(Minghui.org) Greetings, Master! Greetings, fellow practitioners!
I moved to the United States in 1994. I was in college in 1997 when a family member who practiced Falun Dafa took me to hear Master Li lecture in San Francisco. I was deeply awed by Master’s teaching about the Fa principles of the cosmos and time-space, and I decided to practice Falun Dafa.
I had no idea what cultivation was. I was trained by modern science, that “seeing is believing.” But I had no doubt whatsoever about what Master taught. The first two years of my cultivation were the happiest time of my life. I was fascinated by the miraculous stories fellow practitioners shared. I was in a true cultivation environment where everyone strives to study the Fa and improve their xinxing, and it felt wonderful. However, the peaceful cultivation environment quickly changed when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) began persecuting Falun Dafa.
In 1999, the CCP launched a full-scale campaign to try to eliminate Falun Dafa. That year also marked my graduation from college and the beginning of my career in the West. Even though I no longer lived in China, I felt immense pressure. I also didn’t understand Western society well and I had no steady income. As someone new to the workforce, I felt lost and uncertain. I had no reference for how to continue my cultivation.
Because I didn’t understand the Fa well, and practitioners initiated many projects to clarify the truth and expose the persecution, I took a casual attitude towards my everyday job. I thought that cultivation would end soon, so it was fine to just get by with any job. This mindset also carried into the truth-clarification projects I later joined—I only thought of them as temporary. I made no long-term plans and lacked professionalism. At the time, I didn’t realize that this short-term mentality was actually a product of the CCP culture I’d been indoctrinated with. I thought that simply devoting a lot of time and energy to projects meant I was cultivating diligently.
When I look back now, I see my shortcomings.
I have cultivated and worked in ordinary society for over 20 years. As I’ve studied the Fa more deeply and as the Fa-rectification progresses, my understanding of the cultivation path that I am on has deepened. Here are some of my recent understandings.
In ordinary human society, everything revolves around the pursuit of fame and gain. In companies in the West, if you don’t talk about raises or promotions, the leadership might assume you lack motivation and potential. When I first entered the workforce, I believed that, because I was a cultivator, I shouldn’t compete for fame or profit like ordinary people do—it was enough to complete my assignments. My ability was recognized, but I was “unknown” to the management. This mindset guided my professional life for many years.
I work in the biotech field. After I went to work for a new company four years ago, the new field and new responsibilities gave me a fresh perspective.
There were eight people in our department, and my supervisor was the department head. Ann, another colleague, and I each had two research associates and were in charge of different projects. Ann was older than me, had a more advanced degree, and had worked for our supervisor for many years. But for some reason, she was never promoted and her pay grade was several levels lower than mine.
I maintained a humble and friendly attitude after I joined the new company. I worked hard and maintained good relationships with my colleagues. At first, Ann enthusiastically introduced me to the company and to the field. I saw her as someone upright. I even felt it was unfair that she was not promoted, so I decided to help her when I could.
A year later, we were both promoted. The leaders recognized my abilities and entrusted our team with all the important projects. After evaluating the workload, I suggested to the leadership that one of the projects be reassigned to Ann. First, I had too much on my plate and this could delay the project. Second, I thought that it would help her to get further promotions by completing an important project. I even spoke to her personally and explained how this project would benefit her. Ann gladly accepted the project. I believed what I did showed I had little attachment to personal gain.
Ann worked hard on her project for a short while before she changed completely. She began to neglect her own project and interfered with mine. She criticized my work and insisted on being involved in every aspect on my team. Even our supervisor said she was overstepping. On the surface, I remained calm and didn’t confront her, but I was full of resentment. I had given her this opportunity and now she was stepping all over me! I didn’t complain to the leadership but I spoke negatively about her to my two associates, using her as a “bad example.”
One associate nervously asked, “Will she take our projects away?” Because I had human attachments, I confidently replied, “Just focus on doing your job well and mastering your skills—don’t resort to petty tricks.” I believed that the wisdom and blessings of a cultivator are beyond what ordinary people can compete with.
I knew I needed to improve my xinxing, but it was truly difficult when the test touched my heart so deeply. For over six months, I was caught up in a tug-of-war between righteous thoughts and human thoughts.
Fortunately, I never gave up the desire to cultivate. Even though I was still stuck at that level, my complaints remained just verbal. The kindness of a cultivator restrained me. I believed that personal grudges should not affect our department or the company. Last year, one of Ann’s associate quit, so I lent her one of mine to help them meet project deadlines.
This March, the company carried out a massive layoff and cut 60 percent of the workforce. My supervisor had resigned six months before that. Ann and her associate were laid off. My two associates and I remained.
In shock, I reflected on my cultivation. A person’s fate is predetermined—only cultivation can change it. Ann’s fate had already been decided, and she, in this process, actually helped me to improve my xinxing. I was truly grateful to her. When Ann was leaving, she was calm. We hugged and said sincere goodbyes. We still keep in touch to this day. Our relationship returned to what it was when I first joined the company.
The project I had given away eventually circled back to me.
Two months later, my new supervisor approached me with a serious expression. My heart skipped a beat wondering if another round of layoffs was coming. But instead, he told me that the upper management believed I played a key role in the company’s success and decided to award me a special retention bonus, on the condition that I stay for at least another year.
At that time, I was actually considering looking for a new job. As I hesitated, my supervisor added, “You’re the only one in our entire big department to receive this offer, no one else. Don’t turn it down.”
