On the Way Home

By Eileen Kiera

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In the early years of Plum Village there were only two hamlets—Upper Hamlet at Thenac and Lower Hamlet at Meyrac. The hamlets were open for visitors one month each summer from mid-July to mid-August. A few dozen Westerners from all over Europe and North America stayed in Upper Hamlet, and Vietnamese émigrés stayed in Lower Hamlet. Thay gave several Dharma talks each week at one of the hamlets, sometimes in English, sometimes in French, and sometimes in Vietnamese. We walked back and forth between the hamlets to her Thay speak and to visit with our friends in the other hamlet.

One day, I was late for the Dharma talk at Upper Hamlet, and was hurrying along the road when I saw a small yellow Renault, clearly a Plum Village car, come trundling along. I waved at the car, somewhat frantically, and stood in the road in such a way that the driver couldn’t miss seeing me. I really wanted a ride. I really didn’t want to miss the Dharma talk, and my gestures made clear that I needed the car to stop and pick me up. The car came to a halt and I saw it was Sister Chan Khong (Chi Phuong in those days) driving Thay up for the Dharma talk. Embarrassed by the demanding and impatient demeanor I had shown in flagging them down, I nevertheless crawled into the back seat and offered apologies. Sister Chan Khong gently admonished me, saying something to the effect that of course they would stop and pick me up, and then she turned around to drive us up the hill.

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The ride was short, maybe fifteen minutes, and we passed the time in silence. But it was a silence that was infused with a feeling of love. It was palpable. The air of love was thick enough to touch, and I was humbled by it. I knew this love wasn’t about me, particularly, but that I was included in it. Eventually, after many more years of practice, I came to realize that I and all beings were always embraced by this love. As I sat in the back seat, quiet and at peace, I rested in the warmth of love. The Dharma talk had touched me with no words at all.

Carrying the Light

I carried Thay’s teaching with me whenever I left Plum Village and came back to my home in Western Washington. Once again I entered the life of a householder, with job, husband, daughter, and many friends. Sometimes I would long for the love and ease I felt when I was at Plum Village. I knew it was in me, as well as at Plum Village, so my practice became to create within my family and community the peace and love Thay had shown me. And what a sweet practice it was. It began with being aware of what I was thinking and feeling throughout the day. When my mind was distracted, I would let go and come back to my breathing, particularly when I saw that my thoughts and feelings were creating harm or suffering within me. I knew that if I held on to these thoughts I would believe them true, and from them I would create suffering around me. I saw all of this clearly, over and over again.

One time, when my two-year-old daughter fell from a countertop onto the floor, I was flooded with anger. I’d frequently lifted her down from high places and told her of the dangers of climbing on things, but she persisted when my back was turned. After she fell, she was scared and crying, but initially my anger prevented me from going to her. When I felt the heat of my anger, I turned my awareness to my breath, and took a few conscious breaths to see her with fresh eyes, remembering how I’d felt when I saw her for the first time. Instantly my anger melted. I was filled with love for her. Instinctively I went to her and cradled her in my lap. After a few more sobs, she jumped out of my lap, smiled, and said in her baby-talk way, “That why no climb, Mama.” I never had to rescue her again from high places.

In 1990, Thay transmitted the lamp to me and asked me to begin teaching. In spite of feeling unworthy, I felt honored to accept the transmission and to carry the light of Buddha’s lamp forward in North America. But in my mind, I wasn’t a teacher unless I had students. So when I came home from Plum Village that summer, I waited to see if people would invite me to teach. And they did, so along with students came the new practice of sharing the Dharma by words and activity. My model was Thay. Through the many years of teaching, I still look to him whenever there is a difficulty in Sangha or with Sangha members. I always ask myself, “What would Thay do here?” And I pull up all of his patience, his love, his gentle spirit and rest there for a while. Then, when I am solid, I step forth with the Thay who lives within me, in honor of Thay, who continues to show me the way in this life.

mb60-OnTheWay3Eileen Kiera, True Lamp meets regularly with Sanghas in her area and has led retreats throughout the United States, in Europe, Australia, Canada, and Mexico. She is co-founder of Mountain Lamp community, a rural lay practice center in northwestern Washington state, where she lives with her husband and community of practice.

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No Heat, No Fear

By Peggy Rowe Ward

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“Bring a sleeping bag,” announces a sign on the Zendo. “Hmmm,” I wonder. I stick my head into the room and am greeted by a cool blast of air. Ah, the power is out. I turn around and walk briskly back to my dorm room in Lower Hamlet and return to the Zendo with more layers of clothing and my sleeping bag. I cannot recognize anyone in the hall this morning. I sit.

It’s January and the poplar trees stretch their bare arms into a grey sky. It is Sunday, the day that we open the monastery doors for a public Day of Mindfulness. Not that many folks join us these days. It’s the early 1990s, and the French have yet to discover that there is a Zen master tucked away in the rolling green countryside of southern France.

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Thay will offer the Dharma talk in the Lower Hamlet dining room, as there is a wood stove in this space. My roommates and I strategize on how to prepare for the talk. From experience, we know that one side of the room will be very hot and the other side will be very cold. We calculate a perfect time to arrive and sit right in the middle, and then we prepare to dress for this event. We take out all of our clothes and help each other layer up. Each of us looks like a strange cross between a bag woman and a gypsy as we are covered with shawls, blankets, coats, and hats. We laughingly lumber out of our room and link arms as we make our way to the dining room.

The dining room is jammed with benches and chairs. Pierre sits by the stove, feeding the fire. Pierre lives a few vineyards away from Lower Hamlet. He is one of a handful of friends that appears every Sunday looking wildly French. He sports a black beret, dark wool Melton coat, and thick knit sweater. He has a large nose that fits perfectly with his kind face. He has a habit of resting both of his strong weather-etched hands on the top of his wooden walking stick. He is a regular presence at Plum Village and we are comfortable with his watchful gaze.

There is no aisle, so we bump-bump-bump our way through the room. The padding has tripled our girth. We crawl on top of the chairs toward the middle of the room. We sit and spill over our white plastic chairs. We are almost wedged together with softness. I look to my left and recognize the eyes of my friend. We smile softly and look around the room. The windows are covered with steam so we cannot see out. Everyone who enters is wearing a similar disguise.

The bell is invited and Thay enters the room, followed by his attendant. Pierre moves away from the stove so that Thay can sit close by the heat. Thay settles in. He is offered a cup of tea, which he holds in his brown-mittened hands. The pine logs simmer and crack. Thay begins his talk and we cannot hear a word.

I have a moment of upset. I look around and quickly discover that none of us can hear. The fire is speaking loudly; there is the drip-drip-drip of moisture off the windows, the rustle of bodies, and no microphone. Breathing in, I breathe into that small upset, take her by the hand and put her on my soft lap. Breathing out, I smile. I sigh and settle into this day. What could be more lovely than this? Magically, I feel my neighbors doing the same. I notice several heads starting to bob and I can feel mine bobbing, too.

A small frisson moves my heart. I recognize that we are in the presence of Maitreya Buddha, that we are Maitreya Buddha. We relax together and breathe as one padded body. Thay is close by. We are warm. We are safe. We are together. Today the Buddha of loving community has manifested herself as woolen-wrapped students of the Buddha silently seated in a dining room, taking refuge in the warmth, in the teachings, and in each other.

Peggy Rowe Ward, True Original Vow, lives and practices in Claremont, California with her husband Larry Ward and dog Charlie, as well as the Baby Step Sangha.

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All Roads Lead to Plum Village

 

By Janelle Combelic

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I left Plum Village in August 1990 after three weeks at my first summer retreat, not knowing that it would take me fourteen years to get back. But those three weeks changed my life.

I had started meditating on my own a couple of years before in Phoenix, Arizona. Every day before going to work as a technical writer I would sit for forty-five minutes. In 1989 I attended my first Vipassana retreat, a six-day silent retreat at the Lama Foundation in New Mexico. The teacher was Jack Kornfield. Just about the only thing I remember was his admonition not to take ourselves too seriously. In fact, he mentioned a wonderful Vietnamese monk who told people to smile while they meditated!

A Rustic Peace

Some months later I saw an ad in a Buddhist magazine for Thich Nhat Hanh and his monastery. When I read that Plum Village was in France, where I had grown up, I knew I had to go. And so in July 1990 I found myself sitting in the sunshine outside the train station in Ste. Foy la Grande, waiting with a few strangers. And waiting. Someone finally came to pick us up and drove us to Lower Hamlet.

Conditions on the old farm were very rustic. I stayed in a primitive room in one of the old farm buildings with a few other women. Halfway through my stay I moved into a tent out in an overgrown field (where the new toilet block is now). Dharma Nectar Meditation Hall was new and bright and huge; every morning we gathered around the monks and nuns who sat around a central altar, chanting in Vietnamese. The Buddha garden beyond the windows radiated peace and beauty.

Every week we had a ceremony, as if Thay were squeezing a whole year of Vietnamese culture into a month. The Full Moon Festival in the meadow below Upper Hamlet was spectacular, with the moon rising behind the church of Puyguilhem on its hill across the valley. Most moving was the ceremony for Hiroshima Day when we processed to the pond in the oak wood at Lower Hamlet and launched little paper boats carrying candles with our prayers for peace.

At Upper Hamlet, we crowded into the Transformation Hall to listen to Thay’s Dharma talks. I loved its old white stones and small windows, the intimacy of this ancient barn converted into a Buddhist temple. One day we had a tea ceremony there with Thay. A lively and contentious discussion ensued, where some of the parents staying at Upper Hamlet complained about the lack of a children’s program. I noticed that the Vietnamese children staying at Lower Hamlet with their families, enjoying a welcome immersion in their native culture, behaved calmly and respectfully. The Western children staying at Upper Hamlet were far more boisterous, and their parents wanted more support to enjoy the retreat. I admired Thay’s honesty and openness, his willingness to listen but also his firm commitment to the practice.

Things were not nearly as organized then as they are now. There were no “families,” no work groups. Being new to the practice myself, I tried to get involved with different activities and found myself overcommitted in no time. I also re-created the isolation and loneliness of my life at home. I didn’t make friends and don’t remember learning about Sangha.

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At that time the Plum Village culture seemed rather male-dominated. The monks walked in front of the nuns during pro-cessions, just as in Vietnam. The nuns included Sister Annabel, abbess of Lower Hamlet; Sister Phuong, as Sister Chan Khong was then known; and Sister Jina, newly arrived and still wearing the formal gray robes of a Japanese monastic. I asked a senior laywoman, Joan Halifax, to lead a women’s discussion group. We were astonished when the circle filled the whole Transformation Hall! We had to schedule a second meeting so that everyone could get a chance to share.

Healing My Life

I’m not sure what specifically changed me at that retreat— perhaps one of Thay’s Dharma talks. That summer I was in my mid-thirties, suffering from chronic pain and loneliness. After one last failed relationship I had given up on men entirely to focus on healing my life. So when Thay invited us to write him questions I jumped at the chance. I thought my problems had to do with my father, and to give Thay some background I wrote page after page detailing my history. A few days later, I was astonished to hear Thay telling my story! However, he told it with profound sadness—describing this American woman who got involved with older men, who lost one baby and aborted another, whose younger brother had died of cancer, who didn’t get along with her family. For the first time I saw my own pain with real compassion. No wonder I felt sad all the time!

When I got home I made some decisions to change my life. I consulted a medical doctor and a homeopath and started getting the help I needed. Mysteriously, my healing took me far away from Plum Village and from meditation. For ten years I led an “ordinary” life, letting the world be my teacher.

By the time Thay came to Boulder in 2002 I had started meditating again and in 2003 I went on his retreat in Estes Park. That’s where I discovered Sangha. I started attending Peaceful Hearts Sangha in Fort Collins, Colorado, and my life has never been the same.

It has been a long and uneven road, but more and more each day I touch the wonders of life. Who knew a person could be this happy!

mb60-AllRoads3Janelle Combelic, True Lotus Meditation, co-founded Lotus Blossom Sangha in Longmont, Colorado. In 2010 she moved to Scotland, where she lives in a cottage with her English husband and their Irish setter Seamus. She practices with Northern Lights Sangha at Findhorn.

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Sowing Seeds of Meditation

By Cara Harzheim

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For thirty-six years I taught in the Grammar School Ludwid-Meyn-Schule, a big high school near the River Elbe, Germany. I was one of seventy-eight teachers in this school of 1,040 students. Teaching was my greatest passion in life. The students were my children, my friends, and my combatants.

In the winter of 1994-95, I spent two weeks at Plum Village. There I found my spiritual teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh. I received the Five Mindfulness Trainings on January 2, 1995, and when I returned to Germany, I began meditating regularly with my students.

The students called me their “teacher of meditation”: “the exceptional colorful flower of the school, the teacher you can talk to, who listens profoundly, understands you, and gives the advice you need. She is the one you ask for help when your friend wants to commit suicide. She dances with you the whole night through. When you come from a rural background and are afraid of male authoritarian teachers, she supports you to speak up. She sings with you songs of freedom and peace for Blacks, Indians, and Vietnamese and she speaks about global ethics and your behavior in this world of ours.”

Every day, from Monday to Friday, I offered the students fifteen minutes of meditation during the two twenty-five-minute breaks of their day. We practiced several different kinds of meditation, all of which the students loved: sitting meditation (be aware of your in- and out-breath), guided meditation according to Thay’s books, pebble meditation, metta meditation, walking meditation indoors if it rained or outdoors in the former cemetery next to the school, total relaxation, tea ceremony, and mindful eating of a tangerine or biscuit.

When the students had taken part in ten meditation sessions, they got a certificate that said: “She has participated in the meditation extracurricular activity with great success.” Both younger and older students loved to get that paper.

Away from the Turmoil

I always tried to have a room that was quiet and good for meditation, “a room of silence.” First I found an attic under the roof, in which I put a carpet and twenty-five of my own multicolored cushions which I had bought in India, a golden Buddha statue, an icon of Mary and the child Jesus my father had brought from Russia, a big bell and a small bell, an earthen teapot and small cups, a water boiler, some candles, and incense sticks. The caretaker of the school was not happy when he heard I used a water boiler and candles in the attic. He tried to close down the room several times because I didn’t give up preparing tea.

We were moved to a restored room adjoining this attic. However, the substitute headmaster didn’t like us to sit on the newly installed carpet. We fled to the cemetery outside and found it was the right place to meditate about impermanence, illness, and death. A music teacher who was a fervent supporter allowed us to use the music rooms. We sat among all the instruments and tried to generate calmness, understanding, and loving-kindness. We tried to gain a little bit of peace and freedom.

In the end, students collected signatures from other pupils, teachers and parents, and we were allowed to use one of the last cellar rooms with hardly any light. All my groups helped me to furnish it again. We had a big tea ceremony with cookies and Plum Village songs in English and French. It was a cozy room far away from the turmoil of normal hectic school life.

Zen Is Cool

I taught lessons in East Asian and western philosophy to students who didn’t want to take part in classes of religious education (Catholic, Protestant). We spoke about their interests: How to live happily? What is death? How to live sexually? When we explored ethics and metaphysics applied in this world, I introduced the Five Mindfulness Trainings to the students, who showed a deep concern about them.

The first lesson of each Monday morning was Beginning Anew. “How did I nourish myself last weekend?” “What do I focus on this week?” In the lessons before a test, students asked for a guided meditation (“I am blooming as a flower”) and after the test, a deep relaxation to let go of all the frustration and excitement. On Fridays, the students reflected on what had happened during the week, how they could relax during the weekend in a good way, and their plans for the next week.

Twice a year there were project weeks in the school, offered by teachers, parents, or students. Twice I offered Meditation Practice according to Thich Nhat Hanh. Students drove every day to my old farmhouse and practiced mindfulness in walking, sitting, washing and cutting vegetables, reading the Five Contemplations and eating, learning gathas and Plum Village songs, and enjoying deep relaxation. They felt they had participated in the best project and were proud to find their photos in the local newspaper.

I facilitated a one-day project, “Zen Is Cool,” with forty students in the biggest room of the school. We sat, walked, explained the Five Mindfulness Trainings, offered a tea ceremony and tangerine meditation, and listened to the story “The Hugging Judge.” We exchanged little red hearts with the promise to give them to someone we loved. We ended with hugging meditation. Their little brothers and sisters received the hearts with astonishment and joy.

Plum Village Retreat

In 2006, I brought seventeen students with me to a twenty- one-day retreat at Plum Village. They committed to a trip without alcohol, cigarettes, meat, McDonald’s, or television during the Football World Cup. The students loved Lower Hamlet. The boys stayed in tents behind the pine and fir trees, and the girls and the two women teachers in tents behind Dharma Nectar Hall among the plum trees.

The students loved Thay and his extraordinary presence. When he addressed them personally, they were proud. They appreciated Sister Jina’s gentle authority, kindness, understanding, and willingness to let them remain together as a group in Lower Hamlet. Sister Chan Khong conquered their hearts by singing songs and lullabies for them in a special audience. They loved her wit, her openness, and her love of young people. They also enjoyed Sister Bi Nghiem’s dry humor and the great care she took of them.

The students loved walking up the hill to Loubès Bernac and looking down on the plain of Duras. They took great pleasure in the mindful swimming lazy day in the lake of Castelgaillard and all the potatoes and healthy pizzas the nuns cooked for them. In front of Thay and all the retreatants, they offered a drama about slowing down. A breakfast with the Jewish group left a lasting impression on them: the sharings and openness, the wishes for recognition of suffering, and the willingness for reconciliation.

Upon return, the students’ parents were aware of transformations in their children’s abilities to be more understanding and loving, to listen, and to practice mindfulness. The students never forgot this wonderful twenty-one-day retreat and continued to participate with joy in walking and sitting at school.

Here are some quotations from the students. Rebecca (11th year) said, “The meditation room is the most beautiful room of the school. There I can focus on my real self and I can let go of everything else. I feel at ease and I’d like to stay there longer.” Anna-Lena (A-level class) shared: “Meditation does you good. You start concentrating on your breathing. You come back to yourself and are aware of your body. Normally I have the problem of thinking too much.” Daniel (11th class) said, “I meditate at home every evening. I’ve noticed that I have become calmer and more confident.”

Meditation became a vital part of normal school life in all its forms. The students learned the tools of coming back to their breath, calming down, and concentrating by letting go of wrong perceptions. Meditation has enriched their lives and given them the opportunity and the hope “for a better future to be possible.”

mb60-Sowing2Cara Harzheim, True Wonderful  Compassion received the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings  in 1999. In 2008 she emigrated from Germany to France. She now lives in Puyguilhem, ten minutes from Lower and Upper Hamlet. She feels she has really arrived and is home living next to Thay and being part of the Fourfold
Sangha.

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Poem: The Gift of Non-Fear

Three Moments on the Way to Dwelling in Equanimity

By Lyn Fine

1: Sumb60-TheGift1nday, September 15, 1996, Plum Village, France.
Dharma Talk by Thich Nhat Hanh

We are sitting together in the Meditation Hall at the Lower Hamlet.
Listening, we are aware of our breathing.
We are present together.

In the midst of your Dharma talk, you pause.
Quietly, you strike a match.
You touch the flame to a sheet of paper.
Smoke wafts into the air. Flames appear.
The paper is burning.
Now there is only black charcoal ash.

Gently, between the thumb and two fingers of your right hand,
You pick up the charred remains.
“It’s hot,” you say softly, calmly.
On your lips, there is a half-smile.
You hold the black charcoal for an instant.
Then, releasing your fingers, you let the burnt remains drop into the bell.

In mindfulness I watch, aware of my breathing.

Breathing in, I am aware that ancestors are present
Jewish ancestors burning in ovens — here, now
Vietnamese sisters and brothers burning in self-immolation to stop the bombs of war — here, now
wise-woman witches burning at the stake — here, now
churches of African-American brothers and sisters burning in the United States — here, now
ancient trees burning from human forgetfulness — here, now
Breathing out, I do my best to smile with equanimity and compassion — but I cannot — not yet.

Breathing in, I know I am touching seeds of pain and suffering in me from the individual and collective storehouse consciousness — seeds of terror, seeds of rage, seeds of grief
Breathing out, I am aware that I am unable to smile — nor to cry, nor to cry out. I cannot — not yet.
Breathing in, I know I am breathing in
Breathing out, I am aware: conscious breathing is my anchor.

Suddenly, your gentle voice penetrates the clouded-over sky-mind.
“We will put these [charred remains] in the garden,” I hear you say.
Tears come and a half-smile.
Fear has released. The heart opens.

mb60-TheGift22: Sunday, September 15, 1996, Plum Village.
Outdoor Walking Meditation

It is Sunday, September 15, 1996.
It is the second day of the Jewish New Year, 5757.
This year at Plum Village, during a three-week retreat,

— “The Heart of the Buddha,” it is called —
We are observing the highest holy days of the Jewish people, in the way that they — or some of them — would observe them.

The seed you planted more than a decade ago has borne fruit.
“To make peace on the planet,” you said at a Reverence for Life Conference in 1982,
“each religious group should observe the most important holiday of each other religious group
in the way that group would observe the holiday.”

For the seed and for the fruit,
And for all the conditions which have allowed the gradual ripening of the fruit
I am grateful.

Now we are walking together in walking meditation.
Hand in hand, we walk through orchards of plum trees in the Lower Hamlet.
The trees are bearing fruit — sweet purple plums.
Our steps touch the Earth gently.
We are embraced by sunshine and blue sky.

Breathing in, I know that sunshine and rain, blue sky and Earth have nourished the fruit
and its gradual ripening
that residents of Plum Village, lay and monastic, have cared for the trees, harvested the fruit, and turned it into plum jam
that children in France gave money to plant these trees so that children in Vietnam could have medical supplies and food
Breathing out, I am aware that present in us in this moment
are all of our ancestors
and all of our descendants
We are the sunshine.
We are the blue sky.
We are the trees bearing fruit.

