TLDR: Fathers in our lives may be stern and commanding, but they provide sustenance, practical advice, and express their love in different forms. Father figures during Buddha’s time highlight fatherly love, sacrifice, and invaluable teachings such as unconditional love and gratitude.
A warm and caring figure comes to mind when we think of our mother. On the other hand, when we think of our father, fear strikes our hearts.
Why can’t we have a warm, sacrificing father like Ne Zha’s father, we may wonder? Perhaps our fathers’ sacrifices come in different ways, and they are often too little, too late, before we realise.
Letting Go Is Hard
When I was sent abroad to study in the United States of America (USA), (I was studying and living there for 12 years), and with long intervals of about 2-3 years before I returned to Malaysia for visits, I thought my father had abandoned me.
Though later on, I realised that, due to financial challenges of sending me abroad at the height of the 1997-1998 Financial Crisis, and also my father’s battle with cancer (he’s now a 4-time cancer survivor), the regular trip home is hard to materialise.
Furthermore, my father was worried about me being affected academically (he doesn’t want me to worry about his health) and financially (cancer treatment costs a lot!), so it was next to impossible for me to visit home frequently. Mind you, this was the world before WhatsApp video calls existed, hence, letter writing (snail mail) and using International phone cards to make voice calls was used.
When working and living in Singapore, going on regular meditation retreats, and pursuing my five years of Buddhist Studies, from Diploma to Master’s, I never quite understood my father’s concerns about how I should prioritise my career before learning Buddhism. I thought that my pursuit of Buddhism would help not only myself but my parents too, if I could better educate and share the Dhamma with them.
This is where I recollect and remember the story of King Suddhodana’s concern for his son, the Buddha, and then his grandson, Rahula.
“Sometimes letting go is harder than breaking up.” While the lyrics come from a romantic song, it poignantly reminds me of my father’s great sacrifice. He sent his son away to study abroad for a better future with no certainty that the distance will not disrupt the already tenuous bond between them.
Sacrifice My Own Needs, for My Child’s Need is Greater
Biologically and psychologically, one can argue that it is for preserving one’s offspring’s genetics and contributions over time. For a very long time, I never quite understood the seemingly irrational ideals of someone sacrificing their own needs for the needs of another, until it happened to me.
As a childless single, I often surprise my friends when I mention “my kids” In our conversations.
I refer to my students under my care, my counselling students, as my kids. It’s an internal code word for some of us in the counselling field of a particular biological age, where we would and could have been fathers and mothers, to activate our parental instincts.
As one of the volunteer teachers for the Buddhist Fellowship (BF), Junior Youth (JY), a group of 13-16-year-old students for BF regular Saturday afternoon classes, it is one of my privileges to bring snacks and drinks for the students for their tea break. It is always interesting for teachers to observe and identify which snacks are in vogue amongst our “kids”.
Getting the right snacks that get consumed earns us bigger joy than hitting the metaphorical jackpot, it seems!
In the story of King Bibimsara and Prince Ajatasattu, despite Prince Ajatasattu’s traitorous intent in taking over his father’s Kingdom and torturing King Bibimsara, we read that the king only has goodwill towards his son. Prince Ajatasattu realised the love of a father only when he became a father, albeit a bit too late as King Bibimsara had passed on.
While I have glimpses of what a father’s sacrifice could be like, thinking and worrying about those under my care, I also realised that I would never fully understand a father’s sacrifice, unlike my best friend Marcus, who became a new father last year. Bro, I guess I can forgive you for becoming more absent in my life, as your child needs more attention than I do.
As friends of our peers, friends, and colleagues who are young parents, may we extend our love and compassion to them for the great sacrifice they make. I would add that we should not forget to extend the same to ourselves, when we have to part with our close friend’s company. As a helping professional, I often remind my clients that one’s suffering is not a comparison game, that one’s suffering is no less than the other’s.
Resilience : Top Life Lesson from my Father
When I shared my topsy-turvy life journey, moving from Malaysia to the USA to Singapore, many wondered how I grew from a shy, introverted child, the metaphorical soft and easily bruised strawberry, to the charismatic, extroverted man, or what I considered to be the hardy and thorny durian fruit I am today.
I like the metaphor of the durian fruit because while I may seem hardy and tough on the outside, I am still very sensitive deep down; also friendly and wonderful to get to know, though I find it increasingly hard to let people into my life.
