We each exist in a mandala of wholeness amidst a sea of Buddhas, visible whenever we open the eyes of love and wisdom.

When my friend Gil Fronsdal traveled to Morocco as a young man, he went far out into the Sahara Desert. There he and a companion were taken in by a Bedouin tribe, as was the custom of these nomadic Arabs. For three days they were given lavish feasts and so much care and attention that Gil said, “It felt like we were kings.” When the time came for them to leave they offered many thanks. “After I returned home I realized I understood it wrong. It was they who were royalty, they who showed us the true generosity of kings.” …

We each are engaged in a multitude of acts of service to our brothers and sisters. Every time we stop at a red light, offer money to a cashier, say hello, wash the dishes, put out the trash cans, we serve our family, our community, and the earth.

“The scope of service,” says the Indian master Meher Baba, “is not limited to heroic acts, great gestures, and huge donations to public institutions. They also serve who express their love in little things. A word that gives courage to a broken heart or a smile that brings hope in the midst of gloom is a much service as heroic sacrifice. A glance that wipes out bitterness from the heart is also service, although there may be no thought of service in it. When taken by themselves all these things seem to be small, but life is made up of many small things.  If these small things were ignored, life would not only be unbeautiful, it would be unbearable.”

The words of Jack Kornfield.