The "mini cassock"

At 3:00 p.m. on February 5, 2000, a Tzu Chi TV camera crew and I boarded a train heading from Taipei to Hualien in eastern Taiwan. The purpose of our trip was to visit Yen Hui-mei.

I had known of Hui-mei, a senior Tzu Chi volunteer who established a volunteer service team for the Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital, long before we met in person. I often saw her talking with confidence on Tzu Chi TV about Tzu Chi hospital patients that volunteers had helped care for. Ever since the hospital was established in 1986, she had been leading one group of volunteers after another to take care of patients and to bridge the gap between doctors and patients.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, it was nearly seven and already pitch dark outside. Hui-mei was in her office, the Social Services Room to the left of the main entrance. She welcomed us with a smile as bright as sunshine.

"You've come at a perfect time. I'm about to call it a day."

She took off her volunteer's vest and said with a smile, "There goes another day!"

The vest, dubbed "the mini cassock," is one of the characteristics of the Tzu Chi hospitals. Once you put it on, it means that you have made a commitment to serve patients with kindness, compassion, joy and unselfish giving. You will learn that to benefit others is to benefit yourself and to relieve others from suffering is to relieve yourself from suffering.

Hui-mei and the other volunteers who help at the hospital have to face sickness and suffering all day long. Yet after a tiring day's work, she did not look exhausted at all. She looked as though her day had been filled with nothing but happiness.

While we were waiting for the bus to take us to the Abode of Still Thoughts [the spiritual home of all Tzu Chi people], Hui-mei tried to phone Tzu Chi volunteer Huang Jui-fang. We were going to the Hualien prison the following afternoon to visit the inmates. Because Huang used to be a prisoner there, it would be most meaningful if he could use his experiences as an example and give the prisoners some advice.

On the wall behind Hui-mei was a framed piece of Chinese calligraphy written by Master Cheng Yen. "Relieve Suffering, Embrace All Living Beings"--what a fitting description of the work of all Tzu Chi volunteers.

Life at the Abode

After we arrived at the Abode of Still Thoughts, we went to the dining room for dinner. For most people, the time after dinner is spent relaxing and resting, but the volunteers at the Abode still had a busy evening ahead of them. Nearly sixty of them gathered in the reception room at eight o'clock sharp for a meeting of volunteers presided over by Hui-mei.

When the meeting ended at nine, Hui-mei invited my wife, Yao-yao, to her room to spend the night. She said that it was no trouble at all. One of her two roommates happened to be away, and it was just as well that the empty bed could be put to use. Yao-yao was happy about the chance to get to know Hui-mei better, so she picked up her bags and joyfully followed Hui-mei to her room on the second floor of the dormitory.

Yao-yao later told me that Hui-mei used to share a large common sleeping area with other volunteers. During the previous two years, however, she began to have trouble sleeping well at night because of her poor health. So the nuns at the Abode arranged for her to move into a smaller room.

A sliding wooden door led to Hui-mei's clean, plain room. It was dark inside, with only a small wall lamp shedding its dim light on three small desks, a tea table, and three single beds lined against the wall. There was no other furniture in the room. Hui-mei switched on the fluorescent light, told Yao-yao in a soft voice which bed and desk she could use, and then switched off the light.

"I hope you will not be inconvenienced by the dim light. We need to save electricity for the nuns."

After taking her bath, Hui-mei looked quite tired. But by the faint light she still read for a while from a book by Master Cheng Yen. Time at the Abode is announced by the clapping of two wooden boards. Not until we heard the clapping indicating it was time to retire did she put down the book and lie down.

Hui-mei and my wife chatted softly for a while under their bed covers. Before drifting into dreamland, Yao-yao commented, "Your life seems to be no different from a nun's."

Hui-mei's voice grew fainter and fainter. "When I was thirteen, I came across a book about the life of the Buddha. I was so moved by it, and I longed for the chance to live like a nun..."

Upon hearing the clapping of wooden boards at 3:50 the next morning, the nuns who lived at the Abode and the volunteers who had come for a short stay all got out of bed. By 4:10, they had gathered at the Kuan Yin Hall for morning prayers. All was quiet outside. This was a moment best suited for meditation and for studying Buddhism. Hui-mei, who is usually so lively and vigorous, seemed to have become another person. Immersed in the chanting sounds of the Wonderful Lotus Sutra, she looked so ethereal.

