Translated By Tony Qin
Since entering monastic life, I have been blessed with more opportunities to care for the sick and to accompany those nearing the end of life. This work has become deeply meaningful to me. Since 2024, I have set aside two days each week to visit hospitals with a team of devoted volunteers, offering compassionate presence and support to patients. Over time, every encounter with patients and families has revealed, in its own way, both the fragility of life and the warmth of our shared humanity. Many of these moments remain etched in my heart.
Most people think of volunteer work as an act of giving in which the recipient is the one who benefits. That is certainly true. Yet how often do we pause to realize that in the very act of giving, we ourselves may receive even more in return? The deep emotions and insights that awaken in the quiet depths of the heart cannot be found in any book. This experience of “receiving through giving” is an unseen treasure that nourishes the spirit.
Each time I lean close to whisper words of comfort, patients respond in their own unique ways. This is only natural, for every life story, set of values, and personal journey differs. Some speak in a frail voice of helplessness; some, worn down by years of pain, break into tears. Others express heartfelt gratitude for the presence of loved ones, while some reveal regret, sorrow, or a sense of life’s unfairness. There are those who cling fiercely to life, and those who accept its passing with calm. At times, I am also blessed to witness the joy of recovery and the grateful tears of family members. These glimpses, whether of sorrow or relief, always move me deeply.
A single hospital bed holds countless stories of suffering, of hope, of waiting, of memories, of farewell, and sometimes, of recovery. It becomes a microcosm of life itself. Each time we listen to the voices and emotions of those in the ward, something stirs in every heart present. In those moments, there is a subtle resonance, quietly drawing people closer, leaving behind memories that are both profound and precious.
When the inevitability of impermanence draws near, how fragile human life reveals itself to be. And yet, when we bend down to listen to each whisper, to each silent gaze, we discover something profound: that in life’s final moments, it is care, understanding, acceptance, and companionship that shine most brightly. They form a quiet light, gentle and warm, that illuminates the depths of the human heart. In such moments, no matter the distance between us, we are reminded to cherish our precious connections all the more.
The experiences of patients and the final journeys of those near death offer profound lessons on the nature of human existence. They affirm, in lived reality, the Buddha’s teachings on impermanence, suffering, and emptiness. In the vastness of the cosmos, a human life is but the smallest of grains—fleeting, fragile, passing in the blink of an eye. Precisely because life is impermanent, we are called to let go of grasping, to embrace each present moment, and to live with sincerity and purpose.
Encouraged by my teacher, Venerable Guan Cheng, I have recorded these moving experiences, hoping to share the feelings and insights they have inspired. In the pages that follow, I will recount several true stories, with all names changed. Through these journeys and reflections, may you find inspiration for your own path.