Here, now, we walk, hand in hand.
We are walking as a community, a Sangha.
We are walking with each other, we are walking for each other.
I walk for you. I know you are walking for me.

“Touching, touching”
“Connecting, connecting, connecting”
With each in-breath, I am walking two steps.
With each out-breath, I am walking three steps.
Step by step I am walking, breathing in, breathing out.
But I am aware that I am not truly present — not yet.

I walk in peace, but the mind goes in a million directions.
The energy of seeds from the individual and collective storehouse consciousness
remains strong.
The mind remains caught
In a net of burnings.

Breathing in, I am aware of regret:
There is sadness in me. I am caught.
Present in me — here, now — are blue sky, white clouds.
But I am not wholehearted. The mind is caught
In the past. The wounds of suffering, still present.

mb60-TheGift3Breathing out, my resolution deepens:
I vow to cultivate mindfulness with determination
I aspire to be fully present to the miracle
of being alive — here, now.
I aspire to open, wholehearted, in joy, to this present moment.

Crossing a narrow plank bridge, we arrive at the pond.
Human beings and trees, we encircle the water.
Together we stand, in the stillness.
Listening.
Waiting.
Breathing in, I am aware: breathing in.
Breathing out, I am aware: breathing out.
We hear the silence.

Hearing, hearing.
Breathing in, aware of birds chirping.
Breathing out, aware of leaves rustling.
Jacqueline begins to play her violin — the ancient Jewish melody Avinu Malkeinu.
We sing. No boundary.
Touching Jewish ancestors. No boundary.
Touching all ancestors. No boundary.
For some of us, this moment is the first time
To touch our ancestors.

In silence,
We pick up small sticks and stones, take lint from our pockets.
We name the times when we have missed the mark.
We acknowledge that we have sinned, as individuals and as communities.
By omission and by commission, we have caused suffering.
One by one, and together, we cast our sticks and stones and lint into the water.
One by one and together as a Sangha we transform consciousness.

Breathing in, I am aware of our multiple origins —
We are from Vietnam, Thailand, Japan, India, Bangladesh, Israel, Egypt, Russia, Sweden, Finland, Denmark,
Romania, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, France, England, Spain, the Netherlands,
Canada, U.S.A., Indigenous Peoples, New Zealand, Australia
Breathing out, I realize: not two, not one.

Breathing in, I am aware that in our Buddhist retreat center
We are observing tashlich, an ancient Jewish custom of renewal.
We are observing tashlich as Jews would observe it.
We are observing tashlich as Jews around the world are observing it, on this day.
We are observing tashlich amidst the trees, around a pond.
We are observing tashlich with friends from numerous countries — former enemies.
Breathing out, I know we are returning home, to our true origin and Source.

mb60-TheGift43: Sunday, September 15, 1996, Plum Village.
After Outdoor Walking Meditation

Now the walk is over and tashlich too.
We have cast into the water
Our unwholesome states of mind

And those times when we have missed the mark — sinned —
Individually and collectively.
We have deepened our determination
To cultivate wholesome states of mind,
Deep listening, deep looking, and wise action that meets the mark.

A novice monk thanks me for the tashlich observance.
He speaks to me from a place of love.
He speaks to me from the depth of his experience.
I hear what he is saying, and I am very happy.
We breathe together.
I speak softly of the burning of the paper,
Of the seeds from the individual and collective storehouse consciousness
which arose in me, and remained so strongly present.

I speak of the black charcoal remains,
Of your suggestion that we would put them in the Plum Village garden —
“We will put these [charred ashes] in the garden,” you had said —
I speak of the release in me when I heard you say that.
For a moment, we breathe together in silence.
“The ashes have been put in the Plum Village garden,”
My Dharma brother says with a gentle smile.
And I wonder — is it only by chance that I am speaking to the very monk
Who was given the ashes, who himself scattered them in the garden?

So —
Now it is done.
In nurturing soil of love and remembrance and compassion
In a small hamlet in southern France
Burned ancestors, brothers, and sisters, and children
Rest now. Charred remains renew the Earth.
Burned and burners: not two, not one.

A meditation appears:
Breathing in, I am aware of the seeds of suffering in me from my [Jewish and other] ancestors —
seeds of terror, seeds of rage, seeds of grief
Breathing out, I vow, for the well-being of all beings, to transform these seeds
with gentle caring

Breathing in, I am aware of the seeds of well-being in me
from my [Jewish and other] ancestors —
seeds of joy, seeds of love, seeds of wisdom
Breathing out, I vow, for the benefit of all beings, to discover and nourish these seeds with tenderness

Breathing in, I touch no birth, no death
Breathing out, I go beyond fear
Breathing in, I touch the Ground of All Being
Breathing out, I know that in this moment I have returned home, to my true self
A smile appears.
The precious gift of non-fear, always offered, has been received.
Thank you, my dear friends, for our observance together.

 

Reprinted from I Have Arrived, I Am Home (2003) by Thich Nhat Hanh with permission of Parallax Press, Berkeley, California, www.parallax.org.

Lyn Fine, True Goodness, is from New York City and now lives in Berkeley, California. She received Lamp Transmission from Thich Nhat Hanh in Plum Village in 1994.

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Lotus Flowers Sing in Lower Hamlet

By Ian Prattis

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During the 2001 Summer Retreat in Plum Village, I found a way to put the Three Refuges to good use in a totally unexpected manner. I was staying in Lower Hamlet with my friend Carolyn, and we had asked Sister Jina, the Abbess of Lower Hamlet, to perform a wedding ceremony for us on July 21 – the same day as the Ancestors’ Festival. I was the family head of the Magic Sponges, a wonderful pot-washing team drawn from eighteen different nationalities. Carolyn was the family head of the Fresh Eyes cleaning up team, and we both had a wonderful time working with our respective families.

However, it was not always smooth sailing. One evening after the last sitting meditation in the Dharma Nectar Temple, I noticed that the work of another family—Carolyn’s—was not done, so I decided to do it. Only I had a totally wrong attitude. That particular day I was tired and became irritated with the incomplete work, as it made the work of the Magic Sponges a little bit difficult. So I began to do the unfinished work, but with tiredness and irritation. I was not drawing on a happy, mindful heart, and I was certainly not present for the task at hand. The tiredness and irritation came out in unmindful speech to one member of the Fresh Eyes team who was turning up late to complete the work. As soon as these tired words came out, I knew they were unmindful and apologized, receiving generous forgiveness. My thoughts, however, did not become peaceful.

I knew that someone else would soon receive my irritation and tiredness through further unmindful speech on my part. I had to come to a stop and take care of the irritation and tiredness that was the root of my unmindful speech. I took off my apron and did slow walking meditation to the lotus pond, attaching my concentration and awareness to each in-breath and each out-breath. The slow walk from the kitchen to the lotus pond took about thirty minutes. Once there, I sat on a bench, became still and very present, and had a quiet talk with myself. During this conversation in my mind, I asked a question: Why am I here in Lower Hamlet?

There was a long silence. Then the answer came from deep within: To take deeper refuge in the Three Gems—Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. As I took notice of this voice within, all the irritation and heaviness lifted and I suddenly felt so free. Then I heard the lotus flowers sing in Lower Hamlet for the second time that day.

Earlier that morning, Carolyn and I had spent some time by the lotus pond. Carolyn loved to take photographs and had a wonderful series of lotus flowers in her camera. We were also completing our Beginning Anew prior to the wedding ceremony in a week’s time. As we sat by the lotus pond in the morning, rain clouds formed and heavy rain started to fall. I put up my big red umbrella and we stayed there while the rain grew stronger. It was so beautiful. We were dry and safe beneath the big red umbrella, totally silent, totally present. We felt one with the rain, the ground, and the lotus pond. There was nothing else. As the rainstorm softened and became a gentle shower, we heard the raindrops falling slowly and gently on the lotus flowers. That was when we both heard the lotus flowers sing.

In the evening, after hearing the lotus flowers sing again, I returned to the unfinished work and went about it with a happy heart. My friend in the other work team and I smiled to one another. Before I fell asleep that night, two lines floated into my mind:
In the Dharma rain I see lotus flowers sing in Lower Hamlet.

mb60-Lotus2Ian Prattis is the dharmacharya at Pine Gate Sangha in Ottawa, which is the nucleus of Friends for Peace Canada. He is also the author of The Essential Spiral;  Failsafe;  Earth My Body, Water My Blood; and Song of Silence, all available on Amazon Kindle.

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Step by Step out of Despair

Parenting a Child with Special Needs

By Laurel Houghton

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We were at home and I went to pick her up. She was blue, and her arms and legs limply dangled between my arms. I thought she was in a deep sleep. Then that she was dead. My first child, three days old. Not yet recovered from giving birth, I called her name, trying to bring her back to life as her father sped us to the ER. She’d had the first of many seizures that would only be stopped by literally putting her brain to sleep with drugs.

mb60-StepByStep2From that moment on, I lived in fear. I entered into a noble, instinctual struggle to save her life, changing in a few days from a scholarly doctoral student into a ferocious mother tiger. Meditation practice didn’t calm my parental instincts. Despite my ten-year morning and evening meditation practice, as she lay in Intensive Care hooked up to blinking machines and IVs, as she was prodded for blood tests, I lost my solidity. And between the pounding walls of the MRI, holding my tiny baby for a brain scan, I lost my faith.

She survived her birth, but we never found out the cause of the seizures and massive nervous system disorganization. One day she struggled to crawl and then gave up, flopping limply on the living room rug. Our baby was unable to talk, crawl, or walk. Her babble didn’t have normal sounds. It was then that I dropped my doctorate to study speech, occupational, physical, audio, and cutting edge therapies, usually staying up until midnight at our kitchen table as I studied specially ordered texts and planned an intervention program. I refused to accept her bleak prognosis, and solving her disabilities became my full-time work. For me, there was no balance and no breathing. My abdomen became rock hard.

Healthy mothers are often willing to give their life for their child. In my case, my personal determination to change her injured nervous system would dominate my life and become almost lethal. What I didn’t know or understand at the time was that trying to force a huge karmic drama of life into any particular outcome can eventually bring exhaustion and deep despair. Our efforts may be noble, but when we chronically stop breathing as we do our work, we are most likely caught in an ego- and fear-based control over life as it is. And giving my life to save my baby would nearly take both our lives.

My husband tried to help me notice what was good and easy in our family, but I couldn’t hear him. I was too frightened for my child. The already weak marriage became more conflicted and distant. An old family sexual secret that I’d been holding for years was eroding and splitting my psyche even more. Well-meaning friends tried to comfort me with: “God never gives you more than you can bear.” These well-intentioned words can be empty and irritating to a desperate person. What I needed was a powerful voice of wisdom and compassion; I needed to hear the Dharma from a teacher who knew trauma and war and could teach me how to emerge from trauma with clarity and love.

By my daughter’s fourth year, I’d become suicidal. Thoughts of suicide happen when you can no longer bear your life. Not willing to desert my baby daughter, I was feeling more frequent urges to die together with her. I heard the sad news of a Japanese mother in LA who committed suicide by taking herself and her children into the ocean surf with her. Other people were shocked, but I understood deeply. Even when life has become unbearable, a loving mother doesn’t leave her babies behind. Fortunately, years of meditation had strengthened the witnessing part of my mind, and I didn’t follow the despair that I felt. Instead I entered therapy, which brought deep understanding and healing around the roots of suffering in my family of origin.

A Bell of Happiness

In my spiritual practice, there was no one who seemed to speak to my suffering. In the Buddhist community, there seemed to be no one who warmly welcomed children. Then I heard of a monk who had been in war and came out of that violence speaking about flowers being fresh and mountains being solid. It was a faint bell of hope heard by an exhausted, traumatized mother who was struggling with too much and wondering if her child would live.

I went to hear Thay with hundreds of other people in the open meadows of Spirit Rock Meditation Center in the early 1990s. Seated beside him on the platform were two beautiful young children. He appeared to inhale their sweet youthfulness. This teacher who came from war, violence, and exile, and who loved children, impressed me. His clear words were an anchor to a quiet place that was deeper than my yelling fears, and a lifeline out of shock and sadness.

It was four years after my daughter’s birth and the cause of her problems was still unknown. The fear in her baby eyes as she fell into another seizure on the porch of our little cottage in San Francisco still flashed in my consciousness. It was as if I were trying to emerge from a bomb shelter. I couldn’t feel any trace of “present moment, wonderful moment.” So I changed it to what I could honestly say: “Present moment, nothing bad is happening right now moment.”

Balancing fear and fatigue with inhaling the present moment, I played Thay’s Dharma talks at home and in the car, and attended every retreat on both U.S. coasts with my daughter in arms. I took her to Plum Village. She would lie in my lap and gaze up into Thay’s quiet and loving face during Dharma talks. She loved the slow, quiet, smiling community, a respite from an impatient culture that moved and talked far too fast for her. And over the years, though we didn’t keep the silence and she ate lots of commercial peanut butter at the retreats, I could feel Thay’s words watering a new consciousness in me.

Present Moment, Not Bad Moment

Then, one year, as I looked at my daughter, a change happened. I was able to honestly shift to a tiny new step and silently say: “Present moment, not bad moment.” It wasn’t a change in her disabilities; it was a change in my consciousness that started to ease the fear and trauma. Noticing the sweet moments of raising a child had started to shift my consciousness like rain streaming into a dried southwest desert creek. Bathing her soft skin in the bathtub with me, I started to notice that the present moment had become an okay moment.

Slow steady changes started to flow within me as I made a powerful intention to live with a persistent practice, and not in fear. I looked at the beauty of camellias when we walked the neighborhood. As my daughter did crawling exercises, I would adore the cuteness of her thick thighs and nibble her tiny toes. While still forcing my growing toddler to make sounds by holding back her carrot juice when she was thirsty, I smiled into her eyes and noticed progress in her flat and incomprehensible sounds. I learned to breathe more deeply as I listened to her various therapists. I worked with the sometimes heartless and bureaucratic schools by walking into her education planning meetings very slowly, breathing, with the soles of my feet touching the earth.

In this mothering practice, I started holding my fearful heart as tenderly as I did my growing child. Eventually, lighter moments of honestly feeling “present moment, wonderful moment” started forming one by one, like deeply lustrous pearls on a strand of our happier life together. It took about seven years of intensive practice to steady myself and diminish the internal drama.

Twelve years ago, for my ordination application, I was asked, “Are you happy?”

I still wasn’t sure. The fears and worries still yipped loudly, like a large pack of coyotes at dusk. But I understood that this barking was the natural, earthly, loving nature of a mother and child. And I’d learned to take good care of the barking worries by simply checking on my daughter’s safety and the multiple to-do lists for her disabilities.

Breathing in Beauty

What is different is this: alongside the fears passing through me are the thoughts of the rosy cherry tomatoes in our organic garden, and the miraculous memory of my daughter dancing a choreography, and now, after many years of parenting, a train adventure in Thailand together. Am I happy? Yes, mostly, I am happy. And it’s possible to still have fear for her. But now, fears don’t sweep me away from the wonderful moment.

Along with holding my daughter’s special needs, I also hold my own heart and fears more gently. I believe that Thay’s presentation of Buddhist teaching and practice was one essential part of literally saving my life from suicide and possibly the life of my baby daughter as well. He taught me to breathe in beauty and balance in the midst of fear and trauma.

My daughter—Mirabai Collamore, Joyful Clarity of the Heart—is part of the first generation of Thay’s American children, having walked hand in hand with him as a little girl and having learned to make a lotus with tiny fingers. Two years ago, at age twenty-two, she chose to take the Five Mindfulness Trainings. The Dharma light shines in her. The disabilities that were so frightening have been chipped away to almost nothing by her hard work. She attends a university where the worries of college studies and exams are held in gratitude as the precious jewels of a normal life. When nervous about her studying, Mirabai listens to her childhood cassettes of Thay, and at night she falls asleep in the arms of his Dharma talks.

As teachers of the Dharma, may we not rush the practice. May we all remember that just the next honest and mindful step, and then the next, and then the next, can gradually walk us out of despair and out of any dark consciousness.

To Thay, dear teacher, my lifelong prostration of deep gratitude.

mb60-StepByStep3Laurel Houghton, True Virtue and Harmony, has opened Flowing Waters Retreat at Mt. Shasta, California, a mindfulness practice center, where she hopes to offer a place to alleviate suffering through Dharma practice, the singing crystal pure waters, and the joy of wild spotted orchids growing under the cedars.

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Beginning to Dance

By Miriam Goldbergmb60-Beginning1

Of Grief

And of grief,
carry it not as a burden
Though you are bent
to breaking, and beyond
do not carry it as a burden.

Instead, bow down to it
on your knotted hands
cracked elbows, scarred knees
Bow down in it
as deep as you can go.

Fall past the tearing
at your own soul
through the loss that calls you
to leave everything behind
and join
with what has gone.

Sink into that –
until you know
the whole universe has changed,
irrevocably,
that nothing will be the same
ever again

until you know this so deeply
that you understand
nothing ever was the same,
ever, ever, ever . . .

The bewildered, anguished
weeping of your flesh
that so delighted in and feared change
now trembles and shakes.

Meet this utter loss.
Meet it. And bear witness
while it is stripped of everything
but its helplessness -
no skin, no bones, no face,
yet looks you straight in the eye
while it crumbles.
And becomes something
it didn’t know existed,

something that knows
grief is the resonant echo
of life sounding
the depths of change,

and carries grief
not as a burden, but as a truth,
a gossamer extension of life,
light, delicate filaments,
illuminating infinity,

in which it bows
and begins to dance.

The first time I visited Plum Village I stepped out of the transport van into the small courtyard of New Hamlet. A timeless welcome flowed through the old shutters lining the thick walls around me. I was told to put my bags down, register inside, find my room, and then come back into the dining area for a little more orientation. My way wound through narrow hallways to the barrack style beds in the dorm room. The feel of old stones and something quiet made my body smile.

Free from my luggage, I returned to the courtyard, walked back up the few stairs of the entryway, and turned right towards the dining room. As I stepped over the threshold, a gentle tidal wave of energy washed over and through me. Astonished, and in awe, I couldn’t move, nor did I want to. I stood there in awakened gratitude, feeling the magic and reality of longing fulfilled, as every cell in me was bathed in the experience of Well-Being. My feet felt fully connected to the earth. Everything was open. Everything was here. I had arrived.

In each subsequent retreat at Plum Village, I felt the fruit of practice alive in the air. It was all around: a deeply nourishing presence my whole body received. But even as I recognized it, I did not experience it residing in me or easily accessible through my breath. Inside, I was more aware of a lingering sense of dismay and searching. My breath would slow into something other than peace, a tension or fear, or a deep and almost motionless hiding.

Through the years, the collective presence of the Plum Village Sangha offered me steady solidity and cradled my mind, heart, and body energies. This deep Sangha support allowed and called layers of distress to arise in repeated attempts to be seen and tended by mindfulness, often accompanied by a helplessness and despair that held hostage my suffering and eclipsed love. Even though I felt I was swimming upstream, I knew I was steeping in something as precious as anything I had known: a key to the end of suffering.

I slowly learned which images, concentration, and inner mantras brought me ease. The solidity of earth that supports me as I sit and as I walk, the sun that warms us wherever we are, and gradually, an unwinding of tension into restfulness. My metta meditation became: “May I know that in me which is always peaceful. May I know that in me which is always safe. May I know that in me which is always happy,” and so on. The extended verse followed the forms: “May you know that in you” and “May we know that in us.” The certainty affirmed in this practice kept my rudder set on the truth.

Over many years, and much exploration and perseverance, the “personal contact, images, and sounds,” to which the Fourth Mindfulness Training (Awareness of Suffering) alludes, brought a solid remembrance of Presence I could trust. With right diligence, I felt the fruits of practice offer me increasing nourishment. And gradually, my breath began to harmonize with the eternal Presence of Well-Being until it found its own rhythm and opened its wings into freedom. The loveliness of life began to walk hand in hand with the suffering.

The two poems, “Of Grief ” and “This Life,” describe some treasures I found while walking the Plum Village path. I offer them with gratitude for the Sangha, the Dharma, the Buddha, and Thay.

This Life

What is this life?
if not a great lifting of wings

from earth to the heavens,
the whole universe opening
with the dive
into deep space.

Stars’ delighted twinklings welcome us
into an exquisitely infinite smile
melting our hearts to eternal love.

Here, a gentle knowing whispers us on feather soft wings
to that very point
where our toes touch unto earth and into our lives.

Our roots
sink deep, endlessly renewing.

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Plum Village Smiles

Plum Village  is  not  a Vietnamese temple set on European  land.  In  Plum Village, we see the Indian culture, the Chinese culture, the Vietnamese culture, and the Western culture. When we look carefully, we see that non-Plum Village elements exist in Plum Village. Consequently, Plum Village is also an object of meditation. The deeper we look, the more clearly we see it…. If we look deeply, we see that Plum Village is also unborn and undying.
- Thich Nhat Hanh

 

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Anh Thieu came from Vietnam by boat with his wife and two children.
They were the first people to help us start Plum Village. From the winter of 1982 to the summer of 1983, we had to work a lot. In early 1983, we began to plant some trees in the Upper Hamlet. The first trees were six umbrella pine trees.
– Thich Nhat Hanh

 

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If you come to Plum Village, you have to take home with you no less than Plum Village in its entirety. Bringing Plum Village home, you will be able to survive longer. The teaching and practice of “I have arrived, I am home” always complements the teaching of “going as a river and not as a drop of water.” If you are a drop of water, then you will evaporate halfway; but if you go as a river, you will surely reach the ocean.
- Thich Nhat Hanh

 

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Photos courtesy of Plum Village, Eileen Kiera, and Lyn Fine. Quotes reprinted from I Have Arrived, I Am Home (2003) by Thich Nhat Hanh with permission of Parallax Press, Berkeley, California, www.parallax.org.