An astute businesswoman

At 8:20 a.m., we went with Hui-mei to the Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital. Hui-mei's official title is deputy director of the Social Services Division. After she arrived at her office, the first thing she did was to preside over a meeting. The attendees included two doctors, a nurse, three uniformed social workers, and six volunteers in "mini cassocks." At the meeting, Hui-mei looked like an astute businesswoman. She was proficient at grasping key points and making clear and precise instructions.

The confidence and poise with which Hui-mei took care of things made me think of what she was like before she joined Tzu Chi. She used to work as a director-level executive at Teco Electric & Machinery Co., Ltd., a large Taiwanese manufacturing company. Many Tzu Chi people are just like her. They work either as managers, directors or executives in different lines of work. But after they join Tzu Chi, they apply their wisdom and expertise to their volunteer work, and renounce their selfish pursuits to engage in philanthropic efforts.

There was a big glass window behind Hui-mei, through which we could see sunlight shining through thick foliage, forming numerous bright and dark light-spots behind her. Through my camera lens, I found that the astuteness of a businesswoman and the compassion of a volunteer were perfectly blended in her.

A shrine in a prison

No matter how busy or tired she is, Hui-mei always looks forward to what is going to happen next with unbounded passion and curiosity. Because she talks and walks fast and is always moving around, it seems that she is constantly racing against time. Master Cheng Yen encourages us to "make the best of every second"--Hui-mei is clearly the best living example.

We arrived at the Hualien prison at noon. Our party of more than ten people passed through several guarded iron gates before reaching the section where the male inmates lived. Many of them had already been waiting in the prison's Buddhist shrine for some time. After apologizing to the prisoners for keeping them waiting, Hui-mei suggested that since we were in a Buddhist shrine, we should prostrate ourselves before the statue of the Buddha and pay homage to the Holy One. She asked those who weren't Buddhists to simply stand and fold their palms together. Then she turned around and prostrated herself before the Buddhist altar. To my surprise, all the prisoners knelt down after her and piously made prostrations in front of the Buddha. These wild and intractable convicts looked so gentle as they venerated the Buddha.

The direct, straightforward way with which Hui-mei communicated with the inmates clearly suited them well. "You must eliminate the hatred in your heart," she said to them. "Try to learn some vocational skills and study Buddhism. That will make your life more enjoyable here. If your heart is filled with anger or resentment, you'd better ask yourself how you ended up here. You have to pay for what you have done. While staying here, don't forget to build good relationships with others. By doing so, you will find it easier to attain peace of mind. If you can attempt to help others after you get out of here, it will be even nicer. We are not here to give you any lectures. We came to see you with a mother's love. Other people might leave us, but our mothers would never do so."

Next, Hui-mei said that because our world was full of disasters, Master Cheng Yen was launching the "Spread Love to the World" campaign to activate the goodness in everyone's hearts. She told them that although they were locked behind bars, their hearts could still break free of the prison cells and fly out into the sky. They could take this opportunity to repent of their wrongdoings, awaken the kindness in their hearts, and pray for their relatives and friends. Under her guidance, the inmates and volunteers began to sing the theme song for the "Spread Love to the World" campaign.

What a moving scene! The love of Tzu Chi volunteers is not only given to free people, but also to those who have lost their freedom.

Goodbye, Tiger

After we returned to the hospital, Hui-mei made a cup of coffee for herself. Fully refreshed, she invited us to an exhibition on the Tzu Chi Missions being held in the Still Thoughts Hall.

At the exhibition site, I came to know the impressive story of "Tiger," who was once a patient at the Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital.

A former drug addict and army deserter, Tiger was jailed four times. He coaxed his mother into selling their family property, and he soon squandered away his share of the inheritance. When his mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, Tiger realized that he no longer had anyone to depend on but himself, and he started to hunt for a job. But then he found that he himself was afflicted with oral cancer. Detected at an early stage, the cancer was still curable, but he chose to ignore it. He took to a wandering life, and no one was able to find him.

When he showed up at the Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital, his health was in such a terrible state that no surgery was able to save him. All doctors could do was to control his pain with medicine. Because he did not want to receive chemotherapy, he soon left the hospital to give up his bed for other patients. Volunteers at the hospital asked him where he was going, and he answered that he had nowhere to go. But he declined their offer of help, and disappeared once again into the crowds.

