On a morning when the world felt heavy, I sat before a stark white wall — my own silent witness to the unrest within and around me. The rise in violence, political division, and the suffering of marginalized communities weighed deeply on my heart. Like many, I’ve felt powerless, overwhelmed by cruelty that seems to move faster than compassion can catch up.
But the Dharma, like a quiet river beneath a burning sky, continues to flow. It teaches us to find refuge not in blame or despair, but in presence. Through the teachings of the Buddha and the wisdom of those who’ve walked before us, we learn to meet the world’s chaos with courage, understanding, and love.
Let’s explore how.
1. Courage That Ripens from Empathy
When I started Rainbodhi SG, a spiritual friendship group for LGBTQ+ Buddhists and allies — both those with faith and those simply seeking connection—I was met with concern. Friends and even monk gently warned me: You’re stepping onto a slippery slope in Singapore. Religion and queerness—these are sensitive areas. The government will be watching.
But as a queer, gay person, I immediately recognized my own suffering in that tension. I remembered the nights I sat in silence, grappling with discrimination, shame, and confusion — torn between who I was and who I was told I should be. Buddhism didn’t just comfort me—it carried me through my darkest hours.
Through mindfulness, I found space to breathe. Through compassion, I found room to heal. And through the Dharma, I learned that my pain could become a bridge to connection. In the teachings on the Four Immeasurables, the Buddha encourages us:
“May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.” (Karunā Bhāvanā)
Starting Rainbodhi SG wasn’t about making a statement — it was about making space. For those who, like me, had once stood at the crossroads of identity and faith, uncertain if both could co-exist. It was an offering from the heart—a quiet act of courage rooted in compassion.
2. The Discernment to Pause: Choosing Mindfulness Over Manipulation
In today’s hyper-connected world, fear is often delivered in sharp, calculated words—crafted to sway, divide, and control. I’ve scrolled through headlines and posts that made my blood boil, only to later discover the truth was more complex—or completely different. In those moments, anger rises fast. But the Dharma teaches us not to react, but to inquire.
As Buddhists, we are asked to cultivate vijjā—clear seeing, or right understanding. This means slowing down when emotion quickens, noticing when the mind grasps onto stories without pause. In the Sallatha Sutta, the Buddha distinguishes between the first dart of pain (life’s inevitable suffering) and the second dart (our reactivity):
“The uninstructed person, touched by painful feeling, sorrows, grieves, laments… But the well-instructed disciple, touched by that same painful feeling, does not sorrow or grieve.”
Fear tactics and misinformation are like those second darts. They deepen pain. The wise path is to notice the reaction, breathe, and investigate: Is this true? Is this skillful? Does this divide or connect?
By staying mindful and questioning before concluding, we protect not only our minds—but also the harmony of our communities.
3. Sacred Criticism: Challenging Harm Without Hardening the Heart
At a family dinner, when a relative casually demeaned immigrants, my heart clenched—and I thought of the Buddha, who taught loving-kindness even to the unjust. I could have stayed silent, but silence, too, can become complicity.
Later, I spoke softly, choosing my words with care: “I understand your concern—but I’ve met families fleeing violence; your words matter.” There was no rage, no condemnation—just a heart open to truth and guided by compassion. This, I realised, was not weakness — it was strength. It was skillful means (upāya) in practice: speaking with clarity, courage, and kindness.
The Metta Sutta teaches:
“Just as a mother loves and protects her only child… let us cultivate our love to offer to all living beings…”
This is sacred criticism—firm in principle, yet soft in delivery. A practice of diplomacy over division, of compassionate speech over silence. When we speak with love, even to those causing harm, we create the possibility of transformation—for them, and for ourselves.
4. Finding My Island Within
Some mornings the news felt like waves crashing over me. One day, I closed my eyes, returned to my breath, and found a quiet shore inside. The Buddha’s final teaching rings clear:
“Be islands unto yourselves, refuges unto yourselves, seeking no external refuge; with the Dhamma as your island… seeking no other refuge.” —Mahāparinibbāna Sutta
That stillness became the foundation for writing letters, volunteering, caring—my actions arose not from fear, but from grounded presence.
5. Knowledge Is King: Understanding Before We Judge
When I studied the LGBTQ+ history and the lives of those who dared to stand up in the face of violence, I realized: history isn’t just about dates—it’s about patterns, pain, and the potential for peace. The more I learned, the more my heart softened toward those I once dismissed. Why do people hold ignorant views? Often, it’s fear, inherited beliefs, or survival tactics shaped by broken systems.
Buddhism teaches us to look deeply. In the Majjhima Nikāya, the Buddha says:
“When you see someone acting with hatred, remember: they too are suffering.”
History reminds us again and again: war never creates lasting peace. It devastates all sides. Whether it’s on a battlefield or in a bitter political divide, no one wins when the goal is to destroy. Blood spilled to prove a point never brings true resolution.
In moments of conflict, we must ask: What is more precious—being right, or honoring life?
Understanding history doesn’t justify ignorance—it helps us see through it, find the middle path, and begin to heal what fear has fractured.
6. Cultivating Communal Rejoicing
When Singapore repealed Section 377A, it was more than a legal change — it was a ripple of joy across our hearts. I remember that moment vividly: the texts flying in, the spontaneous gatherings, the quiet tears. We didn’t just celebrate the repeal — we celebrated perseverance, compassion, and the belief that love deserves to be seen and protected.
For years, many in our community carried the weight of invisibility. Some started a lawsuit. Others wrote. Many simply held hope. And when the news came, we saw that all those small efforts had not been in vain.
We encouraged each other: See? It’s possible. Change does come.
And it does—when it’s rooted in love.
I’ve come to believe that when your wish is truly for the benefit of others, the world moves with you. Or perhaps, as some Buddhists would say, the bodhisattvas—beings of great compassion—offer their unseen support.
As the Avatamsaka Sutra reminds us:
“When the mind is pure, the response of the universe is without limit.”
Victory doesn’t always come quickly, but it comes when it is nurtured with patience, kindness, and community. And when it does, we rejoice—not just for ourselves, but for all who walked the journey beside us.
The Path Is Long, But We Walk Together With Compassion
Moments like the repeal of 377A remind me why I stay on this path. Not just the path of activism, or even Buddhism—but the path of showing up, again and again, with love.
I’ve faced walls — within society and within myself — that felt too high to scale. But every time I’ve returned to my breath, my practice, and my community, I’ve remembered: I am not alone. None of us are. Whether it’s a friend who sits with you in silence, or a bodhisattva guiding unseen, support arrives when the intention is sincere.
We’re not here to fix the whole world overnight. We’re here to cultivate understanding. To plant seeds. To hold each other’s hands when the journey gets rough. And to celebrate, deeply, when the lotus finally blooms.
As the Buddha said in the Itivuttaka:
“Drop by drop, the water jar is filled. Likewise, the wise one, gathering little by little, fills oneself with good.”
Let us keep gathering. Keep showing up. Keep filling the world with the good we know is possible.
Together, with courage rooted in compassion, we can face even the fiercest unrest — and respond with love.
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