When our van pulled up in front of the Tzu Chi headquarters in Hualien, I was struck by both the splendor of the structures--the Tzu Chi Hospital, its medical school and the Still Thoughts Hall--and the number of people bustling about. Inside the Still Thoughts Hall there were people everywhere. Not everybody was there for the Conference on International Relief and Social Development. Many Tzu Chi members had come from abroad to help celebrate Tzu Chi's thirty-third anniversary, to enjoy the special exhibition staged for the occasion and to report to Master Cheng Yen on the achievements that they had made in their own countries.

For some conference participants, this was their first visit to Taiwan and their first direct contact with Tzu Chi. They were impressed by the wealth of poster displays featuring Tzu Chi activities at home and abroad, and by the modern, state-of-the-art conference room, in which each seat is equipped with a microphone and earphones for simultaneous translation. Participants were also awed by the splendid Still Thoughts Hall. Completed only two years ago, the auditorium in the Still Thoughts Hall seats two thousand people, features two huge screens on either side of the stage, and partially receives its illumination from glittering stars and a brightly shimmering Milky Way in the thirteen-story high ceiling above.

A marriage between care and independence?

Tzu Chi's first international conference provided non-governmental organizations involved in international relief work an opportunity to share experiences and approaches related to their work. As I listened to representatives from Tzu Chi, Medecins du Monde, Project Orbis, Oxfam Hong Kong and others, I began to recognize and appreciate their unique approaches. Perhaps the most distinctive aspect of the Tzu Chi method of international relief is its "directness," which requires personal interactions between givers and recipients and thereby places a strong emphasis on the role of the giver. Tzu Chi members respond with great enthusiasm. To them participation in relief missions is a form of self-cultivation that energizes and brings joy. "Our Tzu Chi missions may not provide large-scale services," says Tzu Chi member Eugene C.Y. Duh. "But our services are all done from the bottom of the volunteers' hearts." Lin Chin-lon, vice superintendent of Tzu Chi Hospital and a member of the Tzu Chi International Medical Association, has participated in several free clinics and he feels strongly about the personal approach: "We deliver not only physical and material help, but more importantly tender, loving care to the needy. We care about human beings and we are grateful that we have the opportunity to serve and to show that we do care."

Tzu Chi has a large labor force of personally committed volunteers who seek opportunities for self-cultivation and who want to accumulate merits for their future lives by doing good deeds. Therefore, it is not surprising that Tzu Chi disaster relief missions tend to be relatively large. It also means that these missions, which most often entail distributions of relief items and free clinics, are generally short, though Tzu Chi on occasions does provide more long-term assistance by giving monetary support for the building of houses, schools or hospitals. When Tzu Chi members return from their missions, usually exhausted but re-energized from the experience, their reports dwell on their interactions with local people. They talk about the smiles from people who just survived a disaster and about appreciative comments, such as "Chinos buenos," "Taiwan, Taiwan," or "Amitabha!" Their moving reports arouse others, extending the circle of those who are touched and ready to serve on the next round.

Representatives from several other non-governmental organizations at the conference painted quite a different picture of how they see and implement emergency relief. Their number one priority can be summed up in two words: nurturing independence. Catholic Father Peter Mertens from Caritas, Taiwan, spelled it out quite clearly: "Never do things for the disaster victims, only support their own efforts. We believe that the real human development of people is to learn to take the initiative, to examine their problems together, and find a solution through a project that they control themselves. Once people see that they can undertake their own new initiatives, the process of development is under way." Tim Shao, executive director of World Vision Taiwan, went a step further by pointing to the need to teach people preventive activities in order to address the root causes of emergencies and to strengthen local self-help and self-reliance. Chong Chan-yao of Oxfam Hong Kong told of his organization's preference for food for work over food aid distributions in order to avoid the possibility of dependency. Oxfam wants to help people do their own hazard mapping, have them set up their own community relief funds and train their own ad hoc project officers. The goal is to empower local people in a disaster area and make them feel that they themselves can turn their lives around.

Thinking about Tzu Chi's giver-oriented approach versus other organizations' goal of nurturing a spirit of self-reliance among disaster victims, I couldn't help but wonder whether the difference was a reflection of different fundamental human values. In a Confucian society, relationships and interdependence are core concerns and dependency is not a four-letter word. In the western tradition, on the other hand, the spirit of independence reigns supreme.

Is a marriage between these two approaches possible? Is it desirable? Maybe this question can be the topic for another conference.

The elusive birthplace of Still Thoughts

Besides attending the conference, I had also hoped to satisfy a personal curiosity during my visit to Hualien. I wanted to find out where Master Cheng Yen finds the solitude to generate the wonderful wisdom we find in her book, Still Thoughts. Every month she tours the various Tzu Chi branches around Taiwan, and at every stop she is busy with crowds of people. Since it did not seem that Master Cheng Yen had any time to herself during these tours, I assumed her place of repose had to be in Hualien. Given my Western bias, I imagined a quiet, idyllic place, away from all the crowds.

Therefore, when I saw the bustling throngs around the medical school, the hospital and the Still Thoughts Hall, I wondered again. During the Tzu Chi anniversary celebration, the Still Thoughts Hall was filled to capacity. Sitting by a side entry, Master Cheng Yen not only watched and listened to the presentations, but also simultaneously greeted people who came to pay their respects to her. So in spite of its name, the Still Thoughts Hall did not appear to be a place to have still thoughts and solitude.

At that point, I figured that Master Cheng Yen's quiet place probably was to be found around her living quarters. The Abode of Still Thoughts, located several miles away from the Still Thoughts Hall, includes the nuns' residence, a small temple, the modest headquarters offices for the Tzu Chi Foundation, and dormitories for visitors. Luckily, we had a chance to tour the Abode before departing. When our van arrived, four large buses were already parked in the parking lot. And though it was indeed quiet inside the temple, outside there were people everywhere, looking at posters, touring the vegetable gardens, or visiting a small museum which showed how Master Cheng Yen and her nuns had been earning their livelihood over the years.

I did not find my imaginary quiet, secluded birthplace of Still Thoughts. Instead, I concluded that Master Cheng Yen must formulate her insights not in solitary contemplation, but right in the midst of life. Perhaps I should have known. After all, the midst of life is what her book is all about.

I returned from Hualien with a better understanding and new insights. I also brought back something else: the flu! It had already hitched a ride with the Medecins du Monde representatives from France to Hualien. I offered it a free ticket to Taipei!