My father is a Polio victim survivor. For those who don’t know, those BCG jabs that you received for vaccination actually help to spare you from the crippling nerve disease that caused my father to grow up with a shrunken left leg that causes him to walk with a limp.
Despite my father’s physical limitations, my grandfather (toxic masculinity ideals or the practical realities of the harsh life facing men of those days?) makes my father a socially athletic handyman around the house. My father’s nickname is Coach, for he self-taught himself how to swim from reading books, and he had coached many to swim (except his three sons)…
Additionally, as a 4-times cancer survivor still living as healthy as possible given him closing on to 80 years old, my father was the symbol of resilience and inner strength that I had learnt to embody over the years of facing my demons and hardships in life.
In the Sigālovāda Sutta, the young man, Sigālaka, was guided by the Buddha on the teachings Sigālaka’s father was trying to convey. Themes of respecting one’s parents and teachers, avoiding vices such as gambling, and making good friends are qualities that are not only taught by my father but are lived by him.
Visiting and spending time with the elders during Chinese New Year makes sense now, as strong social connections are a predictor of a good life for our elderly relatives and friends. Social connections are essential for both the young and the old.
Sketched by playingwithpencil
In closing, I would like to dedicate my appreciation and gratitude to my father, Mr. Lim Siow Choo:
Father, thank you for teaching me the lessons of life not only through your exemplary guidance when I was young but more so through your lived experience of living the good life.
I am a better person today because of you. You taught me to look for a hero within myself, to be the best man I can be, because you showered me with the “Greatest Love of All.” While I continue to wish you would say ”I Will Always Love You” to me, I know deep down that your action (of love) speaks louder than words.
May you, readers, find the greatest love of all in your father and mother.
Sukhi hontu – May you be well and happy.
Wise Steps:
• For Father’s Day in June, thank your Father or Father figures in your life. Next, try to keep it going for the rest of the months till the next Father’s Day, where possible.
• We can practice gratitude to our parents by sharing the Buddhist teachings with them.
• Dhamma books and YouTube teachings are good ways for our parents to learn the Dhamma when we are not at home.
TL;DR: Many young Buddhists face parental concerns about frequent temple visits due to misconceptions about deep religious practice. By reassuring them, demonstrating positive personal growth, and using relatable analogies, you can ease their worries. With patience, understanding, and humor, they may eventually appreciate your journey—perhaps even joining you one day.
“Why do you keep going to the temple? Are you becoming a monk/nun?”
“Young people don’t go to monasteries so often… are you sure you’re not too obsessed?”
For many nominal Buddhist parents, the idea of their child regularly visiting temples or monasteries is unfamiliar and even unsettling. They may see Buddhism as a cultural tradition—practiced during major festivals or when paying respects to ancestors—but not something young people actively pursue.
So, when they see their millennial child attending Dhamma talks, meditation retreats, or spending weekends at a monastery, they worry. Is my child too deep into religion? Is this a sign of something extreme? Will he renounce the world and abandon family duties?
If you’ve encountered these concerns, you’re not alone. Here’s how to ease their worries with compassion, humour, and open communication.
1. Understand Where Their Worries Come From
For many Asian parents, Buddhism is culturally important but not deeply practiced. Their relationship with Buddhism may revolve around:
Rituals & Traditions – Visiting temples during Chinese New Year, Vesak, or Qing Ming (清明节).
Pragmatic Practices – Chanting or offering incense only when there’s trouble, such as praying for good health, exam success, or resolving bad luck.
Association with Old Age – Seeing Buddhism as something for the elderly or for people who have “nothing else to do.”
Fear of Renunciation – Worrying that going to monasteries means giving up on career, relationships, or family responsibilities.
When a young person actively engages in the Dhamma, it challenges what their parents are used to. Their worries aren’t about Buddhism itself but about the unfamiliarity of deeper practice.
2. Reassure Them That You’re Still “Normal”
Your parents’ concern often stems from fear of change—they don’t want you to become too different from what they know. You can help them feel at ease by showing that:
You’re still the same person – Practicing Buddhism hasn’t made you distant or withdrawn. You still care about your family, career, and responsibilities.
You’re not planning to renounce – If they’re worried about you becoming a monk or nun, gently reassure them: “No, I still want to take care of you! I’m just learning to be calmer and kinder.”
