In June 2008, my soon to be wife and I were meditating at Boudhanath early one morning.
It was a beautiful morning. Sunny, clear skies. A gentle breeze blowing the prayer flags that were strung up to the peak of the stupa. There was the steady sound of women doing their daily prostrations. The familiar chanting of OM MANI PADME HUNG resonated throughout the square. Incense floated on the breeze.
It was 6am and the stupa was alive.
As we were meditating, two elderly Tibetan women came up to us and offered us some unleavened bread and a spoonful of stewed potatoes, all the while reciting their mani mantras.
It didn't matter if we could have paid something.
It didn't matter if we didn't need the food.
It didn't matter if we weren't even hungry.
It didn't matter what our status, our situation, who we were or if we were doing it right.
They simply offered sustenance to those committed to practice.
What would our communities look like if we were committed to supporting and nourishing those committed to practice?
What if we dropped all the expectation, all the judgement, all concern for reward, recognition or repayment?
There is seldom anything as impactful as a genuine human interaction.