For those two days, the snow never stopped—and neither did the work.

Looking back now, what remains is a deep sense of calm.

At the beginning, no one thought this would be anything special.

We were simply thinking about how, after Mitra Village had been closed to the mountain, the kitchen had been unused for a long time. Storage rooms were filled with items accumulated over the years, and corners and wall cracks had gradually become familiar territory for mice. A simple cleanup would only return things to how they were before. So everyone agreed: this time, we would do it thoroughly—empty all the storage rooms, carry everything out piece by piece, sort and organize, and prepare for future renovations and sealing of openings, solving the problem at its root.

The plan was solid. But the weather had its own plans.

On the day of departure, the forecast did not predict such heavy snow. At first, the snow fell lightly and the roads were passable. Then the wind suddenly picked up, the snow grew denser, and thick layers quickly covered the road. When the tires began to slip, the heart instinctively tightened.

The closer we got to Mitra Village, the more difficult the road became. Cars ahead moved slowly; some stopped at the roadside. Seeing vehicles slide into ditches and a large truck stuck at an angle, the mind suddenly became quiet—a wordless stillness.

This time, volunteers came from many different cities, none of them close. Some came from even farther away, including one group from New York with an especially long journey. Everyone knew this trip would not be easy in such weather. Yet they came not only with themselves, but with food, concern, and the wish that no one would go hungry or cold.

Without drivers willing to give rides, coming would have been impossible. And yet that day, car after car still set out.

Some focused intently on driving; others quietly monitored road conditions from the passenger seat. Those in the back looked out at the white world beyond the windows—perhaps with a moment of hesitation—then gradually settled their hearts. Since we were already on the road, we entrusted everything to causes and conditions.

The journey was perilous, but we arrived safely.

Some volunteers arrived very early, before the snow had fully accumulated, and immediately began working without pause.

When the underground kitchen storage room was opened, a strong odor rushed out. Signs left by mice were more numerous than expected. The smell was sharp and startling. Some put on masks; others smiled wryly, saying it was the first time they had truly encountered such a smell.

Strangely, no one stepped back.

Instead, there was a quiet sense of relief—

“So this is how it is. Then let’s begin here.”

As more people arrived, items were steadily carried out. Heavy boxes were dragged away, cabinets moved aside, clutter spread out, counted, and sorted. What could be kept, what needed to be discarded, what should wait—everything gradually found its place. Experienced volunteers naturally stood at the front. They spoke little, yet gave everyone a sense of ease. Following them, there was no need to overthink—just do the task at hand well.

Outside, the snow never stopped.

Some worked inside the kitchen organizing and cleaning; others quietly picked up shovels and cleared snow outside. Entrances, walkways, steps—shovel by shovel. The snow returned quickly after being cleared, but it had to be done; otherwise, those coming after would have difficulty walking.

Over those two days, scenes like this appeared again and again:

Someone coming in from the snow, shoes soaked through;
Someone setting down a box, then turning back out to shovel again;
Back and forth, inside and outside.

The first day quickly grew dark.

The snow continued to fall, but the lights stayed on. Hands were cold, backs were sore, yet the work never stopped. Some bent over washing storage bins for long periods without straightening up. Some worked in the dirtiest corners, leaving the easier tasks for others. Some worked while quietly chatting and laughing.

And through this nonstop labor, warm food never ceased.

Fried rice noodles, braised tofu sheets, seaweed soup, potatoes with mushrooms, pickled cabbage—dishes came one after another. Pots of hot ginger tea were constantly brewing, porridge stayed warm, and when freshly fried steamed buns came out, the room suddenly felt warmer.

This food wasn’t for just one meal—it lasted the entire two days. Some had been prepared in advance, some brought from far away, some replenished on-site bit by bit.

Early the next morning, everyone continued.

The snow remained, the roads still needed clearing, the work wasn’t finished—and everyone was still there. Areas not cleared the day before were continued; items not yet sorted were finished. Bodies were more tired than the day before, yet movements were steadier. That steadiness came from having been cared for and supported.

Eventually, the storage rooms were completely emptied.

The once cluttered space slowly revealed its original form. Everything was neatly organized and clearly visible, truly making room for future renovations and sealing work.

At that moment, looking at the cleaned kitchen, a quiet certainty arose—

These two days were not in vain.

As Sunday night fell, the last pot was put away, tools returned, and a walkable path was cleared through the snow. Some volunteers headed back to distant homes; others would arrive late at night. When engines started, bodies were exhausted, but hearts were soft.

Later, when thinking back on those days, many would remember the snow, the cold, the endless shoveling—but even more, they would remember the feeling of being supported layer upon layer by goodwill:

Coming from different places, traveling long distances;
Carrying personal fatigue, yet caring for one another;
Finishing the work together in the storm, and settling the heart together.

That kind of aspiration was quiet, yet deeply real.

That kind of warmth lingers for a long time.

The storm was fierce. The road was long.

But this time, after two days, we reached the end together.

With gratitude for this volunteer effort—difficult, yet upheld by layers of kindness.

With gratitude to all volunteers who came from near and far, clearing roads, clearing hearts, clearing the kitchen, and bringing warmth amid wind and snow.

Namo Amitabha Buddha.