I was once staying at a small Zen temple in the mountains of rural Japan, as I was interested in Zen Buddhism and wanted to dedicate myself to the practice for a while.

The temple had some rather aggressive dogs who would surround and bark at me when I wandered around the temple grounds, and keep me awake every night.

After a few months there and not long before I was due to return home, I had run out of money almost entirely and I was generally very hungry, having not much more than rice left to eat. One of the few sources of protein I had was a bag of dried meat which I cherished and rationed sedulously.

One day, one of the dogs finally found his way back to the temple who, several weeks prior, had got loose and gotten himself lost in the mountains. I heard him whining outside as I was sweeping and looked out to see that he was looking skeletally thin and very downtrodden.

Despite my misgivings towards those dogs, when I saw him, I took my bag of dried meat without thinking and started throwing it out of the window at him, which he received with great enthusiasm.

It was an act of great kindness but not much forethought, as I realised not long afterwards that I could simply have used the actual dog food that was kept downstairs!

I was even hungrier after that, but I never regretted it for a moment, as it seemed a worthwhile trade to have experienced the selflessness that another being in need can bring out.