Soon afterwards a cold front arrived. Worried about him, our volunteers started to look for him according to the living conditions he had once described to them. At last, they found him in the ruins of the old Hualien train station. Night had fallen, and he lay in a space encircled by several pieces of cardboard; an old, worn comforter was the only thing that could keep him warm. He had not eaten for days. Our volunteers bought food for him, and took him back to the hospital. They shaved him, cut his hair, bathed him, and persuaded him to take pain-killing medicine.

His body was covered with tattoos, and there was a mighty-looking tiger on his chest. He said to the volunteers who were responsible for taking care of him during his last days, "I found that you not only give of your time, money and energy to help others, you have also signed the consent forms to donate your bodies after you pass away. Although I will die soon, I know that 'After a tiger dies, its fur can still be useful; after a man dies, his name lives on.' So I have decided to donate my body for medical research."

Hui-mei said that she had seen any number of people come to the Hualien Tzu Chi Hospital for treatment. Some of them came to the hospital full of distress and anxiety, but left happily. Some of them died, but they died peacefully, just like Tiger. He departed from the world with a carefree heart. When the nurses at the hospital pushed him out of the Heart Lotus Ward [the palliative care unit], he said "Bye-bye!" to our volunteers softly, and then closed his eyes and breathed his last.

When Hui-mei was telling us this story, I suddenly had a feeling that her life is very rich. Every patient she has helped care for comprises a chapter of her life. She and the volunteers who work at the hospital surely live a much more fruitful life than most of us.

Paying a visit to Shuiyuan Village

At 2:00 p.m. on February 12, 2002 [the Chinese New Year's Day], we went with Hui-mei and sixteen other volunteers to Shuiyuan Village to pay courtesy calls to its aboriginal villagers.

Soon after we stepped into the village, we saw coffins and spirit tablets placed in the narrow living rooms of three households. One of the deceased was a grandmother who was over ninety, while the other two were both young men in their thirties who had died of liver cirrhosis caused by excessive drinking. Alcohol abuse has long been a problem for Taiwanese aborigines. Since the residents of Shuiyuan Village were mostly Catholics, Hui-mei led the volunteers in singing "Hallelujah" in front of the bereaved families. Hui-mei prayed aloud before the spirit tablet of the 96-year-old grandmother, Chang Yu-shueh, "Bai [grandmother], I know you must be tired. Take a good rest and then come back to this world again in a healthy body to continue to serve your Lord."

Then we came to a household where four generations had lived together before dire misfortune befell them. Lai Chin-yu, the grandmother, was ninety-two years old; Lai Chin-chih, the mother, was sixty-five. Chin-chih's son used to work as a janitor at the local police station, but a traffic accident had turned him into a vegetable. After the tragedy, his wife ran away with their children, leaving behind a family of three who were unable to support themselves.

Our volunteers danced the traditional lion dance to entertain them. The old grandmother was moved to tears as she received New Year gifts and daily commodities from Hui-mei, but Chin-chih remained expressionless from beginning to end. Hui-mei told her that she once saw her dance at the inauguration ceremony of the Tzu Chi TV station--how remarkably well she had danced! She then invited her to dance. But Chin-chih refused on the pretext that she had not danced in a long time and had already forgotten the dance steps. Besides, there was no music. Hui-mei said that was all right because she remembered the dance steps. She then asked all of us to form a circle to sing and dance together. Chin-chih, with her head wrapped in a turban, gradually broke into a smile as she moved her body and legs with us.

After the dance, Chin-chih said to us with emotion, "I'm unhappy every day, but your visit has cheered me up!"

On our way back to the hospital, I asked Hui-mei why it is so easy for her to open people's hearts. She said to me, "It is important to have experience and a sincere heart. As long as we express genuine care for our care recipients, they will always be able to feel our love. What is even more important is that we show respect for them and make them feel useful."

I had a feeling that Hui-mei was describing what a bodhisattva should be like. In my eyes, she is as compassionate and kind-hearted as a real bodhisattva.

Her story

Hui-mei has been leading the Tzu Chi hospital volunteer team for sixteen years. During this period of time, she has seen any number of people going through the life circle of birth, aging, illness and death. She frequently appears on Tzu Chi TV, sympathetically narrating other people's stories. But what is her own story?

