with our "Winter Caring" activity, I had a mere glimpse of the difficulties of being homeless. I hope that when I feel the freezing cold, as my toes and fingers go numb, I will remember that it means that there are people out there who are struggling to stay warm. Ringing in my mind was the theme of this year's Tzu Chi annual new year blessing: a simple frugal life helps to nurture compassion; from real virtue one cultivates great love. By observing this frugal and difficult life, empathy and compassion -- the wish to immediately help others -- naturally arises.

As we say goodbye to the Caribbean psychiatrist, African-American veteran, and the sleeping Japanese man, the veteran tells us to come back soon. I hope we do, too.

Many thanks to my seven team members for their companionship, joy, willingness to serve, and their observations. Hat-tip to Pick-Wei and CJ on their Morpheus observation. 

Listening with Your Eyes, Watching with Your Ears

Welcome to the reopening of my blog on Tzu Chi, a blog which I had opened in 2009 and closed shortly thereafter. This time, I've entitled the blog Listening with My Eyes. The blog will feature a few of my observations, experiences, and reflections as a Tzu Chi volunteer. I started volunteering with Tzu Chi in 1996 when I was 13 years old. This year as I turn 30, I hope this blog will reflect some of my learning through Tzu Chi and a variety of experiences, all of which I am deeply grateful for.

For starters, one may wonder where the title of this new blog comes from. In fact it is a saying by Master Cheng Yen. For many years I had a vague sense that this saying was intended to instruct one to pay better attention.

But I came to a new understanding of this saying upon reading this article on synethesia in the New York Times in 2007. Medical science has shown that there is a condition -- and not an illness -- in which one's sensory perceptions are "crossmodal." This is a fancy term meaning that extra or other sensory capacities become available to one's normal sensory capacities, such as the ability to observe color linked with numbers, or the ability to perceive spatial distance with certain concepts, or the ability to 'listen' or 'see' in one's skin. Or, as Master Cheng Yen instructs us, to see with one's ears and hear with one's eyes.

In light of medical science's discovery of synethesia, I take this particular saying by Master Cheng Yen to mean that we ought to try to see things in a totally new way, a very fresh and refreshing way, to let our powers of attention expand and grow in yet unimagined dimensions. She is encouraging her supporters and students to use one's entire being and all powers of concentration, those known and still unknown.

By bestowing this title to this re-opened old but new blog, I hope that I am able to constantly be mindful -- and ever-more mindful -- in observing the world around me as I share some of my thoughts as a Tzu Chi volunteer.

I welcome your thoughts and look forward to a fruitful exchange. Thank you for your interest!