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Mama, Today Is a Special Day

By Sister Trang Moi Len

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Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is the day you gave birth to me. Mama, you felt contractions in the evening and you went to the clinic. The nurse said I would arrive in the morning so you went home. Instead, I was born at home just a little past midnight, and everything went smoothly. You told me I couldn’t wait to see the world, but I knew it was because I couldn’t wait to see your smile and your beautiful face. The rain in the morning welcomed me on the day I was born. Thank you, mama, for this special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is my first day of school at Pearl Kindergarten. You saw me off to school, but I wouldn’t let go of you and held on to you tightly. I was scared by the new faces and by the presence of other children. You tried to comfort me. Finally, after you played with me at the swing, I calmed down. The teacher took my hand, but I started crying and I called your name. Before I graduated from kindergarten there was a school carnival, and you prepared a costume for me. I asked you about the costume and you said it was a stewardess uniform. The costume was beautiful. Mama, I always smile when I remember this beautiful day and I still have a picture of carnival day. Thank you, mama, for such a special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today you gave me permission to play basketball. Many of my friends played basketball and they invited me to join, but you wouldn’t allow me to play because I’m a girl. I played without letting you know. One day, when I was playing with my friends, it began to rain heavily so we decided to play soccer. We played in the rain and I had a great time. The next day I got sick; I had a fever and I vomited. Later you found out why I was sick and you were upset, worried, and sad. You forbade me from playing basketball. I was sad too, not because I couldn’t play basketball, but because I’d caused you so much pain and worry. For a few days I didn’t speak much, and I sat on the veranda to watch the rain. You thought that I was sad. You changed your mind and let me play basketball as much I liked. But actually I was just enjoying the rain. Do you know, mama, it was the happiest day of my life. Thank you, mama, for this special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today I am sick. I got exhausted from playing too much basketball and I’ve been sick for a month. I was disappointed because there was an upcoming basketball match in another town but I had to stay home. I told you I wanted to die because I felt helpless, but you comforted me and said I’d be fine. Day and night you took care of me, took me to the doctor, made me comfort food, made sure I took my medicine, and checked my temperature regularly. One day, I woke up and looked for you but you weren’t home. I cried and told papa I wanted to see you. You came home right away. When I saw you, I felt relieved and safe so I stopped crying. Mama, please forgive me for being so spoiled and causing you so many sleepless nights. Your love is always there for me even when I don’t behave. Thank you, mama, for making this day a special day.

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Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today I graduated from senior high school. You let me continue my studies in Jakarta, the capital city of Indonesia. You were sad and I didn’t know. I was happy that I was going to see a world I’d never seen before. I’d be free because you wouldn’t be by my side to tell me what to do anymore. You cried on the day I left home. When I arrived in Jakarta, my joy went away. I missed you. Although I called you every week, my heart still longed for you. I felt lonely and I cried often. You gave me support and told me that I’d be okay, and that I’d make a lot of new friends and have an enjoyable time at school. Because of you I had the motivation to continue and I had a joyful experience. Thank you, mama, for making it a special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is the day of my university graduation. When I told you about my graduation, you were so happy and full of gratitude. You worked hard earning money for my tuition, and even though I wasn’t always a good student, you were still happy I was studying. You couldn’t attend my graduation and only papa came, but I was still happy and grateful because I know your love is always with me. Thank you, mama, for making this day a special day.

Heartfelt Aspiration

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is October 6, 2009, the day I went to Plum Village and realized my deep heartfelt aspiration. You didn’t agree, and you were angry about my choice, but I stayed on my path. Before I left home I shared with you my aspiration about true happiness and about monastic life. You didn’t understand but you listened to me and you gave me permission to go, hoping that someday I’d change my mind. You were sad and worried that you would lose me. Please forgive me, mama. I wanted to become a nun not because I don’t love you—I love you very much—but because I need to transform my suffering to receive your love. Thank you, mama, for letting me go. Thank you for making this day a special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is May 27, 2010, when I received the Ten Novice Precepts. My hair, inherited from you, was shaved off. I vowed to transform all the afflictions in me. Although you weren’t present at my ordination, I know you are in me. Since the day you received the news about my ordination, you refused to talk to me. In October I went back to Indonesia with my beloved teacher and Sangha. You didn’t want to see me as a nun and instead you sent my brother to meet me, to find out if I was doing well and if I was happy. I know deep down in your heart you love and care about me very much. I wasn’t sad because I knew you needed time to accept and to heal your wounds. Do you know, mama, I have a lot of brothers and sisters in the Dharma who love me and support me in the practice. Because of you and your love, I have the aspiration to transform myself so I know the way to offer my love for you and to learn how to live in the present moment, to appreciate the wonders of life, the life that you have given to me. I am now living happily as a nun. Thank you, mama, for making this day a special day.

Mama, today is a special day. Do you know why? Today is March 23, 2011, the day I went to Indonesia again to see you. I didn’t tell you in advance, but just showed up on the doorstep. Papa answered the door and was surprised to see me. I gave him a kiss and went to your room; you heard my voice and you started crying. You didn’t want to see my face but I hugged and kissed you and told you how much I loved you. You didn’t say anything until your sister-in-law came. She helped me to embrace your suffering. When I was in Indonesia, I went to visit you every day and listened to your suffering, your anger, your worries, and your pain. I listened deeply while relying on my breathing. After two weeks, you smiled again and we shared conversations filled with joy and happiness. I shared with you about my life in Plum Village, my teacher and brothers and sisters. I told you about our daily lives and the experiences of sharing the joy of those who have transformed themselves through the practice.

A flower started to bloom in your heart, and I could feel the transformation and healing happening in you. I have learned from my teacher that my mother is in me and the transformation and healing taking place in me are also in you, mama, papa, and our ancestors. I saw it very clearly. Since then my inner child is healing and becoming happier day by day. You supported me in continuing my spiritual path although I know you still miss me a lot and hope that I can stay by your side. Thank you, mama, for making this a special day in my life.

Thank you, mama, for giving birth to me so that I could experience the miracle of life. There are no words that can express my gratitude to you, Su Ong, and Su Co Chan Khong. Thank you all my beloved ancestors and respected teachers.

mb60-Mama3Sr. Trang Moi Len, True Rising Moon, lives and practices in New Hamlet, Plum Village.

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Such Treasure

Gratitude for Plum Village Practice

By Chan Ngo Nguyen Duy Vinh

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I would like to offer some memorable milestones for Plum Village’s 30th Anniversary celebration. Though my capability for remembering is reduced due to my growing age, my mind is able to go back as far as 1966, when I received a small booklet entitled A Rose for Your Pocket (Bong Hong Cai Ao) from a high school classmate. I was only eighteen years old and I was studying in Quebec City at that time, far away from home. My mother was still alive when I left my country and she died a few years later. My mother lived in Vietnam and we often communicated by ordinary snail mail. We didn’t have Skype or email as we do today. Sometimes I missed her a lot. We all miss our beloved ones when we are far away from them.

While I enjoyed every word of the booklet written by Thay in Vietnamese, the love toward a mother described so vividly in the booklet was like a glass of cold water poured onto my head. I was “awakened” by Thay’s writing. Thay wrote about his mother, and I could relate to it. I felt some regret that I hadn’t known how to fully appreciate my mother’s sweet presence when we were together. Far away from home and from her, I realized I was so stupid for not letting my mother know more often how much I loved her.

I didn’t think of this author, Thay, again until 1984 when I had a chance to be in France, attending a scientific conference in Toulouse. At the end of the conference, a friend of mine offered to drive me to Plum Village as he had to visit his family not far from Duras. This was my first encounter with Plum Village. I wasn’t well prepared as I didn’t know what the practice of mindfulness was all about. It was all new to me and I was culturally shocked.

My first encounter with Plum Village was a challenging one. Eating in silence, walking in silence, sitting in silence, doing almost everything mindfully in silence. And there was no coffee for our breakfast meal in the morning. I found it a bit hard and I even thought of quitting. But somehow, my mind told me to persist and I stayed. On the fourth day, I suddenly tasted a kind of peaceful feeling I hadn’t tasted before. And this was the beginning of my long journey with Thay’s teachings and my Sangha practice thereafter.

I attended almost all Canadian retreats led by Thay between 1985 and 2005. In 1987 I began practicing regularly with the Maple Village Sangha in Montreal, and around 1991, together with some new friends in the Sangha, we founded the Ottawa Pagoda Sangha. This small Sangha has undergone many ups and downs but we have survived the waves of change. Today, supported by a strong and dedicated core group of OI and non-OI members, this Sangha holds regular weekly sessions and monthly days of mindfulness. Its activities can be seen on www.pagodasangha.org.

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Although my struggle with my old “bad” habits continues, and it happens from time to time that I derail from the right track, I can firmly tell you that we are in good hands with this practice. Mindful living has allowed me to attain some sort of a balance in my life and this way of living continues to protect me in various ways. My challenges have ranged from teaching large groups of university engineering students to driving in busy and dangerous streets in Yaounde (Cameroon). The challenges included giving talks in front of a crowd and performing choir songs in front of a large audience as well as dealing with some adverse moments in my life. For example, one time I had a very bad reaction to an antibiotic treatment the doctor gave me after a minor surgery. I was admitted to the emergency room in the hospital. Mindful breathing allowed me to be in control of my feelings and I was able to be at peace despite the very hectic moment. Another time, we encountered severe flooding in the basement with a broken water pipe during a harsh winter night of -25 degrees Celsius. It was very cold and windy. Mindful breathing allowed me to undertake urgent repair actions without panicking.

Nowadays, I’m able to live more and more in the present moment and to be more and more at peace with whatever I’m doing. Of course the struggle continues, but thanks to all my Sangha friends who provide guidance and support, I am evolving each day with all these blessings.

I present my deep gratitude to Thay and the Fourfold Sangha as one of the Plum Village songs resonates in my mind: You have given me such a treasure, I love you so…

Chan Ngo (Nguyen Duy Vinh) lives in Ottawa, Canada and practices with the Ottawa Pagoda Sangha. He received the Lamp Transmission from Thay in 1994 in Plum Village.

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Heartsong

By Brother Phap Sieu

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The most common question we are asked as young monastics is, “Why did you become a monk?” I find that I often answer differently. The responses are all true but vary depending on my experiences that day, or who is asking. This process gently reflects that there is no clear stream of events, or even one particular moment, that opens the way to monastic life. The more I recall, the broader my scope of memory becomes. I must conclude that it is a continual process, which may have begun with a mother’s compassion for her son, extending into the present and onwards. However, there are a few particular memories that shine.

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Once during a camping trip organized by the Vietnamese Buddhist Youth Association, two group leaders got into a very heated argument. Just when it seemed they were about to come to blows, the older one announced, “I’m going to breathe,” and promptly vanished into the trees. At thirteen, I waited as long as I could (about five minutes) and then followed. The smiling man, now sitting calmly under a tree, was unrecognizable as the one who had been yelling just moments before. Later he explained that he had learned how to take care of his anger while living in a monastery in Southern France. But the first time I met the Plum Village monks and nuns was completely against my will.

Miraculous  Brotherhood

There was no way I was going without a fight. A meditation retreat? At the beginning of summer! But kick and scream as I might, it was fruitless. The agreement was made: if my brother and I were to go for just the week, we would get a whole month of summer to ourselves—no extra-curricular activities, no youth camp, no book reports!

The orientation was boring. How could it not be? One thousand people sitting, watching some monk speak in Vietnamese. I understood about one word in twenty and was too cool (or proud, though I never would have admitted it then) to ask for translation. But the chanting was neat. The bell was pretty cool, too. There was something about how an entire room completely stilled—and if you’ve ever been in a room filled with Vietnamese friends, you know what a feat that is.

It was with the slumped shoulders and defiant eyes classic to many teenage boys that I approached the room marked “Teen Program.” Double-checking my bag to see if my CD player and headphones were on hand, I stepped through the door.

A few days later, one would not have recognized the irrepressibly smiling, glowing young man I’d become. The Teen Program was  awesome! Who knew monks and nuns could be so… cool! They even took us to the beach—even rolled up their pants and played in the waves, splashing! But most miraculous was my sense of brotherhood with the other teens. Who could believe that in just five days I could be so open, feel so embraced by these kids whom I’d just met earlier that week? Certainly not me—nor the other teens. It was with continuing wonderment that we shared, laughed, and learned together.

The drive back to San Francisco from San Diego was about eight hours. As we neared our house I woke up briefly. “Mom…I have a question.” She seemed a bit startled; I’d been so quiet most of the trip. “Why did we wait so long before coming to these retreats?”

The Pursuit of Consumption

So tired. That was the thought that followed me to bed every evening, then waited, crouching by the headboard, to greet me every morning. College was everything I had expected it to be, for the first year. That was before having to worry about rent, essays, job applications, clothes, parties, friends, what I would do with the rest of my life. All I wanted was to find a meaningful direction that truly resonated with me. Instead I was taught how to be “successful”: how to make money and keep it. I ignored the happiness of my heart in favor of the calculating logic of my mind. I began to lose touch with the verve of life. Friends began to tell me I seemed down, needed to get out more. Teachers asked about late assignments, and roommates wondered if I wanted to go out Thursday night.

The absence of a spiritual practice and community support was really beginning to show. The Plum Village Retreats seemed ages ago; I was too “cool” now, too mature for singing circles and handholding. There was no way that stuff would work in the real world.

So instead of returning to my body and my breathing, and taking care of my emotions, I partied. At first the partying was filled with real enthusiasm, excitement, and perhaps even happiness. Then the partying became mandatory. Upon meeting friends on campus, instead of “How are you doing?” or “How’s your day?” the common greeting was, “How was your night?” Without enough courage or mindfulness to face the suffering within myself, to stop I was flung headlong into the whirlpool of consumption.

Suddenly I could not wait for the latest movie, book, or CD, could not wait for the next restaurant to open. Life dwindled to nothing but seeking the means to fulfill my need to consume. Later, in my aspiration letter to the monastic community, I likened the pursuit of consumption to a day in an amusement park. Stand in line for roller coaster: three hours; experience twenty-five-second adrenaline rush; get out of roller coaster; get back in line.

Magical Antidote

One day I received a letter in the mail. It was from Mom. Frustrated by my evasiveness on the phone, she finally put everything she felt to paper: all eighteen pages of it. The first three pages expressed concern for my well-being; the following three pages were full of comfort and encouragement. The next six contained detailed charts and graphs depicting just how much my college education cost. The final five revealed a candid account of Mom’s own experience upon first arriving in the U.S.: the humiliating struggle through high school as a complete alien, being responsible for six younger brothers and sisters, acclimating to a completely new continent—all without even the benefit of a common language.

It was a magical antidote for me. Hand-written and drawn, it was a mother’s true love for her child given form. Reading and receiving the contents accomplished what years of consumption, partying, and even counseling tried to hide: I recognized my suffering. I was no longer victim to my own self-pity, helplessness, and apathy. Reading the letter was the beginning of a re-opening of the heart. It also removed any assumptions about the practice being “kiddie stuff.”

Soon afterwards, I found myself driving south to Deer Park Monastery. I continued to visit Deer Park regularly every few months, commuting up and down the California coast, choosing to spend the weekend or spring break there. It was during one of these trips, windows down, speakers blasting the classic Plum Village CD, Rivers, when something clicked. I must have driven up and down the same highway over fifty times at that point, and never had I once recognized the beauty of the setting sun on my left, the soaring mountains on the right. Was there ever anything so beautiful? How could I have driven right by all these years without ever seeing? My heart was filled with a vast and immense joy. In that moment I made an oath to myself to do whatever it took to continue to live fully in the moment, to no longer be blind or deaf to the wonders around me, to life! It was but a small step from there to Plum Village, where the arms of the Sangha enfolded me.

mb60-Heartsong3Phap Sieu (Dharma Transcendence) is an energetic monk who loves sharing the Dharma with young people. He especially enjoys drinking tea and playing with the brothers. He resides in Upper Hamlet, Plum Village.

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Wake Up

A Collective Aspiration

By Brother Phap Luu

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In May 2008, Phap Thanh, Phap Ho, Phap Xa and I went to see Thay in Hanoi before flying back to the United States. From the time we arrived until the moment we walked out the door, Thay discussed just one thing: how we can find ways to share the practice with young people? I was living in Deer Park at the time, and there were plenty of young people coming and going. We hosted college retreats, and even a group of college students who came to stay for two weeks. What Thay wanted to begin was an international movement for young people.

Back in Plum Village that summer, Thay continued to press the issue. Phap Linh and Hien Nghiem, only recently ordained as novices, received the full momentum of Thay’s message, and soon, along with many other young monastics and lay friends, they were mounting a website, making films, and finding new ways to reach the youth. At one point, Phap Linh called and asked if I wanted to be the main contact for Wake Up in the States. The program was already present in Thay and Sister Chan Khong’s School for Youth and Social Service in Vietnam, and it was continuing in the youth retreats in Plum Village. A movement was taking form.

It became clear to me that this was not just about sharing the practice of mindfulness with young people; that would make it seem like I had everything sorted out already, and I just needed to pass the wisdom on to them. Wake Up is about finding the answers together. Our ecological communities, our diversity, our aspirations, and our confusion form a common base of happiness and suffering, and these issues are in no way settled once and for all.

Refuge in Harmony

The spirit of Wake Up is a collective aspiration to figure things out together, in our own minds and bodies, as best we can from moment to moment. This means coming back to our breath in times of stress and taking refuge in each other’s insights, even when we’re convinced our idea is best. It’s about waking up to the presence and aspirations of our brothers and sisters, even when we disagree with them, and finding harmony amidst our myriad strands of culture, race, gender, and class.

Wake Up tours are specifically tailored to meet the physical, emotional, and financial needs of young people. Using the spaces that are graciously offered to us, we sum up the basics of the Plum Village tradition for young people. We keep the talks short and the practice simple. We sit, breathe, walk, eat, relax, listen deeply, and speak with mindfulness and love. Every two-hour session has a period for “down time,” when the monastics and young lay practitioners can get to know the first-timers and connect emotionally with them. Also, we try to remove financial obstacles by making everything low-key, from traveling in a van packed with monastics to sleeping on Sangha members’ floors. As always, much depends on the generosity of more mature practitioners who give from the heart.

In 2010, we initiated two Wake Up tours—the first in the United Kingdom and the second in my homeland, the United States. Seven monastics went to the UK in the spring, while eleven of us made it through the northeastern U.S. tour last fall. Thay advises us to go as a river when we travel. Though that has meant, at times, coursing along two or three different channels as we pass an island, the river always comes back to itself.

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In Your Hands

These rivers will soon be coursing through your neighborhood. After this edition of the Mindfulness Bell is published, the Wake Up Tour will have flowed through California, at times in conjunction with our brothers and sisters in the Against the Stream movement (founded by friend Noah Levine, author of Dharma Punx). Some pools will swell in Italy, and five young monastics will go to the three largest cities in Spain. Brothers and sisters from the European Institute of Applied Buddhism will support a tour in the Netherlands, and plans are in the works for the first tour in Germany and the second tour in the UK this fall.

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Written words can do little to put you in touch with the energy of the Wake Up movement. If you’re moved by this, please check out the numerous resources we have online:
• The Wake Up website: http://wkup.org, and local sites: http://us.wkup.org, http://uk.wkup.org, etc.
• Wake Up on Facebook (try searching by country or area)
• Videos from the tours on YouTube, Vimeo, and the Wake Up website

We are still in the midst of pulling all of the resources together in a coherent way, but that is another beautiful thing about Wake Up: it’s a grassroots movement and it is already in your hands. We don’t even know all of what is out there, because new retreats, songs, poems, and stories are being created every day.

If you’re young, start a Wake Up group at your school or at home. If you’re more mature, find ways to support Wake Up morally and/or financially. You could offer a space for a Wake Up group to meet, be available and present to support Wake Up groups (but let them lead themselves!), or buy them a ticket to Plum Village or to a retreat near you.

Thank you for your love, care, and support. There is no limit to how far this can go.

mb60-WakeUp4After graduating college and spending some years living and working in Spain and France, Brother Phap Luu (Brother Stream) was ordained as a monk in 2003 at Plum Village. He received teaching transmission from Thich Nhat Hanh in 2011. He has helped to guide retreats in Europe, Asia, and the Americas. He grew up amidst the forests and rivers of western Connecticut, and now lives in the Dharma Cloud Temple of Plum Village.

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Integrating Head and Heart

Organizing a Wake Up Tour

By Brandon Rennels

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A year ago I was sitting at a cafe in Ann Arbor, Michigan, enjoying breakfast with a beloved professor from university. When I was in school he taught a course entitled Psychology of Consciousness, which was my first introduction to mindfulness practice. Peace is Every Step happened to be required reading, and after I finished the course I wondered why this material wasn’t taught in every classroom.

That day, I had gone to the professor seeking guidance. For a few years I had been working internationally in the business world as a management consultant. During this time I developed a skill set for turning high-level strategy into tactical recommendations, and for the cultural sensitivity necessary to bring messages to diverse audiences. While I enjoyed the problem-solving nature of my work, I felt I should be serving a different clientele; it was people, not corporations, I wanted to help grow. I had been keeping up my spiritual practice and also knew there was a growing interest in mindfulness in major U.S. institutions, especially in the field of education.

I knew I wanted to make a change but I didn’t know where to start.

My professor mentioned that there was a growing number of interested educators with Ph.D.s, and a wealth of mindfulness practices. Perhaps what was missing, he said, was support in managing the various threads and actually implementing these new models of learning. He asked: Instead of abandoning my business training, could I somehow integrate head and heart by leveraging my consulting skills to support the realms of mindfulness and education?

I had no idea. But it seemed like the right question to ask. As with all great teachers, he merely pointed the way… and I took it upon myself to forge ahead into the unknown.

