The garbage collectors, the janitors outside there – it looks like an easy job. No, no, no, it’s a dangerous job. Garbage-cleaning people have a higher mortality rate than policemen and firemen – several times higher because the garbage sometimes is dangerous. People put things in there that might explode or might contaminate them. […] And we just take it for granted, “Oh, he’s just a garbage man; he has to collect garbage.” Without the garbage men, we would be contaminated; we would be smelly; our houses would be full of rats and rodents and bacteria. […]
I really have to deal with a lot of egos and obstructions in my own house, and that is the worst thing that hits you. Because you trust these people; you think they’re just like family. Many years together, many decades together – they should have grown up by now. No. Some not. Even for very little things: don’t listen, don’t cooperate, have no love. Now because we already have this system established, and I don’t have anyone else, so I just have to continue to use these people. But I’m very sad, very sad. Many times, I cry. I told them, “Listen, people outside, they work very hard. They work under the burning sun. They work in the freezing climate when their hands can’t move, like in Canada or Alaska. When it’s freezing, they still need to go out to repair the electricity. Sometimes, they climb up the very dangerous high voltage or work on the road, repairing roads and bridges under the scorching sun – work under any conditions.” Of course, they earn money with it, but we cannot ever thank them enough.
When any worker comes to my house, even just to repair a little hut where I meditate, I treat them like a king. I bake for them, I tell them, “Wow, good job,” and make tea for them several times a day whenever they need [it]. And make them feel very, very respected, appreciated, for their skill, for their dedication. Garbage men, if I can catch them at Christmas, I bring (vegan）cakes and tea and a lot of drinks and a red envelope with money in it. And if I can catch them outside sometimes, if I have something in my car, I’ll give it to them with a lot of respect. The laborers… Some assistants told me, “Master, You don’t have to do it. Why do You bake cakes for them?” I said, “Oh, they are the backbone of the society. Without them, we’re nothing.” Imagine you have many millions of dollars, and there’s nobody to repair your cable when your electricity goes out. What will you do in a freezing climate? Can you burn all those millions of dollars to keep warm?
And the garbage collectors, the janitors outside there – it looks like an easy job. No, no, no, it’s a dangerous job. Garbage-cleaning people have a higher mortality rate than policemen and firemen – several times higher because the garbage sometimes is dangerous. People put things in there that might explode or might contaminate them. They die… The mortality rate is higher than policemen and the fire brigade even. Imagine that? And we just take it for granted, “Oh, he’s just a garbage man; he has to collect garbage.” Without the garbage men, we would be contaminated; we would be smelly; our houses would be full of rats and rodents and bacteria. And we’d be falling sick, ill or dead. So, I want you to – whenever you go out, if you see some laborer coming to your house, or you see garbage men – give them your respect, at least. OK? Your love and your gratitude. Just smile and say, “Thank you for doing your good job.” I think about them; I just want to cry, too. These are the people who nobody cares about, but they are the best in society, actually.
If we don’t have an English teacher, we can blah-blah, use hands and feet, the way I speak Italian or Spanish, “Este.” (This one.） “No, no. Here. Da. Ja, ja, ja.” (Here. Yes, yes.） “Sí, sí, sí!” (Yes, yes.） There. Without learning, we could make do. Maybe misunderstanding, but why do we need to talk so much anyway? The more we talk around the peace table, the more war there is. A lot of war and a lot of talk, and still a lot of war. But without these laborers like builders, street pavers, house building, water management, water drilling, electricians, and garbage cleaners, for example, we’d be doomed.
Because nowadays, we have developed too much, too fast. In the old times, not too many humans, and we didn’t eat so much like now, and we didn’t pack everything in a plastic package to keep long like now. So, we did not need that many garbage collectors. But nowadays, without them, we’d die. We have put ourselves into this position: without garbage cleaners, we’d die. So if you see them, give them respect. And even the people who collect the tolls. When you drive on the highway, you pay a toll sometimes? Yes. They stand there all day breathing in all that pollution. You also have to thank them. And they’re always even very friendly to you. Whenever a car passes by, they say, “Hallo,” “Good day,” or “Buenos días (Good morning）,” or “Buenas noches (Good night）,” whatever. So, if I have something in the car, I always give it to them with a lot of respect and a lot of gratitude.
And they’re very happy, not because of a bottle of juice, not because of a package of chocolates or cakes – vegan. And I even tell them, to make sure they’re [aware], “Vegan, no animal[-people].” Not because of that. They could afford. They’re not that poor; they have their salary. But they’re so happy because they know that I appreciate their work – sitting all day, always ticket and hand like that. There’s nothing else, no interesting thing to do. And just now and then, somebody thanks them like that, profusely with love. Of course, they feel happy. That is also a kind of giving. You don’t always have to give money. If you don’t have things in your car, OK, say, “Thank you, thank you.”
