20251217高雄線上讀書會- “Let Me Think”- Lu Zonghan (Dept of Religious & Cultural Affairs) скачать в хорошем качестве

20251217高雄線上讀書會- “Let Me Think”- Lu Zonghan (Dept of Religious & Cultural Affairs)

20251217分享者: 呂宗翰英文稿 “Let Me Think About It” When I was fifteen, I returned to Taiwan for summer break. Again, my parents tried hard to push me toward Tzu Chi, insisting I join the hospital volunteer camp. I resisted in every possible way. But still, my father took me all the way to Hualien — a rare gesture from him, who normally wouldn't even pick me up from the airport when I was a teen. We looked through the registration list. I could not find my name and felt secretly relieved. But at the very bottom of the list — there it was. My father’s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he pushed me inside the hospital and left. Within five minutes of joining the “Cijiang-huan” welcome activity, all my reluctance vanished. The joy, the unity, the energy — it all swept me in. I no longer needed to “think about it.” I simply entered the flow. Auntie Yan and Auntie Mingyue led us. They taught us how to respond to patients with kindness, steadiness, and dignity. They demonstrated every scenario themselves. One scenario was about male patients sometimes behaving improperly toward female volunteers — and Auntie Mingyue demonstrated how to respond. The next day, I was asked to share at the volunteer morning assembly. Master Cheng Yen sat in the back-left area; I stood at the front-right. Trying to be humorous, I began: “I am the one Auntie Mingyue harassed yesterday… It seems she also has a lot of experience!” Everyone laughed. Auntie Mingyue’s face froze. She gave me a sharp look that meant: “Behind you!” I felt a powerful, piercing gaze from behind — the Master’s presence. I didn’t even need to turn my head to feel it. Immediately, I corrected myself and spoke seriously. Afterward, Master said kindly: “At such a young age, you already have so many realizations — that is not easy.” The First Time I Told My Parents ‘Thank You’** When I returned home, I said something I had never said before: “Mom, Dad, thank you for letting me join the Tzu Chi volunteer camp. I learned so much.” My father’s face suddenly lit up — truly lit up, as if he had just won the lottery. I told them that in one week, I wanted to join the Parent-Child Camp — as a participant, they thought. But no — I went as a camp counselor, even though I was only fifteen. They told me to say I was a university student. The saddest part? Everyone believed it. Meeting Master Again — The Sentence That Became My Lifelong Vow During the camp, when everyone visited the Abode for a “root-seeking” tour, counselors had the privilege of joining a group audience with Master Cheng Yen. I was exhausted and kept dozing off. My notes had the same sentence rewritten four times because every time I woke up, I rewrote it, thinking the previous version was too messy — only to fall asleep again. Suddenly, I awoke at the moment Master said: “The happiness of all beings is my happiness.” At that second, tears rolled down my face. I knew — absolutely, unmistakably — that she meant every word. Not symbolic, not poetic — real. This became the origin of my Bodhisattva aspiration, my clear and unmistakable first vow. The Wandering Years — Losing the Path and Finding It Again** Going in Circles — Until the Master’s Words Pulled Me Back** Before I officially joined Tzu Chi as a staff member, I worked many jobs — student food court worker, radio host for four years, artist agency assistant, Starbucks barista, café owner for a year, thrift shop owner for another year, then a junior assistant in commercial leasing. None of these choices came from careful thought. They came from circumstances, drifting, following others. In 2008, before I opened my café, I attended the overseas Tzu Ching training camp. Master’s attendant, Master Mài, stopped me and asked: “What exactly are you doing with your life?” I replied, “Preparing to open a café.” Master Mài said: “You must be very idle.” “I’m not idle! I’m very busy!” I insisted. He looked at me deeply and said: “Your wisdom-life is idle.” His words hit me like a thunderbolt. He continued: “You could wake up every morning and ask yourself, ‘How many people can I help today?’ But instead, you wake up thinking, ‘How can I get people to buy one more cup of coffee?’” I walked to a corner and cried. Because he was right. Is this really the life I want? The Call Becomes Clear Then came the Sichuan Earthquake and Cyclone Nargis in Myanmar. I realized: Earning money is never guaranteed. Walking the Bodhisattva Path is the only solid, meaningful road. I knew with absolute clarity: I wanted to serve full-time in Tzu Chi — not merely “think about it,” but live inside it. I went through a long process — volunteer training, certification, closing my shop, getting married, and finally moving to Hualien. This time, I returned home — and left home again — because I knew this journey was for my true home.