Leap of Faith

A few months later I decided to take a leap of faith by embarking on a six-month leave of absence from my corporate post. I had two stated intentions: 1) immerse myself in mindfulness practice, and 2) learn how I might support its growth in education. My first stop was a weeklong retreat at Deer Park Monastery in California. I figured it would be an opportunity for immersion. Little did I suspect that both of my intentions would be watered.

On encouragement from a friend, towards the end of the retreat I worked up the courage to ask a monastic if I might be of service. I explained my background and that I could offer my support as a volunteer for the next few months. Much to my surprise, his eyes opened wide: “Ah ha! The universe is aligning.” He told me there were a couple of education initiatives that were searching for support from someone with a business/organizational skill set. Now it was my eyes that opened wide.

Supporting the Sangha

The next month, a week before the east coast Wake Up tour, I arrived at Blue Cliff Monastery in New York. The monastics and I were unsure how I was going to help, but in that not-knowing was a freedom to respond appropriately to whatever situation arose.

Much of the work had already been completed by the time I arrived, and we were in the final stages of preparation for the tour. Entering any project mid-stream can feel overwhelming; ideally, you are there from the beginning. In most cases, however, you don’t have that luxury. More importantly, it just isn’t necessary. Asking questions, listening deeply, and being patient are all it takes to be able to contribute.

My intention was to be as helpful as I could in supporting the Sangha. I began by asking one of the main organizers, “Is there anything you need help with?” When he was feeling more comfortable, I went to the other organizers and asked them. Then I began asking a different question: “This looks like it could use help; do you want me to work on it?” Over time, this evolved into: “I went ahead and took care of this. Let me know what you think.”

This approach created conditions for me to take on operational items such as supporting the website and managing the email list, as well as strategic areas such as overseeing social media presence and helping to allocate the advertising budget. My responsibilities grew organically, and were nurtured in a supportive and collegiate environment with the backdrop of a serene monastery. Not a bad way to work!

A week later the team at Blue Cliff set out on the road to begin the tour.

Space to Breathe

Our first events were in Boston, where we convened as an entire group. The day before the Harvard University event we had a number of decisions to make, and the full community of fifteen-plus monastic and lay friends gathered around a large wooden table. I had become more familiar with the working styles of the group and was looking forward to an unfiltered view of how a Fourfold Sangha makes decisions.

Coming from the corporate world, I was accustomed to a top-down, fast-paced, heavily structured decision-making process. The monastic community operates bottom-up, in a very organic and non-hierarchical way. The meeting opened with three sounds of the bell, and we began by speaking one a time. One of the primary issues was whether or not we were going to visit Occupy Boston. Many questions were raised: How political is the event? Could we go just as spectators? What kind of message would we be sending by going? Should we just go to invite people to our sitting meditation? There were divergent viewpoints, but we eventually reached a full consensus. Afterwards it was explicitly stated that the meeting was over and it was time to let go of any residue and move on. While it was a lengthy process, shortening it would inevitably result in some people not being heard. By giving everyone space to express themselves, regardless of outcome there was no resentment and everyone felt respected.

The following day, over one hundred people showed up for a Day of Mindfulness at Harvard. I volunteered to staff the registration desk, where each attendee would be asked a series of questions that were entered into an Excel file. It was a chance for me to practice my efficiency skills in a potentially stressful environment, as most people would be arriving in a hurry just a few minutes before the start time. I felt it was important for this process to go smoothly, knowing this was the first impression most people would have.

Sitting at the desk, I found myself simultaneously wondering how fast I could process each person’s info and how many people I could get to smile. While I had my verbal script and keyboard strokes down to a science, I protected the space to provide a warm welcome to every person and to allow them space to breathe.

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One hundred people came, one hundred people went. I was gifted with many smiles.

Harmony Was the Way

As the tour progressed I gained more responsibility, and eventually some of the monastics started lovingly (I think) introducing me as “the manager.” While they were mostly joking (I think), in this structure I was perhaps as close to a lay manager as one could get.

A fundamental skill of being a good manager is knowing when to delegate tasks to others. Having faced this situation in the past, I was familiar with the trade-offs. Do the task yourself and it will likely get done faster and with more accuracy. Give the task to others and while it may take longer (and they may not want to do it), you will be teaching someone. What was unique about this situation, however, was the underlying objective. In the corporate world, the priority is productivity; here, the priority was harmony. Ideally you have both, but oftentimes you need to choose which is more important: getting it done or making everyone happy. For the first time in my life, it was clear that harmony was the way.

Near the end of the tour we aspired to send out a “feedback survey” for participants to share their thoughts following the workshops. There were multiple purposes here: for the participants, to provide an outlet to reflect on their experiences and encourage them to keep up their practice; for us, a chance to learn what went well and how we could improve for the next tour. Timing was important; if the survey was sent out too late, response rate would likely be low and the experience would no longer be fresh in their minds.

We decided to administer the survey using two online tools with which the monastics didn’t have much experience. I spent time training one of the tech-savvy nuns how to create the survey, send it out, track responses, etc. Two weeks later the surveys hadn’t yet been sent and I was becoming slightly anxious. I sat with this anxiety and it passed with the understanding of how busy our lives can be. I emailed the sister asking if she needed help, which I would be genuinely happy to provide. The next day I awoke to find all the surveys had been sent out, along with a friendly reply back thanking me for my encouragement. I smiled.

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Looking back at that afternoon with my professor in Ann Arbor, I couldn’t have imagined a more direct manifestation of my desire to integrate head and heart. Perhaps my greatest lesson on this tour was that of trust. Trusting in myself and my abilities, trusting in others and their capacity to support, and trusting in the universe to light the way.

mb60-Integrating4Since the east coast Wake Up tour, Brandon Rennels decided to resign from his post in the corporate world and continue to support mindful education initiatives while deepening his own practice. He spent three months in Plum Village this past winter, practicing and assisting with the Applied Ethics initiative, and is now heading back to California for the next chapter of his journey… just in time for another Wake Up tour.

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Love in Our Generation

By Jenny Hamp

mb60-Love1In April 2011, I asked a Brooklyn Sangha friend how to get in touch with New York Wake Up. The next week I found out I was organizing it. My friend had volunteered me to help a young adult from the Manhattan Sangha who wanted to start a group. Our incentive was an email from Thay’s monastics, a mission like the start of a treasure map: you will have four days with eight monastics for part of a Wake Up tour in New York City, and “it is up to you folks to decide what to do.” Eventually four of us (two men and two women; two people of color and two Caucasians) got together to create a Wake Up group… and somehow plan for our part of the tour.

We decided to focus on the upcoming monastics’ visit and to use weekly Wake Up meetings, open to anyone, for practice and planning. We would have a short sit, drink tea, eat a meal, or walk together in the park. Then we would look at many exciting questions: Should we have a retreat in one place, or different places? Should we have people bring lunch? How were we going to advertise? Understanding often came in conversation when we weren’t looking for answers. I soon caught on to a new energy I hadn’t experienced before. After each meeting I felt lighter, inspired, and optimistic, whether or not we had made any headway. It took me a while to notice this wasn’t a chance occurrence.

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We cast wide nets for schools and contemplative groups who might want to help share the practice with young adults. Every time we had a good insight, or successfully connected with a student group, it felt like sharing a good meal that was never finished. Every time we miscommunicated with someone or an opportunity fell through, we supported each other and held the disappointment without blame or judgment.

Many people quickly swung out to help. The monastics planning the tour brought their experience and clear vision to pull all the threads together. Our lay Dharma teachers offered their full support and also their contacts at universities for us to meet. The Gershwin Hotel provided housing, event planning, food, and a free event space. A young business consultant joined us in planning the tour and launched a Facebook campaign. When we pulled the nets in, we found we would have a full Day of Mindfulness in the city, a concert, a flash mob, two visits to private schools, a visit to a public school, and two sessions at a juvenile detention center. Additionally, over 300 people were planning to attend.

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The Fruit of Our Efforts

On the first day of the Wake Up Tour in New York, I got to see the fruit of these efforts. After a mindful meal, the monastics asked the group of about 100 young adults what they had experienced. One person was aware of each ingredient in her sandwich, much more now than when she made it. Someone else discovered he actually did not enjoy peanut butter and jelly very much. I was hearing calm accounts of people becoming aware of their food—not as an exotic experiment that was outside of themselves, but as a simple witnessing and perceiving through their own senses. I felt so happy to see that with half a day of practice in the city it was possible to stop. I felt like I had gained many sisters and brothers in an instant. Here were so many other young adults with the same open interest and hopefulness.

Another highlight for me was the ice cream machine at Lehman College. After a session with students, we had dinner there with the monastics and some young adults traveling on the tour. The vending machine was a contraption, and we were so excited to put money in it and see gears and claws and hinges whirring around just to deliver an ice cream sandwich! We laughed with total abandon, and got a second sandwich so we could watch it again, crying with laughter. The sisters cut the sandwiches up carefully so everyone could have a bite, and it seemed totally satisfying. To me this was joy we completely shared, this silliness and amazement generated as a group, just to take in this moment and make each other happy.

The Power to Embrace

Today our Wake Up organizing team of four has grown into eight and has become the caretaking council for Wake Up New York. A yoga center owner who follows Thay offered his space so we could meet. Instead of going to bars on Friday nights, people can come for an hour of practice and then hang out with us. Two of us are pre-aspirants and two are aspirants to the Order of Interbeing, and we feel our teachers right there with us. We have about fifteen people each week. The group has been very joyful and supportive. It is a place where I feel comfortable sharing and can let the group carry me when I feel less able.

At first I thought Wake Up was a space for young adults to relax with our peers and practice a little. However, after practicing with this group and seeing such a strong response in Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, I think it’s more than that. Many of us are noticing how affected we are after each gathering; we feel stronger, more confident, and more optimistic. I think it has something to do with meeting people who have similar suffering, and who will be with us for the rest of our lives. Perhaps we realize that many other young adults also feel capable of living in a more humane and compassionate society. We look across the room and see motivation and love in our generation.

We try to deal with the economy, the climate, the suffering of our parents in us, discrimination and greed in our culture, all alone, and maybe we feel sad about the future. I think Wake Up has changed our perspective. From feeling helpless, we’ve moved to feeling we have the power to embrace what lies ahead. It feels very simple: we can accomplish this just by being there for ourselves and each other. In this space we can actively create the acceptance and freedom we want everyone to have, and we feel empowered.

The mission statement developed by Wake Up New York:

Wake Up New York is a group of young meditation practitioners who get together to create a joyful space of refuge for young adults. We are inspired by the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh. We do the fun things that New York City dwellers do, but actively maintain the best elements of our culture: inclusiveness, healthy consumption, hope, joy, great energy, activism, and community. By being wonderfully together we create support for each other. We find we are not alone with the suffering of our generation. We seek out our true selves amid the dynamics of our new relationships, new jobs, struggling minds, dynamic bodies, busy cities, and big life changes. We share our success in practicing mindfulness and finding happiness. We practice with our local Sanghas, at practice centers, and with the teachings, so as to nurture our hearts and minds and create real hope for our generation and our future.

mb60-Love4Jenny Hamp, Peaceful Refuge of the Heart, practices with the Rock Blossom Sangha in New York City. She lives in Brooklyn with her partner Tim. She works as a mechanical engineer, tries to help reduce energy consumption in buildings, and practices not starting interesting new projects.

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Spiritual Friends

Waking Up in Community

By Sister Hanh Nghiem

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Wake Up! Young Buddhists and non-Buddhists for a Healthy and Compassionate Society is a worldwide network of young people practicing the living art of mindfulness. It sprang from our teacher’s humble suggestion that young people should create such a movement for themselves.

Why? Why would young people need their own movement? What challenges do they face that are unique to their generation? In today’s society, media and advertising have a far greater impact on our way of thinking and way of being. It’s easy to get caught up in believing that what we see, hear, and learn from the media is who we really are and what we really think, or that the ideal life portrayed would also be our ideal life. Although the media has made communication between people easier than ever before, individualism has actually increased. As a result, how many of us feel lonely, lost, full of despair, angry at our country, emotionally drained, exhausted, and unable to connect with a spiritual leader?

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Although each one of us knows that motion pictures and the media are not reality, they can still affect us—but not if we take an active role in shaping our own life, like a potter shaping a beautiful vase. We can maintain our center by getting in touch with our aspiration in life, our heart song. This awareness of what is important to us can serve as the North Star guiding us in the direction we would like to go in life. We can take an active role in transforming our lump of clay (the unfortunate events that we have to face in our life) and making it into something functional and beautiful. I know staying true to ourselves, keeping it real, is a huge challenge, but having good spiritual friends makes a world of difference.

As I reflect on the reasons for a Wake Up movement and supportive community for young people, I see how my own life has been transformed by a caring community. I’d like to share my perspective on how effective it has been for me, as a young person, to live in a community that guides me on a path of peace, happiness, and love.

A Trusted Community

My community consists of full-time practitioners, primarily monastic. We are an international community, speaking many languages, and from many faiths and beliefs. What unites us is that we want to make our lives meaningful, happy, and peaceful. We have committed ourselves to a lifestyle dedicated to the art of mindful living. I have grown to appreciate our weekly schedule of practice, and the fact that I have brothers and sisters supporting me on my path—friends and family I can trust.

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mb60-Spiritual4My community is not perfect. Being a monastic does not transcend being human, and we all have our weaknesses. We get angry, depressed, overwhelmed, and burnt out. We also have to deal with managers, politics, finances, deadlines, and irrationality. However, we also have the aspiration to live a good and meaningful life, a desire to build brotherhood and sisterhood, and the precious tools to bring this about, like mindful breathing and eating, walking, and sitting meditations.

My community is like a tree and I am the fruit, allowed to mature and ripen in my own time. No one sprays me with pesticides to make me look big and beautiful, while not caring about the inside. Instead, I am growing naturally and organically. Through living with others, I’m learning to live with myself. By watching other people, I’m learning how to be alone and accept myself. After that, I just let the Buddha take care of things.

Together in Each Moment

Just as the monastic community has supported me, the Wake Up movement can support youth who want to connect with others and live fully. It provides young people with an international community of like-minded people who can appreciate the challenges they face. The movement can provide all of the advantages of a community to young people across the world—to connect the huge numbers of young people wanting to make a difference and wanting to live a simple, happy life.

You too can live the life you want to live, by not getting caught up in your ideas but learning from them instead. Have confidence and be gentle with yourself. If you need to recharge your batteries, recall the things that nourish your mind of love. Treat yourself to a weekend of meditation, camping in nature, or chilling with friends. Our ancestors also dreamt of success, but they knew the importance of stopping and having a cup of tea with their neighbors. By not busying themselves with computers and gadgets, they became more aware of their own limitations, and knew when they needed the support of those close by.

Please get together—even if you’re only four or five people, it’s enough. We all have to practice with what we have. Our practice is never finished. Learning to listen to someone share their thoughts and feelings is not something you can do once or twice, but something you do moment by moment. Over time, we learn to listen more wisely, and this is the only difference between a practitioner and a non-practitioner.

You do not need to be a Zen master. The gatha I am using at the moment is: “Stick to the original plan.” Once you have your community, remember that you are practitioners, not saints. You will have ups and downs together. It’s normal. Just stick to the original plan: practice mindfulness, and make your good times and bad times together an adventure.

mb60-Spiritual5Sister Hanh Nghiem (True Adornment with Action), or Sister Onion, lives at the Asian Institute for Applied Buddhism on Lantau Island in Hong Kong.

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The Seedling Project

By Members of the European Wake Up Sangha

mb60-Seedling1Thay believed that Buddhism had much to contribute to real social change. He said he would find ways to support me in a movement for social change according to the Buddhist spirit. He would help bring together many good hearts who wanted to work together. He agreed to write articles about this in national magazines and then start several pioneering development villages to show that social change could be based on love, commitment, and responsibility. Eventually we could start a training center for workers in education, agriculture, and health care, who would then go all over the country.
–Sister Chan Khong, Learning True Love: How I Learned and Practiced Social Change in Vietnam

For a long time the vision to organize a Wake Up Vietnam Tour had been nourished by many conditions. Many of us shared a collective aspiration to connect to our spiritual home and ancestors, to practice as a Sangha on a journey, and to get in touch with perspectives and living conditions different from the Eurocentric way of looking and living. Reading Fragrant Palm Leaves by Thay and Learning True Love by Sister Chan Khong touched a strong and inspiring source within us. All these elements gave us the energy to cultivate the conditions for the realization of this vision.

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In August 2011, all the conditions came together, and a group of ten young people from Chile, Belgium, England, Germany, and Holland gathered at the European Institute of Applied Buddhism for a one-week retreat, preparing for a three-and-a-half week journey in Vietnam. We realized that going to Vietnam was essential to deepen our aspirations and our practice, and that to be in touch with the roots of Wake Up, we had to be in touch with Vietnam.

mb60-Seedling3Nourishing Our Roots

In Saigon, morning has broken. The sky is blue, the sun is shining. We are sitting joyfully in a bus on our way to Phap Van Monastery, the former School of Youth for Social Service (SYSS), which was founded by Thay in the early 1960s.(1)  Arriving at Phap Van, we enter the meditation hall and are warmly welcomed by a monk and members of the first generation of the SYSS, who have been practicing and engaged in social service in rural areas for more than forty years. Together we enjoy sitting meditation and touching the earth to honour our blood and spiritual ancestors, followed by a sharing on engaged Buddhism, the history of the SYSS, spiritual practice, and our aspirations.

During this session the question is asked, “How can we continue the SYSS?” One of the social workers smiles and answers, “This is very easy. Only by asking yourself this question, you are already beginning to continue the SYSS.”

Leaving the meditation hall, we walk slowly and silently towards the garden in the centre of Phap Van, where there is a memorial to Sister Nhat Chi Mai (2), who immolated herself for peace during the Vietnam War, and to the monastic and lay SYSS workers who died during their service. One of the social workers starts digging a hole for the collective tree-planting ceremony, and each of us contributes by filling the hole with soil and watering the tree. Our first Wake Up tree in Vietnam has been planted, and in this happy moment, we are aware of our spiritual roots and of our aspiration to nourish this tree of understanding and compassion and to continue the beautiful work of the SYSS.

The Seedling Project

On our journey through South, Central, and North Vietnam, we continued to be nourished by the joy of being in touch with monastics, social workers, youth Sanghas, children who are supported by the Love and Understanding Program, and many other beautiful human beings. All these inspiring encounters and conditions gave rise to the development of a collective vision for establishing a green kindergarten in Vietnam. We started calling our vision “the Seedling Project” and imagining it in terms of its social, educational, environmental, and empowerment dimensions.

I. Social

In remote areas, the struggle for a better life leaves people with little time and energy to care about education or cultural and spiritual development. Our aspiration is to build a hybrid space for poor families that will benefit children as well as parents: during the day it will function as a home where children can take refuge, make friends, play, and rest while their parents work, while being provided with healthy nutriments and pre-school education based on mindfulness. In the evenings and on weekends, the space will be a meeting place where teachers and parents can exchange ideas and learn from one another.

II. Education

Teachers in this green kindergarten will be trained in the practice of mindfulness in daily life, healthy consumption, and the cultivation of environmental awareness and ecological practices such as solar cooking, rainwater collection, and organic gardening. The teachers will find ways to integrate mindfulness into the children’s daily activities. Together they will take time to enjoy being in nature and observing natural phenomena. Children will be given opportunities and tools to express themselves artistically through painting, drawing, molding, and tinkering with natural and recycled materials.

III. Architecture and Environment

The kindergarten building will be harmoniously integrated into the natural and cultural environment of the local people. The architectural construction will be simple and economical, ecologi cal and sustainable; it will utilize local know-how and materials and will weave tradition with contemporariness. Renewable energy technologies, such as solar cells, rainwater harvesting, geothermal power systems, greywater treatment plants, and compost toilets, will be introduced, and a permaculture garden with trees, flowers, fruits, and vegetables will be cultivated.

IV. Empowerment

We aspire to provide a space of help through self-help, where local people feel inspired to share knowledge with one another, cultivate awareness, and develop skills. This involves engaging local people in the building process, raising their understanding about the value of natural and cultural resources, training them in ecological practices for daily life, and thus enabling them to transmit their knowledge and skills to their children and other people. Hopefully, the green kindergarten will strengthen the bonds within the local community, become a model for other rural areas in Vietnam, and contribute to a collective environmental awareness.

We consider the project to be a great opportunity for mutual understanding, learning, and growth for both the project team members and the local people. We do not view ourselves as people from the West who are coming to help the poor, incapable people of Vietnam. We aspire to transform the superiority, inferiority, and equality complexes that may lie deep in our store consciousness, as well as the notion of a separate subject and object.

Favourable  Conditions

After presenting this project to Sister Chan Khong and the monastic and lay Sanghas during the Applied Ethics Retreat in Plum Village at the beginning of 2012, we have received much positive feedback. We have raised a great amount of money for this project and have been offered possible sites in Vietnam for the construction of the kindergarten. Many friends with diverse backgrounds and specialized skills have offered support.

We are in the process of making connections with people, organizations, and places in Vietnam and finding ways to establish fruitful cooperation between Europeans and Vietnamese who wish to be involved in the project. We are adopting and combining a variety of approaches—traditional and contemporary, local and global. A member of the project team will soon travel to Indonesia, where she will visit the Green School (3) in Bali, and to Vietnam, where she will visit the various sites that have been proposed for the kindergarten. She will also meet with SYSS workers to continue the dialogue between the SYSS and Wake Up. Meanwhile, our team in Europe is developing a website to present the Seedling Project to a wider audience and to be a platform for the exchange of aspirations, ideas, and know-how.