For a mid-level employee in a biotech company to be given such recognition is rare.
When I got home that evening I stood in front of Master’s portrait and sincerely thanked him. I was thankful for Master’s guidance and the blessings that Dafa brought me.
Another entirely new aspect of this job was that I needed to manage subordinates. At first, I strongly resisted this change. I’d worked independently for years. I only needed to manage myself without considering others or additional factors. To put it bluntly, I just didn’t want to take on more responsibility.
My two associates were new to the field. Training them required extra effort. Their presence, although it was just a small team, was very helpful in deepening my understanding of the Fa.
As I mentioned earlier, not seeking promotions or raises doesn’t align with how society operates. From a positive angle, in a Western workplace, people treat their jobs as careers, which means they plan for the long-term, focus on building sustainable and healthy operational systems, and maintain a responsible attitude in order to ultimately achieve their goals. Promotions and raises are optional rewards for this dedication—but not the ultimate goal.
When I first took on managerial duties, my understanding was simply to “Be a good person” and treat everyone equally, whatever their rank. I didn’t look down on anyone just because they had a lower position, nor did I want to take advantage by dumping hard work on others while I took all the credit.
This mindset worked well at first. I wasn’t “bossy.” I shared the workload in the lab with my team, covered for them when they needed time off, and made sure project timelines stayed on track. When I made suggestions for project improvements, they implemented them. And when the results turned out great, I credited my team. I even quietly did tasks they didn’t want to do.
One day, I arrived at the office before dawn to prepare for an important task. When I walked into the lab, it looked like a hurricane had hit it. I instantly became furious: “Those two lazybones barely did any work but left me, their boss, this mess to clean up!” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I couldn’t even concentrate on my work.
I paused and looked within for the root of this issue. Suddenly, a thought came to me: “Aren’t you just afraid of being taken advantage of? It had nothing to do with being a boss or not.” My anger disappeared. No matter who the other person is, they’re here to help me cultivate. With that clarity, I quickly finished my work. I spent a long time cleaning the lab and restocking the missing supplies to make it easier for others to work. When they came into the office, I spoke to them calmly, pointed out the issue, and explained that cleaning up after finishing an experiment is part of the job and that it allows other colleagues to do their job.
Things like this happened several times. Through these tests, my attachment to avoiding loss gradually diminished. When I went in the lab again after some time had passed, I noticed it was tidy and that my associates were developing good work habits.
While teaching them job skill sets, I wanted to help them get promoted faster, so I tried some “ordinary people’s methods,” like giving them credit for my work, writing presentation slides for them, even preparing their scripts and asking them to rehearse their presentations repeatedly—trying to create opportunities for them using these conventional means.
But my selfless help ended up fostering their dependency. They lost the drive to improve and began relying on ready-made results. They knew that I would cover for any mistakes and still give them the credit, so they became passive. In the end, even though they got promoted, their performance didn’t meet expectations and fell short of professional standards.
Master saw my lack of understanding and used others’ words to enlighten me.
What struck me most was what a supervisor said: “Being a good person isn’t the same as being a good manager. As a supervisor, your job is to help them build professional skills, ethical standards, and independence.”
Those simple words deeply inspired me. I realized that a long-standing gap in my cultivation was regarding “avoiding conflict and not fighting for personal gain” as the highest form of compassion (shan). I began rethinking how to truly embody compassion as a manager in the workplace.
When teaching skills in the past, I would just present my methods. With years of experience, I knew my work inside and out and could jump quickly from one idea to the next. But that made it hard for newcomers to follow. When my associates asked for detailed steps, I would blurt out things like, “That’s obvious!” or “That way is too slow.” Now I realized that I wasn’t thinking from their perspective—and that my words could be discouraging.
So I changed my way of communicating. I started by asking how they would approach the task, understanding their thinking first. Then, based on what they had, I explained my ideas step-by-step, demonstrating as needed. I encouraged them not just to follow orders but to find their own approaches.
When it came to preparing scientific presentations, I still offered suggestions and structure—but insisted the person draft it them themselves. Even if the slides weren’t perfect, I encouraged them to present their ideas and be confident. I also learned from my own supervisor how to help new staff become self-assured.
I divide the work up clearly and give credit accordingly.
After the massive layoffs, both associates thanked me. One said, “I’m grateful you taught us the right work attitude. Based on skills alone, I might not have outperformed those who were laid off.” The other realized he needed to take more responsibility and learn to be independent.
I was very pleased that they had good attitudes and ethics. I wanted to teach them not just technical skills, but how to be good people and thus be valuable to society. If we are to cultivate while complying with ordinary people as much as possible, then we must act with responsibility and accountability.
I know I still have much to improve on in terms of how to be compassionate when I manage people. I think I may do things differently when I have a higher understanding of the Fa.
The process of writing down this experience also let me gain a deeper insight into my cultivation state and some unresolved issues regarding people and situations. My initial intention was to validate the Fa, not to validate my personal abilities, because many people still misunderstand Falun Dafa and Master.
I hope to use my own positive experiences to validate the greatness of Master and the profoundness of Dafa. Practitioners not only witness miracles, they create them. If we truly follow the principles of Falun Dafa, then even the most ordinary and insignificant life can radiate extraordinary light.
Thank you, Master! Thank you, fellow practitioners!
(Selected article presented at the 2025 San Francisco Fa Conference)