As a child, I was painfully introverted. Greeting others caused me intense anxiety, and I avoided social interaction whenever possible. Yet, beneath that quiet exterior lay a fiercely rebellious teenager. I struggled to adapt to traditional customs and felt a deep aversion to authority because I couldn't reconcile the reasons behind their demands.
At that time, critical thinking was not prioritized in Taiwan's education system, which instead emphasized respect for elders, obedience, and loyalty to the state. To my teenage mind, these so-called "virtues" felt merely like convenient tools for managing people. Often, I would hear elders or teachers say things I stubbornly disagreed with, but I lacked the tools to articulate a counterargument. Coupled with a cultural aversion to confrontation and an emphasis on social harmony, I had no choice but to swallow my objections.
This suppression drove me to study philosophy. I needed to learn; I believed that only through gaining knowledge could I make sense of the unpleasant experiences I was living through. I began studying the history of philosophy, understanding various currents of thought and the arguments of great thinkers. This gave me the analytical tools to dissect my life experiences and cultural traditions.
I started with Western philosophy, but when I later encountered Buddhist philosophy, I gradually embraced it. Unlike many other philosophical traditions which remain in the realm of theoretical reasoning, Buddhism emphasizes practical application. In this regard, it is immensely helpful in daily life.
I was amazed by the breadth of issues the Buddha addressed. You can find his perspective in the scriptures on everything from "mundane" matters—like how married couples should treat each other or how to manage finances—to "supramundane" teachings on the path to becoming an enlightened being yourself. It was astonishing; I had never imagined that through practice, I too could become a person like him.
Compared to other faiths, what I saw in the Buddha's teaching was radical equality. There was no hierarchy of high and low status. The Buddha is the Teacher, and he teaches solely so that you may one day become a teacher yourself.
This structure resonated deeply with me as an educator. I began to see the Three Jewels not as religious artifacts, but as a school—a safe place for learning.
The Buddha is the Master Teacher or Professor.
The Dharma is the Curriculum and the coursework.
The Sangha are the Teaching Assistants, administrators, and fellow students who manage the learning environment and support our progress.
In this school, everything is based on reason. It completely overturns views based on class, caste, or racial superiority. Whether a person is respected is based entirely on their character, wisdom, and contribution to others—not on their skin color, family background, power, or wealth. In the Buddha's time, people from the highest to the lowest rungs of society entered the monastic community and were treated equally.
Furthermore, the definition of success in this school is clear, not abstract. It is determined by one’s ability to eliminate mental defilements and the depth of their meditation and wisdom.
I was deeply attracted to this educational system. At age 33, I decided to "take refuge" in the Three Jewels. This was not an act of worshipping a god, but rather enrolling in a school and expressing respect for a teacher filled with love and patience. The feeling was warm, not fearful.
This journey has also inspired me to look at my own mission in the field of education with fresh eyes. I now understand that only by truly sparking a person's ability to think critically, and guiding them toward helping others, can there be hope for happiness in this society.
Luke Lin 2/11/2026