The Wisdom of the Radish Patch

The Lunar New Year chill still lingers in the air, but the sunshine filtering through the leaves brought a welcome hint of warmth. We set off on a winding trail of mixed stone and concrete steps, a path that seemed to stretch out into the distance with no clear end.

I’m Hui-mei, a mom to three, and I was out hiking with my little crew—the oldest is 11, and the youngest is 6. The long, uphill climb was a high-energy challenge for the two youngest boys, Ah-guang (8) and Ah-jie (6), who happily skipped and bounced along the entire way.

This being a popular public trail, the weekends draw quite a crowd. And where there are people, there’s business! The path was lined with vendors selling everything from fresh vegetables and fruits grown by small farmers, to sodas, tea eggs, ox-tongue pastry, and oils like citronella and camphor. You could even buy carved Buddhist statues and prayer beads. These stalls were a wonderful distraction for the kids, keeping their minds off their increasingly sore legs.

“Mom, my legs hurt so much! Are we there yet?” Ah-guang was the first to complain after about thirty minutes of walking.

“Just keep going, we’re almost there,” I soothed him.

Another ten minutes passed, and their steps grew slower and heavier. Just as their patience hit its limit, the great arched gate of a temple came into view. Its walls were a striking yellow framed in red, and a couplet in black and white adorned the archway: *Constantly uphold the Primal Vows for the Path to Bodhi; Lay down this heart and enter the Gate of Liberation.*

“Look, we’re almost there!” I called out, trying to rally their spirits.

An Unexpected Encounter and a Heavy Bag

We walked through the archway onto a long path paved with spaced-out grey flagstones, flanked by dirt on either side. Ahead, a small area to the left served as a vegetable garden.

We hadn't gone far when we spotted an elderly lay Master, likely in her eighties and slightly hunched. Her small, frail body was struggling to carry a small cloth bag of what she called “trash.” But it wasn't garbage—it was actually compostable material: corn husks, peels from radishes and melons, and leftover vegetable trimmings.

“Master, where are you taking that? I can help you carry it,” I offered, immediately feeling a pang of concern seeing her struggle with the weight.

“Thank you, Sister! I’m taking this bag to the empty space up ahead by the road,” she replied, pointing forward.

I took the bag, and it was surprisingly heavy—no wonder she was having such difficulty. I quickly and efficiently carried the compost to the designated open spot for her.

“Sister, since you have the children, could you all come help me pull some radishes?” the Master then asked.

“Pull radishes?!” The kids’ eyes lit up instantly. My 11-year-old, Xiao-ling, thought: *Finally, something novel and fun after that boring, exhausting climb!*

The garden area, right near the main path, contained a small plot of vibrant flowers: purple and yellow pansies, red and orange-red wax begonias, and pink cineraria. Their brilliant colours were a beautiful sight in the not-quite-awake winter.

But surrounding these flowers, almost in stark contrast, were rows of white radishes, Chinese broccoli, and lettuce. It looked strangely out of place.

The True Meaning of Value

“We plant the radishes and vegetables around the flowers because we worry that visitors might step on the flowers,” the Master explained, noticing my confused gaze. “When people see vegetables, they won’t step on them.”

“If it were just flowers, they might be accidentally stepped on, or people might feel they aren’t important enough to be careful of,” she continued.

“Master, your compassion is remarkable,” I told her with genuine admiration. “You are using the vegetables to protect the flowers, which are often considered less valuable than greens in the eyes of the secular world.”

It was a beautiful thought. While “all beings are equal” is often just an ideal in reality, the Master was practicing it with the vegetables and the flowers. She treated them without distinction, using her wisdom to let the perceived “stronger” protect the “weaker.” I thought: *For the greens, sharing their advantage costs them nothing but greatly helps others. I bet the radishes are happy to do it!*

This made me pause and think about how we assign value. Why do people deem edible vegetables as "useful" and something to be protected, while non-edible flowers are considered "useless," unworthy of care, and even okay to trample?

Most people value vegetables because they are food, a source of **physical** nutrition. Flowers, rarely eaten, are often assigned little value. But this view ignores the fact that beautiful flowers lift the spirit and bring joy—they are a source of **spiritual** nourishment. Though their effect isn't immediate, it can work like a gentle medicine over time.

The children, joyous and full of energy again, were happily pulling radishes with gusto.

Into the “Dàliáo”

“Sister, could you help me take the radishes to the *Dàliáo*?” the Master asked.

“Of course,” I said, though inwardly, I was wondering, *What is the Dàliáo?* *Is it some remote shed or utility area?*

I followed the Master, and we reached the *Dàliáo* almost immediately.

“Ah! The kitchen in a Buddhist temple is called the *Dàliáo*!” I realized.

“Mom, pulling radishes was the best part of today! When can we come back and pull them again?” Ah-guang was still beaming from the fun.

“We’ll have to wait until the next batch grows!” I replied.

By the time we finished, it was near noon, and the delicious aroma of cooking rice and vegetables was drifting from the kitchen. The temple offers a free, simple vegetarian meal (*Ping'an Suzhai*, or Peace Vegetarian Meal) to visitors, and the smell made the kids’ tummies rumble.

“First, let’s go to the main hall to offer our respects, and then we'll go eat,” I told the children.

“Okay!” Ah-guang and Ah-jie responded.

I led my family toward the main hall. Down the long stone path, Ah-guang and Ah-jie were, once again, skipping and bouncing along.

The sun was now fully visible, having chased away the last vestige of the morning chill. The air was filled with a comforting, gentle warmth.