It’s like any other personal growth activity – Some people go to yoga retreats, personal development workshops, or fitness boot camps. Meditation and temple visits are just another way to grow as a person.
3. Address Their Concern About Filial Piety
Some parents worry that deep involvement in Buddhism might make you neglect your duties as a child. In many Asian cultures, filial piety is deeply ingrained, and any practice that seems to pull you away from family obligations can be concerning.
To reassure them, find moments to share Buddhist teachings that emphasise filial piety. For example:
The Sigalovada Sutta (DN 31) – This discourse describes the duties of a child towards parents, highlighting the importance of gratitude, respect, and care.
Mangala Sutta – This discourse mentions that supporting mother and father is one of the great blessings.
You can gently remind them that Buddhism encourages respect and care for parents, not neglect. If they see that your practice makes you more patient, responsible, and kind towards them, their concerns may ease.
4. Introduce Them to Your Buddhist Community
One reason parents worry is that they don’t see young people practicing Buddhism. They may assume that by spending time in temples, you are missing out on social connections, networking, or building a future.
To change this perception:
Share photos of your Buddhist friendswho are of a similar age group. Show them that you are not isolating yourself, but rather, meeting like-minded people.
Introduce them to your Buddhist community. If they meet the people you regularly spend time with, they will feel more assured that you are in a supportive and balanced environment.
Bring them along to your temple or monastery. Let them experience the place for themselves so they can see that it is not as solemn or rigid as they may have imagined.
Sometimes, what is unfamiliar seems extreme; but when your parents observe your experience firsthand, it may feel more relatable.
5. Use Familiar Analogies
If Buddhism feels “too religious” for your parents, try relating it to something they already understand:
Meditation = Mental Gym – “Meditation is like exercise for the mind, just like how people go to the gym to keep fit. It helps me stay clear-headed and reduce stress.”
Dhamma Talks = Life Lessons – “It’s like going to a motivational talk, except the speaker is a monk, and the advice is about kindness and wisdom.”
Retreats = Silent Getaways – “It’s like a quiet staycation, except instead of Netflix, I listen to Dhamma talks, and instead of Wi-Fi, I connect with myself.”
By reframing Buddhism in more familiar ways, your parents will be less likely to see your practice as extreme or unusual.
6. Show, Don’t Just Tell
Instead of convincing your parents with words, let them see how Buddhism positively impacts your life:
Cultivate more patience and understanding – If your parents nag, instead of reacting with annoyance, try listening to their intention calmly. Eventually, they will notice, “You used to argue back, now you’re so patient?”
Handle stress wisely – If they see that you are less anxious or irritable, they will associate your temple visits with positive changes.
Involve them in small ways – Share simple and relatable Dhamma wisdom (e.g., “I heard a good story today about how to let go of anger”) without making it sound preachy.
Over time, your parents may accept (or even appreciate) your growth arising from the practice, even if they don’t fully understand it.
7. Use Humour to Defuse Tension
If your parents continue to question your temple visits, lighten the mood with playful responses:
“You always go to the temple. Are you obsessed?”
“Better obsessed with inner peace than gossip and drama, right?”
“You go on retreat so much. Do you want to be a monk/nun?”
“No, I still need to work and pay bills! Just need some quiet time.”
“So young go temple–very weird!”
“Better now than wait until retirement, right? Got an early-bird discount for wisdom!”
A well-placed joke can diffuse tension and make the conversation less confrontational.
Final Thoughts: Be Patient With Their Worries
If your parents still don’t fully accept your Buddhist practice, that’s okay. They may need time to adjust—just as you need time to develop your own path.
The goal isn’t to make them agree with you, but to reassure them that your choices are positive and meaningful.
Our parents’ concerns often come from love and fear of the unknown. With patience, understanding, and a little humour, we can show them that Buddhism is not about withdrawing from life—it’s about living it with greater wisdom, kindness, and clarity.
And who knows? One day, they might just surprise you by asking, “Next time you go to the temple… can you bring me along?”
Wise Steps:
Reassure with Actions & Words – Show them you’re still committed to family, career, and responsibilities while practicing Buddhism.
Make It Relatable – Use familiar comparisons like meditation as mental fitness or retreats as quiet getaways.
Involve Them Gradually – Share small insights, introduce them to your community, or invite them to a casual temple visit.
TLDR: Active, vibrant and full of dreams for her future, “Steffi” was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer at 28. She has chosen not to let that define her life.
Thirty-two-year-old Chuah Siew Lin – “Steffi” to her friends – dreamt of one day being a teacher and a mother.
Like most 30-somethings, she leads an active life – she loves triathlons, teaches swimming in her spare time, and loves playing with her dog.
But four years ago, at just 28, her dreams came crashing down around her – she was abruptly diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer, which has a five-year survival rate of 25 percent.
“When the doctor told me, I was, like, “Nah. You’re kidding!?” she recalls.
“So, I took my report to (another) doctor at another hospital. And the news really hit me hard this time.
“Not just me, but my family as well.
“But I grew to accept it and now I am slightly at peace. But I’m not quite there yet.”
Stage 4 breast cancer is when the cancer has spread beyond the breast tissue and local lymph nodes into other areas of the body.
In Steffi’s case, it has spread to her spine, her pelvis, collarbone and her ribs.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ I thought. How wrong I was
It all began with something as seemingly as innocuous as a leaking nipple – not at all unusual for a woman who spends so much time in the heavily chlorinated water of a swimming pool.
“Because I was training for a swimming event, I thought it was just a normal infection,” she says.
“But it didn’t get better after the event. So I saw a doctor and had day surgery to seal off the nipple so that it wouldn’t keep bleeding.”
The doctor took a biopsy during the simple procedure – and it revealed a Stage 0 abnormality.
Stage 0, also known a Ductal Carcinoma in Situ, is where abnormal cells are found inside the breast milk duct. It is considered precancerous. And it is a strong indicator of a higher risk of worse things to come.
“So at that point, I was, like, ‘oh, okay. I’m not sure what’s this,” and I didn’t really give it much thought,’ says Steffi.
During a follow-up, her doctor recommended a mammogram – basically a very uncomfortable procedure where your breast is squeezed between two cold steel plates for an x-ray.
That found a lot of calcifications, which look like little white dots. While that can be normal, the danger sign was her inverted nipple.
The doctors advised a mastectomy to remove her left breast, which she did.
Some women, like actress Angelina Jolie, who know they have a higher risk of breast cancer choose a voluntary mastectomy.
Jolie, then 37, chose to have both breasts removed in 2013 before any sign of cancer, because of her genetic history.
“My mother fought cancer for almost a decade and died at 56,” she wrote in a heartfelt piece in the New York Times at the time explaining her controversial decision and urging other women to be aware.
“She held out long enough to meet the first of her grandchildren and to hold them in her arms. But my other children will never have the chance to know her and experience how loving and gracious she was.
“We often speak of ‘Mommy’s Mommy,’ and I find myself trying to explain the illness that took her away from us. They have asked if the same could happen to me. I have always told them not to worry, but the truth is I carry a ‘faulty’ gene, BRCA1, which sharply increases my risk of developing breast cancer and ovarian cancer.
“My doctors estimated that I had an 87 percent risk of breast cancer and a 50 percent risk of ovarian cancer, although the risk is different in the case of each woman.
“Only a fraction of breast cancers result from an inherited gene mutation. Those with a defect in BRCA1 have a 65 percent risk of getting it, on average,” she wrote.
“Once I knew that this was my reality, I decided to be proactive and to minimize the risk as much I could. I made a decision to have a preventive double mastectomy.
“I started with the breasts, as my risk of breast cancer is higher than my risk of ovarian cancer, and the surgery is more complex.
“But I am writing about it now because I hope that other women can benefit from my experience.
“Cancer is still a word that strikes fear into people’s hearts, producing a deep sense of powerlessness.
“But today it is possible to find out through a blood test whether you are highly susceptible to breast and ovarian cancer, and then take action.”
Her decision made headlines around the world led to what is now known in medical circles as “The Anglina Jolie Effect,” that encouraged countless women to take action.
A new lump. And devastating news
After her mastectomy, Steffi noticed a lump had grown back. More tests showed the cancer had spread.
“Stage 0 had very quickly become Stage 4. I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer – basically, the cancer had spread to my spine, my pelvis, and my collarbone, and a bit on my ribs,” she says.
“(But) I caught this at an early stage by sheer luck.
“My objective right now is to beat the statistics and to be able to live longer than that.
While it’s rare, there have been cases of women surviving with Stage 4 longer than a decade.
“That (rate) is very low,” she says. “But there has not been much research on younger people with Stage 4, especially metastatic breast cancer. So it’s really hard to tell.”
Breast cancer in women Steffi’s age is extremely rare – only four percent of women diagnosed with breast cancer in the US are under 40.
But it is more aggressive in young women and the survival rate is much lower than for women over 40.
Statistics are also a bit of a moveable feast. Each case is different. Each country as different healthcare systems and screening programs. And rates can vary dramatically by age, ethnicity, and lifestyle.
And the age breakdowns are changing, too. For decades, they were divided by under- and over-55. That is changing with growing rates among women under 55.
Robust campaigns in countries such as Singapore to encourage women to get checked younger and more often also mean more cases get caught ear earlier and reported more accurately.
Singapore has one of the highest breast cancer rates in Asia, generally consistent across Chinese, Malay, and Indian women, at 54.9 per 100,000.
The National Institute of Health attributes this to Singapore’s more Western lifestyle and higher screening rates.
Life Happens
Steffi knows all about the statistics. But life is for the living.
“’I’m just taking one step at a time,” she says.
“I really love kids, but I guess (having) kids is out of the question right now because you can’t have kids when you’re going through this treatment.
“And I don’t really have big dreams of, like, having a house of my own or having a big car.
“But I guess being the first among my friends and family, hopefully, them sharing my story will promote awareness.
“I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. It was hard to tell my friends and they often said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you have this. I’m sorry that you’re going through this’.”
A tip Steffi, and a lot of other cancer survivors pass on: If someone you know and love tells you they have cancer, just listen. Let them know you’re there for them.
Say things like “I’m always glad to bring you to the hospital.” And, better still, stay there with them during their treatment.
Just be honest, quiet, and be there. The worst thing you can say is “Get well soon.” Or ignore it.
Small things make a difference
Steffi’s attitude to life has changed.
“What I can do right now is to really make peace by taking just one step at a time, one day at a time,” she says.
“And that can be as small as just waking up and going to work. Doing the simplest things.
“I started by forcing myself to sign up for a swimming group. They have very disciplined training every single day. Having to do that just gives me a little bit more peace.
“And I give less priority to work. Work can’t be your whole life. I mean, even if you resign, there’s always someone else who can replace you. That’s the reality of a rat-race world.”
While she loves her job and is committed to doing the best she can, Steffi’s priorities have changed.
“When it comes to my health, I will just prioritise that, which is as simple as just visiting the hospital and taking a day off if I really need to,” she says.
It’s OK to be ‘selfish’
She has also learned to be kind to herself, if in a rather odd way, which is actually more about acceptance and – in its own way – courage.
I sometimes feel that I deserve all the privileges I can get because I’m gonna die soon, so I’m going to do whatever I want,” she explains.
“So in a way that I feel like basically, I deserve all the attention that I can get, It’s like … I’m a privileged bitch. And entitled. Yes, the word is entitled.”
She gives the example of fighting for a seat on a crowded LRT.
“Inside my heart, I’m thinking ‘You don’t deserve to sit. You’re not even having cancer. You stand, lah. I deserve to sit ‘cause I’m gonna die soon.”
“It’s not really healthy to have this kind of mindset. I am aware of that. But I just can’t help myself.
“I’m still alive, but I can’t move like everyone else. If you asked me to squat on the floor like anyone else, I can’t do it. Yet even the old aunties can do it.”
A Beautiful Life
Despite what life has dealt her, Stefi is grateful.
“I always believe that I should live my days like I’m going to die. So I have lived by that philosophy so strongly even until now and even before I was diagnosed with cancer.
“So it doesn’t change much for me because I have lived through my years beautifully and meaningfully for myself and it’s a bit sad that other people can’t say the same thing.
“When I hear friends, people close to me who have regrets at not fulfilling what they wanted to do, I see it as a bit of time wasted on their end.
“From my end, I have always taken my time really seriously, even when I was very young. Time is really precious, so, whatever seconds and minutes I have, I really make the most of it.
“It is like a living memory.”
While some dreams of her dreams were lost, Steffi has plenty of new ones. And they are just as big.
“What do I want to do before I die?Definitely, I want to compete in an Iron Man marathon, hopefully before I’m 35. And at the top of my list is definitely climbing Mount Fuji.
“I don’t want to leave anything behind. But if I do, it would be stories about people in my life.”
She also wants to write a book about the people who have enriched her life and made it what it is.
“I want to call it ‘A Hundred People Who Made Me for Me.’
