Right Livelihood: Love Through Work
- Date:
- 2026-05-17
- Speakers:
- Mei Elliott [Talks] [@AudioDharma]
- Location:
- Insight Meditation Center [Talks] [@YouTube]
- Generation:
- 2026-05-18 (gemini-3-pro-preview) [Raw Markdown] [YouTube Video]
- Keywords:
This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video above. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.
Right Livelihood: Love Through Work
So, I'd like to begin this morning with an old parable. And in this parable, there's a traveler. And this traveler encounters three bricklayers. So, as this traveler is walking down the road, they pass the first bricklayer. And she asks, "What are you doing?" And the bricklayer replies, "I'm just laying bricks."
So, the traveler continues, passes a second bricklayer. "Hey, what are you doing?" And the bricklayer responds, "I'm building a wall to feed my family."
The traveler continues, eventually passes a third bricklayer. She says, "Hey, what are you doing?" And the bricklayer responds, "I'm building the house of God. This is going to be a cathedral."
So from one vantage point, this could look like three people doing exactly the same thing. From another vantage point, depending on the person's intention, depending on their relationship to the work, it's a very different job.
There are a lot of different ways that we could interpret this parable, and I've heard it interpreted in a few. One common way is to think of it as the difference between a job, a career, and a calling. But this morning, I'd like to think of it as the what, why, and how of Right Livelihood.
So, that's what the theme of the talk is this morning, Right Livelihood. And we'll be looking at it through this lens of the what, why, and how. So, there's what we do for a living. Maybe that's the bricklayer who's building a cathedral, and it's what they're doing. Maybe you're a chef, and what you do is you make food. There's why we work. The bricklayer who said, "Oh, I'm building this wall to feed my family." That's the why. Maybe the why of your work is saving for retirement or something like that. And then there's how we work. That's the person who's just... maybe they're building a cathedral but it's just brick by brick. "Oh, I'm just laying bricks." One moment at a time. This is how we work.
Even though the theme of the talk this morning is Right Livelihood, my intention is to make it accessible for everyone. So even if you're not currently employed in a typical job—maybe you're retired, maybe you're a stay-at-home parent, or you're a caregiver, or a full-time volunteer—this talk is still for you. Work in the Zen tradition doesn't just refer to earning a paycheck. It's the work of chopping wood and carrying water, responding to emails, folding laundry, driving a car, and all of the ways that we engage in daily life. So, as long as you're doing some of these things, which surely you are, you're at work in the world.
What We Do
I'll start with the what. The importance of what we do with our livelihood, with our work. So if we're laying bricks, are we building a temple or are we building a torture chamber, right? This is consequential, what we do.
In a nutshell, Right Livelihood from the Eightfold Path[1]—if we were to summarize all of the teachings on it—I would say that it's work that doesn't cause harm. So this is the foremost emphasis of Right Livelihood in the Buddha's teachings. Interestingly, Right Livelihood didn't receive a lot of attention in the suttas. There's not a lot about it. But I think it could be useful for you to know at least some of what the Buddha said. He said to avoid trade in weapons, trade in living beings, trade in meat, trade in intoxicants, and trade in poison.
We're also instructed to avoid vocations that break the principles of Right Action. Remember, in the Eightfold Path, Right Action comes right before Right Livelihood. So, please don't kill, or steal, or engage in sexual misconduct, or lie, or intoxicate for your livelihood either. You kind of get the gist of where we're going with this. The Buddha is interested in livelihoods that don't cause harm, that don't lead to heedlessness or intoxication, and that generally don't inspire unwholesome intentions.
So, this is some of what we see in the traditional texts. And even though the Buddha refers to Right Livelihood more in the negative—what we shouldn't be doing—sometimes it can be a little bit more inspiring to think of it in the affirmative. So, if I were to rephrase it in the affirmative, it might be something like, "Can our livelihood make the world a better place?" Or in the later Buddhist tradition, we come across the Bodhisattva Vow[2]—the vow to support all beings in being free of suffering. Relieving suffering in the world, that could be our livelihood. The idea is, can our livelihood be an act of kindness, of generosity, of compassion, benefiting all beings?
I want to pivot a bit here, still on the topic of what we do, just to acknowledge this really prominent concept in the West: the American dream job, right? There's such a Western emphasis on the dream job; it's kind of like the soulmate of jobs. [Laughter] I found working with young people there's such a deep wish to find the perfect job. You know, the job that perfectly aligns with one's passions and one's values and one's skills and is ultimately fulfilling. Which is wonderful if you can find that and if that exists. But you'll notice that the Buddha didn't define Right Livelihood as finding your dream job.