Clearing Our Streams

In Hue, the sky is still blue and the sun is still shining. It is our last day in Central Vietnam. With ten mango trees and ten pomelo trees in the trunk of our car, we are setting out for a kindergarten built by the Love and Understanding Program. When we arrive in the classroom, we find the children sitting in a circle, singing Plum Village songs to us. Their voices are sweet as mangos, refreshing as pomelos. The whole afternoon is dedicated to playing and singing with children from three different classes and to sharing milk and biscuits with them.

After we enjoy dinner in silence at the kindergarten with Uncle Dinh, the director of the Love and Understanding Program in Hue, and other social workers, an intimate sharing evolves. “How can you keep your deepest aspiration alive?” one of our brothers asks. Uncle Dinh replies, “By understanding and transforming your own suffering. If you are not capable of taking care of yourself, you will not be able to help others.”

Twenty holes have already been dug, and together with our uncles we lower the young trees into the ground. Planting trees with the intention of nourishing our roots and clearing our streams (4), hope to make the world greener, both literally and figuratively, by sowing seeds of brotherhood and sisterhood, understanding and love, joy and happiness, and by sharing our time and material resources with those in need. May there be mangos and pomelos for past, present, and future generations, starting with the cultivation of a small seedling.

This is a compilation of sharings by members of the European Wake Up Sangha who were part of the Wake Up Vietnam Tour. For further information on the Seedling Project, please write to wkupeu@gmail.com.
1. The School of Youth for Social Service was a grassroots relief organization that rebuilt bombed villages, set up schools and medical centers, resettled homeless families, and organized agricultural cooperatives. Rallying some 10,000 student volunteers, the SYSS based its work on the Buddhist principles of nonviolence and compassionate action. The present-day continuation of the SYSS is known as the Love and Understanding Program.

2. Sister Nhat Chi Mai, one of the first members of the Order of Interbeing, burned herself in Saigon on May 16, 1967, as an act of protest against the Vietnam War.

3. For further information, visit www.greenschool.org.

4. Thich Nhat Hanh, original gatha, “Boi dap goc re, khai thong suoi nguon.”

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Deep Ecology

The World We Are

By Felipe Viveros, Miranda van Schadewijk, and Bas Bruggeman

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Look at the flower. Could it possibly exist without the rain, the sun, the soil, the gardener, the minerals or even without your consciousness? It could not exist if only one of the above is not there. If one is missing, the whole flower is missing, too.
- Thich Nhat Hanh, The Art of Power

It is a beautiful autumn day in Waldbröl. The tranquility of the German countryside contrasts sharply with the constant speed and movement in our city lives. The European Institute of Applied Buddhism (EIAB), with its emphasis on promoting social work initiatives, is the perfect setting for the first Deep Ecology and Permaculture retreat in our tradition.

As participants, we’ve come from many different countries, and from as far away as North America. For one week, we’re here to experience the unusual mix of applied Buddhism and ecology in action. Although we’re a group of diverse young people, there’s a shared longing to connect with Mother Earth. Yet we know that we must first connect with ourselves. After all, the world is nothing less than an extension of ourselves: the world we are. Coming together like this is an expression of our deep concern for Mother Earth, and an opportunity to share our deep wish to improve life on spiritual, social, and environmental levels.

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Permaculture: Cultivating External Soil

Though the problems of the world are increasingly complex, the solutions remain embarrassingly simple;
- Bill Mollison, Permaculture: A Designer’s Manual

We sat in sunlit woods while our wise Native American teacher, Ishi, taught us how every element in nature has a purpose, if not several, for its existence. From the weeds to the insects, from big trees to small bushes—they all exist for a reason. Everybody and everything can contribute in a positive way. This led us away from the discriminative views of traditional agriculture. Ishi transmitted his passion about caring for Mother Earth and understanding her cycles and rhythms. We understood that moving in flow with these rhythms makes things easier, more natural.

Under Ishi’s guidance, we built an herb spiral and arranged the vegetable garden of the EIAB. He made us aware of real possibilities of feeding the whole world, and our role in making this happen: growing our own food, living more simply and consciously, and reducing our impact upon the Earth. For Ishi, mindfulness is a natural part of this process. While gardening, he takes one step at a time and follows the rhythms of nature. Slowly and harmoniously, he transforms compost into roses and bare gardens into diverse and fruitful jungles.

After absorbing Ishi’s teachings and putting our hands and our hearts in direct contact with the soil, we were now prepared for further opening and deep transformation. We had no idea what an intense spiritual and emotional experience we were about to undergo.

Deep Ecology: Cultivating Inner Soil

The most remarkable feature of this historical moment on Earth is not that we are on the way to destroying the world—we’ve actually been on the way for quite a while. It is that we are beginning to wake up, as from a millennia-long sleep, to a whole new relationship to our world, to ourselves and each other.
- Joanna Macy, Thinking Like a Mountain: Towards a Council of All Beings

The time had come to look inside and to study our inner nature. We went indoors, sat in a circle, and listened to the bell. Two special teachers, Claudia and Friedemann, guided us through an intense workshop on Deep Ecology. We were encouraged to connect with our innermost selves and to share our relationship with the Earth and how we felt in that moment. Because this wasn’t something we were used to doing, it was a bit of a struggle. But it was our first glimpse of what Deep Ecology is really about: honoring our feelings.

We discovered how rarely we have the opportunity to share how we feel about our relationship with the Earth. Often we tend to ignore our feelings and just carry on, but sharing helped us understand each other’s pains and struggles. When struck by appalling news of an oil spill or the sight of starving children in Africa, we experience a wave of sadness—we suffer. By acknowledging this reaction, we see that our pain comes from our deep connection to everything else: we inter-are. This genuine care and love for other species and for all of nature is something very instinctual.

We dived into the heart of problems facing our world: the destruction of the Amazon, extinction of species, genetically modified crops, animal exploitation, endless war, extermination of indigenous peoples, famine, erosion, etc. This felt very dark and scary, even overwhelming. We walked very slowly around a small globe representing the planet, realizing how much harm we are doing to our Mother Earth, how much pain and suffering we are inflicting upon other innocent beings, and how we are at the brink of self-destruction.

After a much-needed break, Claudia used a powerful technique to help us express our store consciousness. She assembled a pile of leaves to represent our sorrows, a stone to represent our fear, a wooden stick to represent our anger, an empty glass bowl to represent our uncertainty, and a cloth to represent our neutral feelings. These were the perfect vehicles to release our emotions. As she introduced the leaves, she immediately began to cry as she connected with her sadness: sadness for not being able to change things as much as hoped for, despair from helplessness in the face of big corporate interests and for the world we are leaving to our children.

As she moved to the stone, we realized how fear is connected with pain. She shared how terrifying it is not to know what is going to happen in our future or what kind of world we will leave to our kids, when evil seems to reign and destruction and division increase. We use anger like a stick to protect ourselves, to survive, to fight for the right to live. Our uncertainty and disorientation in the face of corporations and governments was perfectly represented by the emptiness of the glass bowl. Funnily enough, the cloth representing neutral feelings was hardly used!

We touched the objects and shared our feelings, realizing they’d been stored up for a long time. We wailed as we released our feelings of impotence, sadness, and loneliness. After our crying, we felt a huge relief in our hearts from knowing that we were not alone, that there were others who knew how we felt and who shared and honored these feelings.

Reaping the Harvest

The “council of all beings” on the following day was not only beautiful, but it was the perfect medicine following the tears. We walked into the forest at our own pace and chose a sunny spot. We’d each come to find a spirit, to hear the beings living there, the birds, the wind. A drum called us back to the circle, where we made masks of the entities that we found—or that found us—in the forest.

The week had been very full of inspiration, difficulties and solutions, tears, joy, and sunshine. We needed time to digest everything. On the last day, we talked about how to move forward and make a difference. How can we combine our dreams to shape a better future for ourselves and all upcoming generations? How can we honor the earth and ourselves? Many answers were given; many dreams were shared.

To end, there was a tree planting ceremony. We planted two trees to bear fruits for the EIAB community to enjoy. Ishi guided the ceremony by telling the story of a Native American peacemaker who brought peace to warring tribes. As a symbol of that peace, they buried their weapons and planted a tree on top of them. In our ceremony, we buried all of the worries and pains of that week, our compost. We hope the trees will grow strong and happy from all the mud and joy we fed them.

We each take home a bigger heart, grateful for new friends who share a big dream. In the future, we hope to organize more retreats that combine our mindfulness practice with education about growing our own food, learning about natural medicine, and building ecologically. Through our love for nature, we hope to find answers on how we can live in a more ecologically sustainable and self-reliant way. For more information about our efforts and retreats, keep your eye on www.theworldweare.org.

mb60-DeepEcology3Felipe Viveros, True Flowering of the Practice, was born in Chile and lives in the UK. He is an artist and peace activist. He practices with both Touching the Earth Sangha in Glastonbury and Wake Up. He is an Order of Interbeing member.

Miranda van Schadewijk, Inspiring Presence of the Heart, lives in Amsterdam, where she studies cultural anthropology. She helps with Wake Up and has joined tours in the UK and Vietnam. Wake Up has shown her that being in touch with nature is most precious, enriching, and healing in our lives.

Bas Bruggeman made it to a Plum Village youth retreat for the first time in 2008, and has since been enchanted. This immeasurable love has resulted in spending several months in Plum Village and organizing Wake Up retreats. He is working on his Master’s thesis in cultural anthropology on
the Plum Village practice.

Photos courtesy of Filipe Viveros

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The True Dharma Talk

By Ethan Pollock

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Maybe I should be able to relate to people in other age groups as easily as to people my own age (mid-twenties). However, I have discovered that the Wake Up London Sangha has allowed me to open up in many new ways. Meditating with the Heart of London showed me the power of collective practice—the peace and solidity that comes when you practice with forty other people in the heart of a chaotic city. But I think it was joining the Wake Up London Sangha that really began to show me the true power of belonging to a Sangha.

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After the Wake Up meetings, I began to overcome my shyness and stay behind to chat with the other members. In the meals we shared, I discovered a new way to be with others—peacefully and calmly. The need to constantly make jokes, correct others, and debate opinions relaxed because of our afternoon of mindfulness, and we could just enjoy each other in a very simple way. It felt very beautiful.

As I have gotten to know the other Wake Up Londoners, I’ve also been able to learn from them—not just from their insights in our sharing sessions, but from how they are: the energy they put into being truly present, being kind, and creating beautiful spaces for mindfulness to flourish. To see how other people my age are living the practice—that feels like the true Dharma talk!

Maybe the most powerful part of our afternoons has been the sharing. I find sharing difficult. To explain how difficult, let me tell you that the first few times I came to the Sangha I even lied about my “weather report.” I still find it difficult to let people know if I’m having a bad day. However, our Wake Up group is quite small, and the intimacy of our Sangha makes it much easier for me to share from the heart. The atmosphere of peace and openness gave me the courage to share for the very first time. I was very fearful, and I still get nervous every time I share. It takes a lot of plucking up of courage before I bow in. I’m often surprised to hear emotion in my voice over what I had thought would be an easy sharing. Afterwards I feel the adrenaline coursing round my body. It takes a lot of breathing to calm my body down again.

To begin opening up has been a very powerful part of this practice for me. I had learnt from my family to keep my difficulties inside, to be self-contained. During my childhood I was bullied for many years and I still carry around that fear of attack, the fear that inside there is something unlovable or ridiculous, the feeling that to be accepted I need to hide certain parts of myself from others.

Every time I share from the heart I feel vulnerable, but to be listened to in kindness and acceptance has been very healing for me. I know I have developed much more openness, thanks to this practice. Every time another Sangha member shares from the heart I am humbled by their courage and generosity. I learn so much from them, am consoled at shared challenges, and encouraged by their attitudes and practice. It reminds me constantly what a precious gift it is to have an open heart, and how much we can benefit from each other when we are able to communicate freely, with love and understanding.

My heartfelt thanks to all my friends at Wake Up London who have created this beautiful space, and to the people in the Heart of London Sangha who make our meetings possible.

mb60-True2Ethan Pollock is part of the Wake Up London Sangha and has been practising mindfulness for two years. He is an artist, which is a job that makes minimum wage look like the wealth of King Midas, but he is pretty sure Midas didn’t have as much fun. He also enjoys reading too many books.

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Peace Sounds

By Joe Holtaway

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I’m a member of London’s Wake Up Sangha and producer of Peace Sounds, a collection of twelve songs on the theme of peace. My friends and I made this album to bring awareness of Thay’s 2012 United Kingdom tour and to support the tour by raising extra funds.

The seeds of this project were planted last summer in London’s Hyde Park. A number of us from the Heart of London and Wake Up Sanghas were gathered for one of our “Joyfully Together” picnics where we meditate, eat, and share songs and mindful yoga stretching.

We include Thay’s practice of walking meditation in our gatherings. Hyde Park, one of the largest in our city, is our piece of countryside, and silently walking together there feels like a gift indeed. We had warm sun that day and the old tall trees brought us shade. I remember just how the sunshine softly lit that afternoon.

With songs sung and food eaten, we were talking over Thay’s forthcoming tour. Sister Elina Pen (Little Earth), flash mob meditation organizer, singer, and a visionary member of our Wake Up Sangha, proposed a musical adventure: we should write a song to be released with his tour. I guess you never know what will come about when a project begins, though I felt full of its magic during my bike ride home!

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That night I stayed up until 4 a.m., composing “Walk with Me My Friend,” inspired by our practice of walking meditation. The Wake Up Sangha had been running flash mobs in London, where young people like us would come by the hundreds with flowers in their hair and peaceful smiles on their faces, to sit and meditate with strangers, then sing and hug as friends. I came to our Sangha’s next flash mob with a recording I had made of the song.

To Soundtrack Love

With a good six months before we had to begin Thay’s tour preparations, we began talking about more music. And from there, the other songs emerged. A mailing to the Wake Up list brought some musicians; we requested other songs from artists we already admired.

Little Earth and I collaborated—the first-ever recording of her magical voice. Both she and Kim McMahon performed versions of Plum Village songs. Kim and I also collaborated for her track. Little Earth had pronounced, “Joe, we just have to have her voice on the record.” Hearing Kim sing was a beautiful discovery; I feel honored to share her voice with the world.

The same goes for Chris Goodchild. He recorded “Life is Beautiful” especially for this project, a song he’d sung that first day in Hyde Park. To spend time with this gentle man was touching enough, but to capture his song was so special. We just left the mic on… I was humbled.

Pianist Tom Manwell and singer James Wills are friends from here in London. I recruited them and four more artists whose work I’d admired: Northern England’s Jackie Oates, London’s Cornelius, Ireland’s Nathan Ball, and the U.S.A.’s Joe Reilly, whom I had heard through his connection with Plum Village (Joe’s song, “Tree Meditation,” features brother and sister monastics, and was recorded there). Finally, we were gifted with recordings sent by Manchester-based Hilary Bichovsky and Brighton’s Gavin Kaufman; they had heard about the project through their meditation groups.

The process involved bus trips around London and the rest of the United Kingdom with a microphone and guitars. I made some recordings in artists’ homes, where we drank tea, ate cake, meditated, and forged friendships. Other songwriters came to my place in London. I recorded my own song at my family’s home in Cornwall, a peaceful coastal area, amidst sea air and warm summer days.

To gather these songs was to soundtrack a sense of honest and, I feel, revolutionary love. Here were individuals responding to life by singing about it and sharing their passion outward. This collection of songs carries that feeling for me, a considered response to what was moving in each singer’s musical soul. I feel a fearlessness in each of them, to stand up for what they feel is worth caring for.

Listening to the collection, I feel a huge sense of gratitude. As I watch the album trailer clips (see www.peacesounds.org), I’m brought back to a sense of reverence for love and peace that was as much in the songwriters’ homes and letters as it is in their songs.

You can listen to the album online and download it for a donation (follow links on the website). Proceeds go to the Community of Interbeing UK, which makes meditation available here within groups, in schools, and on retreats.

For a free download of the song “Peacefully Free” by Little Earth, email “Mindfulness Bell” to info@peacesounds.org.

mb60-Peace3Joe Holtaway was born in Cornwall and currently lives in London. He has a fondness for music, poetry, songwriting,
and gardening.

 

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Sangha News

The Revised Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings


Introduction
By Sister Annabel, True Virtue

Since the ten wholesome practices were devised by the Buddha for the Fourfold Sangha, the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings have been growing and evolving. The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings, first written by Thay Thich Nhat Hanh in 1966 as a response to the needs of that time, have now been revised and enriched for the second time. The revision of the Five Mindfulness Trainings of two years ago has contributed in part to the revision of the Fourteen.

It is very clear in the revised edition how the basic teachings of the Buddha on the Noble Eightfold Path and related teachings (including the Four Nutriments) are the firm basis not only for Buddhist ethics but also for the contribution that Buddhism can make to secular ethics. In the revision of the First, Second, and Third Trainings, we already see the concrete practice of non-self, emptiness, and interdependent arising in ethical terms. In the re-vision of the Fourth Training, we see how we need to practice to face our own suffering not as an outside reality but as something within ourselves that the practice can transform. The revisions of the Fifth and Seventh Trainings help us to see that happiness depends on our own mind rather than some reality outside of us. In the Sixth Training the practice of Right Diligence is prescribed for the transformation of anger. After a century or more of emphasis on the individual, the revised Eighth and Tenth Mindfulness Trainings show us the importance of our practice to be a cell in the body of the Sangha in order to be an effective refuge for all beings. The revised Fourteenth Training includes the practice of the Four Nutriments and the necessity to go beyond the dualism of body and mind.

Thay Thich Nhat Hanh first transmitted the most recently revised Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings to a number of monastic and lay ordinees in French and Vietnamese during the Great Ordination Ceremony at the end of February 2012 in Plum Village. The trainings were enthusiastically received by all who heard and formally received them. We know that this development of the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings is the right direction for the second decade of the 21st century and beyond.


The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings are the very essence of the Order of Interbeing. They are the torch lighting our path, the boat carrying us, the teacher guiding us. They allow us to touch the nature of interbeing in everything that is, and to see that our happiness is not separate from the happiness of others. Interbeing is not a theory; it is a reality that can be directly experienced by each of us at any moment in our daily lives. The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings help us cultivate concentration and insight which free us from fear and the illusion of a separate self.

The First Mindfulness Training: Openness

Aware of the suffering created by fanaticism and intolerance, we are determined not to be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones. We are committed to seeing the Buddhist teachings as guiding means that help us develop our understanding and compassion. They are not doctrines to fight, kill, or die for. We understand that fanaticism in its many forms is the result of perceiving things in a dualistic and discriminative manner. We will train ourselves to look at everything with openness and the insight of interbeing in order to transform dogmatism and violence in ourselves and in the world.

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The Second Mindfulness Training: Nonattachment to Views

Aware of the suffering created by attachment to views and wrong perceptions, we are determined to avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. We are committed to learning and practicing nonattachment from views and being open to others’ experiences and insights in order to benefit from the collective wisdom. We are aware that the knowledge we presently possess is not changeless, absolute truth. Insight is revealed through the practice of compassionate listening, deep looking, and letting go of notions rather than through the accumulation of intellectual knowledge. Truth is found in life, and we will observe life within and around us in every moment, ready to learn throughout our lives.

The Third Mindfulness Training: Freedom of Thought

Aware of the suffering brought about when we impose our views on others, we are determined not to force others, even our children, by any means whatsoever—such as authority, threat, money, propaganda, or indoctrination—to adopt our views. We are committed to respecting the right of others to be different, to choose what to believe and how to decide. We will, however, learn to help others let go of and transform fanaticism and narrowness through loving speech and compassionate dialogue.

The Fourth Mindfulness Training: Awareness of Suffering

Aware that looking deeply at the nature of suffering can help us develop understanding and compassion, we are determined to come home to ourselves, to recognize, accept, embrace and listen to suffering with the energy of mindfulness. We will do our best not to run away from our suffering or cover it up through consumption, but practice conscious breathing and walking to look deeply into the roots of our suffering. We know we can realize the path leading to the transformation of suffering only when we understand deeply the roots of suffering. Once we have understood our own suffering, we will be able to understand the suffering of others. We are committed to finding ways, including personal contact and using telephone, electronic, audio-visual, and other means, to be with those who suffer, so we can help them transform their suffering into compassion, peace, and joy.

The Fifth Mindfulness Training: Compassionate, Healthy Living

Aware that true happiness is rooted in peace, solidity, freedom, and compassion, we are determined not to accumulate wealth while millions are hungry and dying nor to take as the aim of our life fame, power, wealth, or sensual pleasure, which can bring much suffering and despair. We will practice looking deeply into how we nourish our body and mind with edible foods, sense impressions, volition, and consciousness. We are committed not to gamble or to use alcohol, drugs or any other products which bring toxins into our own and the collective body and consciousness such as certain websites, electronic games, music, TV programs, films, magazines, books and conversations. We will consume in a way that preserves compassion, well-being, and joy in our bodies and consciousness and in the collective body and consciousness of our families, our society, and the earth.

 The Sixth Mindfulness Training: Taking Care of Anger

Aware that anger blocks communication and creates suffering, we are committed to taking care of the energy of anger when it arises, and to recognizing and transforming the seeds of anger that lie deep in our consciousness. When anger manifests, we are determined not to do or say anything, but to practice mindful breathing or mindful walking to acknowledge, embrace, and look deeply into our anger. We know that the roots of anger are not outside of ourselves but can be found in our wrong perceptions and lack of understanding of the suffering in ourselves and in the other person. By contemplating impermanence, we will be able to look with the eyes of compassion at ourselves and at those we think are the cause of our anger, and to recognize the preciousness of our relationships. We will practice Right Diligence in order to nourish our capacity of understanding, love, joy and inclusiveness, gradually transforming our anger, violence, and fear, and helping others do the same.

The Seventh Mindfulness Training: Dwelling Happily in the Present Moment

Aware that life is available only in the present moment, we are committed to training ourselves to live deeply each moment of daily life. We will try not to lose ourselves in dispersion or be carried away by regrets about the past, worries about the future, or craving, anger, or jealousy in the present. We will practice mindful breathing to be aware of what is happening in the here and the now. We are determined to learn the art of mindful living by touching the wondrous, refreshing, and healing elements that are inside and around us, in all situations. In this way, we will be able to cultivate seeds of joy, peace, love, and understanding in ourselves, thus facilitating the work of transformation and healing in our consciousness. We are aware that real happiness depends primarily on our mental attitude and not on external conditions, and that we can live happily in the present moment simply by remembering that we already have more than enough conditions to be happy.

The Eighth Mindfulness Training: True Community and Communication

Aware that lack of communication always brings separation and suffering, we are committed to training ourselves in the practice of compassionate listening and loving speech. Knowing that true community is rooted in inclusiveness and in the concrete practice of the harmony of views, thinking and speech, we will practice to share our understanding and experiences with members in our community in order to arrive at a collective insight. We are determined to learn to listen deeply without judging or reacting and to refrain from uttering words that can create discord or cause the community to break. Whenever difficulties arise, we will remain in our Sangha and practice looking deeply into ourselves and others to recognize all the causes and conditions, including our own habit energies, that have brought about the difficulties. We will take responsibility for the ways we may have contributed to the conflict and keep communication open. We will not behave as a victim but be active in finding ways to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

The Ninth Mindfulness Training: Truthful and Loving Speech

Aware that words can create happiness or suffering, we are committed to learning to speak truthfully, lovingly and constructively. We will use only words that inspire joy, confidence and hope as well as promote reconciliation and peace in ourselves and among other people. We will speak and listen in a way that can help ourselves and others to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations. We are determined not to say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people, nor to utter words that might cause division or hatred. We will protect the happiness and harmony of our Sangha by refraining from speaking about the faults of another person in their absence and always ask ourselves whether our perceptions are correct. We will speak only with the intention to understand and help transform the situation. We will not spread rumors nor criticize or condemn things of which we are not sure. We will do our best to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may make difficulties for us or threaten our safety.

The Tenth Mindfulness Training: Protecting and Nourishing the Sangha

Aware that the essence and aim of a Sangha is the realization of understanding and compassion, we are determined not to use the Buddhist community for personal power or profit or transform our community into a political instrument. However, as members of a spiritual community, we should take a clear stand against oppression and injustice. We should strive to change the situation, without taking sides in a conflict. We are committed to learning to look with the eyes of interbeing and to see ourselves and others as cells in one Sangha body. As a true cell in the Sangha body, generating mindfulness, concentration and insight to nourish ourselves and the whole community, each of us is at the same time a cell in the Buddha body. We will actively build brotherhood and sisterhood, flow as a river, and practice to develop the three real powers—understanding, love and cutting through afflictions—to realize collective awakening.

The Eleventh Mindfulness Training: Right Livelihood

Aware that great violence and injustice have been done to our environment and society, we are committed not to live with a vocation that is harmful to humans and nature. We will do our best to select a livelihood that contributes to the well-being of all species on earth and helps realize our ideal of understanding and compassion. Aware of economic, political, and social realities around the world, as well as our interrelationship with the ecosystem, we are determined to behave responsibly as consumers and as citizens. We will not invest in or purchase from companies that contribute to the depletion of natural resources, harm the earth, and deprive others of their chance to live.

The Twelfth Mindfulness Training: Reverence for Life

Aware that much suffering is caused by war and conflict, we are determined to cultivate nonviolence, compassion, and the insight of interbeing in our daily lives and promote peace education, mindful mediation, and reconciliation within families, communities, ethnic and religious groups, nations, and in the world. We are committed not to kill and not to let others kill. We will not support any act of killing in the world, in our thinking, or in our way of life. We will diligently practice deep looking with our Sangha to discover better ways to protect life, prevent war, and build peace.

The Thirteenth Mindfulness Training: Generosity

Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice, stealing, and oppression, we are committed to cultivating generosity in our way of thinking, speaking, and acting. We will practice loving kindness by working for the happiness of people, animals, plants, and minerals, and sharing our time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need. We are determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others. We will respect the property of others, but will try to prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other beings.

The Fourteenth Mindfulness Training: True Love

[For lay members]: Aware that sexual desire is not love and that sexual relations motivated by craving cannot dissipate the feeling of loneliness but will create more suffering, frustration, and isolation, we are determined not to engage in sexual relations without mutual understanding, love, and a deep long-term commitment made known to our family and friends. Seeing that body and mind are one, we are committed to learning appropriate ways to take care of our sexual energy and to cultivating loving kindness, compassion, joy and inclusiveness for our own happiness and the happiness of others. We must be aware of future suffering that may be caused by sexual relations. We know that to preserve the happiness of ourselves and others, we must respect the rights and commitments of ourselves and others. We will do everything in our power to protect children from sexual abuse and to protect couples and families from being broken by sexual misconduct. We will treat our bodies with compassion and respect. We are determined to look deeply into the Four Nutriments and learn ways to preserve and channel our vital energies (sexual, breath, spirit) for the realization of our bodhisattva ideal. We will be fully aware of the responsibility of bringing new lives into the world, and will regularly meditate upon their future environments.

[For monastic members]: Aware that the deep aspiration of a monk or a nun can only be realized when he or she wholly leaves behind the bonds of sensual love, we are committed to practicing chastity and to helping others protect themselves. We are aware that loneliness and suffering cannot be alleviated through a sexual relationship, but through practicing loving kindness, compassion, joy and inclusiveness. We know that a sexual relationship will destroy our monastic life, will prevent us from realizing our ideal of serving living beings, and will harm others. We will learn appropriate ways to take care of our sexual energy. We are determined not to suppress, to mistreat our body, or to look upon our body as only an instrument, but to learn to handle our body with compassion and respect. We will look deeply into the Four Nutriments in order to preserve and channel our vital energies (sexual, breath, spirit) for the realization of our bodhisattva ideal.

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North American Dharma Teachers Sangha Gathering

Approximately thirty members of the fourfold North American Dharma Teachers Sangha met at Deer Park Monastery from March 13 through 16, 2012. During the gathering, the Sangha received reports from the Caretaking Council that the Sangha has been incorporated, like many local Sanghas, as a nonprofit corporation (in Illinois) in order to serve the mahasangha needs in a more organized fashion. We are not yet a 501(c)(3) nonprofit for federal tax purposes. The bylaws proposed by the Caretaking Council were reviewed and passed by consensus acclamation and should be adopted after a few proofreading corrections.

We received reports from the following committees: Harmony and Ethics, Order of Interbeing  Aspirant Mentoring, Sangha Cultivators, and Mental Health. The Harmony and Ethics committee presented policies and procedures for dealing with difficult situations involving Dharma teachers, Order members, and Sanghas. The Fourfold Sangha offered input. The committee will modify the documents with this input and send them to the Caretaking Council for adoption or further input to the committee.

The OI Aspirant Mentoring Committee also presented the fruit of their first two projects—the OI aspirant application form and mentoring qualifications. The Fourfold Sangha offered input. This committee will also modify the documents with the Sangha input and send them to the Caretaking Council for adoption or further input to the committee. Some members of the mentoring committee have already begun using the forms as pilots and found them very useful. Thich Tu Luc and Chau Yoder indicated that the Vietnamese community will be interested in using a translated version of the document for mentoring OI aspirants.

The Caretaking Council, and through it, various committee members, may be reached at dtc-na@TiepHien.org.

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Book Reviews

mb60-BookReviews1Awakening of the Heart
Essential Buddhist Sutras and Commentaries

Thich Nhat Hanh
Parallax Press, 2012
Softcover, 608 pages

Reviewed by Fred Eppsteiner, Brother True Energy

Several weeks ago, a Sangha member told me she was interested in delving more deeply into traditional Buddhist teachings and asked if I could suggest an anthology of Buddhist sutras. Fortunately, I had Thay’s latest book in my hand and enthusiastically recommended it to her. For decades now, Thich Nhat Hanh has been known worldwide as a wonderful popularizer of core Buddhist teachings (especially mindfulness), with a rare genius for making these traditional teachings and practices understandable, accessible, and easily practiced by everyone.

It is less well known that Thay is a profound scholar of Buddhist philosophy, psychology, and history, and is deeply versed in the Buddhist sutras. For years, Parallax Press has published individual books of Thay’s translations and commentaries on these texts. These have now been gathered in the newly published anthology, Awakening of the Heart.

A unique feature of this anthology is that it contains sutras (or suttas) from both the Theravada and Mahayana traditions. Thay has always been a teacher and scholar who searched for common ground, even in relationship to the seeming differences in the canonical texts of the southern and northern schools of Buddhism. In 1966, when Thay founded the Order of Interbeing, he wrote in its Charter:

The Order of Interbeing does not consider any sutra or group of sutras as its basic scripture(s). It draws inspiration from the essence of the Buddhadharma in all sutras. It does not accept the systematic arrangements of the Buddhist teachings proposed by any school. The Order of Interbeing seeks to realize the spirit of the Dharma in early Buddhism, as well as in the development of that spirit through the history of the sangha, and its life and teachings in all Buddhist traditions.

The Order of Interbeing considers all sutras, whether spoken by the Lord Buddha or compiled by later Buddhist generations, as Buddhist sutras. It is also able to find inspiration from the texts of other spiritual traditions. It considers the development of original Buddhism into new schools a necessity to keep the spirit of Buddhism alive. Only by proposing new forms of Buddhist life can one help the true Buddhist spirit perpetuate.

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This anthology is a fulfillment of his vision of a non-denominational developmental approach to Buddhist teachings. The book contains nine sutras combined with Thay’s commentary, often line-by-line. In these sparkling commentaries, the uniqueness of Thay’s capacities as a Dharma master continually shines. Sometimes he is the sutra master, presenting Buddhist philosophical tenets, historical antecedents, and psychological insights. Then he is the skillful modern teacher, using personal stories, anecdotes, and present-day insights and examples to enliven and illuminate the traditional formulations of the sutras. Finally, he is the meditation master, showing the reader the clear way to practice the teachings and inspiring him or her towards realization. What a joy!

In Thay’s commentary on the Diamond Sutra, he reminds his Western students that for traditional sutra teachings and practices to be relevant for today’s world, American Buddhism must be “built from your own experiences and with your own cultural ingredients.” For this integration to occur, we must be deeply acquainted with Buddhist foundational teachings and practices so as not to throw the proverbial baby out with the bath water. Reading Awakening of the Heart is a clear step towards the fulfillment of Thay’s heartfelt advice to us.

mb60-BookReviews3Pulling Up Stakes
Stepping into Freedom

By Harriet Kimble Wrye
Chanslor Press (Rare Bird Lit), 2011
Softcover, 426 pages

Reviewed by Victoria Emerson, True Sangha Mountain

Pulling Up Stakes is a travel guide to life. Born from the author’s sabbatical from her work as a psychoanalyst, this account of a riveting, off-the-beaten-path adventure is also a deeply spiritual reflection on mindful living. As the author journeys from the depths of her somatically buried fear to the summits of freedom from attachments, she provides readers with a road map for cultivating awareness and compassion in our own lives.

Wrye’s vivid descriptions of her encounters with foreign peoples and environments bring an intimate inclusiveness to the reader’s experience. We truly share in her adventures, whether she is cradling an infant orangutan or undergoing a frightening reception by “stone-age” tribesmen in the Borneo jungle. We experience her delightful first visit to Plum Village, as well as her terrifying brush with a scorpion before her ordination into the Order of Interbeing. As Wrye’s exploits bring repressed memories to the surface, her expert analysis creates a common ground to connect readers to our own traumas and healing.

mb60-BookReviews4The author describes forays into “the back of beyond”—Sir Walter Scott’s term for a remote place, real or imagined— from her ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro to her odyssey through the Middle East, Asia, and South America. Along with Wrye, we learn many lessons: that wearing what the natives wear kindles compassion; that crossing into a land of disorienting rituals can remind us of the polyglot oneness of human existence; and that noble silence forges presence and peacefulness, even in first-time visitors to Plum Village.

In his endorsement of the book, Thich Nhat Hanh writes: “Full of compassion and wise vision, psychologist Harriet Wrye’s compelling adventures and spiritual pilgrim age in Pulling Up Stakes offer a map of how cultivating mindfulness can help us all to truly ‘Step into Freedom’ no matter who we are or what obstacles we face.” This book invites us to recognize that we are all capable of stepping into freedom and living the miracle of life. Visit www.pullingupstakesbook.com.

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Letter from the Editor

Editor-NBDear Thay, dear Sangha,

Forty-six years ago, our teacher traveled from Vietnam to the West, motivated by the deepest kind of aspiration—to end a war. He later wrote in I Have Arrived, I Am Home:

In May 1966, when I left Vietnam, I did not think that I would be gone long. But I was stuck over here. I felt like a cell precariously separated from its body, like a bee separated from its hive. If a bee is separated from its hive, it knows that it cannot survive. A cell that is separated from its body will dry up and die. But I did not die because I had come to the West not as an individual but with the support of a Sangha and for the sake of the Sangha’s visions. I came to call for peace. …from a cell I have become a body. That body has become the Sangha body we see today. If, wherever we go, we go with our heart full of our Sangha, then we will not dry up and die.

Like a seed transplanted in unfamiliar soil, he struggled, but he and the Sangha were able to thrive beautifully in the West. In 1982, Thich Nhat Hanh founded Plum Village. The seed of his potent practice was growing into a bountiful tree whose flowers have now bloomed all over the world.

This issue celebrates Plum Village as more than a practice center in France. Whether or not we have been to France, we carry the seed of the Plum Village tradition—the seed of mindfulness, of peace—in our hearts. We don’t need to travel anywhere to find Plum Village. Our true home is as close as our own breath.

In these pages, we honor the Plum Village 30th Anniversary and the Wake Up movement: our history and our future. “Plums from the Village” is a sweet handful of memories from the early years. “Roots of Transformation” reveals the heart of our practice—changing mud into lotus flowers. “Journey Home” honors our mothers and the joyful return to a true home. Thanks to the generosity of monastics, particularly Thay Phap Dang, Thay Phap Lu, Sister Eleni, and Brother Phap Tu, as well as Dharma teachers Lyn Fine and Eileen Kiera, this issue includes a treasury of photos from the first decades of Plum Village.

The second half of this special issue celebrates Wake Up, an inspiring worldwide movement of young adults committed to living mindfully (wkup.org). Brother Phap Luu explains that the Wake Up movement began with Thay’s repeated question: “How can we share the practice with young people?” Sister Hanh Nghiem likens Wake Up to the beloved monastic community. Lay practitioners share bright moments from the movement’s short history: Wake Up tours, the creation of a CD for peace, and flash mob meditations (see the beautiful photo on p. 56). Members of the European Wake Up Sangha share their vision-in-action for a green kindergarten in Vietnam.

Our teacher’s seed of practice has become numberless flowers: you, me, and thousands of Sangha friends. May this issue inspire us to touch our deepest aspirations and to live with our heart full of Sangha; to live from compassion, for peace.

With love and gratitude,

Editor-NBsig
Natascha Bruckner
True Ocean of Jewels

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Dharma Talk: No Birth, No Death, Only Transformation

Questions and Answers with Thich Nhat Hanh

Upper Hamlet, Plum Village July 24, 2012

 Thich Nhat Hanh

Thay: Today is the 24th of July, 2012, and we are in the Upper Hamlet of Plum Village during our third week of the Summer Opening. We are celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of Plum Village.

Today we have a session of questions and answers. We know that a good question will help many people. A good question has to do with our practice, with our difficulties, with our suffering, with our happiness, with our experience. That is why we should ask a question of our heart, a question that has been there for a long time.

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Child: If you just moved into a new school, and you’re finding it hard to make new friends, how can you make new friends?

Thay: If you’ve just moved to a new school, that is very exciting. Many things will happen and you will have to be ready to encounter new events and new friends. Don’t worry. Just allow things to happen. New friends will come to you if you are ready. Just practice pebble meditation, breathing in and out, to help yourself relax. It’s like when you go to the mountains for a vacation and there are many beautiful trees and flowers that you have not seen before. You will be happy to see them. You cannot predict what you will see, but you know that you will see many beautiful things, animals, vegetables, and minerals. Going to a new school is like that. There will be many new things that can make us happy. So don’t worry. Prepare yourself. Tell yourself, “I am going to have new friends. And I allow it to happen. I don’t have to choose.”

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That girl that you will meet will be a good friend of yours, or not a good friend of yours: that depends on you. She might be very lovable. The way you look at her, the way you talk to her, can make her even more lovable. If that person is not very lovable, your way of looking and smiling can make her more lovable. So it depends on us also, not only on them.

We wish you a lot of luck and success, and maybe next year you will come to Plum Village and report to us how things are with the new school, okay? Remember. Thank you.

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Adult: If there is no such thing as death, then why is it wrong to kill?

Thay: Very good question! When you want to kill, when you think that you can kill, you have wrong perceptions. Suppose you want to kill a cloud, because you don’t know that a cloud can never die. A cloud can only become snow or rain. So the willingness to kill is a kind of energy characterized by ignorance, wrong perception, anger, and violence. That is why the act of killing is wrong. It is wrong because it does not have intelligence, wisdom. It has a lot of violence and suffering. Even the idea before the act of trying to kill is already wrong. What is wrong can bring a lot of suffering. Not to the other person, but to ourselves.

The person who killed Martin Luther King, the person who killed Mahatma Gandhi, the person who killed John F. Kennedy, the person who killed Jesus Christ, they were people who suffered a lot. They had a lot of anger, of fear, of violence, because they had a lot of ignorance and wrong perceptions. They thought they could kill. You cannot kill Martin Luther King. He becomes very strong after your attempt to kill him. Martin Luther King is now stronger than before.

Suppose you want to kill a cloud. How can you kill a cloud? Your attempt to kill someone, to destroy someone, will only lead to your suffering. That is why we have to touch the true nature of no-birth and no-death.

Someone who commits suicide brings a lot of suffering. He thinks that he can kill himself, but the fact is that he cannot. His attempt to kill himself makes him suffer more and makes people around him suffer more. You cannot die and you cannot kill someone. Mahatma Gandhi is still alive and is very strong now. He is in every one of us. Martin Luther King, also; Jesus Christ, also; the Buddha, also.

The willingness to kill is suffering because it has ignorance, anger, and violence in it. Modern science agrees with the Buddha that you cannot kill anything; you cannot make anything disappear. Nothing can die. Rien ne se crée; rien ne se perd, tout se transforme.* There is only transformation; there is no death. It appears that there is death and birth, but if you go deeply, you see that it’s not true. If you study science, chemistry, or biology deeply, you will touch the truth of no-birth and no-death.

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Teenager: Dear Thay, dear Sangha, I suffer a lot from my father. It’s difficult for me to see him, and it’s almost become dangerous. I don’t want to see him anymore. I’ve given him several chances to change. I have forced myself to go see him. Now I can’t. My question is, do I still have to try and change him, and try to go to him? Even though it is making me very tired?

Thay: This is a very important question, and many of us have that question in our heart. The other person does not seem to change after many of our attempts to help change him or her. Should we continue or not? In order to find the right answer, we have to look more deeply to see the relationship between us and the other person. Whether we are son and father, or daughter and mother, or partner and partner, if we have difficulty with the other person and if we want to change him or her, the first thing we should do is to look deeply into ourselves and into that person, to see the relationship, the connection.

Usually we think that the other person is outside of us. That is not right view. In this case, we think that our father is outside of us, and we need only to change the outside and not the inside. We need to see that our father is in us; our father is present in every cell of our body. We are the continuation of our father. It may be easier for us to change our father inside first, and we can do that twenty-four hours a day. You don’t need to go and see him, talk to him, in order to change. The way we breathe, the way we walk, can change him in ourselves. Invite him to walk with us, to sit with us, to smile with us, and the father inside of us will change. Otherwise we will grow up and behave exactly like him.

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There are many children who hate their father, who promise that when they grow up they will not act and say things like their father. But when they grow up they will act exactly like their father, and they will say things exactly like their father. That has happened many times. You hate it, you don’t want to do it, you don’t want to say it. And yet you will do exactly that, and you will speak exactly like that. In Buddhism, that is what we call samsara, going around. You continue your father, not only with your body, but with your way of life. That is why when you encounter the Buddhadharma, you have a chance to change your father in you first. When you have been able to change your father inside of you, he will not go to samsara again. And you will not transmit that kind of habit to your children. So you end the round of samsara going around, recycling. When the father inside has been transformed, the transformation of the father outside will be much easier. That is my experience.

I have fellow monks who are difficult. They are dignitaries in the Buddhist church. They are very conservative. They do not allow transformation to take place in the community. You know that in order to serve society, you have to renew your community, whether your community is Christian, or Buddhist, or Muslim, or Jewish. Many of us are eager to renew our tradition to serve our society and human beings, right? But there are so many conservative elements in the church or religious institution. That is true in my case also. I noticed this very early. I said, “They are in us. We have to change ourselves first.”

So if you are a partner, and your partner does not change, don’t think your partner is only outside of you. Your partner is inside of you, even if you have divorced him or her. Yesterday I received a question, “Can we reconcile, can we begin anew with the one whom we have divorced?” This is exactly the question we have to answer. In the beginning you believe that after divorce you can be yourself entirely and you can take him out of you completely. That’s wrong! You can never remove him from you. You can never remove her from you. No way. Before you attempt to do something with the other person outside of you, try to help him transform inside of you, try to help her transform inside of you.

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With this practice, we can succeed in transforming ourselves and become a model. We become fresh. Our way of being is exactly the way we want him to be. So by speaking, by acting, by living, you begin to change him. You don’t change him by talking alone. Maybe talking cannot change him. But your way of acting, your way of responding instead of reacting, will help change that person. And because he also has intelligence, he can notice that.

You know that to succeed in the work of changing yourself and changing the other person, you also need a Sangha, you also need friends to support you. That is why you have to take refuge in the Sangha. You have to know how to make good use of the collective energy of the Sangha to support your transformation and healing and to help us transform the other person.

Don’t be too eager to transform him right away. You have to accept him as he is first. You have to accept her as she is first. After acceptance, you feel much better already, and you begin to change him inside of you. This is a very deep practice.

Since our friend has come to Plum Village every year and practiced with us since he was a small child, I believe he can do it. And we’ll try to support him to do it. We never lose our hope. The way not to lose our hope is to make progress every day by the practice, daily practice. Thank you for asking the question; it was very good.

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Child: How do you become a monk?

Thay: In Plum Village, we have a program of five years of monastic training and service. If you want to, you can take five years and live as a monk or a nun. If you are young, from sixteen to thirty-six, you may try living with us as a monk for five years. You will practice three years as a novice and two years as a fully ordained monk. During that time you learn more of the Dharma, you learn to apply the practice in your daily life, you live in community, you practice monks’ or nuns’ precepts, and you help your monastic brothers and sisters organize retreats for other people. You can train and serve at the same time. Your way of walking, sitting, organizing, can already inspire people. Every time we have a retreat, you have a chance to practice, and you can see the transformation and healing of the people who come to the retreat. That makes you very happy because the Dharma works, the Dharma is effective. After five or six days of practice, people change; people restore their joy and their peace, they reconcile with each other. That helps you believe that your life can be useful, your life has meaning. You can help make people happy.

In Plum Village this year, at the Summer Opening, four thousand, five thousand people came and practiced with us. Among them were many children. You can see their transformation, their healing, their joy. That is something that can nourish you very much.

After five years of monastic training and practice, you can go back to lay life or you can continue as a monk. Ninety percent of us monastics here, we are monks or nuns for our whole life. Less than five percent are five-year monastics. After five years as a monastic, you can either continue as a monk or a nun, or you may go back to lay life and become a lay Dharma teacher, because after the fifth year, you become an apprentice Dharma teacher for one year. After that year of practicing as an apprentice Dharma teacher, you’ll be transmitted the lamp and become a Dharma teacher.

So on this occasion I would like to invite the young people to think about it. Is it possible to live as a monastic for five years? To directly experience the joys of brotherhood, sisterhood, generated by the practice, and to have a chance to serve also?

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Adult: Dear Thay, dear Sangha, I have two questions. My first question is: I am the last child from the lineage of my ancestors, and so there is a lot of suffering to transform. But also I was very lucky to have enough conditions to encounter the Dharma and not to be running after survival, so I could practice. Now I just came back from a long journey, and I can see very clearly how the suffering was built up in our family, generation after generation, through historical conditions. So I am trying to share with my elders so that they might also find relief, but some of them are very hardened. They have a lot of anger. They have become very mean and very desperate. Even though I have some understanding, I know I am also not stable enough in certain situations. I don’t know what to do anymore to help them. I’m very worried, because I have seen some from my parents’ generation, who escaped from the war, become completely insane and really destroy themselves. So this is my first question.

And my second question is: Why is it, in the Buddhist tradition, that even today there is still so much discrimination against women?

Thay: Do you think that in Plum Village we discriminate against women? The nuns and some laywomen practitioners in Plum Village play a very important role in organizing the lives and the practice of the Sangha here and the practice of the larger Sangha.

The tradition of bhikshunis** still exists in many countries. There are countries that have lost the bhikshuni Sangha. That’s not because of Buddhism, but Buddhist practitioners. They allow that kind of discrimination from society to penetrate into their community. In Thailand and in Sri Lanka, they don’t have bhikshunis anymore, and many of the people in these countries are trying to restore the order of bhikshunis. So Buddhists are not practicing well enough. That is why you have to do better than the former generations.

Thay is one of those who tries to restore the spirit in each order, the original spirit of Buddhism, because the Buddha removed all kinds of discrimination. He received all kinds of people, all races, all castes into his community. He welcomed women to become bhikshunis. He was a real revolutionary in his time. It was very difficult, but he was able to do it. So we who are the continuation of the Buddha should practice well enough in order to maintain his heritage, to preserve his heritage of no discrimination.

Suffering is overwhelming. There are those of us who came out of the Vietnam War full of wounds. We have seen our brother, our father, our mother, our sister killed, destroyed, maimed during the war. We have seen many of them imprisoned and tortured during the war. The foreign ideologies and the foreign weapons had been brought in from all over the world to destroy us, to kill us, and we were forced into a situation like that for a long time. Each of us, each Vietnamese of the new generation, carries within himself or herself that kind of suffering.

And Thay, after forty years of exile, has been able to go home a few times, organizing retreats in order to help heal the wounds of the war in people, in the younger generation. He tried to do his best. He tried to do it as a Sangha, not as a person. Thay went back to Vietnam not as an individual, but as a community. Three hundred practitioners went back to Vietnam with Thay for the first time after forty years of exile. That was in 2005. Our practice was very solid.

Imagine the hotel in Hanoi where we stayed. Secret police came and observed us because they were afraid of us. Everywhere we went they followed us. They wanted to know what we were telling people, what we were doing. They were forced to allow Thay to come home, but they were afraid that we might say something, we might urge the people in Vietnam to say something against them. Several hundred of us practiced with solidity. The way we walked, we way we breathed, the way we ate our breakfast, the way we encountered the people in the hotel and those who came to see us, including the secret policemen, reflected our practice.

The hotel where we lived looked like a practice center. There was mindfulness, there was peace, brotherhood, sisterhood, and they were very impressed. One time we did walking meditation around Hoan Kiem Lake, and for the first time people of the city saw such a large number of people walking with peace, joy, and happiness. They were struck by the sight. That had a big impact on the population. They saw solid practitioners, and we were able to share the practice with so many people in our public talks and in our retreats.

After that, we organized ceremonies of prayers. We prayed for the millions of people who died during the war, and thousands of people came and practiced with us and prayed together. We promised, each of us, that never again would we accept such a war of ideology and kill each other with foreign weapons and foreign ideologies. That was possible. We practiced to help with the healing of the whole country.

So my answer here is that in order to succeed in our attempt to help, we have to do it with a Sangha. We have to belong to a Sangha. We have to be powerful enough to be able to handle the suffering. There’s a lot of garbage, and since many of us do not know how to transform garbage into flowers, making good use of suffering in order to create peace and healing, we need a Sangha to support us.

When we practice alone, self-transformation is already difficult, not to say transformation of others. That is why we have to try to build a Sangha, to be with a Sangha. Without Sangha, you cannot do much of the work of transformation and healing. Without the Sangha, even the Buddha cannot do much. That is why after enlightenment, the first thing he thought of was to go and identify elements of his Sangha.

You have to do the same. Thay is very aware of that. Thay knew that if he went home alone, he would not be able to do anything. So he put forth a condition: I will come back only if you allow me to come with my Sangha. With Sangha we will have the collective energy powerful enough to take care of our suffering, to transform our suffering.

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Adult: Is there life after death?

Thay: Life is always with death at the same time, not only before. Life cannot be separated by death. Where there is life, there is death; and where there is death, there is life. This needs some meditation to understand. In Buddhism we speak of interbeing, which means that you cannot be by yourself alone. You have to inter-be with the other side. It’s like the left and the right. If the right is not there, the left cannot be. If the left is not there, the right cannot be. It’s not possible to take the left away from the right. It’s not possible to take the right away from the left.

Suppose I ask one of you to bring the left to the Lower Hamlet, and one of you to bring the right to the New Hamlet. It’s impossible. The right and the left want to be together, because without the other you cannot be. It’s very clear. Like the above and the below. The above cannot be there if there’s no below. That is what, in Buddhism, we call interbeing. They have to be there at the same time.

So when God said, “Let the light be,” the light said, “I have to wait, my God, I have to wait.” God asked, “Why are you waiting?” And light replied, “I am waiting for darkness to manifest together with me.” Because light and darkness inter-are. Then God said, “Darkness is already there.” And light said, “In that case, I’m already there.”

That is true of good and evil, before and after, here and there, you and I. I cannot be there without you. The lotus flower cannot be there without the mud. Without the mud, a lotus is not possible. There is no happiness without suffering. There is no life without death.

When biologists observe the body of a human being, they see that life and death happen at the same time. In this very moment, thousands of cells are dying. When you scratch your skin like this, many dry cells fall down. They have died. Many cells die every moment of our daily life. Because you are so busy, you don’t notice that you are dying. If they die, you are dying. You think that you don’t die yet. You think that you have fifty or seventy years more before you die: that’s not true. Death is not down the road. Death is right here and right now.

Death is happening right here and now, at each moment. Because of the dying of a number of cells, the birth of other cells is possible. So many cells are being born in the present moment, and we don’t have the time to organize a happy birthday for them. The fact is that, scientifically speaking, you can already see birth and death happening in the present moment. Because of the dying of cells, the birth of cells is possible. Because the birth of cells is possible, the dying of cells is possible. They lean on each other to be. So you are experiencing dying and being born in every moment. Don’t think you were only born in that moment written on your birth certificate. That was not your first moment. Before that moment, there were moments you were already there. Before you were conceived in the womb of your mother, you had already been there in your father and your mother in another form. So there is no birth, no real beginning. And there’s no ending.

When we know that birth and death are together always, we are no longer afraid of dying. Because at the moment of dying, there is birth also. La vie est avec la mort. They cannot be separated. This is a very deep meditation. You should not meditate with your brain alone. You have to observe life throughout your day, so you see birth and death inter-are in everything—trees, animals, weather, matter, energy. Scientists have already pronounced that there is no birth and no death. There is only transformation. So transformation is possible, is real, and birth and death are not real. What you call birth and death are only transformation.

When you perform a chemical reaction, you bring a number of substances together. When the substances meet each other, there is a transformation. And sometimes you think that a substance is no longer there; it has vanished. But in fact, looking deeply, you see that the substance is still there in another form.

When you look at the blue sky, you don’t see your cloud anymore. You think your cloud has died, but in fact your cloud continues always in the form of the rain and so on. Birth and death are seen only on the surface. If you go down, deep down, there is no birth and no death. There is only continuation. When you touch the continuation, the nature of no birth and no death, you are no longer afraid of dying. Not only the Buddhists speak of no birth and no death, but science also speaks of no birth and no death. They can exchange their findings. It’s very interesting. It’s an invitation for us to live our life more deeply so that we can touch our true nature of no birth and no death.

Thay’s answer, I know, is only an invitation to practice. We have to live our life more mindfully, with concentration, so that we can be deeply in touch with what is happening. And then we have a chance to touch the true nature of reality, no birth and no death. We describe it in Buddhism with the term nirvana. Nirvana is no birth and no death. In Christianity you may call it the Ultimate, God. God is our true nature of no birth and no death. We don’t have to go to find God. God is our true nature.

It’s like a wave who believes that she is subjected to birth and death. Every time she comes up and then begins to go down, she’s afraid of dying. But if the wave realizes that she is water, she’s no longer afraid. Before going up she is water, before going down she is water, and after going down, she continues to be water. There’s no death. So it’s very important that the wave does some meditation and realizes that she is wave, but she is at the same time water. And when she knows she is water, she is no longer afraid of dying. She feels wonderful going up; she feels wonderful going down. She’s free from fear.

Our clouds are also like that. They are not afraid of dying. They know that if they are not a cloud, they can be something else equally beautiful, like the rain or the snow.

So the wave does not go and look for water. She doesn’t have to go and search for water, because she is water in the here and the now. The same thing is true with God. We don’t have to look for God. We are God. God is our true nature. You don’t have to go and look for nirvana. Nirvana is our ground. That is the teaching of the Buddha. A number of us have been able to realize that. We enjoy the present moment. We know that it isn’t possible for us to die.

The earth is the most beautiful thing in the whole solar system. We should be able to enjoy walking on this beautiful planet, which is our mother, the mother of all Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and saints. The mother of Mahatma Gandhi, of Martin Luther King, of Jesus Christ, of the Buddhas, our own mother. And we enjoy being with our mother. Our mother is outside of us, and she is inside of us. Walking down the hill, we can enjoy every step, enjoy ourselves, enjoy the presence of our beautiful mother, the earth. We should walk in such a way that with each step, we can touch our mother deeply for our healing and also for the healing of our mother.

* “Nothing is lost, nothing is created, all is transformed,” a maxim attributed to the father of modern chemistry, Antoine Lavoisier, 1743–1794

** bhikshunis – Buddhist nuns who have received the full ordination

Edited by Barbara Casey and Sister Annabel, True Virtue

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To request permission to reprint this article, either online or in print, contact the Mindfulness Bell at editor@mindfulnessbell.org.

Letter From the Editor

mb62-LetterFromEditorDear Thay, dear Sangha,

Last year, Parallax Press published Mindfulness in the Garden: Zen Tools for Digging in the Dirt, written by my partner Zachiah Murray. Several Sanghas invited Zachiah to come and share about the book, so we traveled to visit them. Even though we were far from home, we felt immediately embraced. Strangers became friends with whom we had heartfelt conversations—the kind you have with a trusted confidante. I was awed by the realization that we could visit any Sangha in the world and find this warm feeling of family, of homecoming.

Thay tells us that our true home is always available, right here within us. As we see in this issue of the Mindfulness Bell, we share this understanding of home with friends across the globe. These pages take us to places that may be foreign to us—Bhutan, Malaysia, Hong Kong, Mexico, New Zealand, Australia—and in each place, we find friends whose lives are lit up with mindfulness. Their stories transport us outward to new territory, and inward to our growing compassion as we walk the path together.

While this magazine continues to be a gathering place for Sangha insights and joys, the MB family is transforming behind the scenes. Two beloved Advisory Board members, Jack Lawlor and Barbara Casey, have stepped down from the board in order to focus on other Sangha commitments. We are deeply grateful for their many years of faithful leadership and we honor their continued service to the Sangha. We’re so happy Barbara is still supporting the MB with her copy editing expertise.

The Advisory Board is delighted to welcome a new member, Brandon Rennels. Brandon’s experience in management consulting and his current role as International Wake-Up Coordinator are just a couple of the reasons we are thrilled to have him. He has already begun to open channels between the MB and young people in the Wake Up Movement.

The MB website is evolving, too. Webmaster Brandy Sacks and volunteer Sandra Duban are converting our online archive to html format. Soon, the treasure of past issues’ Dharma talks and articles will be easier to access, with a place for you to post responses and insights.

If you feel nourished and supported by these pages, we ask you to go to www.mindfulnessbell.org and make a donation to keep the MB flourishing. Donations make it possible for us to provide free subscriptions for prison inmates, many of whom have no other source of Dharma teachings or Sangha connection. Your support is the sustenance of this magazine, which offers deep nourishment for practitioners all over the world.

May this issue inspire us to go wide and deep: to stretch outward and build Sangha in new ways, to cross thresholds and forge connections, and to look far into ourselves and nurture the seeds of compassion we find there.

With love and gratitude,

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Natascha Bruckner
True Ocean of Jewels

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Letters

Dear Editor,

I love the magazine and the articles always feed my meditation practice. I have plans to find a center in Thich Nhat Hanh’s tradition and hopefully stay on the path and deepen my practice. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your generosity by giving us these free subscriptions. I always give my copy to other Buddhists on the compound and then it ends up in the library so future followers may also enjoy your wonderful magazine and develop and deepen their practice as it has done for me. I thank you and send all my blessings.

Gassho,
Robbie Jinson
Zephyrhills Correctional Institution, Florida 

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Dear Thay and dear Sangha,

Thank you for publishing your lifeline to Buddhist practice. The minute I take it from my mailbox I am awakened with joy! In the Autumn 2012 issue, you published a beautiful article by Eveline Beumkes about Sister Chan Khong. Included was an explanation of a “hugging meditation,” which inspired me to begin two more meditations. One is the “bus meditation.” As I enter the bus I breathe in, recognizing the Buddha nature of driver and all passengers. Then I breathe out, sending them respect and love. I continue this on the ride; it completely relaxes the judgment and sadness that enter my mind otherwise. Recently I have had to visit quite a few hospitals to see relatives and friends, and doctors’ offices and labs for my own health. I began to do a “hospital meditation” in them while I entered, rode elevators, walked corridors, or sat in waiting rooms. I breathe in, taking on the fear and pain. As I breathe out, I send every being in my path a white light of healing and peace. There is no room for sadness in my heart as I do this practice over and over. I am so grateful to Thay for this, and for his many years of teaching and practice.

Sincerely,
Linda Lewis
San Diego, California

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Dear Editor,

I just want you to know what a wonderful, nourishing gift the latest issue has been for me. When it arrived last week, I thought, “Oh! They sent me a copy of the last issue. Darn!” Of course, on a closer look, I saw that the articles and pictures of Plum Village were for an entirely new issue! Here’s the good part. As I looked at the pictures and articles, and enjoyed my breath, I had this wonderful experience of actually being transported to Plum Village again, and being in touch with the energies of the wonderful “Science and the Buddha” retreat last summer. As I told my buddy and Sangha cohort Dat, I feel as if Plum Village is my spiritual home. When I’ve needed, I have been able to visualize myself walking to the Upper Hamlet Meditation Hall, and the energy of all that is PV is instantly available and I feel peace.

A Lotus and a Big Smile to You,
Bayard Walker, Immeasurable Treasure of the Heart
From the Land of Hurricane Sandy

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Unconditional Acceptance

An Interview with Joanne Friday 

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mb62-Unconditional2Joanne Friday is a Dharma teacher in the Order of Interbeing. In 2003, she received authority to teach from Thich Nhat Hanh, her teacher for twenty years. Joanne leads meditation retreats for Sanghas and groups throughout the Northeastern

U.S. She lives in Rhode Island, where she is the guiding teacher for the six Sanghas that comprise the Rhode Island Community of Mindfulness. She is also an Associate Chaplain at the University of Rhode Island. Joanne was interviewed by Natascha Bruckner on October 11, 2012 for this issue of the Mindfulness Bell.

 

Mindfulness Bell: October 11, is Thay’s Continuation Day. How do you see his continuation in yourself?

Joanne Friday: My ordination as a Dharma teacher was a clear example of how I see transmission and continuation. I had no thoughts of ever being a Dharma Teacher; it never had entered my mind. One day I received a letter from Plum Village inviting me to receive Lamp Transmission. After opening the letter, I went through feeling completely unworthy, and I thought, “Oh, they’ve made a mistake—my name was switched with some other person.” I really was stunned. After two minutes or so, it was as if I was struck by a bolt of lightning and I thought, “This has nothing to do with you.”

Since my first encounter with Thay, I have felt him to be very alive in every cell of my body. And the transmissions from my parents, from everybody who’s ever loved me, everybody who’s ever cared for me, all of them are alive in every cell in my body. So to say that is not good enough is an insult to all of them. This was not about my little egocentric self; it had nothing to do with me.

To prepare for the ceremony, my normal habit energy would have been to try to come up with the perfect Dharma talk, and have everybody think I knew everything about the Dharma. Instead, I could not even think about it and I had not one ounce of anxiety in those three months before the Lamp Transmission. At that time, as part of the ceremony, each new Dharma teacher gave a short talk after their ordination. Walking to take my seat, I still had no idea what I would talk about, and yet I felt nothing but pure joy, and I thought, “I wonder what I’m going to say.” So I told them the story I am telling you.

I said, “Thay gives a beautiful teaching on no-birth, no-death, using a sheet of paper. I received another deep teaching on non-self from a sheet of paper. I got this letter asking me to be here and this was my experience—I realized it is all about my non-self elements; it has nothing to do with me. It’s been so much fun; it feels so free. This is really amazing. I have almost no self-confidence, but I have total confidence in my non-self elements; clearly I do because I haven’t been the least bit anxious, and so I think I am experiencing non-self confidence.” And Thay was laughing and everyone was laughing.

And that has been the truth ever since. If I get invited to share the Dharma, I do my best to stay out of it. My goal in sharing the Dharma is to transmit what was transmitted to me and leave my little self out of it. And I don’t get tired. If my ego starts getting involved, I get tired, and so it is a good indicator that I need to go do some walking meditation and get out of the way.

MB: I went to your Day of Mindfulness in Portola Valley, California. I remember that you talked about your own life and challenges you’ve had. You are transmitting what you’ve learned and you’re getting out of your own way, and yet you are talking about your own life. I’m wondering about the balance between those two.

JF: I don’t think any of us experience things that are unique to us. When we experience suffering, the story line may be different for each of us, but suffering is suffering and that is universal. I think that’s where we can really understand interbeing. I share my own experience because the Buddha said to trust your wisdom, trust your experience. When I speak from my own experience, I can speak with conviction, because it’s true for me. Hopefully it will be something that others can put to use, too. My interest in Buddhism is how we apply the practices that the Buddha gave us to the suffering we encounter in our daily life, to transform it and become free.

Gentle Diligence

MB: Would you be willing to give an example from your own life of how you have used the practice to get free?

JF: Probably the most profound example was getting a diagnosis of cancer. My mother was dying at the time and she had been in the hospital. I had just signed her over into hospice care, and I went downstairs to the waiting room and got a call saying I had cancer. I remember feeling as if ice water were running over my body. Real fear. But within a minute, I breathed, I sent metta to myself, and then the question came to my mind: “Are you sure?” As soon as I asked the question, I felt peace, because I realized, “I have no idea. It could be almost nothing; it could be death. I don’t know.” So for me to get all wound up about it would really not make sense. I realized, “I need to find out, and that’s it. And right now, I need to be present for my mother in the hospital.”

The first thing was breathing. The breath was right there as the default position. The second was metta. I have practiced metta for twenty years, so it was right there. And then to ask, “Are you sure?” That takes me right to nonattachment to view and “don’t know mind.” And in “don’t know mind,” there’s every possibility. It’s such a wonderful place.

