I COMPLETED MY TRAINING as a professional psychiatrist and obtained my doctorate in epidemiology in 1999. After having spent such a long time studying and undergoing medical training, I was all set to test my mettle in the field of psychiatry.

But soon after, a tremendous earthquake devastated Taiwan. In the aftermath, I found myself plunged into the depths of a severe identity crisis. Facing such a large-scale calamity, which had taken the lives of so many as well as inflicting such appalling damage on our homes, I kept asking myself, "What can I do to help?"

In the years that followed, I continued to try to find an answer to my question, but I was unable to discover a truly satisfactory solution. That is, not until I joined a Tzu Chi medical relief mission to Yogyakarta, Indonesia, in May 2006.

Not knowing what exactly I could do, I arrived at the disaster area with an uneasy heart. I was relieved to find out soon after that our Tzu Chi volunteers in Indonesia had already carried out careful assessments in the affected areas and had made all due preparations. They had even arranged meals, accommodation, and transportation for us. Thanks to their thoughtfulness, we could immediately set out to work without further delay.

When the orthopedists and surgeons went into the operating room to save lives, the rest of us were split into two groups in order to man the two medical stations. In addition to our duties at the stations, we also made house calls and participated in relief distributions.

Many survivors came to our free clinic to seek treatment for external injuries, common colds, and post-traumatic stress disorder. Although we could not speak the local language, we tried our best, with the help of interpreters, to care for and convey our concern to each and every patient. From the survivors' reactions and the expressions in their eyes, we could intuitively sense that the transmission of love and care can really transcend all linguistic, cultural and racial barriers.

Many local people had already started rebuilding their homes with still usable bricks, tiles, and beams salvaged from piles of rubble. When we walked towards the people and greeted them with folded palms, they always reciprocated with broad, sincere smiles. Some even put down their tools and shook our hands enthusiastically to thank us for our care and concern.

The more smiles I received and the more hands I shook, the more I came to feel that the survivors were like real-life bodhisattvas--they were teaching me the precious lesson of how to react in the face of the adversity and impermanence in life.

At this moment, as I sit at my desk writing this and thinking back on the days which I spent in those disaster-torn areas, I happen to glance down and see a slip of paper placed beneath my desk pad. On it is written an aphorism from Master Cheng Yen's Still Thoughts: "To counter the force of adversity, we need the soothing power of love. Once people's compassion and kindness are activated, the stream of love will never dry up." The confusion and doubts which once haunted my mind have at last been silenced.