Seeds Sown on Barren Ground

The afternoon sun cast a pale golden light across the brick courtyard of a small temple on the city's outskirts. The temple bell hummed in the wind, carrying a faint scent of incense. An elderly woman, her hair touched with silver, stepped through the temple gate clutching an old handbag. She looked around with a slightly bewildered expression, as if searching for something long lost.

She was the devout laywoman from years past. When I first took refuge, she had already been a well-known Buddhist for many years, famously wealthy and fervently supportive of temples everywhere. She would visit this temple, contributing her time and resources, earning everyone's respect. I was just a small, quiet temple attendant then, unnoticed by anyone. As time passed, I left home to become a monk and devoted myself to study and practice, while she continued her life as an enthusiastic Buddhist. Decades later, when we met again, she did not recognize me, but I knew her immediately.

"Are you well? Do you remember the little attendant from Từ Ân Temple?" I asked, my voice warm and deep.

She started, looked at me intently, then laughed. "Oh, when you put it that way, I remember! You were so tiny and gentle back then. You've changed so much; I didn't recognize you."

I invited her into the reception room and poured a cup of hot tea. She sat down with a long sigh, her gaze distant. I inquired about her life. She shook her head sadly, "Venerable, I have practiced for so many years and done so much good, yet my life is now completely stagnant. My family is in turmoil, my children are wayward, and my mind is always anxious and worried. I don't understand why."

Steam curled from the tea in the temple's quiet stillness. I looked at her and spoke slowly, "You know, even back when I was a young attendant, I saw that you were on the wrong path. But who would listen to a child then? I could only keep it silently in my heart."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Where was I wrong? Please tell me."

I began to explain, "You performed many acts of merit, but did you ever stop to look at your own mind? Did you ever sit in stillness, allowing your thoughts to settle? You were constantly running from one thing to another, supporting this cause and that, but your mind was always busy, anxious, and calculating. You sowed many good seeds, but you sowed them on dry, barren ground, with no watering of stillness. How could they sprout?"

She fell silent, her hands trembling as she held her teacup. After a long moment, she whispered, "You are right... I always thought doing many good deeds was enough. I never let my mind be at peace. My head was never free from thinking—planning business, worrying about children, then thinking about temple visits and contributions."

"That is the very problem," I said, my voice lowering. "The Buddha's teachings teach us to know how to stop. Not to stop doing good deeds, but to stop the mind from running wild. If the mind is forever busy—even with good tasks—it is no different from a disturbed lake. Have you ever seen a still lake reflect the moon? Only when the water is calm can everything be seen clearly. It is the same with the mind. If you practice generosity without a calm mind, that merit is like a seed falling on rock; it cannot grow."

Tears began to roll down her wrinkled cheeks. She choked out, "What should I do now, Venerable? I have wasted decades."

I looked at her with compassion in my eyes. "Do not dwell on past regrets. Recognizing this today is already precious. From now on, whenever you find your mind becoming busy, stop. Take a deep breath and let go of those thoughts. Practice sitting meditation daily, even for just fifteen minutes. Let your mind rest. When the mind is still, you will see everything more clearly, and the seeds of merit you sow will have a chance to grow."

She nodded, wiped her tears, and smiled with a sense of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. From then on, she came to the temple often, sat in meditation, and learned to let go. Gradually, her life changed. Harmony returned to her family, her heart found peace, and senseless worries faded. She still did good deeds, but with a different state of mind—calm and clear.

The Meaning of the Story

Performing good deeds and practicing while the mind remains busy, anxious, and calculating is like sowing seeds on barren ground; they cannot bear fruit. The important thing is not only to do good works, but also to know how to stop, to keep the mind still and pure. Only when the mind is at peace will all things flow smoothly, and life will become serene.

Compiled from a Dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang.