PureInsight | February 21, 2026
[PureInsight.org] I am a South African practitioner. My path has taken me across countries and cultures, each shaping my understanding of what it means to cultivate sincerely. I was fortunate to obtain the FA in 2007 in Thailand, a place where I first tasted the quiet strength of perseverance. Thailand gave me the lesson of patience, of stillness, of starting at the beginning with humility. From there, my life carried me to Hong Kong, where the speed and noise of the city tested my ability to find silence within, even when everything around me was loud and restless. Later, I moved to the Czech Republic, where I now live and continue my practice. The Czech Republic brought a very different kind of test. Unlike the intensity and pressure of Hong Kong, life here is quieter, slower, with less noise and less external demand. But in that calm, new challenges arise. Without pressure pushing from outside, I discovered that the real tests are more subtle and internal: how to keep myself diligent without anyone watching, how to resist comfort, how to cultivate in an environment where it is easy to relax and drift.
Everything I share here is only my limited understanding. I can be wrong. If there are things I misunderstood, I sincerely ask you to kindly point them out to me. By the grace of our Master, I was allowed to attend the Fa study meeting in Poland. The experience was exhausting, challenging, and at the same time, deeply moving. What I witnessed there was Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance not as distant principles, but as living realities.
Truthfulness
The schedule in Poland was demanding: four lectures on Friday, four more on Saturday, and one on Sunday. To sit through so much Fa study in such a short time was no small thing for me. I felt tired, restless, even overwhelmed at times. Yet every time my body protested, I reminded myself: Truthfulness is not just about speaking honestly, but about facing myself honestly. The lectures became a mirror to show me where I lacked discipline, where I made excuses, where I still gave in to comfort.
What struck me most was the Truthfulness of the coordinators. During the breaks, instead of resting or hiding their own struggles, they stood before us and admitted their shortcomings. They spoke of mistakes, of failures, of times they had not done well. They didn’t try to protect their image. They didn’t speak to appear strong. They spoke to be real. And because they were truthful, we trusted them even more.
On Saturday, during the big sharing, their message became crystal clear. Again and again, in different words, the coordinators told us the same truth:
“YOU DON’T NEED US. WE NEED YOU. WITHOUT YOU, WE ARE NOT COORDINATORS. AND IF OUR MASTER LOOKS AND SEES WE HAVEN’T COORDINATED YOU WELL, THEN NO MATTER HOW CAPABLE WE THINK WE ARE, WE HAVE FAILED OUR JOBS.”
Those words cut straight into my heart. They revealed what true responsibility looks like: not self-importance, but service. Not control, but accountability. A coordinator is nothing without those they serve. Their honesty dissolved the distance between “leaders” and “participants.” We were one family, and their truth gave us the courage to also be truthful with ourselves.
Again and again, I realized: Truthfulness builds unity. In the ordinary world, people hide weaknesses because they fear judgment. But in Poland, the coordinators revealed theirs because they valued growth over appearance. Their honesty created a safe space for everyone else to reflect as well. I saw that to live in Truthfulness is to walk without masks. It is to say: “This is where I am weak. This is where I need to improve.” Such honesty is painful, but it is also freeing.
Truthfulness is not only about words; it is about the heart’s posture. And in Poland, I saw it embodied.
Compassion
From the very beginning, I felt compassion in action. When the coordinators entered the room, they didn’t just sit down quietly. They came to us personally — one by one. They shook our hands, looked into our eyes, smiled, and asked where we came from. These were not polite formalities. Each handshake was a moment of care. Each greeting carried sincerity. Thirty seconds, yes, but thirty seconds filled with warmth. In those little gestures, we became a family.
Then came the moment I will never forget: the older auntie who stood to speak. She was trembling, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear was written across her face. The room fell into uneasy silence. And then, one of the coordinators rose, walked to her, and gently took her hand. He said: “I’ve got you, auntie. If you can’t speak out loud, then I’ll help. We’ll share your words together. Because what you say matters. Everybody’s voice matters.”
That simple act was pure Compassion. It was not rehearsed. It was not for show. It was the instinct of a heart trained to care. And in that moment, her fear eased. She found strength because someone lent her theirs. I was moved to tears. This is leadership: not commanding others, but lifting them. Not standing above, but standing beside.
I also saw compassion when mistakes were made. In the ordinary world, mistakes often bring blame. But here, the coordinators stepped forward, saying, “That was my fault. I should have guided better.” They didn’t expose the one who erred; they shielded them. Their compassion turned what could have been shame into an opportunity for reflection and growth.
True Compassion is not sentimentality. It is courage. It is choosing to stand with someone in their weakness. It is lifting them when they cannot stand alone. And in Poland, I saw it lived again and again.
Forbearance
The sheer schedule demanded Forbearance. Nine lectures over three days tested my endurance. My body grew stiff. My mind grew tired. At moments I wanted to escape, to rest, to retreat into comfort. But Forbearance means to endure without complaint, to transform hardship into strength. And so I tried to endure, reminding myself that every discomfort was an opportunity to let go of attachment.
But Forbearance was not only about sitting through lectures. It was also visible in the way the coordinators handled responsibility. When problems arose, they didn’t shift blame. They didn’t become defensive. They absorbed the difficulty, reflected inward, and promised to do better. This is Forbearance: to carry pressure without collapsing, to accept fault without resentment, to continue leading without bitterness.
I realized that Forbearance is not just passive endurance; it is active transformation. It is not simply bearing hardship, but turning hardship into fuel for growth. It is patience not only with circumstances, but with people — and most importantly, with ourselves.
In my own life, I often lack Forbearance. I grow impatient. I want quick results. I avoid discomfort. Poland reminded me that true growth requires time, patience, and the willingness to suffer quietly for the sake of truth.
Conclusion
I left Poland with more than tiredness. I left with gratitude. Gratitude for Master’s grace that allowed me to see Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance not as abstract ideals, but as living examples in the people around me. I saw Truthfulness in the courage to admit mistakes. I saw Compassion in a coordinator holding the hand of an auntie. I saw Forbearance in the willingness to carry responsibility without blame.
These lessons humbled me. They also inspired me. I realized that leadership is not about control, but about service. Strength is not about power, but about compassion. Unity is not about slogans, but about living together in Truthfulness, Compassion, and Forbearance.
I still have many faults and attachments to fix. I am far from where I should be. If you see any problems in what I have shared, I sincerely ask you to please point them out to me, so that I may correct myself. Everything here is only my limited understanding. If there is error, it is mine. If there is truth, it is by Master’s grace.
And so I carry forward this vow: to try, in my daily life, to live more truthfully, to act more compassionately, and to endure with greater forbearance. To rise not by standing above others, but by standing with them. To walk with humility, because only through humility can we truly walk together.
Chinese version: https://www.zhengjian.org/node/299339