Hui-mei was born into a rich family. Her grandfather owned a successful lumber business. After her father, Jung-ching, took it over, the business grew even more prosperous. Hui-mei remembered that when she was a child, she was dressed beautifully every day. She always had lovely hats and shiny leather shoes to wear. The grownups in the family often warned them not to play with the poor kids in the back streets.

Yet some time later, Jung-ching started to encounter a series of reversals. Their family business suffered a great loss and was unable to recover from it. Hui-mei's grandmother, a devout Buddhist, told Jung-ching that they would rather sell all their ancestral property to pay off the debts than owe a single penny to others and bring shame to their descendants.

When all the property had been sold, Jung-ching was still unable to swallow his pride and go look for a job. Hui-mei's mother, Mei-ying, who used to make clothes for the children in the family, supported the family by working at the sewing machine day in day out, even during the Chinese New Year holiday. Sometimes she had to work through the night to complete her work on time.

As hard as their life was, Hui-mei's mother still insisted on sending all the children to school. Every time a new school term began, the children could not go to school to pay their tuition until their mother had collected enough money from her customers. Hui-mei was only ten at that time, but she had already learned to help her mother sew buttonholes after school. What she had to go through helped her grow up quickly and taught her to be a responsible person.

Hui-mei said that she is full of gratitude for her mother, who showed remarkable perseverance and courage when their family fell into difficulties. In addition to her mother, she has also been greatly influenced by another person--Master Cheng Yen.

A devoted disciple

How did Hui-mei come to know Master Cheng Yen?

After Hui-mei graduated from the National Taipei College of Business, she became an employee of Teco Electric & Machinery Co., Ltd. In 1982, when she was thirty-four years old, she decided to go to Japan to study preschool education. Before she left, a friend invited her to pay a visit to the Abode of Still Thoughts.

It was her first visit to the Abode. She saw a signboard, hanging on the wall of the main sanctuary, which listed all the charity work Tzu Chi had carried out since 1966. She was deeply touched by the Master's relentless efforts in helping the needy. The Master had devoted herself to relieving suffering for not only one day or two days, but for sixteen years. Hui-mei came to the Master's study, and found her writing at a desk with an IV drip running into her arm [with medication for her heart condition]...

When the Master saw Hui-mei, she asked her to sit and talk. Then the Master invited her to join Tzu Chi and become a commissioner [a Tzu Chi commissioner must receive training and establish a roster of forty people who make monthly donations to the foundation]. Hui-mei told the Master she was going to Japan to study and that she would never make a promise that she could not fulfill.

The Master looked at her quietly and said, "I don't often ask people to become Tzu Chi commissioners. I only want a little of your effort. What are you afraid of?"

Hui-mei, who was keen on going abroad to study, still did not say yes. Later, when she was looking around the Abode, she suddenly heard that the Master was having an angina attack. She rushed recklessly into the Master's room and saw her covered in a cold sweat. Hui-mei told Te Jung, a nun who was taking care of the Master, to wipe the perspiration off the Master's face lest she catch a cold. Then Hui-mei left the room and prepared to leave with her friend. At that moment, the Master, who was obviously in pain, walked out of her room and said to Hui-mei in a feeble voice, "You must come and help me. You must become a commissioner!"

Hui-mei felt as if she had been stabbed in the chest with a sharp knife!

She could not understand why the Master worked so hard to help others. In order to save all living beings, she didn't even give any thought to her own health... Hui-mei promised on the spot to help her. She seldom makes promises, but once she makes one she does her best to keep it.

"One more person, one more pair of helping hands," so she thought at that time. Twenty years have flashed by in the twinkling of an eye.

A suitcase

Hui-mei always said to me that the moment she decided to move into the Abode, she made up her mind to let go of her past. She left her clothes and even her old photographs and personal documents behind. You can imagine our surprise when we visited Hui-mei's brother, Huang-pin, and he showed us a suitcase full of Hui-mei's old photographs.

"You do have a lot of old photographs, which are all contained in this suitcase," her brother said to her. "You must have forgotten all about them. I bet you had no idea that I was still keeping them after such a long time. I've moved several times, but wherever I went, I always took the suitcase with me."

