“But I want to help people now, 

not sometime in the future.” 

Upon learning that our primary goal is to seek birth in the Pure Land now and come back to help people afterward, we might protest “I want to help now!”

While our wish is admirable, our abilities are limited. And so in trying to help, our efforts often prove mistake ridden and clumsy. We realize there isn’t much we can do to help others. A further complication is that our life can end at any moment. As someone recently said to me, “If we don’t attain birth in our current lifetime—what a waste.”

To not waste this life, we need to focus. How? We can ask ourselves:

What is my ultimate goal?

How much time will I devote to my practice and learning?

Will this be enough to accomplish my goal?

Am I honestly doing everything I can to progress?

What inspires me to practice or study when I’d rather do something else?

What is the one book or recorded talk that I can really get into by listening to or reading regularly?

And perhaps the ultimate question:

How much time do I have left in this lifetime? 

Reflections on Compassion

A Caregiver’s Good Fortune 

Being a caregiver can be exhausting and frustrating. The hours are long and the work often lonely. Caregivers lose their freedom and can feel trapped by circumstances that they cannot control. The patient may well have a condition from which he or she will not recover. So the caregiver has to often handle growing feelings of impending loss and the resultant grief. Uncertainty and fear are given constants.

A caregiver—even one who starts out with love and enthusiasm—can quickly feel overwhelmed, saddened, and powerless. But even in this most challenging situation, there can be joy and gratitude. 

How often have we heard someone say, after the death of a loved one, “I thought I had more time.”

Thinking that, the person didn’t get around to visiting or even to calling very often. There were other things to do. An urgent project at work, a book to return, a must-see movie, laundry to be done. And, after all, there was enough time. 

And then suddenly one day, it was too late. There was no more time.  

No more time to go over photos together and hear the family stories again. No more time for visits on a cold winter night with a cup of tea and “Remember when...?” moments. No chance to look into the loved one’s eyes and to thank them, and for them to smile and say “Thank you” back. No more time for joy and gratitude. But much time for regret.  

And the caregiver?

The caregiver has time aplenty! So many ways to say “Thank you.” So much time to share that cup of tea. So many opportunities to hug a parent or a spouse and say “I want to do this” and “I’m not going to leave you.” So many ways to wordlessly say “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” So much time for the unexpected silliness and the shared laughter. So many wonderful memories.

And much less need for regret.