And you'll also notice that the Buddha was in the business of happiness, of an ultimate happiness. So I find it reassuring that the Buddha didn't say that we need to find our dream job in order to be happy. And with that said, if it's available to do work that calls your heart, then great. That's lovely. I really appreciate this quote by the theologian Frederick Buechner. He's speaking about vocation, true vocation. He says, "Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world's deep need."
So if it's possible to find the work that speaks to our deep gladness—what we really love to do—and that meets one of the needs in the world, if that can meet service to others in some way, then fantastic, and there's something really beautiful about that.
There was a monk named Heng Sure[3] who used to love playing the guitar. And when he became a monk, he gave up music. As part of that, he was going to get rid of his perfect, beautiful, beloved guitar. He was in the process of selling it in the newspaper when he got a call from his master. And his teacher says, "Hey, what are you doing?" And he said, "Oh, I'm selling my guitar."
Long pause. As the story goes, the teacher goes, "Stupid." [Laughter]
And then the teacher continues to say, "People love music. You love guitar. Why don't you make Dharma music? Make it a skillful means." So, Heng Sure went on to make music about the Dharma and touched many, many people's hearts and exposed people to the Dharma who probably wouldn't have found it otherwise.
So, true vocation, what is it that calls your heart? If it's available to do that work, wonderful. And sometimes, that's not available. Sometimes that job isn't hiring, or we don't know what it is. And so it's really important to remember that the dream job is not required for happiness.
How We Work
Okay. So that's the what: what we do. Let's shift to the how: how we work. So this is the part of the parable where the bricklayer is saying, "I'm just laying bricks now, brick by brick." So whatever our larger profession is, it's made up of small moments, right? Maybe you're a scientist, and there's some larger goal, maybe curing cancer. But that's made up of little moments of washing one's hands, and putting on gloves, and pulling out a chair, and walking to the bathroom, and all of these little micro-moments of daily life. So how do we do the small daily tasks of our life?
I lived at Zen temples and monasteries for about nine years, and I did many different roles while I was living in those temples. One of the roles that I did was the shissui[4], also known as the work leader. This is a traditional role in a Japanese Zen monastery, and that position is responsible for assigning and delegating work to the monks. It's also responsible for helping the monks really understand how their work is practice, how their work is not separate from practice. And this is so important because we're spending a lot of our life at work, and if we really want to include our whole life in our practice, work needs to be a part of that.
One of the core principles of work as practice in Zen is this term menmitsu no kafu[5]. If we directly translated it, it really wouldn't make a lot of sense. It translates as something like, "The wind of the family house is like finely woven cloth." Very Zen. But if we translate the essence of the phrase, it's a little bit more like, "The Zen way is to pay very careful attention to each moment," or "The Zen way is to take very good care of each moment."
So the wind of the family house, that's the Zen way. And then so the Zen way is like finely woven cloth. The quality of a cloth depends on the quality of each thread. The quality of our life depends on the quality of each moment. We can weave a beautiful life if we take very good care of each thread. If we take very good care of each moment.
So this is how we work. This is the invitation with our work: to take very good care of each moment of everything we do.
It's from Mother Teresa: "You can do no great things, only small things with great love."
So in my mind, to pay careful attention to things, to give our full attention to something, that's an act of love. To give something our full attention, this is a way we can do this. This is a way that we can do small things with great love.
And I really think this is what we're doing in our meditation, right? We're learning how to show up for it, to really pay attention to each moment. Not just the pleasant ones, but also the mundane ones, and the boring ones, and the uncomfortable ones. To really be here for each moment.
This is from Suzuki Roshi: "The purpose of practice is to completely devote ourselves to the thing we are doing. When you don't, or when you do it carelessly, then your mind is not there. When you completely devote yourself to what you are doing, there is no separation. To be completely one with something is our practice. When you eat, you should be completely involved in eating. If you work, you should work. You should be fully devoted to your every moment. That is our practice."
So many small things, many small acts done with great love, I think they can create great things. You've probably noticed there are a lot of difficult things happening in the world right now. So don't underestimate the power of your own voice, the power of your own action. Don't underestimate the power of small things, small acts done with great love. Not small acts done with resentment or not small acts done with hatred, but small acts done with great love.
There are times in our lives where we can feel powerless or paralyzed or like nothing we do will make a difference. And so if you're feeling that way, you might remember this African proverb. It goes like this: "If you think you are too small to make a difference, you haven't spent the night with a mosquito." So, you are small, but you are mighty.
In the early 1960s, John F. Kennedy went on a tour of NASA. And while he was there, he was walking through the halls and he saw a janitor who was holding a broom. And he stopped at the janitor and said, "Hey, I'm Jack. What do you do here?" And the janitor replied, "Me? Oh, I'm sending a man to the moon."
So no act is too small to do wholeheartedly. And when we do each act with full attention and full care, you're contributing to something greater. You're weaving another beautiful thread in the tapestry of your life and the tapestry of our world.
So this is the how of Right Livelihood. This is the how of how we work. How we take care of children or our elders, or how we volunteer. This is the how of being in the world in action.
When we look at the Theravada tradition, as part of Right Livelihood, the Buddha really encouraged both monks and lay practitioners to have an attitude of contentment with their livelihood. And particularly to have an attitude of contentment with the requisites that livelihood provides. So to have an attitude of contentment with the food and shelter and clothing that our work provides for us.
These days, lots of people work really, really hard so they can buy very fancy houses, and wear very fancy clothing, and drive very expensive cars, and have very expensive toys. So part of Right Livelihood in the Buddha's time was actually just being content with simplicity. To consider, "How much do I really need? Can I be content with a simple life?"
When I was growing up, my parents were separated when I was quite young. My mom had a great job, well off, very comfortable living with mom. But then I'd go stay with dad, and my dad was chronically out of work and even in and out of homelessness at times. And so I remember having abundance with mom, but then when I'd go with dad, sometimes we might be digging in trash cans for aluminum cans to get the 5-cent return, you know, so we could afford a burger. Two very different ways of growing up. And I remember one thing that my dad said that stuck with me. He said, "Money can't make you happy. But it can make you a whole lot less miserable." [Laughter]
So, we don't need a lot of money. A little is really helpful, just to be able to cover the basic needs. So helpful. But we don't need a lot.
This is from Jack Kornfield: "Poverty is not an absence or shortage of goods but an overabundance of desire."
So if you have an impoverished attitude, it doesn't matter how much you make, it doesn't matter how much you earn. It will never be enough.
So this is all pointing towards contentment. It's pointing towards simplicity, contentment with simplicity. And if you find that your life is complex and your work is complex and everything you own is quite complex, maybe you can be content with complexity. Maybe you can be simple with your complexity.
Why We Work
Okay. So, we've talked about the what: what we do for work. How we work with that moment-to-moment care. So what about the why we work? So in the parable of the bricklayers, I see this as the bricklayer who said, "I'm building a wall to feed my family." So this is why. In essence, this is why I'm laying bricks.
For me, the why of why we work, this is pointing to our intention, the underlying intention for why we work. Are we working for success? Are we working for fame? Are we working for pleasure or power? Are we working to awaken? Are we working to alleviate suffering? Are we working to fulfill someone else's dream? Maybe our parents' dream for us or our society's dream for us. Are we working to pay the mortgage? Maybe for retirement, to send kids to college, to take care of aging parents? There are so many reasons to work. And chances are, you're working for more than one of these reasons. Maybe many reasons, many intentions.
So, I bring up intention because we want to be really attentive to our intentions, because it's intentions that steer our ship. It's the intentions that fuel our actions that determine our future happiness. This is a teaching on karma. In other words, if we act from intentions of kindness or intentions of compassion or intentions of generosity, that ultimately cultivates a very happy mind. If we act on intentions of ill will or hatred or greed or delusion, that creates a very different mind over time, a mind that's not so happy. It's kind of like if we plant a mango seed, we get a mango tree. If we plant a poison ivy seed, we get a poison ivy plant.
Every intentional action—every action of body, speech, and mind—we plant a seed.
So, what intentions are you bringing to your work? What's the why behind what you're doing? What seeds are you planting?
From moment to moment, maybe we're doing our work just to get it done. Maybe there's a rushing through the work, maybe with some anxiety, or maybe there's a rushing through the work to get to the next pleasant activity. Or maybe your intention to work is just to be mindful and present.
This is a quote from Dipa Ma[6]. Dipa Ma was one of the greatest meditation masters of the last century. She said, "Mindfulness is the great vocation in life that leads to the end of suffering."
I love that idea that mindfulness can be our vocation, which for me it really is. But it can be for you too. Regardless of what your job title is or however you're spending your time, it can be your vocation.
In a Zen monastery, one of the most prestigious and honored roles is the role of Shuso[7], the head monk. And there's one particular job that the Shuso is tasked with every day. And you'd think it would be like a really noble job, maybe like polishing the Buddha statues in the temple or something like that. The Shuso's daily task is to clean the temple toilets.
And so the idea is that the Shuso does this very humble task with the intentions of kindness, with the intentions of generosity, with the intentions of caring deeply and supporting the community. So it doesn't matter what the task is. It doesn't matter how unpleasant the task is, how boring the task is. Can it be done with wholesome intentions? When we act from wholesome intentions, we're planting beautiful seeds. And this is how we grow a beautiful garden.
This is from Martin Luther King Jr.: "If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.'"
So, you might notice that Dr. King didn't say, "Rush through your sweeping so you can get to Netflix tonight." [Laughter]
This word menmitsu that I mentioned earlier, menmitsu no kafu. The Zen way is to take very good care of each moment, to pay attention to each moment. So this word menmitsu, sometimes it's translated as "intimacy." So the invitation, the training of menmitsu, is to be intimate with every act. When we're lost in thought, we can't be really intimate with what's happening. It's kind of like that ticker tape of thinking divides us from experiencing our life more fully.
So can we be intimate with paying the bills? Can we be intimate with writing code or driving for Uber or making the bed or whatever the task at hand is? Can we bring that moment-to-moment care and attention to it? "Here lived a great street sweeper who did her job well."
To close, I'd like to say if you're a bricklayer, lay your bricks with wholesome intentions, right? Be present for each brick. That's how we create a beautiful life. That's how we weave a beautiful cloth. Each moment is an opportunity to lay a brick in the temple of our life.
I'll let Kahlil Gibran[8] get the last word. This is an excerpt from his poem On Work. And as I read it, you might hear some of the themes of the talk today.
Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work." And he answered, saying: "You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite. When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music. Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune. But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born, And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life, And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
... And what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart [Maybe menmitsu no kafu.], even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth. It is to build a house with affection [Maybe brick by brick.], even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house. It is to sow seeds with tenderness [Maybe with wholesome intentions.] and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit. ... Work is love made visible."
Guided Meditation
Let's sit for a moment together.
But I say to you that when you work, you fulfill a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when the dream was born. And in keeping yourself with labor, you are in truth loving life. And to love life through labor is to be intimate, menmitsu, with life's inmost secret. Work is love made visible.
Thank you.
Q&A
So, we have a little time now for any reflections that you might have about this topic of livelihood or work. Maybe it's something about your own relationship to work. Or if you have any questions about this topic or anything that I shared, you're welcome to ask. And we have a mic, so I just ask that you speak into the mic. And if you have a question or comment, please start by sharing your name.
Kurt: Hi, I'm Kurt, and thank you, Mei. My question is, you mentioned halfway through your talk something about if our life and our work is complex, how then to strive to be simple with that. How does one become simple with complexity?
Mei Elliott: Yeah. So maybe you have a life where there are a lot of possessions, or maybe you have work responsibilities that are vast with lots of different aspects to them and a lot to do and a lot to track, and it's complicated. One way to be with that is just one task at a time in a really simple way. "Okay, now this is what needs attention. Okay, we're going to do this."
Now, a different way to be with that is to spend every spare moment obsessing about all the different responsibilities and worrying about them and wishing it was otherwise, and doing that while you're washing the dishes and taking a shower. That's a complicated way of being with complexity. Just being with one thing at a time is a simple way to be with complexity. Does that make sense?
Kurt: Yeah.
Mei Elliott: Yeah. Thank you, Kurt. So much of what we're doing in this practice is just learning to be with things in an increasingly simpler and simpler way. And what we find is as we do that, we suffer less and less, because the mind that's full of complexity often adds on extra dukkha[9]. It adds on extra suffering: "Oh, I wish it wasn't like this. Oh, I wish I had this and didn't have that. And if I could just fix this." There's a lot of wishing it was otherwise in the complexity.
Any other questions?
Lyman: Hi. My name is Lyman. So, I feel that work is really a series of solving problems, and I don't want to solve problems. I feel like I want to have pleasure or just easy. And this is probably related to kind of what you just said and the previous question. What are your thoughts on attitudes of work? Rather than just, "Oh, this is a problem I need to solve," how can I shift my thinking?
Mei Elliott: Yeah. So, one way to look at a challenge or a problem is, "This is a problem I need to solve." Another way that that could be related to is, "Oh, here's a gift that I can give." Often problems are something that's not working well; there's some suffering related to a problem or there's something that could be improved. So in responding to that, in fixing the problem, one way to relate to that is as an act of generosity. Every response to a problem can be seen as an act of the generous heart responding.