“I want to commemorate conversations which were very meaningful to me. It’s really, really a lot of work. Probably, I’ll start it one day. But that day is not so soon yet.”
Again like other survivors, she says:
“It takes up a lot of your time and affects you a lot and your relationship with other people as well. But it’s not your core identity.
“What you’re going through makes you just a little bit different from other people. But it’s not the whole story of your life. It’s just one chapter.”
Steffi’s story shows life can change in a moment, and we may not even know that at the time.
But when Life happens to you, you have the power to choose how to deal with it. Your choice is the most important weapon you have.
Danger Signs to Watch Out For
A lump in the breast or armpits
Changes in the shape or size of the nipple, of one or both breasts
Nipple discharge (In some cases, this may contain blood)
Visible veins on the breasts
Dimpling of the skin of the breasts
Rashes on or around the nipple
Pain in the vagina
Unexplained weight loss
While rare, breast cancer also occurs in men
Breast Cancer Resources in Singapore and Malaysia
HealthHub Singapore. A digital platform developed by the Ministry of Health and the Health Promotion Board.
TLDR: From sleep-deprived parents to child-free practitioners: How Buddhist teachings apply to life’s biggest decision. Spoiler: No “right” answer exists.
In the journey of life, one of the most significant crossroads many face is the decision to have children.
Unlike other major religions, there is no explicit duty mentioned by the Buddha for Buddhists to have children and expand the population.
Instead, for Buddhists, this choice carries layers of contemplation as we consider how it aligns with our practice of Dhamma.
Let’s explore four key themes that highlight the different experiences of those who choose to have children and those who don’t, acknowledging that both paths offer unique opportunities for spiritual growth and challenges to overcome.
1. Time and Practice
For those who choose to have children, time becomes a precious commodity. The demands of parenthood often mean less time for formal meditation practices or extended retreats.
A practitioner mom, Celeste, shares that “Parenthood for infants definitely means having no time for yourself unless you have external help. Babies need to drink milk every 3 hours including midnight!”
Caring for her daughter who has a cleft palate, is challenging as it causes feeding aversions and discomfort. Milk often seeps into her nose or ears, causing pain, and feeding requires immense patience. When she can’t feed from the bottle, Celeste and her husband resort to tube feeding, which is heartbreaking to watch.
Yet, in soothing her tantrums, she has developed deep compassion, and frustration often melts away. There are moments of sadness, but they pass quickly, just as babies move from crying in pain to smiling moments later, without holding onto the past. Their resilience is truly inspiring.
Hence, even though the time for formal practice might be limited, every interaction with a child becomes an opportunity to cultivate presence, patience, and loving-kindness. Parents often find themselves practising the Dhamma in the most unexpected moments – during a midnight feeding or while soothing a tantrum.
On the other hand, those without children may find they have more flexibility to dedicate time to formal practice. They might have the opportunity to attend longer retreats, dive deeper into sutra studies, or even ordain temporarily.
This additional time for practice can accelerate one’s progress on the path. However, it’s important to note that having more time doesn’t automatically translate to better practice. The challenge here lies in maintaining discipline and motivation without the external push that parental responsibilities provide.
2. Attachment and Letting Go
Parenthood brings with it one of the strongest attachments we can experience as human beings. The love for a child is profound and can be a source of both great joy and great suffering.
Celeste & her baby
Parents are constantly faced with opportunities to practice letting go – from the first day of school to watching their adult children make their own life choices. This intense attachment can be seen as a challenge to Buddhist practice, but it also offers a unique opportunity to understand and work with attachment in a very direct way.
For Celeste, raising a child, especially one with special needs, has been a profound lesson in letting go of attachments and embracing unpredictability. She finds joy in the simplest milestones like her daughter breathing well or drinking milk without a feeding tube, which remind her of the beauty in life’s basics.
This experience has deepened her gratitude for good health and shifted her perspective on survival and fulfilment. Celeste believes that avoiding parenthood out of fear is another form of attachment. Having faced a tough childbirth and near-death experience, she feels strongly that every sentient being deserves their best shot at life.
For her, providing unconditional care with compassion and without clinging has been both deeply fulfilling and a reminder to accept birth and death as they come.
Those who choose not to have children might find it easier to cultivate a sense of non-attachment in certain aspects of life. They may have fewer worries about the future and may find it easier to live in the present moment.