Sometimes I go to the supermarket. You know the [cashier] who does your bill? She does that all day long, and she takes all the heavy things one after another. Try that for an hour, and then feel how your hand’s doing. You will see how your arm’s doing. Try – just one hour. And she does that eight hours a day, or more sometimes. Very tiring, you know? I always try to give a tip. If they accept, OK; if they don’t, sometimes they say, “Oh, it’s not allowed.” Then I take it back, but I say, “Thank you very much.” They’re also very happy even if they don’t take my money. They are very happy. They thank me so much because they know it’s given with love, that I understand their position. Or sometimes I just grab their arm and say, “Ah, OK, OK, OK. Good arm, good arm.” And they’re so happy, happy. Sometimes, I just give them a tip; I say, “You buy some oil and put it on your arm. Or put it in a bucket, put the medicine in warm water and put your feet in there.” They’re happy.
Sometimes I don’t give money, it depends. Because I know that supermarket is strict, so I ask them, “How’s your arm today? How many thousands of kilos have you lifted today?” You know, just so they feel that I have sympathy, that I understand their job. I never, never forget to thank them. Or I say some silly thing to make them laugh or give them a little money. Or I buy something from the shop, paid already, and I give it to them. And I say, “I signed the bill. It’s a gift for you ’cause you are a good girl – very fast and very efficient,” and all that. And they say, “No, I cannot accept it.” I say, “I’ll go tell your boss now.” And it’s OK, and the boss is also very happy that we recognize the good work. I say, “You train good staff.” I make the boss also feel happy. So both are happy. The boss doesn’t accept but compliments she likes. Lovely, lovely.
So that’s how we make life happy. That’s how we are charitable. Doesn’t have to be always money but appreciation for other people’s kindness. And in life, appreciate that we live in this good country, a very safe house, a good car, wonderful roads, good laws, good order. Always appreciate it. Even if I live in a cave, I appreciate it so much because I love the cave. Now and then, I thank God for giving me that cave and giving me people to build that cave for me. In Taiwan (Formosa), of course, I built it together with the nuns and monks. But in a foreign country, other people built for me, outside people. We always have to appreciate what we have; we can’t keep complaining. But I’m telling you, some people complain all the time. I wanted to tell you today that we have to also appreciate the people who live here, who came temporarily to prepare all this for you – prepared food, bought food and cleaned the house. Well, I made them. I don’t say it behind their back. You know. (Yes, Master.）
I came last week, and I inspected the rooms. Smelled terrible because they were moldy. They were not cleaned well and had not been ventilated well. I said, “Clean now, every room. And everything we don’t need, throw out or give it to other people who need it. Keep the rooms empty for the disciples.” One of the residents who lives here told me, “We don’t have enough people, that’s why.” I said, “What? How many more people do you want to bring here?” There were about ten people here, right? Or six? (Six.）Six men only, right? (Three women and three men.）Yeah? (Yes.）OK. That’s a lot for such a small Center. So I told them when I was a student, my mother, father didn’t always give me money. I had to work. I worked in hotels. Sometimes, I worked in restaurants, like waiting on tables. Sometimes, I worked like a hostess, showing people to their tables. Sometimes, I worked in a restaurant, but cleaning the toilet, the bathroom. Sometimes, I worked in a hotel, cleaning rooms.
Now, every day, if you work in… not just first-class even – four-star, three-star hotels – you have to clean sometimes 20 rooms. It depends on how many customers come in and out. But if it’s a first-class hotel – always conferences and seminars, a lot of people. And the [senior] one and stronger one, the longer worker, is given sometimes 40 rooms per day to clean. It’s not just zzzttt like this. You’ve got to polish everything picobello (spotlessly) like new for the new customer or even the older customer, the one who continues to stay. But you still need to clean the toilet, the bathroom, everything picobello (spotlessly） like you can see your face [reflected] in the wall. Then, 40 rooms per day, and for only eight hours.
So I said… Two of the residents stayed here long enough. “You could clean these. We have only, like, 30 rooms maximum around here,” including mine, the office, the extra room and everything. So, two people can clean two, three rooms per day – just two, three rooms, just to brush it around and clean it again and again to make some fresh air. There’s no problem. And take turns. Tomorrow, clean another two or three. And the next week clean again the other ones, just take turns. Then it’s no problem, and you still have enough time to eat, to meditate, to sleep and to hang around. If other people can clean 40 rooms in one day – and clean everything, I mean, change the sheets, polish the bathroom and clean the toilet, everything like new… It’s not just cleaning the way we do at home now and then and once a week, a big cleaning. It’s not like that. A hotel has to be perfect, especially a first-class hotel. Four-star or five-star, then you have to do it like that. So, you cannot say that there’re not enough people here.