And then I thought, “Wow, I’ve been practicing the Five Remembrances* for years.” I have been aware of impermanence, but never as aware as when I got that phone call. The next thing that came to mind was: “If you have limited minutes to be on the planet”—later I thought it was really comical to think in terms of “if ” —“how many of them do you want to spend in fear and speculation?” And the answer was, “Zero.”

So that, to me, is a clear and concise example of how the practice can be applied in daily life. And the most beautiful thing to me was, going through a year of cancer treatment, I probably didn’t spend more than maybe a half an hour in the entire year in fear and speculation. I told my husband, “You know, the real tragedy wouldn’t be to die of cancer; to me, the real tragedy would be to have wasted this time.” To not have enjoyed the time I did have.

That was reinforced after the first chemotherapy infusion I had. I was treated in New York City, and as we walked out of the hospital, a bus came around the corner cutting in too close, and my husband pulled my arm and yanked me back from it. He said, “Be careful, they’re driving like crazy people.” He looked at me, I looked at him, and we just cracked up. I said, “Wouldn’t that be ironic, here we are, we’re convinced I’m going to drop dead of cancer, and instead we get hit by a cross-town bus.” [Laughs.] It was such a beautiful teaching, because we have no clue when the time will come or how it’s going to happen. Becoming more comfortable with impermanence is such a relief. It really frees us up to enjoy life.

MB: That is an incredible example. Thank you. You used all these potent tools one after the other in a very short period of time.

JF: It’s just following directions. Thay offers the practice in a very gentle way, instructing us to be gentle with ourselves, to not do violence to ourselves. At that point I had been practicing for about seventeen years, and I felt like I had a very laid-back practice. I felt like I was probably not strengthening my mind as much as I could, my practice was not as rigorous as other practices, and I was not sure if it was as solid as it needed to be. But clearly the benefits of gentle diligence over time were there because there had been absolute transformation at the base. I can usually only see progress in my practice by noticing that I am responding very differently to a situation than I would have reacted ten years earlier. In this instance, I would have been completely tied up in knots; I would have been a nervous wreck. I would have been trying to figure out what was going to happen and completely caught in fear and speculation. I know that my mind had been trained in that way.

But the training in gentle diligence, paying attention in everyday life, and taking good care of strong emotions when they come up really paid off. When attachment to views arose, it was such a gift to be able to look clearly, to not get caught in the surface of things. And to just do that over and over and over and over and over and over. If we practice like that, when the going gets tough, the practice is there for us.

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MB: That’s a beautiful example of how we can train our minds without effort, without stress.

 JF: We don’t have to create a war with ourselves. There doesn’t have to be any judgment, criticism, any of that. It’s just to notice, and to do the practice, then to notice. To strengthen our mindfulness and concentration.

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Healing the Inner Child

MB: In the book Reconciliation: Healing the Inner Child, you tell a wonderful story of transforming your anger to compassion by connecting with your inner three-year-old. Do you connect with your inner child on a regular basis? What have you found helpful in keeping her nourished and happy?

JF: When I went to my first retreat, I signed up for a consultation with Thay Phap An. I was brain-injured from a car accident and I was in a state of real confusion. I wanted to talk about a woman who had been very angry with me, so I said, “There’s this woman, she’s a really angry person.” And he said, “That’s not correct.” He said that whenever we assign a label to anyone or anything, it’s incorrect, because everything is impermanent. So we’re assigning a permanent status to something that is inherently impermanent. That has been a wonderful teaching; I use it all the time.

And then he went on to teach me about healing the past in the present moment and doing Beginning Anew with myself. It was such a training in the ability not to hold on to resentment and anger. And to look at myself and ask, “What is this person bringing up in me?”

I’ve been doing the practice of healing the inner child ever since. There’s hardly been a day that I haven’t used it, in one way or another. When I’m experiencing a strong emotion, I simply notice and embrace that feeling, breathe with it, and hold it. For me, just being with that feeling will usually bring a memory back of another time and place. It might have been last week or it might have been when I was three.

It inevitably takes me to times and places when I needed love and compassion and I didn’t get it. So my job is to provide that for myself. I can show that child a lot of love and compassion. My main goal in the practice is to bring the child into the present moment, to let her know the good news that she is no longer three. We’re adults now, and if people are yelling, we can leave. We don’t have to be there.

Many people do not access memories from the past when they embrace difficult emotions. If that is the case, you can breathe and send metta to yourself in the present because that child is still alive inside of you. A lot of healing can happen by doing this practice—accepting what is in the present moment and accepting ourselves unconditionally.

MB: How is your inner child today?

JF: I think that she is doing better and better, every day in every way. [Laughs.] I find there are fewer times that I need to spend a lot of time with her. Mostly now it’s a recognition, like Thay says about his anger: “Hello anger, my little friend, you’re back again.”

About fifteen years ago, my husband Richard and I were at a retreat and we were practicing noble silence. He gave me a note that said, “I called home, and so-and-so left a message. She wanted to borrow this thing of yours, so I called her back and said sure.” I was over-the-top enraged. And I was surprised at how angry I was, because I thought, “If I had retrieved the phone call, I would have called her back and said sure.” So I knew there was more to this than was meeting my eye.

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Luckily we were in noble silence, so I couldn’t say a word. I sat myself down, did my breathing, did my metta for myself, and then I invited that feeling up and what I found was [a feeling of] not being considered. When I invited the rage up in me, I was transported back to being eleven years old. At that time, I had a surrogate father. This guy who lived upstairs fell in love with me when I was a month old, and he was a blessing in my life. He showed me unconditional love and was prominent in my life until I was eleven, when he died of a heart attack.

Sitting on my cushion, when I got in touch with the rage, I was transported right back to the conversation when my parents told me he had died. They said he had the heart attack two days before, but they didn’t want to tell me because they didn’t want me to see him with tubes in his body; they thought that would be too upsetting for an eleven-year-old. And now he was dead. I realized that I had completely buried that memory. If you had asked me a week before, I would have had no recollection of that conversation ever happening.  As I was sitting, I realized that to be told someone is dead when you are eleven—there’s nothing you can do about that. So I surmise that I was enraged because they had made a decision concerning the most important thing in my life and nobody asked me.

When I went back to revisit the conversation as an adult, I could give that eleven-year-old all the understanding and love and compassion that she needed, that she didn’t get at that time. I could validate her rage at not being considered. And I could see my parents as only trying to be good parents. It was all with the best of intentions that they created the situation. To see it all with no criticism, no blame for any of us, just understanding and compassion.

Thay says mindfulness leads to concentration, concentration to insight, insight to understanding, understanding to compassion. That’s how it works. I find that to be true every time. When I get to that place of understanding, there’s nothing but compassion. I wind up feeling compassion for myself, feeling compassion for my parents, and feeling compassion for my husband, because I look at him and think, poor guy, there he is trying to do something wonderful and here sits his wife, who is enraged. He knows nothing about this baggage I’m carrying.

MB: That story took place in the context of a retreat, where you were in noble silence and you were able to go deeply and work through these things internally. I’m curious how you would advise people who are in the midst of a busy life, when a trigger like this comes up, but it’s not in the context of a retreat.

JF: Most of the retreats I offer are in silence because of my experiences of this kind of healing. To be able to practice in silence helps me develop my mindfulness and concentration. And it helps me to hard-wire in the practice, so that when I am in the rest of my life, where there is not noble silence and most people aren’t practicing at all, that gentle diligence kicks in; it becomes a default. I can recognize that I have been overreacting to not being considered for over forty years. The blessing is that I don’t have to be controlled by it. I don’t have to react blindly out of ignorance to what I’m carrying around.

Once I know that there’s a block of suffering in me that can be watered and brought to the surface, I can recognize it for what it is and I don’t have to react to it. If I’m in my daily life and somebody does or says something that’s hurtful, I make a note of it. I’ll try to say, “For future reference, the next sit I do, I need to spend some time with that.” I just make an appointment with myself to take good care of that.

The more that I do it, it doesn’t take long at all. It’s not like I have to sit for three hours and work with it. It’s a very quick recognition now, for the most part, and I can go do walking meditation. If I can do a ten- or fifteen-minute walk, I can calm myself, get the mud to settle out of the water, then I know what to do and what not to do.

Making Good Use of Suffering

MB: What experiences in your own life have been most valuable in serving you as a Dharma teacher?

JF: I would say suffering. There’s nothing quite like it to help us to wake up. Thay says that he wouldn’t want a nirvana without suffering, and I can see why. The brain injury from a car accident is what brought me to the path, so suffering got me here. I look back at any suffering I’ve had in my life and ask: “What did it have to teach me? Did I benefit? Did I make good use of it?” If I didn’t make good use of the suffering, then it’s a waste of time.

MB: In Reconciliation, you write that you “discovered that mindful speech isn’t just choosing the right words to say—it’s transforming the ill will in my heart.” What guidance would you give to someone who wants to transform the ill will in his or her heart?

JF: One of the things I’ve been practicing with a lot is looking at stories that I’ve been told about myself or that I make up about myself and others. And getting caught in the surface of those stories and believing them. When someone does or says something hurtful, Thay invites us to look deeply, to not get caught in the surface of things, and that’s what leads to understanding, and with that comes compassion; it’s unavoidable. When I can understand somebody else’s suffering, any ill will is transformed into compassion.

When I’ve been able to cut through the story I’ve been telling myself, I feel almost childlike. I can simply show up without a story, show up not needing to make up one, and experience whatever is happening. It’s so delightful. When people ask me what I do for a living, I say I try my best to show up, pay attention, and respond skillfully to life.

MB: It seems like it’s about you, but not about you—like you’ve made yourself into a fertile ground for these seeds to grow, but anyone can do that.

JF: Anybody can. If I can do it, anybody can. I’m the perfect example. I feel so blessed to have come into contact with the Dharma as transmitted through Thay in this lifetime. He has spent his life looking deeply and doing everything possible to make the Buddha’s teachings understandable—even to me. He says he has a fire in his heart. I feel that that fire is what he transmits to us. We are the luckiest people in the world and this is a very happy continuation day for all of us.

*    The Five Remembrances:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

 

Edited by Barbara Casey

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Both Far and Near

Dharma Gaia in New Zealand 

By the Dharma Gaia Core Community

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Winter Retreat, 4 a.m.

Low in the east a bright Venus
lifts the dome of sky
just as the Milky Way
has spilled herself through it.

The womb of breathable darkness
draws you in, while frost crystals
catch the moonbeams
and snap the light into tiny sparkling fragments
filling the body with stillness.

Step outside
the breath shoots up in a gasp of cold.
Ears ring and sing and the body fills
with vibrant early morning frost.

That’s when the stillness empties you of everything.

Forest, pond, building with sloping crystal hat,
and gardens,
they know how to pray. Standing still
naked in the moonlight and translucent frost
unashamed and prideless
in their beauty.

You too are like this but you do not see it.

There is nothing more you want … nothing you just breathe.
Your breath is a prayer.

In terms of the physical distance, The Centre of Mindful Living in New Zealand is probably the Sangha farthest away from Plum Village, and yet that distance shrinks to nothing in the time it takes to breathe one conscious breath. There is never loneliness or isolation.

The Centre, commonly known as Dharma Gaia, is located in beautiful countryside, flanked by a tranquil harbour and a majestic mountain on the Coromandel Peninsula, about two hours’ drive from the cities of Auckland and Hamilton. From throughout New Zealand, people come here to connect with the practice. They contribute their physical energy, financial support, and most of all their commitment to practising and building the companionship of Sangha by offering regular mindfulness weekends and retreats.

Most people who visit Dharma Gaia are deeply touched by its peace, simplicity, and profound beauty. But Sister Pho Nghiem always emphasises that our true beauty is our love for one another and our dedication to practising as a Sangha. That is what has sustained us for over eighteen years and will go on sustaining us.

In the early morning, we give ourselves over to the Earth, walking peacefully together. We walk the land in silence and stillness, aware of the generosity of many friends who offer energy, funds, and support, which maintain and nourish this island of peace and presence. Our feet are their feet; our steps an offering of gratitude to them.

Sunshine, fresh air and green banana leaves dance.
Stream and birds sing the harmonies.
Citrus are beginning to golden
and the aromatic fragrance of their leaves
heralds the freshness and cool beauty
of the Dharma Gaia autumn.
The Sangha body is everywhere.

Like Plum Village, but on a much smaller scale, Dharma Gaia hosts many people from all over the world. Those of us who live here know it is a deep blessing to have the chance to provide this haven for the constant flow of visitors. We listen and learn from those who come here, and we have the chance to be in touch with the life of the wider community in all its various joys and challenges.

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Many who come are young people searching to find their place in the world and the right way to live. They stay for a week, a month, and sometimes longer, helping in the gardens, building bridges over the stream, clearing new walking paths, and enjoying the fruits of community and mindful living. Many of them have not heard of our practice before coming here, but later go on to seek out Sanghas in their own countries, or to visit Plum Village in France and other centres in Europe and the USA. In a few weeks’ time, Sangha members will fill the Centre as we take time to share from the winter fruits, complete the Rains Retreat, and receive deep nourishment from our practice together. Wonderful!

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When the first draft of this article was written, we in New Zealand were stepping lightly into spring. The nights still had that sharp bite and the early morning air was wonderfully fresh. In spring here, the forest gently releases so many forgotten fragrances that rise up out of the sleep of winter. Our Kowhai trees bloom in magnificent splendour, their flowers falling like soft golden rain, and the days are filled with song as tui, bellbird, kereru, fantail, bees, insects, and countless other beings wake up to the glory of renewal.

Some months have passed; the season changed and changed again. Now the fullness of summer retreats is also receding and we mellow into the changing colours of autumn leaves. How strange and wondrous it is to contemplate that as you read this article in the northern hemisphere, your late winter days are edged with the promise of the spring. Bowing to the wonder of our planet and her seasons, we close by sharing this deep and precious gatha Thay offered to us in the winter of 2004.

The seed is sown in the auspicious earth
Now is the occasion to enjoy the spring
Day and night dwelling peacefully in touching the earth
Everywhere flowers open, lighting up the true mind

This article is offered in honour of two dear Sangha sisters: Aletia Hudson, who passed on December 8, 2011, and Shirley Morris, who passed on March 25, 2012.

The Core Community of Dharma Gaia consists of Sister Pho Nghiem, Doris Drinkwater, Anton Bank, Jeannine Walsh, Mark Vette, Caitlin Bush, Benni Bonnin, and Kim Morresey. For more information, see www.dharmagaia.org or email peace@dharmagaia.org.

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Joyfully Together Mindfulness Practice Centre

A Beautiful Lotus in Malaysia

By Yeshe Dolma

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Together Mindfulness Practice Centre (JTMPC) in Shah Alam, Malaysia, in the tradition of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh and Plum Village. The ceremony took place during a Wake Up retreat for young people and was led by Brother Phap Kham, who is in charge of guiding Plum Village in Asia, Sister Linh Nghiem, and eighteen other Plum Village monastics from Thailand, Vietnam, and Hong Kong.

The Plum Village tradition in Malaysia started when Sister Linh Nghiem and a handful of other organisers led the first retreat at the Chempaka Buddhist Lodge in Petaling Jaya in 2006. Sister Linh Nghiem also gave a public talk at the Kota Kemuning Buddhist Centre. Two years later, in 2008, Brother Phap Kham and a few monastics held a four-day retreat at the Chin Loong temple in Rawang. Brother Phap Kham and others came again in 2009 to sponsor a family retreat, for the first time including children in the programme. That retreat took place at the Chin Swee temple in the Genting Highlands. Brother Phap Kham and other monastics also conducted the first Day of Mindfulness on November 21, 2009, in the Shah Alam Buddhist Society (SABS) Building. Since then, a small group of people from Kota Kemuning have organised a monthly Day of Mindfulness at the SABS.

In September of the following year, the Buddhist community in the Kota Kemuning region helped bring Thay and seventy monastics to Malaysia. The Zen Master’s visit was a big event made possible by many selfless people from eight different Buddhist organizations. Many people benefited from Thay’s teachings and some were inspired to build Sanghas in different parts of the country. Soon after his visit, the Joyfully Together Sangha was formed. Friends from all over the Klang Valley came to practice with us. Early in 2011, the Sangha acquired a two-story building in Kota Kemuning and turned it into the first permanent Plum Village practice centre in Malaysia.

We meet every Sunday at the Joyfully Together Mindfulness Practice Centre. On the first and third Sundays, we have family programmes, which include children. The Jataka tales are acted out by the children. On the second Sunday, we have Dharma study and read from Thay’s book, The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching. We have our Day of Mindfulness on the fourth Sunday. The fifth Sunday is a Lazy Day when we do housecleaning for the centre.

Thay’s visit also resulted in the formation of a second Sangha. In January 2011, the Gentle Waves Sangha started in Penang/Ipoh for people in the northern region of our peninsula. In the same year, our first Malaysian nun, Sister Nga Mi, was ordained a novice in the tradition of Plum Village.

Slowly and steadily, we are building our Fourfold Sangha in Malaysia. May each of us strive to remember to breathe mindfully, to take gentle steps on our Mother Earth, and to live mindfully in the present moment. May the teachings of the Buddha and Thay, together with the Sangha, benefit people from all walks of life throughout Malaysia.

mb62-Joyfully2Yeshe Dolma, Living Joy of the Heart, is a member of the Joyfully Together Sangha in Shah Alam, Malaysia. She has led and organised Days of Mindfulness for the Gentle Waves Sangha in Ipoh/Penang,Malaysia, since January of 2011.

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Fertile Ground

Asian Institute of Applied Buddhism

By Sister Hanh Nghiem

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The Asian Institute of Applied Buddhism (AIAB) in Hong Kong, on Lantau Island, was established in May 2011. It is a continuation of the At Ease Mindfulness Practice Centre, Plum Village’s first home in Hong Kong, which was opened February 2009 and located in Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon. Before the center moved to Lantau Island, only four monastic brothers lived there. Now the AIAB is home to eighteen monastic brothers and sisters. The sisters dwell at Lotus Pond Temple and the brothers dwell at Bamboo Forest Monastery.

The AIAB is a quiet part of the Ngong Ping Village. Ngong Ping is home to several tourist attractions, including Po Lin Monastery, the Big Buddha, the Heart Sutra Pillars, and Phoenix Peak Lantau Island has many Buddhist temples and shrines, Lotus Pond Temple being one of the oldest. The popularity of this place is easy to understand, because nature has been preserved, making a beautiful natural environment for people and living beings. When people come to Lotus Pond Temple, they immediately feel more peaceful and light as they pass through the temple’s gate. The daily practice generates a special energy that penetrates the natural environment. Friends comment on how noticeably the energy of the temple has changed since the Sangha has come here. Even the temple dogs have transformed, becoming more friendly and trusting of people.

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Here is our typical daily schedule:

4:30 a.m.               Wake Up
5:00                       Sitting Meditation & Chanting
6:15                       Exercise
7:00                       Breakfast
8:00                       Walking Meditation
9-11:30                  Classes
12:00                     Lunch & Rest Time
14:30                     Gathering & Working Meditation
16:30                     Meetings
17:30                     Dinner
19:30                     Sitting Meditation & Chanting
21:30                     Noble Silence

As the tradition holds true, Monday is our sacred Lazy Day. Sunday is our public Day of Mindfulness, when we offer general practice for the public. We also try to give particular attention to the local Vietnamese and to children on the first Sunday of the month; Wake Up for young people ages eighteen through thirty-five on the second Sunday; Order of Interbeing members and teens on the third Sunday; and affinity groups like applied ethics and health care professionals on the fourth Sunday. There are also Days of Mindfulness and evening practice gatherings at different sites in Hong Kong.

Essential Teachings 

The curriculum of the AIAB is coming together in the sense of its ability to be articulated and implemented in our daily life practice. The material is already prepared because Thay has been teaching it for a number of decades. The core classes start with the fundamental sutras of the Plum Village practice: the Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing, the Four Establishments of Mindfulness, and Knowing the Better Way to Live Alone. They are studied along with introductory Buddhist psychology as covered in Thay’s book, Buddha Mind, Buddha Body. Essential Buddhist teachings complete the core curriculum, as covered in The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, the Five Mindfulness Trainings, and the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings. These are followed by in-depth study of Manifestation-Only Buddhist psychology, as taught in Understanding Our Mind: 50 Verses on Buddhist Psychology. These core courses are prerequisites to any further studies at the AIAB.

mb62-FertileGround3In the meantime, people can hear lectures when they attend a full day of practice at our tri-monthly course for health care professionals and monthly Day of Mindfulness focusing on Applied Ethics. We have already covered a general base for The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching and Buddha Mind, Buddha Body in our two three-month Summer Retreats. The same basic instruction was offered to the general public every Sunday, and was followed by Dharma discussion to clarify and enrich our understanding of the teachings.

In the Plum Village centers in France and the U.S., the three-month retreat for monks and nuns to stay within the monastery boundaries is in the winter months, but at the AIAB we have our three-month retreat during the summer months, at the same time as the other local Buddhist monasteries. We also have a three-month “bonus” rain retreat from December through February, when we limit teaching trips to those that are made by special request.

From March through May, and again from September through November, we collaborate with our other monastic brothers and sisters in Thailand and Vietnam to hold teaching trips in Southeast Asian countries like Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. We also hold teaching trips in China, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and other countries in Asia.

Lay practitioners are welcome to stay and practice with us. At the moment, there is not a set arrival day. You can email us to inform us of when you would like to come. We ask that people do not arrive on a Lazy Day (from Sunday at 6 p.m. until Monday at 6 p.m.).

The Asian Institute of Applied Buddhism is young and full of energy. It is a blessing to be on such fertile ground for our roots to go deeper and our horizons to broaden.

mb62-FertileGround4For more information about the AIAB, visit www.pvfhk.org or email  aiab@pvfhk.org.

Sister Hanh Nghiem, True Adornment with Action, presently lives at the AIAB.

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