However, they too will face attachments in other forms – to career, to relationships, to personal goals. The challenge here is to ensure that the choice not to have children doesn’t stem from a desire to avoid attachment altogether, which could lead to a different form of clinging.
3. Service and Compassion
Having children provides a direct and constant opportunity to serve others. Parents often find themselves naturally developing compassion as they care for their children’s needs before their own.
This daily practice of putting others first can be a powerful way to erode self-centredness and cultivate metta – the wish for all beings to be well and happy. The love for one’s children can also serve as a gateway to understanding and developing universal compassion.
Alvin, a father of two, shares that children can be a great reflection of our level of compassion.
He shares “Perhaps the most profound aspect of parenting is how our children become mirrors, reflecting our level of practice. They reveal both our strengths and weaknesses, often in stark clarity. Have you ever lost your cool with your child in public? It’s a humbling reminder of how much work we still have to do on our minds. When your child achieves something, do you feel an unhinging need to boast on social media? This might reveal attachments to pride and external validation.”
Their compassion might be expressed more broadly, extending to a wider circle of beings rather than being intensely focused on immediate family. The challenge here is to find ways to regularly step outside of oneself and cultivate a sense of care for others without the immediate demands of family life.
4. Simplicity and Complexity
Choosing not to have children can be seen as a step towards simplifying one’s life. It can mean fewer worldly responsibilities and potentially less entanglement in samsaric concerns. This simplicity can create space for spiritual pursuits and can make it easier to live a life aligned with Buddhist principles of non-harming and minimal impact on the environment.
Celeste and family
On the other hand, having children undoubtedly adds complexity to life. It involves navigating the education system, health concerns, and the myriad of ethical decisions involved in raising another human being.
However, this complexity can also bring richness and depth to one’s life experience. It provides countless opportunities to put Buddhist teachings into practice in real-world situations.
Parents often find that raising children deepens their understanding of impermanence, interdependence, and the preciousness of human life.
Conclusion: Mindful Choice, No Regrets
Ultimately, the decision to have children or not is deeply personal. From a Buddhist perspective, what matters most is not the choice itself, but how we approach it and live with its corresponding results.
If you choose to have children, embrace it as a path of practice, finding the Dhamma in every aspect of family life. If you choose not to have children, use your circumstances wisely in your pursuit of enlightenment and service to others.
Remember, there’s no need to give in to peer pressure or societal expectations. What’s most important is to make your choice mindfully, with a clear understanding of your motivations and the potential consequences.
Whichever path you choose, there will be unique opportunities and challenges. The key is to accept these with equanimity, always doing your best to cultivate wisdom and compassion in whatever circumstances you find yourself.
In the end, a life well-lived in accordance with the Dhamma is what matters most, whether that life includes raising children or not. May your choice be guided by wisdom and lead to the benefit of all beings.
Wise Steps:
Audit your motivations: Ask: “Is my choice driven by fear or wisdom?”
Create a “parenting as practice” plan: Turn daily tasks (feeding, tantrums) into mindfulness exercises.
Do a “time budget”: Allocate hours weekly to spiritual growth, kids or not.
TLDR: Turn CNY family stress into Buddhist practice with these practical solutions. From handling intrusive questions to navigating traditional customs, learn to maintain peace during festive gatherings
Ah, Chinese New Year. It is the time of year when we say goodbye to the old, usher in the new, and try to survive the inevitable family get-together that’s a mix of joy, stress, and… more stress. If you’re a young working adult, chances are you’ve had your share of awkward conversations, unsolicited advice, and well-meaning but slightly out-of-place comments.
Here are some ways to navigate common dreaded challenges during CNY gatherings and stay sane during the festivity:
1. The Family Inquisition and The Unsolicited Advice
Every year, it’s as if the entire clan has been briefed on the exact list of topics to ask at the dinner table. For some, it’s the pressure to settle down or start a family; for others, it’s just the age-old “How’s work?” While it’s tempting to roll your eyes it might be helpful to reflect that probably they might not know how to strike up a conversation beyond the usual questions or how to express concern.
They may mean well, but they simply lack more skillful ways of communicating. So, help them out!
Practical tip: Prepare meaningful questions that invite deeper discussions. Ask about their experiences with CNY in the past, their life lessons, or even their views on Buddhism. This can create more meaningful connections instead of the usual surface-level exchanges.
