Whatever comes to mind. Sometimes a story I read, sometimes something that came to me while holding my mala beads.
A Westerner stood before a white porcelain Guanyin and said: "Her face — it's not sad, it's not happy. It's listening." Why do church statues look down while Guanyin looks straight at you? I opened my old copy of the Universal Gate chapter. Compassion is not one face; it is a thousand. (And yes — Guanyin used to have a mustache.)
Every year before the fifteenth of the seventh lunar month, my mom calls to tell me to come home early. The day that scared my whole childhood has a real name: the Zhongyuan Festival. Only after reading the story of Mulian saving his mother did I realize — there isn't a single frightening word in this so-called Ghost Festival. It's about a son trying everything to get his dead mother one full meal.