“In the face of war, social injustice, 

religious conflict, what difference can I make? 

Can I even make an impact?

The odds are overwhelming. It's pointless”

Frankly, what matters is that we do what is right, simply because that’s what it is—right.

We refrain from striking another person not because we expect that action will lead to the end of violence, but because not hitting another person is the right thing to do.

We refrain from lying to our spouse or partner not because we think our actions will convince others to be honest, but because being truthful in any relationship is the right way to behave.

We do not ignore a customer because of the color of his skin or the way he speaks. Treating all people equally and with respect is the right way to interact with others.

We refrain from wrongdoing because even if no one will know of the wrong we do—and even if our right actions have absolutely no effect on others—doing something wrong is just plain wrong.

And so we do what is right.

Lacking understanding in our practice, 

we’re just going through the motions. 

One evening, a man was watching his wife prepare an eggplant for their dinner. Watching her cut off the end of the eggplant and then throwing away, he asked her why she did so. She replied it was the way her mother had always fixed eggplant.

His curiosity growing, he suggested they call the mother to find out the reason. When they called the mother, she replied that it was the way her mother had always fixed eggplant.

Growing increasingly perplexed, the husband suggested that they call Grandma in an attempt to figure out the reason behind what has apparently become a family tradition. When they asked, Grandma replied that the reason was simple—not having a large enough pan, she cut off the end of the eggplant to make it fit.

If we want to truly benefit from our practice, we need to understand the principles—and reasons—behind what we do. Otherwise, we might just be going through the motions. 

“Not be attached?

But I’d feel detached!” 

Buddhism teaches non-attachment, not detachment. Detachment is unresponsive and devoid of emotions. Non-attachment, however, allows us to experience emotions while not becoming trapped by them.

While non-attached, we still care. But in caring, we don’t discriminate—feeling love for one person and antipathy for another. While non-attached, we also let go of worries and expectations. Fully engaged in what we do, we realize our actions are all we control.

As Master Kuang-ch’in said, “Non-attachment does not mean indifference or carelessness, but rather you should do your best and not worry about the results.”

Neither do we detach from our body. We wisely realize that it’s not permanent, not our true self. It’s a temporary dwelling for this lifetime. In taking care of it, we seek a balance between asceticism and hedonism.

Those I know who are non-attached are some of the most engaged, hard-working, and cheerful people I know. They’re a joy to be around. Just thinking of them makes me smile.