2. Dealing with Mean Relatives:
Then there are the relatives who seem to have mastered the art of putting you down, commenting on your appearance or belittling your life choices in a way that feels hurtful. Or they might be boasting about their achievements, or displaying competitive, negative personality traits.
These interactions can feel draining, especially when it seems like they’re trying to make you feel less than, or one-upping you at every turn.
Buddhism offers us a way to deal with such behaviour through compassion. Their comments and behaviour are likely rooted in their own suffering and generations of conditioning, and their need to boast or put others down is often a defence mechanism to cover their own insecurities.
Reframing the situation like this might allow us to take their comments less personally. Instead of suffering along with them, choose to maintain your peace.
Practical tip: At the same time, you don’t have to be a doormat. You can stand firm while maintaining kindness. Let them know you appreciate their well-meaning advice or comments, and if their words hurt, you can let them know. You can say, “I understand you care, but that comment hurts me,” and then shift the conversation to something else. Sometimes, a calm, non-defensive response can be the most surprising way to break the cycle.
3. Debating over CNY Customs and Clothes
CNY is all about tradition, and that often means you’ll be expected to dress a certain way—especially if your parents are involved. Red, new clothes, the whole shebang. Sometimes we don’t see the point, especially when the fashion trends of our parents and ours are as different as night and day. You might even feel the urge to argue about how illogical it all seems.
Then there are also the customs like praying to deities or following specific rituals, which may not align with your Buddhist practice.
On many accounts, beginners in Buddhism often make the ‘mistake’ of correcting their parents in ways that imply they are blindly following customs and are foolish. But this approach is neither respectful nor helpful.
Buddhism teaches us about letting go of our attachment to being “right.” It’s not about proving a point—it’s about harmony and respect. While we may not practice certain rituals or beliefs in the same way, we can approach these traditions with a gentle understanding.
These customs are deeply ingrained and often tied to our parents’ cultural identities. Correcting them sharply can cause unnecessary conflict.
Instead, we can share our views or teachings in a way that’s respectful, skillful, and free from judgement when the time is right.
Practical Tip: Practice humility and harmony. If it doesn’t hurt you to adhere to your parent’s wishes such as dressing a certain way, do so. Use it as an opportunity to watch your sense of self, especially your feelings of superiority. And if it involves participating in rituals you don’t align with, gently express your views, but avoid doing so in a way that shames others. This helps cultivate harmony without forcing your values onto them.
4. Social Pressure to drink and gamble
Drinking and gambling—two activities that are practically as synonymous with CNY as the reunion dinner itself. You’re handed a can of beer, and the mahjong table is calling your name. But what if you want to uphold your 5th precept and refrain from drinking or gambling?
It’s easy to feel like the odd one out, especially when your relatives are all about the fun and games.
You might feel pressured to cave in. But consider the main purpose of drinking and gambling: they’re social activities designed to bond. There are other creative ways to do so without intoxicating yourself or engaging in risky behaviour.
The key here is mindfulness and balance. It’s okay to abstain from drinking or gambling, as long as you maintain a sense of connection with others. Instead of focusing on what you’re not doing, shift your attention to how you can still bond with your relatives in a healthier and more meaningful way.
Practical Tip: You could share a technique from Dr. Punna Wong: if asked why you’re not drinking, you could say that your doctor advised you to abstain from alcohol. When asked who that doctor is, you might cheekily respond, “The Buddha,” and use the moment to share a bit of Dhamma and who knows that might provide you with an opportunity to invite them to a Buddhist event,
Or, if health is your reason, you can politely let them know you’re choosing a healthier lifestyle but would still love to bond over a healthier drink like tea or fruit juice. As for gambling, you can still play mahjong or other games without the element of money. Suggest that you’d like to have fun but without the financial stakes.
Conclusion
Well, you might have considered skipping CNY altogether to avoid the family drama and spending more time with friends instead. While this might seem like an easy solution, especially for those who find family dynamics overwhelming, it’s important to remember the value of staying in touch with relatives.
Family gatherings, though challenging at times, offer opportunities for growth, connection, and the practice of patience and compassion. By showing up, even when it’s difficult, we strengthen our resilience, deepen our relationships, and show respect for our cultural traditions.
So, next time you’re asked about your love life, your career, or why you’re not wearing that red jacket they bought you, remember: It’s just another opportunity to practice peace, wisdom, and, most importantly, compassion—toward others and yourself.
