He was wealthy and prospered in business, but a simple action that tapped the well of his compassion changed everything. He is now devoting all he has, even his whole lifetime, to helping the needy.

In a market in Malacca, Malaysia, it was all bustle and excitement--vendors bawled their goods, as buyers haggled for a better deal. Amidst the fervent buying and selling, different voices spoke: "Please help the earthquake victims in India. Tzu Chi is building over two hundred houses at Cotada Village." Standing in various places, groups of two or three people in blue-and-white uniforms earnestly solicited contributions from passers-by. Among them was a tall, monk-like figure who was marked by his unruffled manner. It was David Liu, director of the Tzu Chi Malacca branch in Malaysia. If it weren't for the gold watch on his wrist, no one could have told that he was once the owner of a huge fabric factory.

"Thank you so much, sir." Liu bowed respectfully as a gentleman dropped a few coins into the donation box. Such humility could not have been expected from him eight years ago. Back then, he was an arrogant atheist who only believed in himself. But now, he has devoted his entire being to Tzu Chi, a Buddhist charity organization. What brought about the metamorphosis?

Prologue to change

"To a hardworking entrepreneur like me, a life without extravagant enjoyments was not worth living." Those were Liu's famous words. Raised in a rich family and enjoying great success in trade, he equated happiness with money and self-indulgence. In his garden, he had man-made mountains and a pond full of colorful carps. He would fly around the globe to taste world-class delicacies.

In order to earn more money, the Lius emigrated from Taiwan to Malaysia in 1988 and set up a large fabric company. The craving for wealth stimulated Liu to work diligently day after day. Despite his affluence, the thought of doing good deeds never occurred to him. Whenever he had time, he played golf. However, his wife Echo was different. She had aspired to help the less fortunate ever since she was a little girl.

Echo was the first pioneer to carry out Tzu Chi activities in Malacca. Every weekend, she led her husband's employees to visit lonely old folks in the Majebaru Nursing Home. Wanting her husband to experience the joy of serving others, she invited him to visit the needy with her on the weekends. But he would bluntly refuse. "You should be content that I don't object to your involvement. Sunday is my time for golf, and I won't sacrifice that day for anything else."

His wife was not about to give in. She baited him with his hobby, photography. When she showed him pictures of the lonely old people and the handicapped people that she regularly visited, he asked suspiciously, "Why was this man in tattered clothes sleeping on the floor?" "He wasn't sleeping--he's a vegetable," Echo said. That drew his attention. The powerful image of a paralyzed person living in a dilapidated shed would shake anyone to the core. Seeing that those care recipients were good subjects to test his photography skills, Liu offered to "sacrifice" some of his weekends and take pictures for his wife.

These picture-taking trips changed his attitude. After witnessing how frail old people were left to survive on their own and how the place reeked because no one ever cleaned it, a strong sense of compassion welled up in Liu's heart.

Gradually, whenever his assistance was called for, he would put down his camera and help bathe the old people. "At first I was afraid of their odor. But then I asked myself if I would have minded the smell if they were my own family members? The answer was 'no.'" Yet the old people suspected that the kindness of the volunteers was a camouflage behind which lurked evil intentions. When the volunteers bathed them, they clutched their money tightly in their hands for fear that it would be stolen. Some questioned Liu rudely, "How much is the government paying you to do this?" Surprisingly, Liu was not offended. "Their reaction was understandable, since they hadn't been loved in such a long time. It's only natural that they'd be suspicious of us." Through serving the less fortunate, he had grown more understanding and realized what a blessed man he was.

Realizing how small he is

Liu was a living example that success in business can go to a person's head. He had always thought he was better than others in many ways. Who and what had transformed a proud man like Liu into such a humble person?

In October 1993, he had a chance to visit the Abode of Still Thoughts, the headquarters of Tzu Chi and the place where Master Cheng Yen and her disciples live. There he saw a group of old women in the garden, sitting in a circle and picking vegetables. Listening to their rustic conversation, he was inexplicably touched by their amiable, down-to-earth manner and their contentment in doing such a trivial thing as picking vegetables. Compared with the selfless dedication of these elderly women, his wealth and success in business meant nothing. For the first time in his life he became aware that he was in truth totally insignificant.

