The Flesh Eye and the Things We Cannot See

One late afternoon at the end of the year, on a quiet village road, a thin old man with a slightly stooped back pushed a worn-out trash cart along the sidewalk. He bent down to pick up scraps of paper and empty beer cans, one by one, placing them into the sack behind his cart. A few children ran past, and the oldest one pointed at him, giggling: "Look, it's the old man who picks up trash!" The old man looked up, smiled gently, and returned to his work.

People often saw him like this, every single morning, no matter the rain or the sun. Some felt pity, thinking this lonely old man had to do such grueling work simply to get by. Others looked down on him, believing he was nothing more than a useless wanderer. But few knew that before becoming "the old man who picks up trash," he had been a renowned university professor who taught generations of students. After retiring, he chose for himself a simple and quiet life. Every morning he collected trash not out of need, but because he wanted to do one small thing to remind people to keep their shared surroundings clean. In the evening, he washed himself clean, put on decent clothes, and went to the university lecture hall to speak with students about philosophy and about life. Yet if one only glanced at him in passing, who would ever know any of this?

Ms. Lan, a Buddhist who had recently come to the temple, sat beside me telling her story while we waited for the teacher. "I saw a stout man and thought he must be very healthy, but who would have guessed—he had just come back from a checkup and learned he has diabetes and high cholesterol. Meanwhile, my younger brother, skinny and sickly-looking, runs and jumps all day long without a single ailment. Our eyes just keep getting everything wrong."

I nodded in agreement, remembering a story the teacher once shared. "You see, our flesh eyes can only perceive the surface—colors and shapes. But what lies within, the heart, the karma, the ordinary eye can never see."

One evening at a meeting of our practice group, everyone was discussing plans for charity with great enthusiasm. Some proposed visiting an orphanage, while others wanted to organize a summer retreat. Only one middle-aged man sat quietly in the corner of the room, silent, offering nothing but a faint smile. Ms. Hoa, who led the group, felt slightly annoyed and thought to herself: "This man must have no ideas, or he simply does not care. Sitting there smiling—what could he possibly be thinking?"

Yet when everyone had finished speaking and no agreement could be reached, the man calmly rose to his feet. In a few brief words he captured the heart of the matter and offered an optimal solution that won over the entire group. Only then did Ms. Hoa understand. His silence was not emptiness at all, but a deep understanding, the composure of someone who knows how to listen and chooses the right moment to speak.

"Teacher, then how can I know what is real and what is false?" asked a young Buddhist. I looked at him and answered slowly. "You cannot judge life with the flesh eye alone; what it sees is only a very small part of the whole. You must use wisdom, life experience, and compassion to truly perceive. Think of the old man picking up trash—if you rush to conclusions, you lose the chance to learn from a sage. And when you see parents scolding their children, do not assume it is rejection; understand that it is love, longing for their children to become good people."

The young man fell into quiet reflection, his eyes brightening as if something had just dawned on him. I smiled, knowing the lesson of the flesh eye had settled into his heart. For in this life, there are things the eyes see that are not true, and things the eyes cannot see that are indeed the truth.

The Meaning of the Story

The flesh eyes of human beings have many limitations: they can see colors, shapes, and distances, but they cannot see the inner essence, the movements of the heart, the forces of karma, or the subtle realities of life. Therefore, do not be quick to place your full trust in what you see. Instead, use wisdom and compassion to reflect more deeply and to view each matter in a more complete way.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang.