Practice with Young People

By David Dimmack

Young people are the flowers of our Retreat Sangha. They radiate innocence and spontaneity, and their fresh smiles remind us that our retreat can be joyful as well as peaceful. In them we see our own innocence and freshness. Their presence is an important gift.

Unconditional acceptance of each young person and relentless patience are essential in planning a young people’s program. In 1989, I observed my son and daughter with Sister Chan Khong and other nuns. They were learning a skit to present to the Sangha. The group was loud and wild, but what impressed me was the nuns’ calm, gentle, and persistent approach. There was not even a hint of scolding (which I was inclined to do). They calmly and consistently directed the young people back to the task. I aspire to practice this teaching in fathering, and it is probably why I lead these programs whenever possible. As Thay says, “When a tree does not grow right, the farmer does not blame the tree. He changes how he treats the tree.” These words encourage our mindfulness in our relations to our vulnerable and impressionable young people.

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Young people’s programs usually include singing, pebble meditation, and the bell of mindfulness. The primary song and pebble meditation are based on a gatha from The Blooming of a Lotus: In-Out, Flower-Fresh, Mountain-Solid, Water-Reflecting, Space-Free. We often sing the Two Promises of developing understanding and compassion. Both songs have accompanying hand gestures that young people enjoy learning, and help set a lighthearted tone. Betsy Rose’s tape, “In My Two Hands,” has many songs children enjoy, Music, song, and story are essential to a young people’s program.

In pebble meditation, each person makes a pouch and finds five pebbles it can hold. Each pebble represents one phrase of the gatha. When it’s time to meditate, we place our pebbles in a pile. We pick our In-Out pebble, hold it and look at it, breathe with it, and imagine the phrase, then lay it on a new spot. With the next pebble, we imagine being a flower and feeling fresh, and place it with the first pebble.

We leisurely transfer our pebbles, one by one, to their new spot-looking, holding, breathing, and remembering. We then replace them in our pouch or begin again. Children of all ages can learn to meditate this way.

Each young person also practices being bellmaster. When calm and ready, the beIlmaster stops and bows to the small bell, slowly picks it up, holds it in the palm of their hand, and raises it to eye level. Looking at it, they imagine they are holding a precious gift. Using the smaIl wooden stick, they tap the bell to wake it up and let everyone know to become quiet. Then, with a full stroke, they sound a long, beautiful tone. Everyone enjoys three full breaths and returns to what they were doing more refreshed and aware. Young people also enjoy apple meditation, relaxation, drawing and craft projects, discussions and sharing, reading and storyteIling, improvisational skits, interactive games and open play, stretching, tumbling, hiking, jokes, and just hanging out. Often, they present songs, skits, drawings, or Dharma recitations to the Sangha. A happy program tends to be loosely structured, allowing each person to focus on their own project. Monks, nuns, musicians, storytellers, and others are welcome visitors. We want to cultivate the seeds of mindfulness in these tender young sprouts and have it be fun.

A young people’s program reflects the positive attitude of the Sangha. Feelings of trust and cooperation grow between everyone involved. Young people welcome the slower, gentle rhythm of the meditation and retreat process, away from television and other fast-paced gadgets.

Local Sanghas can create similar programs. Playfulness and mindfulness need not be separate-breathing and smiling as well as a balloon or a funny hat works wonders. As Phaedrus says, “The mind ought sometimes to be diverted that it may return to better thinking.” A leader only needs to provide a few simple activities, be devoted to gentle play, and be willing to be a little foolish. Let the collective playfulness of your Sangha be your guide.

David Dimmack, True Mirror, has assisted with young people’s programs since 1991. He practices with the Ambler, Pennsylvania, Sangha.

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Gatha

Breathing in, I know I am breathing in.
Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.

Breathing in, I see myself as a flower.
Breathing out, I feel fresh.

Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain.
Breathing out, I feel solid.

Breathing in, I see myself as still water.
Breathing out, I reflect all that is.

Breathing in, I see myself as space.
Breathing out, I feel free.

From Touching Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh

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Acceptance

By Patrecia Lenore

I have fibromyalgia, a close relative of chronic fatigue syndrome. I am always in pain, all over my body, sometimes low-grade, sometimes acute. When the pain is acute, it feels like my body is on fire and my bones are being scraped. I also have fatigue. Again, sometimes it is low-grade, sometimes so acute that it is difficult to breathe or eat. Although I cannot always prevent or predict acute attacks of pain or fatigue, I have learned a lot about how to manage my life so it is less likely that I will reach the acute stage. Meditation is one of my most valuable tools.

Meditation helps me notice the subtle signs of a possible flare-up. As Thay says about strong feelings in Peace Is Every Step, the first step is to be aware. If I’m aware of my body’s signals, I can see, hear, or feel the signs of weakness and pain. After the initial awareness, I usually have to work on accepting what my body is telling me. This is not always easy. In fact, it usually isn’t. Like most people, I want to finish what I’m doing, whether it is work or pleasure. It’s difficult to stop. But if I can concentrate on the fact that stopping and resting is being loving to myself, rather than focusing on the feelings of disappointment and deprivation, then I can allow myself to rest. Sometimes this means simply observing my breath with my eyes closed. Sometimes I am able to listen to quiet music. If I catch the signals soon enough, I might have the strength to talk to a friend or read a book. Often the most difficult part is watching my mind being scared and projecting that I will always feel this way. I try to remember that everything changes, even pain. And when I can’t remember that very well, I call a friend to remind me.

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I need to work on accepting my limitations within this illness and asking for help. Recently, I was caring for my grandchildren while my daughter and her husband moved into their new house. I wanted to help pack and carry things, but after a few minutes, was not able to continue because of the pain and fatigue. Immediately, thoughts about my deceased mother arose. She was almost always ill, and, I am sorry to say, my brothers and sisters and I felt very critical of her a lot of the time. Now I have a lot more compassion for her. I also had a lot of self-pitying thoughts. When that happens, I’m learning to gently turn my mind to what I can do. In this case, I reminded myself that perhaps my quiet presence was calming to those who were packing and moving, and that helping keep my grandchildren happy was enough. Without my meditation practice of looking deeply, I would not have known how sad I felt about my limitations or that I needed to gently change my focus to what I was able to do.

At the wonderful retreat in Santa Barbara this fall, I noticed it was easy to assist the staff in finding help for the differently-abled, but difficult to put myself in that category. An amusing thing happened. I helped find an alternate space for morning meditation for those unable to walk on the beach, never dreaming I would be one of those people. But on Monday morning, I found myself in that very space, because the ocean air was too cold for me. There were only a few of us, but each morning I had the pleasure of Sister Jina’s gentle and “solid like a mountain” presence, leading us in meditation and mindful movements. Her presence brought me and the others joy and peace. What a treat!

Here is a meditation verse I composed to help remind me that it’s okay to ask for help.

Breathing in, I scan my body;
Breathing out, I smile gently to my body.
Breathing in, I scan my mind;
Breathing out, I smile gently to my mind.
Breathing in, I feel tiredness (or pain);
Breathing out, I open to my tiredness.
Breathing in, I see I need assistance;
Breathing out, I ask for help, knowing it helps others too.
Breathing in, I accept others’ assistance;
Breathing out, I feel gratitude.

I offer this verse in loving gratitude to Thay and all the wonderful teachers that I have encountered in myriad forms—people, animals, plants and minerals.

Patrecia Lenore, Flower of True Virtue, practices with the Community of Mindfulness/New York Metro.

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Open Heart Posture

By Margaret Kirschner

We sat facing Een—Eileen Kiera—our mindfulness teacher at Indianola, in a serene campground on the shores of Puget Sound, Washington. She was giving us a gift, she said, as she instructed us on how to sit or stand: slight pelvic tilt, sternum lifted as if pulled gently upward by a string, allowing the shoulders to rest slightly back and downward.

Familiar instructions given by yoga teachers, physical therapists. I had often used them myself as I trained chronic pain patients to relax at the hospital where I work. Yet I had a hard time with them personally—reminding myself to alter the chronic slump in my back each time I sat to meditate. Sitting upright was tiring and I would catch myself humped over again and again. Then I heard Een’s words, “Lifting your sternum opens your heart.”

“Of course I want my heart open,” I thought as I raised my ribcage and let my shoulders slip back. For the first time, I had found a position that felt comfortable and relaxing. My mind opened as an awareness shot through me: I had been protecting my heart since my divorce. I had been curling up to protect my soft underbelly—like any animal would do. I realized that I did not need to do that any longer.

I maintained the open heart posture during sitting throughout our week-long retreat, and have been able to continue the posture since. “My heart is open” has become a mantra. To my great joy, I find myself being more spontaneous, having a more open attitude toward others, giving more gifts of smiles or time or material things. That the open heart posture lifts my spirit and changes my behavior is only to be expected when we remember that body, mind, and spirit are one. But it has been my often successful habit to use my mind to change my body. When I remember that I am one with the universe, I find it natural that the universe reflects an open heart posture towards me: a chance meeting with an acquaintance who says he considers me his friend, or being introduced to someone who admires my “caring face.” Small but meaningful events that nourish my open heart.

Lifting my ribcage
I feel my heart opening.
My whole body smiles.

Margaret Kirschner, Mutual Support of the Heart, lives and practices in Bend, Oregon.

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A Collection of Gathas

Gathas are verses used to focus attention on the present moment during various tasks in daily life.
-Ed.

Gatha before Going to Sleep
I vow to bring awareness
into my sleep tonight
to dispel all fears
to see emptiness in all desires
to find my way with mindfulness
to know what is reality
what is an illusion

Listening to Bird Songs
The birds sing Dharma songs:
All things are here
All loved ones are here
We only need to be present
To celebrate this union and
happiness

Gratitude
this morning when I wake up
the raindrops follow my footsteps
each raindrop
deepens my gratitude for you.

Sister True Adornment with NonDiscrimination

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Gathas

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Inviting the Bell

Body, speech and mind in perfect oneness,
I send my heart along with the sound of the bell.
May the hearers awaken from forgetfulness
and transcend the path of anxiety and sorrow.

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Listening to the Bell

Listening to the bell,
I feel my afflictions begin to dissolve.
My mind is calm, my body relaxed,
a smile is born on my lips.
Following the sound of the bell,
my breathing guides me back
to the safe island of mindfulness.
In the garden of my heart,
the flower of peace blooms beautifully.

Gathas for ” In viting the Bell” and “Listening to the Bell” from Thich Nhat Hanh, Stepping into Freedom: An Introduction to Buddhist Monastic Training. (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1997)

Photo courtesy of Plum Village

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Order of Interbeing Aspirant Training

Walking Meditation

By Peggy Rowe Ward

The Education and Training Committee of the Order of lnterbeing developed a four-stage Education and Training Program in 1997. As a regular feature in The Mindfitlness Bell we will offer some of the suggested practice exercises and study work outlined in The Mindfulness Bell #21. We invite Order Aspirant Training programs throughout the world to share in future editions.

Practice Exercise: Sharing the Practice of Walking Meditation

Objective: To experience expressing the Dharma practice of walking meditation and to discuss skillful ways to share the  practice with others.

Estimated Time: 45 minutes – 1 hour (15 minutes writing, 30-45 minutes discussion)

Supplies: Pen and Paper

1. Write a letter to a friend who does not know about our practice of walking meditation. Write to him or her in a way that will help him or her understand the practice and describe the benefits of this practice. Take 15 minutes for this exercise. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, or editing. Just let your words keep flowing.

2. Invite some of the participants to read their letters.

3. Discuss the exercise in the whole group. The goal is not to do a perfect teaching in 15 minutes. A fast writing practice helps us get in touch with essence. Rather than critique individual practice writings, discuss what inspired you, what touched you, what was clear. What have you learned from doing the practice of walking meditation? What did you learn about teaching the practice of walking meditation? Discuss how the teaching can change based on who is the audience or student. Discuss the value of teaching from personal experience.

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Here is an excerpt from our practice session at the Santa Barbara Order Aspirant Training. We had a great Dharma discussion from this exercise. Remember, this was written in 15 minutes!

Dear Aunt Bea,

It was great talking with you yesterday-happy 94! I think it’s wonderful that you’re the only person at Beth Shalom who walks daily. .. not that the other residents choose not to walk, but that you’ve been walking every day without fail, rain or shine, for the past sixty-some years. You probably have more to tell me about walking than 1 could ever tell you, but I want to share with you a kind of walking I do every day. It’s part of my Buddhist practice, and it’s called Kinh Hanh, or walking meditation. Usually I do it very slowly, but you can do it faster; too. I learned this technique from my teacher; Thich Nhat Hanh, who is a Vietnamese Zen monk living in France.

When I do Kinh Hanh, I ‘m very conscious of my breathing. I take a step as I breathe in, and another step when I breathe out, and I walk with graceful balance and a subtly joyful presence. Upright and happy, like dancing the hora, but more slowly: that’s how I imagine I’m carrying myself sometimes. I will alien attach special words to the in-breaths and out-breaths. These are called gathas, and my favorite one is: I have arrived/I am home. There’s something about the combination of those words and the slow-walking that makes me feel at once safe, awake, filled with gratitude and childlike wonder; as though every cloud, every oak leaf, every cigarette butt, every bird, and every person is a miracle. You can also walk faster; taking several breaths with every step, while still saying the gatha. That’s frequently how I gel around the world: step, step, step, I have arrived/step, step, step, I am home.

It would begin to walk in Philadelphia with you some time. You could try this practice, although I think you’ve been doing it all along in your own way. You call it “schlepping around the block, ” and I call it Kinh Hanh.

Love, Michael

Peggy Rowe Ward, True Original Source, practices with The Still Water Sangha.

Photo courtesy of Plum Village

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Snake Medicine

By Sister Thuong Nghiem

Note: Calling something medicine in the Native American traditions is a way of emphasizing the special qualities of that thing. All elements in the cosmos have the potential to heal us and to teach us when our hearts and minds are open.

One foot follows the other, making a path. My foot follows Thay. My eyes travel the ground, take in the sky, always aware of Thay. Today I am Thay’s attendant. Each monk and nun has a chance to attend Thay, spending the whole day from before sunrise until bedtime following Thay and being present in each of his activities of that day. We feel we are the luckiest person on earth on that day. We record every moment of that day in our journal or in our heart, because those moments are very rich organic matter that we can always draw upon to nourish us and to guide us at any time.

Several times today Thay walks outdoors, from Cypress house to the dining hall and around the Solidity hamlet, and up the mountain. Walking, Thay occasionally stops to look at a flower, to touch a leaf. I fee l the great tenderness of Thay’s connection with the plants. Thay offers his attention to a tree and the tree offers her presence, her vitality and her freshness to Thay. I observe these interactions and I am so happy to receive these teachings. Earlier today a film crew came to tape Thay for a film about the history of Buddhism. After setting up an elaborate array of lights and carefully arranging objects around the room they were ready to begin. They asked Thay to have a seat. Thay invited the entire film crew to enjoy a short walk outdoors before beginning the filming. We walked in a circular path. Fresh air, green plants, deep blue sky, bright yellow wildflowers, and slow swooping hawks called to us, bringing us to awareness. The film interview went well, as we were all refreshed by our walk, infused with the living energy of mindfulness.

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Now in the late afternoon Thay invites me to go on another walk. We slowly make our way up the mountain to the flat clearing where the bell tower will be built. We are heading towards the green hammock suspended between two trees. I am focused on Thay. Thay is sitting down in the hammock, Thay is removing hi s shoes. I am aware of each action. I look to see where I might sit to be able to swing the hammock and still be able to see Thay’s face. I look down at the ground around the hammock and I see a snake. Oh!

The snake’s body is stretched out in a straight line right alongside the hammock. He or she is obviously at ease, resting. I pick up a small stick and scratch it on the earth, hoping that the snake will be alerted and will move away. The snake makes no movement. I touch the tip of the snake’s taiI end with the stick and still no movement. I say, “She does not want to go away. She seems to like Thay’s presence.” Thay replies, “Don’t try to scare her away anymore. Allow her to be there for the moment.” So I sit down on a rock to one side of Thay. We sit for many minutes like that, Thay, the snake and I.

I look at the snake. He is patterned brown and green and beige like a rattlesnake. But his head is small, unlike the triangular head I know is the indicator of a poisonous snake. Later I am told he is probably a bull snake. He stretches maybe four feet or so long. In the past I have been very fearful of snakes. Now I have this opportunity to be present with a snake. In this moment I do not feel any fear.

Thay is resting. I feel his great peace and I feel embraced. I ask if I may offer Thay a small song. Thay accepts.

rivers flow through me
sunshine is my morning tea
body ~ harmony
feelings ~ clouds in the sky
perceptions ~ stones on the road
mental formations ~
birds are singing,
singing songs of freedom
consciousness ~ deep blue sea
wash over me
rivers flow through me
sunshine is my morning tea …

The head of the snake moves slightly back and forth , his black tongue flicks in and out. Maybe the snake is hearing the song also. We gaze into the atmosphere, rocks and air, clouds and light soothing my eyes, smoothing my mind.

After another twenty minutes or so the snake begins to move very slowly. His body remains stretched out and every part of him moves at the same time. Over a long time he continues to move ever so slowly. We watch him. He is aware of us also. Thay invites me to sing another song, “No Coming, No Going?”

No coming, no going, no after, no
before,
I hold you close to me,
I release you to be so free
because I am in you and you are in me,
because I am in you and you are in me.

We hear the sound of the brother’s dinner bell. It is 6 p.m. Shall we walk down the mountain? The snake is just beginning to enter the brush covering the sloping earth nearby.

I feel something so lovely inside, a peaceful, deep, grounded feeling. The land has accepted us as her stewards. The animals have welcomed us.

The local San Diego Sangha of thirty or so members, who organized a public lecture in San Diego for over 2,000 people, arrive in the evening to have tea with Thay. Thay tells them about our encounter with the snake. The snake was not afraid of us and he or she moved so slowly in the style of walking meditation or rather moving meditation. Thay says, perhaps the snake was a representative of all the beings living on this mountain, coming to greet Thay.

Thay also recalls the story of when the Mexican workers came across a snake lying under a rock. The workers prepared to kill the snake and Brother Phap Dung intervened. The workers only wished to protect us from this snake, but Brother Phap Dung said, there are so many snakes, we cannot possibly kill them all, let us just scare him away from here instead. Thay said, perhaps the snake we met today was that same snake coming to thank Thay or maybe a good friend of his.

Thay says there are so many beings here, residing all over this mountainous land, seen and unseen. All these beings are becoming aware of our presence. They can feel the peaceful energy of our practice. When we are aware we can also feel their presence. With careful attention we shall learn to live harmoniously together.

Sister Thuong Nghiem (Sister Steadiness) is a novice nun at Deer Park Monastery.

Photo courtesy of Plum Village

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A Biography of Thay Giac Thanh

In Loving Memory of
Thay Giac Thanh
June 9, 1947 – October 15, 2001

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That you are a real gentleman is known by everyone
The work of a true practitioner has been accomplished
When you stupa has just been raised on the hillside
The sound of children’s laughter will already be heard

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A Biography of Thay Giac Thanh

Offered by his Dharma brother Thay Phuoc Tinh from Vietnam at Deer Park Monastery on October 19, 2001, the day of Thay Giac Thanh’s cremation. Thay Phuoc Tinh and Thay Giac Thanh ordained as novice monks together in Vietnam. Translated from Vietnamese by Chan Hao and Chan Tue Nang.
(Some minor changes and additions have been made lor the English. version.)

Venerable Tam Tong, Chan Giac Thanh, Tram Nhien, birth name Le Van Hieu, was born on June 9, 1947 in the quiet and remote hamlet of Tra Loc, in Soc Son village, Tli Ton district, Rach Gia province. His father was Le Van Dat and his mother was Nguyen Thi Nho. He was the third child in the family of four sons and two daughters.

Like many other children in the countryside of Vietnam growing up in the great suffering of their country caused by wars and poverty, Thay Giac Thanh had to learn at an early age to follow his older brothers and sisters to gather food and catch fish. From this, his elegant face became golden-tanned by the tropical sunlight. In spite of his hardships, the seed of compassion had been present within him, perhaps for many lifetimes. At the early age of seven or eight, he shed tears when thinking of our small human life in the vastness of infinite existence.

Thay’s stay in this little village ended when his parents moved to Rach Gia city. While in the city, he began learning to write his first alphabet. During this time there were some relatively peaceful periods without bombings and fighting, as a result of the Geneva peace accords.

As time passed, the little boy with the golden-tanned face from the remote hamlet of Tra Loc became one of the best students of Nguyen Trung Truc School, very intelligent and especially very brave. Perhaps he had inherited his bravery from patriot Nguyen Trung Truc. Thay Giac Thanh once expressed his love for his country in his first poem, “Crying for My Country.”
My dear country
Loving you, I shed my tears in long and tranquil nights.
Country! What crime have you committed
That the devils have ill-treated you
Without compassion, sympathy, or human kindness?
They sold you to the Devil King.
Loving you, I would buy you back with my flesh and blood,
With my heart and mind and and with my whole body.
This body can become ash and dust
Yet I vow to clear the path for peace. ( 1967)

There is a saying, “Man should have a determination to penetrate the deep skies.” If one does not want to be a speck of dust blown away by the whirlwind destroying one’s own country, then one should not participate in the destruction. Better, one should be a lone traveler on the path of no-birth and no-death. Thay Giac Thanh turned his life towards cultivating his ideal of great compassion and liberation through inner discovery. In 1967, he became a novice monk at Temple Thanh Hoa, Tan My village, Cho Moi district, Long Xuyen province. His Dharma name, Giac Thanh (Awakening Sound), was given to him by his teacher, Venerable Pho Hue. Before becoming a monk he had lain awake crying for the suffering of his motherland. Now in the monastery he also lay awake feeling an emptiness in his heart and longing to find the path that would lead him to realize his true nature. Oh! He felt the path to realize the way is so far. He overcame worldly obstacles, left his hometown, learnt the ways of practice, attended retreats, and received the precepts and still he experienced the feeling of emptiness in his heart. He stayed in Temple Giac Nguyen (in Saigon) in 1968, and then in Temple Xa Loi in 1969. He was fully ordained in Temple Giac Vien in the autumn of 1970. In 1971, he attended the University of Van Hanh to further his studies in Buddhism. He also participated in talks on the Diamond Sutra given by Venerable Hue Hung from Temple Hue Quang, and in talks on Buddhist psychology given by Venerable Tri Tinh. He never stopped searching; wherever there was a talk by a well known teacher, he would be there. He said to his friends nowhere is there a program of practice which is as helpful as that which is followed at the monastery of Master Thanh Tu. And then he received further inspiration on his path when he came across the first book of rules and regulations for the True Emptiness Monastery, a book of guidelines for the monastic life at this particular practice center.

In the spring of 1974, he decided to leave the dusty city and to lay down his student pen. He returned to True Emptiness Monastery, entering his second four-year program. The days passed, listening to sutras in the morning, meditating in the afternoon, drinking tea, looking at dewdrops hanging from the leafy roof, and watching rays of sunlight shining and merging with the firelight in the hearth. The love from his brothers and receiving the Dharma milk of his old teacher on the peak of Tao Phung Mountain opened his heart and lit up the path for this young monk to come home. Thay Giac Thanh was a very good meditator and one of the most beloved elder brothers at True Emptiness Monastery. Almost everybody who had a chance to know him had beautiful memories of him. He offered love, tenderness and support to his newly ordained brothers and sisters. With his deep understanding and compassion, he created great harmony in the Sangha. For instance, in mid-1974, one of the brothers had to leave the monastery to become the abbot of Thuong Chieu Monastery. With some tea and some words of farewell, he was able to strengthen the brotherhood, and he artistically presented the cultural beauty of the art of drinking tea. The fragrance of that cup of tea seems to be very present still.

Once again Vietnam’s history turned to a new page. After the spring of 1975, when the communists took over the whole country, the peaceful years at True Emptiness Monastery faded into the past. Everybody now had to work hard in the fields under the hot, burning sun. While working, Thay Giac Thanh sometimes stopped and asked the question, “One’s awakening is not yet realized. Why should one waste one’s precious life just to gain some food? My dear younger brothers and sisters, we should give ourselves time for reflection.” Whenever there was an opportunity, he would contemplate with his little tea set, beside the bamboo grove in the front yard. Often at dawn and dusk, seeing the floating fog, he also felt a human love floating and fading away. He wrote:
As a human in this life,
I exist! I know how to enjoy tea alone.
Thirty years are like a dream gone by.
Day and night, the little teapot is my only friend. (1976)

In the winter of 1977, he left Thuong Chieu Monastery and build An Khong hut in My Luong village. This hut was made with bamboo leaves. Next to the hut was his small meditation space. The setting expressed the meditative taste of a Zen master with a simple and noble life, but it also expressed the artistry of a poet. After four years, he left An Khong hut as described in the last paragraph of the poem “Mong Vang Hoa”:
I am a dusty world traveler
In the infinity of time.
My mind seemed to get lost in the isolated island.
One morning, the island woke up.
Birds shouting, I hastily continued on my path.
The dusty life seems to be washed off
In the immense ocean of waves and water. (1978)

In July of 1981, he escaped out of Vietnam by boat to Indonesia. Like many other  dangerous escapes of the Vietnamese, he was not able to avoid pirates. Seeing the cruel raping of women and grabbing of jewelry, angrily he said, “Do you have a heart? How could you be so cruel to your fellow humans?” The pirates were very angry and threw him into the ocean. Fortunately, the head pirate, in a flash of sympathy, tossed him a rope and pulled him up onto the boat. So the game of birth and death was once postponed.

Thay Giac Thanh was in Song La refugee camp in Indonesia from July 1981 to early 1982. He was sponsored by Venerable Thich Man Giac to come to Los Angeles. He spent his first refugee allowance of $300 to buy an expensive, antique tea set and some tea, and offered the first cup of tea to Venerable Thich Man Giac and said, “Dear Venerable, I am a wanderer. Loving me, you sponsored me to come here. I haven’t done anything to show my gratitude. With my first allowance I bought this tea and I offer this to express my gratitude to you for your great care and deep love.” What was the cost of a cup of tea? A small expense, but this action expressed the gratefulness of a young wandering man. The Venerable offered a cooling shade and a loving harbor for the wandering man. During Thay Giac Thanh’s brief stay at Phat Giao Viet Nam Temple in Los Angeles, the Venerable, like a tender and caring mother, offered the loving energy which healed the wounds in the wanderer’s heart. At the end of Spring 1982, Thay Tri Tue (one of the Venerable’s students) visited the teacher. The Venerable told Thay Giac Thanh, “Thay Tri Tue from Nam Tuyen Temple (in Virginia) is very busy and there is nobody helping him right now. Could you please help him? You two brothers, live and practice together and keep each other company.” Thay Giac Thanh lived happily with Thay Tri Tue in Virginia from 1982 to 1989. During that time, he also lived and practiced in Japanese, Korean, and Burmese practice centers. The appeal of a traveler’s life faded, however, as his journey of coming home was still burning deep within him. Continuously he searched, knocking at different great teacher’s doors, for the final breakthrough to penetrate directly into infinite space.

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In one of the North American retreats led by Thich Nhat Hanh, seeing him practice with intense and strained effort, Thay Nhat Hanh said to him, “Thay Giac Thanh, you do not need to strive so much. Just be joyful and relaxed. Practice so that you can enjoy what is here in the present moment.” These teaching words of Thay Nhat Hanh were like a few drops of water causing a full cup to overflow, like lightning penetrating deep layers of clouds and illuminating the immense sky. Since then, he stopped the search through strained effort. In the summer retreat of 1990 at Plum Village, the retreatants had a chance to practice with a Vietnamese monk, Thay Giac Thanh, with his beautiful smile  that expressed inner peace. In 1990, he began residing at Plum Village and there he lived happily with his teacher, Thay Nhat Hanhthe old oak tree, and he himself became an oak tree protecting his younger brothers and sisters, young oak trees. He also led Days of  Mindfulness at the Cactus Meditation Center located near Paris, France. And he was called by a very poetic name, Thay Cactus. He was given this name because he looked after the Cactus Meditation Center, but it was an appropriate name for hjs permeating but gentle radiance and upright manner. In the summer of 1992, he received the Lamp Transmjssion to become a Dharma Teacher and a gatha from Thay Nhat Hanh. The gatha is:
The awakened nature is the true nature.
Pure sound is the manifestation of the Wonderful Sound.
The full moon’s light illuminates Ty Lo Ocean.
The musical waves are still strong and sonorous.

And this is Thay Giac Thanh’s insight gatha offered to his teacher and the Sangha at his Lamp Transmission:
Formless Samadhi
The limpid water on one side.
Yellow water on the other side.
All will return to sky, cloud,
Ocean and river
There is sunlight during daytime
And moonlight at night,
Shining my way.

Plum Village was a promised land for Thay Giac Thanh. In the past, the promised land had been a dream formed from his faith. Now the promised land was a cradle in which all of humankind’s happiness could flourish, and was a field in which the seeds of compassion and understanding could be sown. Plum Village created a vast space in his heart so that the flower of wisdom could bloom. And with solid steps he fully entered life. He wrote a poem to express his respect and admiration for his teacher:
Just a thunder look
Can press down many great walls.
I bow my head to receive
And vow to keep (the teachings) life after life. (1991)

Perhaps the time he lived in Floating Clouds hut in Plum Village was one of the most beautiful times in his life. Thay Nhat Hanh offered him this small wooden hut on the forest edge, beside his own. All year round, one could hear the birds singing and see many different flowers blooming arollnd his hut. He liked the name Floating Clouds. He walked freely and solidly, and his smiles and words carried a profound peace to people around him.

In 1992, he was first invited to New York City to lead Days of Mindfulness. His presence helped strengthen the bonds with the New York Sanghas and a very special friendship blossomed between him and the Sangha members. In the autumn of 1995, he was invited again to New York and to other East Coast cities to lead various retreats. One thing is for sure, wherever he went — France, America, Australia, Canada, Vermont, Deer Park — from the beginning of his teaching to his last breath, all of us could receive his tender, fresh and peaceful energy.  And he was respected and deeply loved by all of us.

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In 1995 he contracted tuberculosis and his diabetes worsened. With his mindful breathing he embraced his illnesses, which he had lived with since 1992 or earlier. He embraced and took care of his illnesses like a mother loving her child, never complaining no matter
how demanding the child was. Many of our ancestors also faced challenging obstacles but took them as opportunities to realize full enlightenment. Simjlarly, even with these serious illnesses, Thay Giac Thanh could live peacefully and happily, and this was clearly expressed in his poems, such as:
Dharma Seal
Stepping out the land of reality,
Fresh beautiful flowers bloom everywhere.
Only one deep mindfulness shines through
And the three realms have been surpassed … (1997)

Light of Winter
Facing white snow,
Suddenly,
One-self fading away
The whole universe
Turning info a great lamp. (1998)

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In 1997 Thay Giac Thanh became Head of Practice at the Maple Forest Monastery at the Green Mountain Dharma Center in Vermont, the first American off-spring from Plum Village, and offered a stable and joyful presence for the young brothers and sisters and lay practitioners practicing there. A few years later in early 2000, some of the Plum Village Sangha members began looking for property to start a West Coast monastery.  Acquiring the land for Deer Park Monastery, and then becomjng the abbot of the Monastery, Thay Giac Thanh knew that this place would be the last one of his life. Therefore, he used all of his remaining strength to build this place in showing his gratitude to his most respected teacher. Since last year, his illnesses became seriously life-threatening, and finally, like the cycles of birth and death of all phenomena, he returned his impermanent body to Mother Earth. Thay Giac Thanh arrived in Deer Park Monastery in the summer of 2000 and left us in the autumn of 2001. His stay at Deer Park was very short compared to an average human life span, and nothing compared to the age of stars and moons, but his accomplishment is great and that has entered into the hearts of all of us. A kind, gentle and loving voice, a joyful smile untiI the end of his life, a deep and clear wisdom and great compassion, and peaceful steps, all revealed his profound understanding of no-coming, no-going. And that is the greatest gift he has offered to his brothers and sisters and to the Sanghas all over the world. As the Arahats said upon entering Nirvana, “The most important task has been completed.”

He is truly a Dhanna Teacher of many Western and Vietnamese practitioners. Although he passed away, he has transformed to be one with us. His words are like essential keys to open the door to one’s wisdom, happiness and compassion, especially his last Dharma talks in the Full Moon Meditation Hall. How deep his words are! He is the most loved elder brother. Each of us remembers him in our own way. He is a brother, protective, sometimes strict. He is a mother, loving and caring for us. He is a friend, opening his heart to us. He loved his brothers and sisters wholeheartedly. He is a meadow, full of exotic, simple and beautiful flowers and grass, in which each one of us can play freely. Being with him, we see ourselves disappearing and merging with him, like a river merging into the ocean. And we all think it is very difficult to find another elder brother like him. Here are a few lines from a poem written for his younger brothers and sisters:
Please do not scold or condemn
my younger brothers and sisters.
Because I am afraid that the gray color
of sadness and heartache
Will encase their innocence and clarity. (1991)

Thay Giac Thanh was also a student with deep gratitude; he always did his best to help his teachers in spreading the teaching, even when he was very sick.

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In his first return to Vietnrun, in 1992, his old friends were very surprised by his simplicity, and they could not believe that he had experienced great suffering, disappointments, many ups and downs, profound transformations, and attained great wisdom and understandding of the Dharma from inspiring teachers. Wearing the brown Tiep Hien jacket and carrying his monk shoulder bag, he traveled humbly without formal welcoming or farewells. With his gentle smiles, he overcame all the political obstacles he encountered while in Vietnam and therefore was able to successfully offer the Dharma and charity to many people there. Although he had a busy schedule, he still spent time with his relatives and old friends, monastics and non-monastics. He treated them with love from his whole heart. When they saw him again, they were deeply moved to tears. Before coming back to the United States, he searched for and bought a special tea set as a gift for his closest friend. Not many of his old friends were able to be with him in the hospital or attend his funeral, but the deep caring and love from those who were present revealed how much love he has given us. In his second return to Vietnam, in 1999, he told his friends, “I came back to visit all of you for the last time. I don’t think that I will be able to make another trip.” His words seemed like a joke, and nobody could believe what he said would be true. In this trip, one of his childhood friends helped him to fulfill his long-standing wish in helping his family.

He lived humbly, freely and with dignity. So beautifully he came and left. His life is like a pristine cactus flower blooming at night. He left a collection of over fifty poems, not yet published. These poems have been kept by his close friends. His early poems are full of romantic and poetic imagery, but his subsequent poems convey his profound wisdom and vast spaciousness of his heart. Close to death, he seemed to dwell more in the other realm, but when Thay Nhat Hanh spoke to him from Beijing the day before he died, he smiled and his face lit up, and he opened his eyes to receive his teacher’s words. Thay Nhat Hanh read the poem he had just written in honor of Thay Giac Thanh (printed on page 22). Later he added these two lines:
One maple leaf has fallen down
And yet you continue to climb the hill of the
twenty-first century with us.
Thousands of daffodils are beginning to bloom
and the earth continues to be with the sky
singing the song of no-birth and no-death.

Our ancestors said that once the most important task in life has been completed, one needs no longer return to this world. However, Great Beings come and go freely to continue the bodhisattva’s work. Dear Thay Giac Thanh, we vow to be your companion on this path of love and liberation, life after life.

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Bicycle Meditation

By David Percival 

For most of us, the commute to and from work is a daily reality. I am fortunate to be able to bicycle to work, weather permitting, which in New Mexico is most of the time. Unfortunately, I think it is safe to describe the streets of most of our cities as not being bastions of mindfulness. Furthermore, most streets and roads have been designed for cars, not bicycles. You can be entering a battleground of inattentive, careless and sometimes hostile drivers, narrow roads full of holes and glass, and the occasional vicious dog. Yet, it is a joy to leave the car in the garage, enjoy the peace and cal m of an empty road in the early morning before the heat of the day takes over, go through a quiet neighborhood, and do your small part to lessen congestion and pollution.

First, plan ahead, especially if you have just started riding. Get a map and plot the safest, most direct route. Avoid, when possible, riding on major highways and busy main streets during the rush hour. Imagine trying to be mindful on a heavily traveled main street during the evening rush hour when you end up too close to cars parked on your right and vehicles are rushing by you on the left.

As you leave your house in the calm of a peaceful morning, understand that this situation could change in an instant. Leaving your driveway is an important time to be mindful of the present moment, to be aware of where you are and of your surroundings, and to focus on what you and others are doing this moment. As you get ready to leave, stop for a moment and take a few seconds to breathe. Concentrate on the task at hand: to get from your house to where you work happily and in one piece. Be aware that at any moment you may suddenly find yourself in a sea of unmindful drivers in large metal objects that could cause you harm.As in others situations, when you bicycle it is easy to be lost in your thoughts, worrying about the project you have to complete at work, or wondering if your children are safe at school. Be totally aware you are riding your bicycle, not thinking about home, work, or problems. Riding your bicycle is the most important thing in your life at that moment. Being mindful and in the present moment has never been more important.

You may think at first that the constantly changing pace of bicycling does not lend itself to mindfulness. It is frantic at times, when you are trying to wind your way through rush hour traffic, make it up that long hill you are unable to avoid, or wait for the traffic to clear so you can cross a busy street. Yet, like most things we do, bicycling is made up of a series of changing rhythms. And, as in sports or other aerobic activity, bicycling is a wonderful opportunity to observe and monitor your breathing. Indeed, bicycling is a working meditation, where your breath can be uncomfortably obvious at times, particularly when you reach the top of that long hill.

As you change gears, note the changing rhythm of your pedaling. Listen to the rhythm of the cracks in the road. Follow the rhythm of your heart as it talks to you. Note the ever changing rhythms as you proceed down the street, going slower, faster, stopping, starting, easing into traffic, moving out of the way of other vehicles. If your breath is fast on a hill, note that your breath is fast; when it slows down on a flat stretch, note that it is slower. With eyes wide open, concentrate on the constantly changing rhythms of your breathing. On your daily ride when your mind starts slipping away, keep coming back to the reality of the present moment. As thoughts come to mind, be aware of them, then let them go.

Events happen fast on roads and highways and often there is no time for reflection. You must react with an instant mindfulness.

Continue to bring yourself back to the present with your breathing, to your little moving space on a city street. Your awareness of your space and what is around you and what is just ahead is your protection. Be in complete awareness by watching the changing rhythms of your breath. Thay says in The Miracle of Mindfulness, “Keep your attention focused on the work, be alert and ready to handle ably and intelligently any situation which may arise – this is mindfulness.”

Make things that you see or hem” along the road be beacons of mindfulness: stoplights, stop signs, church bells, factory sirens, trains, buses, bus stops, familiar landmarks you see everyday such as parks, playgrounds, gardens, statues, towers, antennas, unusual buildings or special trees. Let them all be Buddhas, bells of mindfulness. Come back to your breath as you see these friends; smile as you go by.

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Often, you can’t avoid crossing a busy street; you have to wait for traffic to clear and your movement is halted. Take a moment to rest, slow yourself down, observe the neighborhood, note your heartbeat, check on the rhythm of your breathing at the moment, breathe in and out and smile at the passing traffic, note the rhythm of the endless stream of passing cars, and then carefully move across the street when it is safe.

As you move along the streets of your city, continue to smile at passing cars and people in their yards. Smile and wave your thanks to drivers who allow you the right-of-way. Observe the unmindful, careless intensity of some drivers intent on getting somewhere at any cost. Smile compassionately at them and let them go.

Beware of the seeds of your anger. These seeds are in us and can sprout instantly, sometimes at the slightest infraction. Anger can grab us and throw us into a profoundly unmindful state and lead to distraction and forgetfulness. New riders, especially, have to learn not to cling to anger and frustration which can put us in danger. Anger while bicycling is often a knee-jerk reaction to an object on the road or another person’s mindlessness and forgetfulness. I have found myself angry at a pothole, a puddle, a broken bottle, at other people’s anger, and other equally insignificant things. I have driven for several city blocks with no recollection of doing so because of being taken over by my anger.

After many year of riding, I have trained myself to tum it all around, to let the potholes, the puddles, the broken bottles, the unmindful drivers, and the angry dogs be flashing beacons of mindfulness. These beacons transmit an instant message to me: let the feeling go and return to mindfulness. Remember, the driver that cut you off is gone; the pothole that jarred your brain is behind you; the obnoxious dog ran off. Let your negative angry thoughts do the same.

I have also found that keeping a half-smile on my face is of great importance. It is very difficult to be angry when I am smiling. Sometimes I do as Thay has suggested and make a contract with my pathway to ride mindfully the entire distance. Another way to stay mindful is to make up a gatha and recite it at regular intervals, such as:
I am riding the path of mindfulness.
I am riding the street of peace.
I am riding the road of understanding.

Now when I ride, when seeds of anger or frustration do appear in my consciousness, through continuing practice they dissolve almost instantly and are gone. It is possible to immediately come back to myself.

Allow the rhythms of your breathing and your mindfulness to be your protection during your daily bicycle commute or any other time you are riding. And, by the way, wear a helmet, go with the traffic, follow the rules of the road, use lights at night, and keep a smile on your face.

David Percival, True Wonderful Roots, lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and is a founding member of the Rainbow Sangha. He was ordained into the Order of Interbeing at the San Diego retreat in August.

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Gathas for Eating Meditation

The Five Contemplations

This food is a gift of the entire universe –
the earth, the sky and much hard work.

May we eat in mindfulness so as to be
worthy to receive this food.

May we transform our unskillful states of
mind and eat with moderation.

May we take only those foods that
nourish us and prevent illness.

May we accept this food to realize the
path of understanding and love.

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Looking at your plate after eating

My plate is empty.
My hunger is satisfied.
May my life benefit all beings.

gathas for eating meditation by Thich Nhat Hanh in Stepping into Freedom (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1997)

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Being the Practice

By Sister Annabel (Sister True Virtue)

From a talk given in the New Hamlet, Plum Village.

Dear Mahasangha good afternoon. Today is the 9th of December in the year 2001. It seems that the object of mind and the subject are not separate. I could think that I am the subject and Plum Village is the object of my mind. But the way I talk about Plum Village and the way I see Plum Village is not really separate from my mind. It is not separate from the collective mind, the mind of others, either. Plum Village is a collective creation.

“Oh, What it is to be happy”

I have always liked to sing. When I arrived in India in 1979 to practice with some Tibetan nuns I immediately found that I was able to sing in a way that I hadn’t been able to sing before. Whenever I had an emotion I would sing about it. The Tibetan nuns liked singing very much. Whenever we had a chance to be a little bit lazy and walk in the forest, which wasn’t very often, they would always sing. And they would ask me to sing for them in English. I wasn’t quite sure what to sing that would be in harmony with the Dharma. So I had to make up my songs as I went along. Whenever I had even a tiny realization in the practice I would make up a song about it. One song was called, “Oh, what it is to be happy.” At that time I didn’t know what it was like to feel really happy inside.

One day I was coming back to the monastery carrying some wooden planks on my shoulder because we were building the monastery in the forest. I saw one of the monks sitting on the side of the mountain. The monks live on one side of the river and the nuns live on the other side. We were up in the mountain and down below us in the valley were rice fields. The rice fields looked very beautiful divided by dikes. In the distance there were more mountains with clouds. You could hear the children laughing in the valley and you could smell the scent of pine trees. You could hear the boy who looks after the cows playing his flute. Everything was perfect, a Pure Land. But somehow in my heart I was not happy. When I saw the monk sitting there, he looked as if he were completely free, completely happy. Although I didn’t know in myself what happiness was, I thought I could experience it through him. So I wrote that song, “Oh, what it is to be happy.” I stayed in India for eighteen months. During that time I appreciated so much the beauty of the place where I was staying. But I never felt as in really got a hold of a practice that would help me to transform.

I wanted very much to be a nun. When I was seven years old I wanted to be a Catholic nun. When I was twenty-one I asked an abbot of a monastery in Normandy if I could be accepted as a Benedictine nun. He said no. When I went to India to be with the Tibetan nuns I still had the dream to become a nun. They also said no. Because I couldn’t become a nun I thought I might not be in the right place, the place where I could really devote myself to the practice and really transform myself. I felt I had so much to transform to really be able to feel the happiness that I witnessed in the monk sitting on the hillside. One day I was feeling very lonely. There had been a drought so I hadn’t had a bath for three months. That sounds like a long time. My skin was very black with dirt and I knew that I didn’t smell very nice and I felt very hungry because we never had enough to eat. In the morning we had a little bit oftea if we were lucky and if we were luckier we had a little bit of barley flour to put in the tea, but not always. At lunch we had one or two chapattis, a kind of Indian bread. And in the evening we had a little bit of rice soup. As we became poorer and poorer the rice soup became more and more watery. When I would wake up in the morning my stomach was always grumbling. It was also cold because we were quite high up in the mountains. I was shivering and hungry. But because of the beauty of the place and because deep down I wanted to practice so much, I stayed for a year and a half.

One day a monk came along from the main monastery and he had a radio. In the place where we lived we didn’t have any electricity or running water. I don’t know how he managed to have a radio but he did and he could pick up the BBC world news. He understood English, which was very rare. He said to me, “You know in England now there are thousands of women who are sitting around the missile bases to stop atomic weapons from being transported out.” There were many American missile bases at that time in England. He said, “This is a wonderful thing to do.” When I heard that I thought maybe that is what I would do.

Finding My True Teacher

So I left India and I went back to England and joined the women. They would sit there day and night to block missiles from leaving the base. We would put ourselves in front of the gate so that the missiles couldn’t come out. This is also part of my deep aspiration: I want there to be peace in the world. I don’t want there to be any war. So I thought this was a way to express my deep aspiration for peace. But in fact it is not enough to sit at the gate of a missile base. You need to sit at the gate of your own mind in order to be able to be aware of mental formations in your own mind and to transform them. That is a very important part of peace work. Some people were not peaceful in themselves. I asked everyone at the missile bases, “Does anyone know about Buddhist practice, does anyone do meditation? Do you know anybody who is in the peace movement and also is a Buddhist?” Everyone said, no, they didn’t know anyone. Then one day someone said, “Oh yes, I know someone. He is a Buddhist teacher from Vietnam,” and they said Thay’s name. Then I remembered that when I was in India, when I was so sure that I wanted to be a nun in the Tibetan tradition, one of the Tibetan teachers said to me, “No, your teacher will come from the far East, not from Tibet.” Other nuns said to me, “You have to meet your real teacher in the country of your birth.”

I heard about Thay and I wanted to find out more about him. I wanted to read what he had written and I wanted to be with people who knew him. I did my best to find a community. There was a Buddhist Peace Fellowship community in Kent so I joined them. We used to produce the Buddhist Peace Fellowship magazin e. We would go on peace  demonstrations and join discussions on peace. Whenever we went on demonstrations for peace we always tried to practice walking meditation because we were in touch with Thay through his writings. But it was not enough to be in touch with Thay through his writings. I wanted to be in touch with Thay’s person also. One day one member in the community in Kent asked, “Why don ‘t we invite Thay to come to England and give some teaching?” So lmet Thay in England and Thay comes from the Far East. I had all the right conditions to meet my true teacher.

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When [ first saw Sister True Emptiness in the airport I fe lt that she belonged to my blood family. I don’t know why but that is how I fe lt. When they had to go home on the last day I was a little bit sad because I didn’t know when I would see Thay and Sister True Emptiness again. I was in the car with Thay and I had to get out of the car to go home and Thay was being driven on to somewhere else. As I stepped out of th e car, Thay also stepped out and asked if I would like to come to Plum Village for the summer opening that year. When I heard that, all my sadness went away. That summer, in 1986, I went to Plum Village.

Another Pure Land

It was very hot that summer. The first thing Thay said to me was, “Here is India, India is here.” That made me immediately feel at home because the first time I had experienced the Pure Land was in India . Here was another Pure Land for me to experience. The Upper Hamlet was so simple and so beautiful. The Transformation Hall was not yet there. The Still Water Hall wasn’t there. Everyone was busy preparing for the summer opening. I immediately felt the atmosphere of complete relaxation. I immediately felt that I was at home. Later on that day someone took me down to the Lower Hamlet. I felt even more at home. It is very strange, from the time that I left the place where I was born I had never felt at home like that. When I looked at the stones the buildings were made of and when I looked out over the hills, I felt like that. Actually I was still a very unhappy person, but I was very happy to find my home, my Pure Land. Thay says you don’t need to have transformed all of your afflictions to dwell in the Pure Land. I don’t know what good fortune I had to be able to be there.

We enjoyed the summer opening. I spent two weeks in the Upper Hamlet with Thay and two weeks in the Lower Hamlet with Sister True Emptiness. In those days, Sister True Emptiness was the practice leader in the Lower Hamlet and Thay looked after the Upper Hamlet. We weren ‘t very well organized. We did everything at the last minute. Sister True Emptiness would have an idea to do something and five minutes later we would do it. It was nothing like the summer opening now. The summer opening was very beautiful because it was a kind of haven for Vietnamese refugees. When they arrived in Europe from the refugee camps, many Vietnamese people found themse lves in a situation completely unlike what they had known in Vietnaill. They found themselves living in a place where they could not speak their own language, eating strange food , probably doing menial work whereas they may have had a high degree of education in Vietnam, and so on. Plum Village is a place where there is Vietnamese language, Vietnamese food and other Vietnamese people.

Sister True Emptiness said it is very important to speak Vietnamese. The refugees have to speak a language that isn’t the ir own a ll day long and they really need to reconnect with their roots. That is one of the reasons I really wanted to speak Vietnamese. I was lucky because everybody spoke Vietnamese so it wasn’t difficult to learn. In those days the summer opening was quite Vietnamese. Now it is a bit more European and North American.

My real Vietnamese teacher was Sister Chan Vi . She was ordained at the same time that Sister True Emptiness and I were ordained in India. She came to Plum Village from the Philippines’ refugee camp. In the winter of I 986, Thay and Sister True Emptiness had gone to visit the different refugee camps and share the practice. They had met Sister Chan Vi at that time and asked her to come to Plum Village. When she arrived she felt it was strange to be in a foreign country and especially to stay with someone who was English and only spoke a few words of Vietnamese. At first it was a I ittle bit difficult.

Sister Chan Vi was the first member of my Sangha that I lived with twenty-four hours a day. When I lived in India I had learned about living with people of a different culture. I knew that there were things that might seem quite natural to me that for someone from another culture might seem offensive. When we live with people from other cultures we need to practice mindfulness and be aware of our actions of body and speech because we can easily offend someone without meaning to.

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I remember in India we lived in a little hut. I was a lay person at the time. The hut was on stilts and under the hut they kept the rice and other things. From time to time a nun would have to go under the hut to bring something out. When I was sitting in the hut it was my duty to leave the hut and stand outside for the nun to be able to go underneath because it would be disrespectful to sit on top of the nun going under the hut. That is not something I learned in England. At first r was very offended if in the pouring rain, in the middle of the monsoon I was told I had to leave the hut so they could go underneath and fetch something. But I learnt that this is part of politeness, a way of not offending people and keeping people happy, so after awhile I managed to do it without feeling any resistance in my heart. With Sister Chan Vi I also tried my best to learn about what is considered correct in the Vietnamese culture.

We both liked garden ing. When Sister Chan Vi had been in Vietnam she had spent time in a temple on the mountain and she had looked after the garden there. In our little garden we grew quite a few Vietnamese vegetables. Actually our garden was under plastic because they wouldn’t have grown outside. Whenever you went into that garden you could smell the fragrant herbs, just like if you go into the greenhouse here, today.

Every morning we would rise early and go straight out into the garden because there were many slugs and they would eat everything up if you were not careful. We would pick up the sl ugs and take them out into the forest. We pulled up any weeds. After we had looked after the garden a little bit we would go to the mediation hall and practice sitting meditation together. If it was summer time we would go into the Red Candle Hall. In the winter it was too cold, we didn’t have any heat, so we would go to the little room next to the Red Candle Hall. When it rained, the rain would come in because the roof tiles were loose; they weren’t attached to each other with cement or anything else. When a supersonic plane went overhead and broke the sound barrier, all the tiles would move. When the tiles moved, they left a gap. So whenever it rained, we had to put out all the buckets to catch the rain coming in. In the winter it used to snow more than it does now. The snow would blow in through the tiles. One time we went up into the attic and there was snow quite high, maybe ten centimeters or so. We had to shovel all the snow in the attic, put it into buckets and carry it down. Fortunately someone very kind saw that we wanted to practice and offered to gi ve a donation to fix the roof so that snow and rain wouldn’t come in anymore. That was the first time we had a big donation. Before that we were really quite poor.

In the winter we heated the rooms with some wood stoves. But in order to have the wood we had to go out and saw it in the morning. We had a saw with handles on two ends. Sister Chan Vi held one end and I held the other and together we sawed the wood. She said that she used to do the same in Vietnam. She used to go into the forest, saw the wood and sell it to help supprt her family.

I was very happy when Sister Chan Vi came. To be able to live together with just one other person in the Sangha twenty-four hours a day is already wonderful. When you have a sister who also wants to practice with you, you receive a lot of energy in the practice. The energy to practice was not doubled, but it increased ten or a hundred times. She supported me very much. She had often wanted to be a nun when she was in Vietnam, and she really liked the practice. She wanted to practice sitting meditation, reciting the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings and chanting the sutras, and she chanted very well. She taught me how to chant the sutras. Sister Chan Vi was also a very good cook and she showed me how to cook Vietnamese food.

Sister True Emptiness also supported me and Thay was always patient. I don’t think I was an easy younger sister to have. I think I have transformed quite a bit since then, but I haven’t transformed everything since you can still see some of the weaknesses I had then. Sister True E mptiness was very patient with me and very open. She never showed any kind of discrimination at all. No one in the Sangha seemed to have any kind of strong racial discrimination, but sometimes we find it a bit easier to be with people of our own culture. But Sister True Emptiness is just as easy with people of different cultures as she is with people of her own culture.

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Thay very kindly allowed me to organize more retreats in England to which Thay agreed to come and teach. The Sangha in England began to grow. I used to meet people whom I had known before I had come to Plum Village and they would say, “Two years ago, you were so arrogant and now you have changed a lot.” That I have been able to transform gives me and others so much confidence in Thay’s way of practice.

Ordination in India

As well as going to England, Thay said that we would go to India. When Thay says we wil l do something, we a lways do it. In the world often when people say something, they might never do it. Thay had been thinking about going to India for a whil e and it was arranged and we were able to go. I was very happy because India had always been my spiritual home and I couldn’t think of anything better than to go there with Thay. I didn’t know that Sister Chan Khong and Sister Chan Vi had asked to be ordained as nuns in India. When I found out I thought, ‘Why can’t I become a nun, too?’ I had already tried twice. And in fact I had even asked Thay one time if I could become a nun when I first came to Plum Village and Thay said, “No, you have to do like Sister True Emptiness and become a lay member of the Order of Interbeing.” I was very sad when I thought that maybe I couldn ‘t become a nun with Sister True Emptiness and Sister Chan Vi . I thought, my goodness if we come back to Plum Village and they are both nuns and I am not, I don’t know if I could bear it. But Thay said that is not a good reason for becoming a nun. I think the main reason Thay agreed to my becoming a nun was my bodhicitta. I th ink it was there somehow. Maybe an additional cause was Sister Chan Khong who intervened on my behalf.

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We went to India. We went to Bodhgaya. We went to Uruvela and we had tea mediation and tangerines with all the children in Uruvela, the village where the Buddha had gone after enlightenment. We waded across t he Neranjera river. What I remember the most was the beauty of doing walking meditation in the places where the Buddha had walked.

One day early in the morning before it was light, we rose and went to the Vulture Peak. The police went with us because there are bandits there. It was the middle of November so it was not too hot and not too cold. We spent the whole day there. Out of great compassion, Thay ordained us as nuns, especially out of great compassion for me who popped in at the last moment. Sister Chan Khong gave me one ao trang (robe) of hers. When I was ordained I was very happy because I felt very light. I thought that I had cut off everything that had bound me, the past and all the fetters, and they were all gone. The next morning when I woke up and put my hand on my shaved head I fe lt very light and very happy. One morning I woke up, put my hand on my head and then I saw a mother rat with six baby rats run past the foot of my bed. They all had their tails in their mouths. In those times we stayed in very simple accommodations. When I lived in India before, the rats would come at night and eat my hair but now they didn’t have any hair to eat.

When I came back to Plum Village I realized that I hadn’t cut off all my afflictions and fetters at all. I still got angry, I still got sad, I still had a tremendous amount to transform . But I don’t think I can ever be shaken in my aspiration, in my determination to realize as fully as I can in this lifetime my own transformation and helping others to transform. I was thirty-eight, nearly thirty-nine when I ordained. It was a little bit late. I already had built up many worldly habit energies. Maybe my transformation is not as fast as other people’s. It is slow, but it is there. When I received the Dharma lamp from Thay in 1990, Thay gave me a gatha which said, “The work of transformation is what reveals the sign of truth.” I think this means that all my life I have to keep transforming and  I have to keep transforming and I have to keep transforming and clearly.

Every summer opening people come and I am always  there. The first summer opening missed was my thirteenth summer when I went to Vennont and didn’t come back that year. Apart from that summer, I have been to fifteen summer openings. In many summer open in gs someone  comes up to me and says, “You are much better than last year.”

Green Mountain Dharma Center, Vermont

In 1997 I went to Vermont. Vermont is extremely beautiful. The snow and the mountains in the winter, the gold and red of the autumn trees, the tremendous shock of green in spring – a very deep, bright green which comes after four or five months of white – the mists of the summer and the clouds in the mountains. The place we live is very beautiful with lakes and a teahouse built in a Japanese style. It was quite different than when I came to Plum Village.

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When I went to the United States, everything was already very comfortable. We didn’t have any work to do. In Plum Village to renovate the buildings, we had to lift out the cow manure from the barns in order to transform them into living quarters. It made very good compost for the garden. But in Velmont evelything was ready to live in. We had a beautiful house with carpet and hot running water and evelything was in place. We were seven sisters and two brothers at the beginning. We lived in a little house and the two brothers lived in another little house. Because they were so few they used to come and join us every day for sitting and chanting. When I arrived, everything was covered in snow. It was so silent. You don’t even hear the birds because it is too cold for the birds to come out. Every morning the sun rises over the snow and it turns pin k and there is a pink glow about everything. It is extremely beautiful.

I began to know the North American people. We think because we know the same language, we have everything in common and we wlderstand each other immediately. But in fact there is quite a difference between the North American people and the European people. It took me about three years to feel at home in North America. Before that, I expected North American people to be like Europeans and they aren’t. The suffering in North America is tremendous. Although materially we have far more than we need, the psychological suffering is huge. I think this was one of the difficult things for me to accept when I was first there. For instance, sometimes we would hear news that the son of someone close to the Sangha had committed suicide or someone else had killed his mother, terrible stories like that, especially among the yo ung people. There were many people we had to comfort because of tragedies in their families that arose from psychological suffering. In some ways I think that psychological suffering is worse than material suffering. But luckily the Dharma doors that Thay has taught can bring relief. It is my deepest asp iration to go back to the United States to understand better the situation there and to devote my life to helping in any way I can.

Often in the United States the newspapers contact us. We are also asked to give talks on international affairs. I have been asked to give talks on the situation in the Middle East. I have been asked to a write an article on Afghanistan and things like that. So part of being in a practice center in North America is that you really have to be in touch with what is going on.

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In Vermont, usually once a week we have visits from school children. Religion is not officially taught in the schools, but many schools have teachers who are interested in Buddhism. They organize courses on Buddhism and the students do a field trip to the Green Mountain Dharma Center to learn how a Buddhist community lives . When the children come we don’t teach them theory. We do our best to have them share about their difficulties. Fortunately we’ve had some young monks and nuns whom the young people from high schools and universities can easily feel close to. The young monks and nuns understand their situation because many of them have been brought up in the United States. Green Mountain Dharma Center is not very big. It may never flourish like Plum Village does. It may always be a little off-shoot of Plum Village. Plum Village is the root, the place for us to come back to, to be strengthened by our spirihlal roots so we can go off again to Green Mountain Dharma Center and offer something better. But we need to have that off-shoot out there because it is like an antenna that is in touch with what is happening and the antenna can let Plum Village know what the needs are over there.

Plum Village in the Future

If I think about Plum Village in the future, I see many westem monks and nuns. I know that the practice has to be developed. A tree always has to grow otherwise it is not a tree anymore. In the futu re there will be many new Dharma doors, new mindfulness practices, adapted to Europe and the United States where arts and music will be integrated into the practice.

Thank you very much.

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Gatha for Offering Incense

mb31-Gatha1In gratitude we offer this incense
throughout space and time
to all Buddhas and bodhisattvas.
May it be fragrant as Earth herself
reflecting careful efforts
wholehearted awareness
and the fruit of understanding
slowly ripening.
May we and all beings be companions
of Buddhas and bodhisattvas.
May we awaken from forgetfulness
and realize our true home.

Found in, Present Moment, Wonderful Moment, by Thich Nhat Hanh.

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The Mindful School Bell

By Ed Glauser

I am an elementary school counselor in a conservative town in Georgia, which is part of the “Bible belt.” This year I have been bringing my bell of mindfulness into the classrooms and listening to the sound of the bell as we mindfully breathe in and out I saw signs throughout the year that the students and teachers were enjoying the sound of the bell and that it was improving the lives of the schoolchildren and teachers, and enriching the community.

I knew I was on the right track when a second grade student   told me that she had taught her two-year-old brother to breathe mindfully and think of the bell during conflicts at his daycare center. She told me proudly that her brother practiced breathing mindfully when another child bit him on the nose, and her brother chose to think of the bell instead of retaliating. On another occasion a fourth grader told me that he was upset and just wanted to invite the bell to sound in my office, breathe in and out, and go back to class to resume learning. It worked beautifully for him he invited the bell three times, said, “Thank you, I feel much better,” and went back to class.

In the last weeks before the end of the school year there were several occurrences of the bell changing the emotional climate of the school. First, teachers began to ask me to download the bell sound from the Washington, D.C.’s Mindfulness Practice Center Webpage, to sound periodically throughout the school day so students could pause, breathe in and out, and be refreshed to help their learning ability.

Next, during a very heated parent-teacher conference in my office, the bell sound from the computer saved the conference as all parties in conflict paused to breathe and be more mindful of expressing their displeasure with the other in a more respectful way. Last, my Principal, who is also a southern Baptist preacher, asked me to down load the bell on his computer. He brought the bell to a faculty meeting to sound so all the teachers could breathe together; he also reminded me to remember the bell and to breathe while I was in a stressful situation.

It was beautiful to see how the bell of mindful ness and conscious breathing could transform the atmosphere of a public school into a more mindful and respectful environment for everyone, even in a small southern “Bible belt” town in Georgia. I say, “Amen!”

Ed Glauser; True Virtuous Loyalty, practices with the Breathing Heart Sangha and the Unitarian Universalist Meditation Group of Athens, Georgia.  Married with four children, Ed is a primary school counselor and private counselor: He also offers Mindfulness and Counseling workshops with his wife for the American Counseling Association.

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Gatha for Listening to the Bell

Listening to the bell,
I feel the afflictions in me begin to dissolve.
My mind becomes calm, my body relaxed.
A smile is born on my lips.
Following the sound of the bell,
my breath guides  me back
to the safe island of mindfulness.
In the garden of my heart,
the flower of peace blooms beautifully.

found in Plum Village Chanting and Recitation Book.

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The Sound of the Bell

by Susan Hadler

It’s Sunday afternoon in mid-August and still hot when I arrive at Carolyn’s for the bell training. Eric is standing at the end of the upstairs hallway, smiling and bowing, showing the way to Carolyn’s door. The first thing I see is the big bell sitting on its red and gold cushion in the middle of the room. It seems to belong here, surrounded by Buddhas sitting, Buddhas standing, pictures of Thay and the Dalai Lama, angels and saints and green growing plants. Carolyn offers us cool water and grapes fresh from her neighbor’s arbor.

We sit on cushions circling the bell. Mary arrives and Carolyn begins, “The bell master holds and protects the space for everyone.” Yes, that is how I’ve felt with the Sunday Night Sangha. Held. Safely and quietly. No need to worry about appearances or intrusions. Space to calm down and open up to myself, to bring my body, emotions, and thoughts together in one place, one time, a little island in a calm sea surrounded by little islands. A gift beyond measure.

I remember Thay sitting so peacefully in front of the meditation hall in Plum Village, monks and nuns behind him, laypeople in front. Thay sat in silence and I sat in silence letting anxiety about what would happen next disappear like steam rising from a cup of tea. Thay didn’t seem to worry about time or schedule. He was completely present. His presence helped me be with myself in that peaceful moment.

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Carolyn tells us she invites the bell with her heart. Her heart. Not her thoughts about when to invite the bell or how it should sound. Her heart knows. Carolyn trusts her heart. Then she teaches us the gatha that is recited, most often silently, by the bell inviter before inviting the bell,

Body, speech, and mind in perfect oneness,
I send my heart along with the sound of the bell.
May the hearers awaken from forgetfulness
and transcend all anxiety and sorrow.

I love this gatha. It’s an invitation to unload all the stuff I usually carry around with me—self-consciousness, defensive pride, phony cheer, preoccupations and plans, leftover conversations. The gatha is a door opening to a place of freedom.

“Now we can practice inviting the bell.” Carolyn hands the inviter to Eric, who smiles and recites the gatha. The bell’s pure deep voice reverberates inside the room, inside me. Eric practices inviting the bell a few more times and hands the inviter to Mary. Mary recites the gatha slowly and softly wakes the bell. She waits a bit and then the rich and lovely sound surrounds us. Mary practices inviting the bell from the side, and the bell rings out clear and strong.

She passes the inviter to me. Holding it, I remember seeing a nun in the Lower Hamlet standing in the grass in front of the big bell. It was raining. She held the inviter in her hand and stood for what seemed to me a long time. She stood in reverent silence before she invited the bell. I admired her patience, her ability to be with herself alone with the bell. She wasn’t in a hurry to get out of the rain. It didn’t seem like a task for her, something to accomplish or finish, but rather an act with meaning, as if the existence of the bell, the inviter, and herself deserved her whole attention. I saw this in the nun’s silent stance and the slow steady swing of her arm.

Tears fill my eyes as I hold the inviter and look at the bell. The bell seems holy, a symbol of the peace and freedom I found in Plum Village. I hear myself say out loud, “I’m not ready to invite the bell.” I can’t invite the bell. I’m not calm or patient enough.

Carolyn suggests I take a few breaths. Carolyn, Eric, and Mary gently encourage me and then accept me as I am, off balance, selfconscious, a little embarrassed and grateful for their acceptance. Eric and Mary practice inviting the bell some more and then Mary hands me the inviter.

I take it, lay it down to bow, recite the gatha, pick up the inviter, raise my arm and swing. No sound. Silence. I’ve completely missed the bell. We laugh. I try again, from my heart, and this time I hear the sound of the bell flowing out like waves washing dry land. I relax and smile. I feel so happy.

Eric gives me a ride to the Sangha. The Dharma talk of Thay’s we listen to and our Dharma discussion following both focus on the emptiness of emptiness and on impermanence. Joseph suggests we sing.

No coming, no going. No after, no before.
I hold you close to me.
I release you to be so free
Because I am in you and you are in me.

mb36-TheSound2Joseph’s voice, like the bell, reaches a place deep inside that is still and clear. In the silence after singing I notice a little burst of energy tingling up from my stomach to my nose. I bow in and speak, telling the Sangha about the bell training, about not being ready to invite the bell. “I  see now  that I  separated myself from the nun and put her above me. I felt low and unworthy and was unable to invite the bell, even when I tried. The second time I took the inviter I remembered Carolyn’s words and let my heart do the work. In that instant the nun was with me and I was with her. We were inviting the bell together and the bell sang out!” Inviting the bell is inviting everyone to be present, even myself, even the nuns in Plum Village.

Susan Hadler, Transformational Light of the Heart, lives in Washington, D.C. where she practices with the Washington Mindfulness Community.

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Heart to Heart

 

Heart to Heart is a new section of the Mindfulness Bell — for you to express your thoughts and share your practice on a given topic. In this issue we focus on the Second Mindfulness Training (of the Five). For the Autumn 2007 issue, we invite you to write on the Third; please send your submissions, under 500 words, to editor@mindfulnessbell.org by July 1, 2007.

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The Second Mindfulness Training

Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice, stealing and oppression, I am committed to cultivating loving-kindness and learning ways to work for the well-being of people, animals, plants and minerals. I will practice generosity by sharing my time, energy and material resources with those who are in real need. I am determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others. I will respect the property of others, but I will prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other species on Earth.

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Aware of the realities of today’s global economy, I realize that as a U.S. citizen it is impossible for me to live without stealing from and exploiting someone else somewhere in the world. Though I try to live and consume mindfully, I know that my own lifestyle rests on the exploitation of others. It is, for instance, almost impossible to buy clothes not made in sweatshops, where the workers (mostly young women of color) are treated mercilessly — forced to work twelve-to sixteen-hour days, six to seven days a week; paid a pittance that is sometimes not even enough to live on; sometimes forced to work unpaid overtime; subject to sexual harassment by their bosses; and forbidden to form labor unions that might empower them to work for better conditions. Most likely, the computer on which I write this was also made under such conditions, as were many of the other things I use in my daily life. In order to cultivate mindfulness of these grim realities, when I put on my clothes in the morning, I look at the tags on my clothing to see where they were made. Then I try to visualize the workers, while reciting this gatha: “As I get dressed, I remember with gratitude those who made my clothes, and with compassion, the conditions under which they work.”

I do try to consume mindfully and ethically where I can–buying recycled paper goods, ecologically friendly cleaning products, cage-free eggs, leather-free shoes — but there are limits to what I can do as an individual. Understanding interbeing, I see that many of my choices are conditioned by the larger global society of which we are all a part. I cannot buy products that were not made in sweatshops if they are not available to me when I go shopping — unavailable, because our economy is built on the principle of maximizing profits ahead of human and ecological needs. It is a race to the bottom, where corporations compete with each other, scouring the world for ever cheaper labor, and thirdworld governments compete with each other to attract business by providing this ever cheaper labor. Even my ability to buy those ethically sound products that I can rests on my own economic privilege, the fact that I can afford to spend a little extra money and such economic privilege inevitably rests on a system where others lack such privilege, living lives of poverty and exploitation. Understanding interbeing, I see that however mindful my actions, I still participate in a society based on theft and exploitation.

Understanding interbeing, I see that if I wish to live a life where I and others do not steal from and exploit others, it is not enough to look at my own individual choices when I go shopping. We must work together, collectively, to change the shape of our global society — to create an economy where, at the very least, everyone has a job where they are paid a living wage, treated with dignity, and allowed to form unions that can give collective voice to their concerns. The public good must be given greater priority than private profit. Only then will we all be able to live in a way that we do not have to steal from and exploit others.

Matthew S. Williams
Reverent Joy of the Heart
Boston, Massachusetts, USA

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Thay often says that if you have never gone hungry, you won’t appreciate the value of food. You take your safety, your freedom to move around, for granted. When you live behind locked doors, and don’t feel safe on the streets or walking in the countryside alone, then you know how valuable is the freedom to move around safely. This is not a freedom that we enjoy in our country, South Africa.

I live in a country where it is not safe to leave your doors open. You normally lock your doors when you go out, but we have to keep them locked even when we are at home, because this is the best time for criminals — they don’t have to break and enter –they just enter. This is not a nice way to live — behind bars in a kind of private prison to keep you safe in your own home.

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We have one of the highest crime rates in the world, and much of it is violent crime. The situation in South Africa has come to be because of the past history and collective karma that we have created. Everybody knows the story of Apartheid. The past is past, but it is still with us in the present moment. We have to work very hard to change it and to create a better future. We have undergone major transformation in our country under the bodhisattva Nelson Mandela, but social change takes much longer than political change.

We live in a hard country, and it can make you a hard person, or it can soften you and make you more compassionate. I used to be hard and uncaring before I encountered the Dharma. Since then I am constantly trying to increase my compassion, open my heart wider, and become a bodhisattva. I think of the bodhisattvas who go to the darkest places in order to help, and sometimes it feels like this path was given to me by default. “Darkest Africa” is my home, and many bodhisattvas are needed on this continent, which is plagued by tribal wars, famine, AIDS, poverty, and crime.

As aspiring bodhisattvas, there are many teachings to help us cultivate our capacity to love:

  • The teaching on Buddha nature: All beings are the same, we all have the same potential, we all want happiness and don’t want suffering.
  • The teaching on cause and effect: We take responsibility for what we are experiencing without blaming others. It is our own karma; we are reaping what we sowed. Even if we personally did nothing in this particular lifetime, we may have contributed through our non-action, our apathy.
  • The teaching on dependent origination: Everything depends on causes and conditions. Nobody is inherently “bad” — people act in certain ways because of causes and conditions that are often beyond their control. This understanding helps us to cultivate compassion, to open the door of our heart so that we can love instead of hate. Thay’s poem “Please Call Me by My True Names” about the sea pirate, helped me a lot. Here is an excerpt:

I am the 12 year< old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names
so I can wake up
and the door of my heart
could be left open
the door of compassion.

These wonderful teachings help us to transform our minds, our emotions, our ways of being. We do this for ourselves and for the world, to relieve ourselves of suffering and to create a better world in the future because happiness and suffering are universal. I know that if you suffer, you will make me suffer. We know that if we exploit people or take unfair advantage of them, oppress them, discriminate against them on grounds of race, culture, religion, gender, we are committing a kind of theft — we are stealing their dignity to be who they are. This will make them suffer and it will make us suffer, because one day their suffering will impact on our lives and become our suffering as well.

We are all creators. We are creating all the time. We are responsible for creating the kind of world that we live in, and this is why the Mindfulness Trainings are so important. We must learn from the mistakes of the past so that we can create a better future based on love not fear, on giving not getting, on helping not harming, on supporting not exploiting, on building up not breaking down, on creating the conditions for happiness not suffering. Then we can all live in the Pure Land. The Buddha said:

If you want to know your past lives,
Look into your present condition.
If you want to know your future,
Look into your present actions.

Carol Leela Verity
True Stream of Light
Plettenberg Bay, South Africa

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