Inspired by the old women, Liu bravely told Master Cheng Yen that he wanted to take the Tzu Chi Ten Precepts--no killing, stealing, fornicating, etc. To him, this big commitment deserved a grand ceremony held at the Abode in the presence of the Master and the other nuns. Although the old women had taught him that he was merely a speck in the universe, his mentality was still that of a big boss. To his surprise, the Master just extended her hands and told him, "You have good aspirations. You shall now begin to abide by the precepts." Thinking that this must be a mistake, Liu asked, "Master, don't you need to perform some kind of ceremony?" The Master just shook her head and said, "Your own determination to firmly carry out the precepts is the most important ceremony." With that the "ceremony" was finished, and not even a picture was taken to celebrate his grand commitment.

On the last day of his stay, he participated in a one-day retreat at which over a hundred male Tzu Chi members had volunteered to serve the other participants. Pious chanting filled the room with serenity. Sitting on the meditation mat, the Master gently spoke: "These volunteers are from all walks of life. Some of them are company executives, some street vendors. Nevertheless they put down their work in order to serve all of you and ensure you a comfortable retreat." Liu was surprised over the fact that people would take a day off just to wait on strangers.

Looking through half-closed eyes, Liu saw two lines of male members, each holding a meal tray in their hands. They calmly filed in and stopped in front of the first participant in each row. A volunteer stood before Liu. Then an unexpected thing happened--all the volunteers knelt down, stretched both hands forward and offered the meals with the utmost respect. Staring at the person kneeling before him, Liu was shaken to the core.

He felt ashamed, because nothing he had done in his life could qualify him to receive such respect. Maybe this person bowing to him was a company executive. "Both of us are business directors, but how could he put aside his ego and humble himself so sincerely, while I'm so full of myself? What a lousy person I am!" Feeling pangs of repentance, he was unable to speak for the rest of the day.

In the same year, Master Cheng Yen certified Liu and his wife as Tzu Chi commissioners and entrusted to them the responsibility of carrying out the Tzu Chi missions in central and southern Malaysia. Liu vowed that if necessary, he would donate a vacant lot beside his factory to Tzu Chi.

Donating wealth joyfully

At that time, Liu's factory was running smoothly. He could have worked hard at the company and made more profits. But by then he had realized that the Tzu Chi missions, which benefited society, carried far greater significance than his business, which only brought him monetary rewards. After he returned to Malaysia, he gradually shifted his attention from his business to Tzu Chi. Eventually, he closed down his factory and became a full-time volunteer.

Right after the retreat at the Abode, Liu enthusiastically launched many activities and generously offered his office for Tzu Chi to use. But as the activities increased, problems surfaced. Volunteers disrupted the workflow at the factory. For instance, on the day before a relief distribution, the factory was virtually turned into a marketplace. Pile after pile of vegetables, rice, and clothes blocked the entrance. Judging from the growing number of volunteers, Liu saw the need to build an office for Tzu Chi in Malacca.

After obtaining Master Cheng Yen's permission in 1995, Liu resolutely shouldered the responsibility for the whole construction project. Business and golf, once the top priorities of his life, were cast aside. From donating 126,000 square feet of land, having the blueprints drawn, and getting building permits from the government, to supervising the construction and purchasing equipment, he put in his whole heart and soul. Even when the factory ran into a crisis, his attention was not diverted from the construction. Since raising funds in Malaysia was difficult, Liu willingly paid all expenses from his own pocket. Just the construction itself, excluding the price of the land, cost US$1 million. He spent all he had, even the company's revolving funds.

However, his devotion did not win him wholehearted support from local Tzu Chi volunteers. On the contrary, some criticized him and questioned his decision to build such a grand office. "I wanted to tell them that it was okay if they gave me no financial support, but at least they could show me some moral support," Liu said. Despite overwhelming discouragement, his determination never wavered. "Never once did I think of quitting. I knew my intention was pure and selfless. And I resolved to have it built at all cost." By the time the construction was finished in 1997, he had lost so much weight that he needed to wear suspenders to hold his trousers up.

"It was all worth it," Liu said. With the building, Tzu Chi people in Malacca have a home to return to. Many people who visit the office are touched by the attention Liu paid to every detail. The building is like a magnet that draws more and more people to join Tzu Chi and do good deeds.

Renouncing vanity

The purpose of doing spiritual cultivation is to nurture virtue and rectify one's conduct and behavior. To Liu, being a Tzu Chi volunteer is his way of carrying out spiritual cultivation. He also had his hair cut short and became a vegetarian. Since he joined Tzu Chi, he has been inspired quite a few times. The first inspiration was the moral he learned from building the Tzu Chi Malacca branch office--giving without expecting anything in return begets genuine joy.

