Note: This is a work in progress (WIP).
My mother is a Buddhist. As her child, I have always felt both obligation and guilt in acknowledging her beliefs. When I was younger, my parents' words were absolute truths. I remember the smell of incense in our living room every morning; my mother praying to our ancestors and the Lotus Goddess for protection and blessings upon our family. Those were the days when I blindly followed her with the unconditional love and understanding that only a six-year-old could have. The mustiness of the temple we would visit those cold Sunday mornings clung to my clothes for hours after we left; always making sure we left a proper donation to the monk at the exit door.
As I grew older, my world began to grow. The Chinese traditions and values embedded in me since childhood clashed and made war with the Western ideologies I absorbed through hours sitting in the classroom. I began, to question the words of my parents whom I had always believed to be true. It was both difficult and liberating to acknowledge the limitations of my parents' knowledge - of my own knowledge.
My mother is a Buddhist. As her child, I have always felt both obligation and guilt in acknowledging her beliefs. When I was younger, my parents' words were absolute truths. I remember the smell of incense in our living room every morning; my mother praying to our ancestors and the Lotus Goddess for protection and blessings upon our family. Those were the days when I blindly followed her with the unconditional love and understanding that only a six-year-old could have. The mustiness of the temple we would visit those cold Sunday mornings clung to my clothes for hours after we left; always making sure we left a proper donation to the monk at the exit door.
As I grew older, my world began to grow. The Chinese traditions and values embedded in me since childhood clashed and made war with the Western ideologies I absorbed through hours sitting in the classroom. I began, to question the words of my parents whom I had always believed to be true. It was both difficult and liberating to acknowledge the limitations of my parents' knowledge - of my own knowledge.