When I looked through the contents of the suitcase, I found that Hui-mei had quite a colorful past. She liked to climb mountains, go hiking, and participate in extracurricular activities. She won a lot of medals when she worked at Teco Electric & Machinery Co., Ltd. There was a certificate that showed she was (and still is) a qualified flower arrangement teacher. Several old photographs also showed us that she often visited temples for Ch'an meditation. The suitcase indeed contained a lot of her secrets.

There was a photograph that was taken when Hui-mei went with a Tzu Chi relief team to Quanjiao, Anhui Province, mainland China. In the picture, her hair was braided into a big pigtail, and she looked different from the way she looks now, with her hair swept up into a bun. Master Te Fan once told me that when Hui-mei first joined Tzu Chi, she was so stylish that once when they went out to inspect damage in a disaster area, her hat was decorated with lacework.

Hui-mei told me that the disaster relief trip to mainland China came as a big shock to her. After she returned from the trip, she decided not to pay so much attention to her appearance. The suffering of the Chinese people made her decide to humble herself, renounce all egotistic attachments, and dedicate her life to helping those in need.

With Hui-mei's introduction, her brother also joined Tzu Chi. Although they are both Tzu Chi volunteers, they rarely see each other. Sometimes Huang-pin drives several hours from Taipei to Hualien to see his sister, but she is so occupied with her work that she can barely spare a few minutes to see him. "She's given everything to others," Huang-pin said. "Although she rarely spends time with us, we all know that she's doing her best to help others. We're all proud of her."

Selflessness

I have spent quite some time with Hui-mei now, and her frankness and cordiality always make me feel she is more than an ordinary friend to me. On February 19, 2002, we visited Hualien again. Hui-mei went to Ward No. 2558 to play the moon zither [a four-stringed musical instrument] for cancer patient Tu Chin-shan and his daughter Yi-ting. The Tu family are all Tzu Chi volunteers. Tu and his wife run a factory in Shenjun, Guangdong Province, mainland China. He had come back to Taiwan to have an operation. In order to look after him, his daughter even suspended her studies in the United States for one year. The electrotherapy and chemotherapy Tu underwent were successful, and he would soon be able to leave the hospital.

Hui-mei played and sang a Taiwanese folk song called Flowers in the Rainy Night. The song was originally morose, but she made it cheerful. She said that it is improper to sing with sadness in a hospital ward.

The song reminded her of an AIDS patient she once helped care for. The patient, a Taiwanese aborigine, had been stoned and driven out of his village because of his disease. He harbored intense hatred towards the friend who had passed it to him. Hui-mei kept expressing her care for him. At his request she asked the Master to visit him, and she brought more than ten students to the ward to celebrate his birthday... When he finally opened up his heart, his days were numbered.

The last time Hui-mei was with that patient, she brought her zither to the ward to sing Flowers in the Rainy Night to him. She asked him what he wanted to become in his next life, and he said he wanted to become a Tzu Chi volunteer. Knowing that he was a Christian, she said it would be all right if he wanted to follow Jesus Christ instead. He remained silent. When Hui-mei was playing Flowers in the Rainy Night for the third time, he said again that he wanted to become a Tzu Chi volunteer. Hui-mei asked him what he should do if he wanted to be a Tzu Chi volunteer. He answered that he should harbor good thoughts, say good words, do good deeds and walk on the right path. Soon after that he fell asleep and passed away.

Hui-mei, some other volunteers and four nuns from the Abode sang hymns to comfort his soul. When everything was finished, Dr. Hsu, who was responsible for dissecting the patient's body, told Hui-mei that when he talked to some visiting scholars about the dedication of our volunteers and about how a group of Buddhist nuns sang Let's praise the Lord for the dead, the visitors were all very touched! It is indeed hard to find such profound respect for the dead and religious accommodation in Taiwan, or even anywhere in the whole world.

For so many years, numerous touching stories have been happening in the wards at the Tzu Chi hospitals in Hualien, Kuanshan, Yuli and Dalin. The participation of Tzu Chi volunteers has made these stories shine with goodness and beauty.

Looking at Hui-mei holding her moon zither, I thought of what Master Cheng Yen once said: "Only by letting go of yourself completely can you be united with the universe at the last moment of your life."

Master Cheng Yen has already reached this realm. Hui-mei and thousands of other Tzu Chi volunteers are closely following in her footsteps on the Path of the Bodhisattvas.