“We survive and thrive only in an environment of concern, affection, and warmheartedness — or in a single word, compassion” wrote the Dalai Lama in reflecting on how to live a more purposeful and meaningful life. “The essence of compassion is a desire to alleviate the suffering of others and to promote their well-being. This is the spiritual principle from which all other positive inner values emerge.”

In 2006, Buddhist monk and the Dalai Lama’s disciple Lobsang Phuntsok put this beautiful teaching into practice by creating a unique community for unwanted children called Jhamste Gatsal: The Garden of Love and Compassion. Located in the remote foothills of the Indian Himalayas, it provides a permanent home for more than 85 orphaned and abandoned children.

“Everybody gave up hope on us but at this place you are welcome and you have the opportunity to change, and we will be with you no matter what,” says Lobsang Phuntsok to a group of children in the opening scene of the film Tashi and the Monk. “We need to move forward together, supporting each other, carrying each other. And these little ones, even the naughtiest ones, are the most amazing seat of compassion and love. Someday, they will blossom.”

Among the little naughty ones is Tashi Drolma, Jhamste’s newest arrival. Her story paints both tragic and familiar picture: having recently lost her mother and abandoned by alcoholic father, she was found eating dirt on the side of the road. A wild and troubled five-year-old, Tashi is a big personality in a small body. During the course of the film as Lobsang and the community work their magic, we witness her transformation from alienation and tantrums into someone who is capable of making her first friend and opening up to the world.

Although Tashi and the Monk is available for free on the Jhamste Gatsal’s official YouTube channel, you can support the orphanage by purchasing the film, donating, or sponsoring a child. Complement with a short NPR interview where Lobsang Phuntsok and film director Andrew Hinton talk about the challenges and obstacles they faced during the filming process.

“Just as in the great ocean there is but one taste — the taste of salt — so in this Doctrine and Discipline there is but one taste — the taste of freedom,” said the Buddha while pointing out the emancipating quality of his teaching.

This is a beautiful quote that resonates with our modern times, where freedom of speech, action, and thought are the cornerstones of our public and private life. Yet this seeming harmony shatters when we start to learn the Dhamma and see that many elements of the Noble Eightfold Path have to do with limitations rather than freedom. “Can freedom as an end really be achieved by means that involve the very denial of freedom?” asks American Buddhist monk Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi in the opening essay of his magnificent collection Dhamma Reflections. The answer lies — he notes while proceeding to untangle the question — in the distinction between two types of freedom: freedom as a license and freedom as spiritual autonomy. Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi writes:

Contemporary man, for the most part, identifies freedom with license. For him, freedom means the license to pursue undisturbed his impulses, passions and whims. To be free, he believes, he must be at liberty to do whatever he wants, to say whatever he wants and to think whatever he wants. Every restriction laid upon this license he sees as an encroachment upon his freedom; hence a practical regimen calling for restraint of deed, word, and thought, for discipline and self-control, strikes him as a form of bondage.

Contrary to this ordinary notion of freedom of doing what you want, spiritual freedom is something that can’t be acquired by external means. It comes from within as a result of training aimed at renunciation of passion and impulse in order to reach a higher end. Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi writes:

The freedom to which the Buddha points is spiritual freedom — an inward autonomy of the mind which follows upon the destruction of the defilements, manifests itself in an emancipation from the mold of impulsive and compulsive patterns of behavior, and culminates in final deliverance from samsara, the round of repeated birth and death.

Buddhism teaches us that when an uninstructed person experiences a pleasant feeling, it arouses the tendency to lust — the desire to possess and enjoy the stimulating object. Likewise, that same person experiences aversion towards all painful feelings and is dulled and confused by neutral feelings. If left unchecked, these latent tendencies to lust, repugnance, and ignorance transform into greed, hatred, and delusion, which deprive us of the capacity for self-control and clear thinking. Outwardly we may appear to be free, but deep within we are prisoners of our own desires. Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi writes:

Spiritual freedom, as the opposite of this condition of bondage, must therefore mean freedom from lust, hatred, and delusion. When lust, hatred, and delusion are abandoned in a man, cut off at the root so that they no longer remain even in latent form, then a man finds for himself a seat of autonomy from which he can never be dethroned, a position of mastery from which he can never be shaken. … If pleasant objects come within range of his perception he does not yearn for them, if painful objects come into range he does not recoil from them. He looks upon both with equanimity and notes their rise and fall.

Dhamma Reflections is an enlightening read for any practicing or aspiring Buddhist.

Strange, isn’t it? How sometimes worry and anxiety overtake our minds. We can’t help but think about all the bad things that might happen in the future. Worst-case scenarios keep replaying themselves in our heads over and over again. And it seems like there is no escape from this unending cycle.

When that happens, we lose our ability to think and act clearly. We might even lose sleep and become anxious. So what should we do in this situation? Is there a simple way to counteract this tendency and calm our worried minds?

With the aim to find the answer, I turn to a profound Zen story from a marvelous collection called 101 Zen Koans: Short Stories for Daily Zen (paperback | audiobook). Read here by a mellifluous voice of Freda Cooper from the audio version of the book:

THE SUBJUGATION OF A GHOST
A young wife fell sick and was about to die. “I love you so much,” she told her husband, “I do not want to leave you. Do not go from me to any other woman. If you do, I will return as a ghost and cause you endless trouble.”

Soon the wife passed away. The husband respected her last wish for the first three months, but then he met another woman and fell in love with her. They became engaged to be married.

Immediately after the engagement a ghost appeared every night to the man, blaming him for not keeping his promise. The ghost was clever too. She told him exactly what had transpired between himself and his new sweetheart. Whenever he gave his fiancée a present, the ghost would describe it in detail. She would even repeat conversations, and it so annoyed the man that he could not sleep. Someone advised him to take his problem to a Zen master who lived close to the village. At length, in despair, the poor man went to him for help.

“Your former wife became a ghost and knows everything you do, ” commented the master. “Whatever you do or say, whatever you give your beloved, she knows. She must be a very wise ghost. Really you should admire such a ghost. The next time she appears, bargain with her. Tell her that she knows so much you can hide nothing from her, and that if she will answer you one question, you promise to break your engagement and remain single.”

“What is the question I must ask her?” inquired the man.

The master replied: “Take a large handful of soy beans and ask her exactly how many beans you hold in your hand. If she cannot tell you, you will know that she is only a figment of your imagination and will trouble you no longer.”

The next night, when the ghost appeared the man flattered her and told her that she knew everything.

“Indeed,” replied the ghost, “and I know you went to see that Zen master today.”

“And since you know so much,” demanded the man, “tell me how many beans I hold in this hand!”

There was no longer any ghost to answer the question.

I love this zen story. It’s an important reminder that sometimes our mind is the same way. But instead of a ghost, it’s haunted by negative thoughts. Thoughts that pretend to know everything. Thoughts that tell us how things will be. So how do you strip them of their power? Take a handful of soybeans. Or in other words, perform a present moment test. Ask yourself, “What is the problem right now?” Once you do that, you’ll immediately realize that the “ghost” is not real. The worry and anxiety are just a figment of your imagination.