Gratitude Toward My Parents

My nineteenth birthday found me living by the side of a lake with a Hindu monk. He was an inspiring teacher whose practices were similar to Buddhism and he taught me many things.

While I stayed with him, I had plenty of time to contemplate my life. In the afternoon I liked to climb up a nearby mountain, sit under an old tree, and enjoy the breeze. Looking down to the lake below and the desert that expanded all the way to the horizon allowed me to think clearly.

One day my mind became full of questions. Why was it that whereas I was so impressed every time I remembered the kindness of the people who had helped me during my journey— those who gave me food or shelter for a night or two—I’d never felt the same way about the kindness of my parents?

They’d looked after me for eighteen years, given me food every single day—three or four times a day—and they’d still worried that the food might not be delicious enough for me. They’d given me both clothes and shelter. They’d taken me to a doctor when I was sick, and when I was ill they’d seemed to suffer more than I did.

Why was I never impressed with that?

I suddenly felt that I’d been shamefully unjust. I realized how much I’d taken them for granted. At that moment, it was as if a dam burst. Many examples of my parents’ boon khoon, their generosity and kindness, came to my mind, so overwhelming, so impressive.

That was the beginning of my gratitude toward my parents.

This reflection by Ajahn Jayasaro is from the book, Gratitude, (pdf) pp. 115-116, translated from the Thai original by Hadaya.