Lyman: Yeah. Thanks.
Jason: Thank you very much. My name is Jason, and I have a question about generosity versus the value that we put on our work. Because there's this quality of what's called "under-earning," where there's a sense of not being able to balance giving and then receiving. And I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about how to value one's own work. Because, for example, volunteering—I do volunteer a lot of my time, and then I realize I'm not making enough money, and then I have to actually say, "Well, I can't volunteer. I need to do the money-making work." And the balance between generosity and being able to survive is kind of key, right? And I just wonder if you have any thoughts about how to use these right living to really create a solid foundation of how you value your own work. You know what I mean?
Mei Elliott: Yeah. I mean, generosity can be work that is unpaid. Generosity can also be work that is paid. It needs to make sure whatever we do, it needs to work for us too. So if you give and give and give and only do volunteer work and then you can't pay the bills and your family is starving, well, that's not Right Livelihood. For that to be in harmony, for it to be in balance, that's really skillful. Can you say a little bit more about the relationship of that to value? Because it seems like it's your kind of self-value, and I'm not clear on what the relationship is for you.
Jason: As far as I can say, there's a suffering involved in not valuing one's own work that is related to self-image and sort of the things that are undermining value. And there's a moment of awareness and mindfulness around that where it shifts. From one can say, "I need to be paid more for what I'm doing," and then there's a sense of a mindful approach to it that is different than just the dollars. I'm trying to describe something very that I don't really understand, and it's something that I need to really grapple with. Does that make sense?
Mei Elliott: Yeah. Part of what I'm hearing coming up for you is the aspects of identity that come up in relationship to work. There is so much that can come up in terms of one's identity in relationship to work. Not valuing one's work, not feeling good enough at one's work. Not saying that this is how it is for you, but feeling proud of one's work, feeling like we're better than others because of our work. All across the spectrum, there can be so much "selfing" that arises in relationship to our work.
So to practice with that isn't to get rid of the selfing, it's to study the selfing. Just to notice all the different identities that come into being when we engage in our work. And just seeing on this spectrum—on one end of the spectrum, there's a really strong sense of identification with the work, you know, "This is who I am, I'm a doctor, this is who I am," or whatever it is. Other end of the spectrum, the sense of self can be very thin or gone. And so it can just be really fascinating, just what aspects of selfing are arising in relationship to work right now, and is it increasing a sense of suffering or separation? And we study that, and the more we study it, the more it releases over time.
Jason: Thank you.
Mei Elliott: Yeah, thanks, Jason. And I think that'll be our last question. Oh, I think Kevin had one back here.
Kevin: Hi. Just wondering how you spell Heng Sure?
Mei Elliott: Let's see. I think it's, and I could be pronouncing it wrong, I think it was H-E-N-G. Yeah. Heng Sure, but I don't remember the rest of it. What would you guess? S-U-R. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. We're going with H-E-N-G S-U-R-E. Had to crowdsource that one. [Laughter]
All right, so I think that's all the time we have for questions, but if you have some remaining questions and you want to come ask afterwards, you're welcome to. Thank you so much for spending your weekend morning dedicated to the Dharma. Such a valuable thing. Thank you.
Eightfold Path: The early summary of the path of Buddhist practices leading to liberation from samsara. Right Livelihood is one of the eight practices. ↩︎
Bodhisattva Vow: A vow taken by Mahayana Buddhists to attain complete enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings. Original transcript spelled this "bodhicatta". ↩︎
Heng Sure: An American Buddhist monk ordained in the Mahayana tradition. Original transcript spelled this "Hongjour" / "Hunger". ↩︎
Shissui: The work leader or supervisor in a Zen monastery. Original transcript spelled this "shiui". ↩︎
Menmitsu no kafu: A Zen phrase translating to "The family style of meticulousness", pointing to a careful, intimate attention to every detail of life. ↩︎
Dipa Ma: (1911–1989) An Indian Buddhist meditation teacher and a major figure in the modern Vipassana movement. Original transcript spelled this "Deepama". ↩︎
Shuso: In Zen Buddhism, the term for the head monk or head trainee in a monastery. ↩︎
Kahlil Gibran: (1883–1931) A Lebanese-American writer, poet, and visual artist. The quoted poem is an excerpt from his book The Prophet. ↩︎
Dukkha: A Pali word often translated as "suffering," "stress," or "unsatisfactoriness." Original transcript spelled this "dooka". ↩︎