Leading an ascetic life, the slim, petite Buddhist nun wholeheartedly carried out her spiritual cultivation in a tiny wooden hut behind Pu Ming Temple in Hualien County, eastern Taiwan. Despite the tough situation she was in, Master Cheng Yen resolved not to accept offerings from followers and not to perform Buddhist ceremonies, common ways for monks and nuns to earn money. Instead of recoiling from the hardships and withdrawing from her principles, Master Cheng Yen unremittingly searched for alternative ways to sustain herself.

First she grew vegetables, a skill she had acquired before becoming a nun. In 1965, the Master and three other nuns plowed the barren fields behind Pu Ming Temple to grow peanuts and other vegetables to feed themselves. Since farming alone could not provide enough food, Master Cheng Yen explored other methods of making a living, including knitting sweaters and sewing baby shoes. Besides reciting and studying sutras, days were spent working in the fields and in the workshop.

However, such hard work still did not guarantee them food on the dinner table. The money they earned from their crops was often not enough to pay for the fertilizer. Sometimes after a day's hard work, dinner for Master Cheng Yen and the other three nuns consisted of nothing more than some white rice and a small piece of tofu cut into four pieces and soaked in salt water. Their bed was so tiny that the four of them had to lie on their sides and huddle together like shrimps.

Even today, the nuns at the Abode of Still Thoughts, the headquarters of the Tzu Chi Foundation, still uphold the motto of "No work, no meal." They grow vegetables, make candles, and produce bean powder, a sort of dietary supplement. Royalties earned on Master Cheng Yen's books are also an important source of income for the nuns.

On April 28, along with twenty other Tzu Chi volunteers, I accompanied 150 people to the Still Thoughts Camp, a two-day retreat held at the Abode for people who want to learn more about Tzu Chi.

After meeting with the Master, one member of the camp asked which kind of life was the most valuable. The Master answered, "The most valuable life is a life without regret." She reminded people that time is the most valuable but heartless thing in the world. We should use the present moment to help the needy as best we can.

Another member asked what prompted the Master, a 28-year-old nun at the time, to leave the little wooden hut and engage in the mission of educating the rich and helping the poor.

With a smile the Master answered, "It was all because of the power of trust. I trusted my selflessness and I trusted my belief that all people had love." The Master, now aged sixty-four, elaborated that before she left the hut, she solemnly asked herself whether she wanted to gain either profit or prestige by going out among people. The answer was of course negative. She then told herself that she firmly trusted there was love and compassion hidden in people's hearts. They only needed to be activated and revealed by someone, and the Master decided to be that person.

"If I did the most difficult part of taking the lead, I was pretty sure even without looking back that a lot of people would follow me to do charitable work," the Master explained.

What she said was like a prophecy. If someone asks her how many members she had when she first started thirty-five years ago, she can answer that there were only thirty. But when asked how many members she has today, I am afraid she cannot give you an accurate number. Today, Tzu Chi members can be found in every corner of the world. Each of them has given unceasingly over the last thirty-five years, since they understand that the more they give, the more they gain spiritually.

While the Master answered questions, I looked around the hall and noticed how many people were listening with awe and admiration. Above all, we were overwhelmed by the power of trust.