Liu was once an urbane, image-conscious businessman who regularly visited hair salons to have his hair cared for and permed. When he traveled, he never failed to take a bag full of hair-care products to ensure that he looked his best. Later, when he began to lose his hair, he carried even more stuff around. This habit continued even after his duties at Tzu Chi increased. He woke up early to groom his hair and always applied hair loss lotion before going to bed.

Once traveling to attend a meeting with Stephen Huang, director of the Tzu Chi Religious Culture and Humanitarian Aid Department, Liu forgot to take a comb. Assuming that anyone would carry such a basic necessity, he asked Huang to lend him his. "Do you think I need a comb?" Huang, who like Liu used to pay a lot of attention to his appearance, pointed at his short crewcut. Looking at Huang's small toiletry bag and then at his own cumbersome bag, Liu suddenly envied Huang for his carefree manner. "Why couldn't I be like him?" He thought about it throughout the night. The following day, when they reached the meeting place, Liu did not join the meeting. Instead, he went to a barbershop and got a crewcut. He not only cut off his hair--he also renounced his vanity.

Taming his taste buds

"I was a gourmand who could not live without meat," Liu confessed. Oyster, shark's fin, abalone, lobster and beef steak were his favorites. Even when he dined with vegetarians, he would always order a plate of meat.

Yet he made an overnight change because of a few words.

The conversation Liu had at three in the morning of October 10, 1996, will forever be inscribed in his mind. That day saw the opening of the Tzu Chi Kuala Lumpur office, which was also donated by Liu. He had been discussing the teachings of the Buddha with a friend since midnight. At three a.m., the friend suddenly spoke out what had been on his mind for some time. "Liu, you are a disciple of Master Cheng Yen and the director of the Tzu Chi Malacca branch. Yet you cannot even abide by the most fundamental Buddhist precept of no killing. I truly wonder whether people can have faith in the words that come out of a mouth that also munches flesh."

Liu was speechless. The friend hit the nail on the head. As a disciple of the Master and as a leader, he should be a role model and not an ordinary person craving the flesh of other living beings. How could he let his personal behavior stain the Master's reputation? Liu said impulsively, "According to your words, I will be a vegetarian from this moment."

Little did he expect that the abrupt cutoff from eating meat would be so painful. Every sight of what used to be his favorite food tempted him to break the vow of abstinence. At one point, he even considered drinking meat soup as a way to get around his vow. A book by the Venerable Master Yin Shun, the mentor of Master Cheng Yen, saved him. Master Yin Shun wrote that in order to advance one's spiritual cultivation, it is preferable for a Buddhist practitioner to become a vegetarian. Thus Liu firmed up his determination to fight off temptation. Now he is content with his simple vegetarian diet.

Love transcends nationalities

"Why are you, a Taiwanese, helping the Malays and not your own people?" a reporter from the Malaysian newspaper Chinapress once asked Liu. "Because Great Love does not distinguish between nationalities or religions," Liu replied without hesitation. "My Master taught me that since I am enjoying the resources of Malaysia, I should repay her people. Moreover, I see it as a blessing to be able to help others."

After Liu closed down his factory, he wanted to make the most of that property. Most investors would have sold the land for immediate cash. That piece of land would have brought Liu at least US$3.3 million. But he decided to donate the land and use it for a nursing home, a free clinic, or any facility that would benefit society. When he reported his decision to the government of Malacca, the officials thanked him on behalf of all Malacca citizens. They said to him, "Only you, a Tzu Chi member, would do such a thing!" He has indeed lived up to the Master's teaching that one should repay the local community.

Liu said that when he closed down his factory, he did not lose anything. Instead, his gain was immeasurable because he had let go of all his worries. Liu used to believe that happiness came from accumulating wealth. Yet his spiritual practice in Tzu Chi has taught him that giving without expecting anything in return brings true joy. When he ran his business, he expected to gain profit, but that expectation often brought him ceaseless worries at the same time. When he had longer hair, he expected others to appreciate his good grooming. Before he became a vegetarian, he expected the best delicacies to satisfy his taste buds. But now he has given up the sources of his worries, and his mind is in peace. In Tzu Chi, he has found a new direction in life, and he is marching unwaveringly toward it.