March 7^th, 2010

Now We See Each Other’s Face Clearly

Letter to my Bat Nha children and others near and far

My dear children,

The seven-day monastic retreat in Plum Village has ended, but its reverberation and its energy of joy continue.  The monastic brothers and sisters from La Maison de L’Inspir’ in Paris and from the European Institute of Applied Buddhism in Walbroel have left to return to their home monasteries.  In Plum Village, the community is practicing ten lazy days.  Some are doing intestinal cleansing, some are fasting, some are on solo retreats, and some are writing or reading books.  Thay hopes that wherever my children are, you can also follow the retreat, listen to the Dharma talks, the Question and Answer session, the Dharma sharings, the news, as well as the photos of the retreat.  As you already know, the theme of the retreat was “Renewing the Mind of Love.”

The Queen Bee

Renewing the Mind of Love?  Most likely, all of you feel that your Mind of Love is brand new.  Last year’s events have helped us to reflect and see that our beginner’s mind is still whole; not only is it unscathed, but it has become even stronger.  The beginner’s mind is so valuable; so long as we still have it, we still have everything.  And we all still have the beginner’s mind and we all still have each other.  We have each other as a Sangha even though we have been separated.  Yet because the beginner’s mind is still there in each one of us, we do not have the feeling of being separated.  The beginner’s mind is the Queen Bee.  Thanks to the Queen Bee, all the bees always have the opportunity to come back to each other, one way or another, under one form or another.  Thay is not worried, and Thay does not want you to be worried either.  Smile and see that this is an opportunity to grow up.

The Flowing Stream

In the retreat, the Sangha listened and practiced the Dharma Door “Seeing that we are a flowing stream.”  When we touch the earth, we can be aware of the presence in us of our mother and father, of the Buddha, the Patriarchs and our Teachers.  Through them, we can touch the two streams of our spiritual and blood ancestors within ourselves.  We are liberated from the confining shell of the ego created by ignorance and habit energy.  We see that we are the continuation of our ancestors, that we are a flowing stream, not a pond or a lake stagnant in one place.  We can also see the presence of our younger brothers and sisters in us as well as the presence of their children in us.  We are transmitting ourselves to our younger brothers, sisters, and to the young people whom we are teaching and caring for, whether they are monastic or lay.  We see them in us and us in them.  We have the opportunity to transmit to them what is most beautiful and healthy in ourselves, bringing us great joy and fulfilment.  Each touching of the earth, each breath, each step, and each smile have the value of transmitting and receiving, helping us see that we are a flowing stream.  In moments like that, non-self is not a notion, but it is a living reality:  we, our ancestors, and our children are unifying into one flowing stream.  There is no separation, no regret, and no isolation.  And we feel free-flowing, spacious, at ease and healthy.

The Cherry Tree

This morning while doing walking meditation by the Fragrant Source, Thay realized that we can also practice as a cherry tree, an apple tree, or a grapefruit tree.  In Fragrant Source Hermitage, there are no grapefruit trees, but there are apple and cherry trees.  And they will blossom in a few weeks.  When the community celebrated Tet [Vietnamese lunar New Year], it was still very cold, and there was still a lot of snow.  Now the daffodils in the Upper Hamlet have begun to bloom and the magnolia buds at Fragrant

Source are getting bigger.  The cherry blossoms are white and the apple blossoms are pink.  We can practice as a cherry tree or an apple tree.  When doing sitting meditation, walking meditation, breathing, working, Dharma sharing, we nourish ourselves as the cherry tree does — receiving  sunlight, warmth, rain, air and nutrients from the earth so that it can prepare to make leaves, flowers and fruits – so that we can have the flowers and fruits of mindfulness, understanding and love to transmit to future generations.  It is a process of receiving, offering and transmitting.  The cherry tree does that, and we also do that — and, like the cherry tree, we enjoy doing it.  Looking at the bright apple tree with thousands of pink blossoms preparing for the birth of heavy, round apples, we hear the apple tree’s song.  Looking at a spiritual practitioner who is receiving and transmitting the flowers and fruit of his or her practice, we see that a practitioner’s life is also a song.

Standing still by the fence,
You smile a wondrous blossom.
I look at you silently, and I am shocked
To hear you just singing.
Your song is eternal.
I get down on my knees and bow.

This poem was written by the young poet Quach Thoai, whom Thay met for the first time at Giac Nguyen Temple, Khanh Hoi, in 1949.  The poem is entitled The Thuoc Duoc Flower. Thay visualizes his children as flowers smiling by the fence of our motherland, singing the song of Right Dharma.  What’s important is that the flower never stops singing.

Now We See Each Other’s Face Clearly

In June 2008, Thay ended the visit and teaching tour in our homeland by living and practicing with his Bat Nha children for three weeks.  During these three weeks, beginning at the end of May, Thay and Thay’s Bat Nha children had the opportunity to live and practice together at Bat Nha Monastery.  In content, this was truly a diligent monastic retreat: every morning, there was sitting meditation, a Dharma talk, walking meditation, and a silent meal in the Garuda Wing Meditation Hall.  In the afternoon, there was always Dharma sharing or tea meditation.  About thirty monastics from the United States and Europe were present with Thay and the Bat Nha Sangha — there were about 450 of us practising together as a spiritual family.  We did not call it a retreat, but it was the most diligent, profound retreat, full of love between brothers and sisters, students and teacher.

There were signs letting Thay know that this was the last time Thay would live and practice with his children at Bat Nha.  So Thay lived wholeheartedly with Bat Nha and with the Sangha at Bat Nha. Thay thought that perhaps within only a very short time,  the sangha would have to leave Bat Nha.  But in fact, they were not able to expel us until fourteen months later.  During each walking meditation session at Bat Nha, Thay was attentive to every rock, every jackfruit tree, every shrub, knowing that this would be the last time Thay would see them.  Thay smiled with every and any thing he saw and was in touch with.  Thay felt regret.  Not for himself, but for the Venerable Abbot Duc Nghi and for the trees and forests and mountains there, because they would no longer have the fortune to be the home for such a Sangha as the Bat Nha Sangha. Brother Phap Kham reported that the day Thay Duc Nghi refused to sponsor his visa renewal, Thay Duc Nghi lay on his bed facing the wall without saying anything.  It was one of the signs letting Thay know we would not be able to continue at Bat Nha.  Thay already knew that Bat Nha would become a legend.

Bat Nha Is In our Hearts

During the time the Bat Nha monks and nuns took refuge at Phuoc Hue Temple in Bao Loc, the Bat Nha novices were still able to publish an edition of their novice magazine Moon on the Front Porch, with the title “Refuge Seeking Season”(Mua Loan Lac). One of the articles talked about two young monastics who missed Bat Nha so much that they secretly went back to visit Bat Nha without the permission of the Sangha.  They were local people, so it was not difficult for them to get back there.  But as soon as they arrived they felt lost and sad.  It was the same place, but so lifeless, vacant and dilapidated!  It was just like the moment in the epic poem‘‘Story of Kieu,’’ when the young man Kim Trong returned to visit the house of his beloved Thuy Kieu, after attending his uncle’s funeral.  Kieu had already sold herself, and had been taken to foreign lands.  Her parents and two siblings had moved to another place, sowing and writing to earn a living.

Hurriedly, he went to Kieu’s garden looking around.
The place was entirely different:
The garden overgrown with grass,
Cold moonlight on the window sill,
Walls fallen apart from the rain -
No one to be seen anywhere.
Last year’s Cherry blossoms were still smiling in the East wind.
Birds circled the vacant upper floor,
Weeds spread on the ground,
moss covered the foot prints.
Thorny shrubs crawled over the end wall.
Returning here to this trail of yester-year,
Everything was now vacant and silent.

With this turmoil in my heart, who can I turn to now?

The young sisters met Brother Dong Hanh that day.  He was busy harvesting tea and coffee.  The young sisters realized that Brother Dong Hanh was not their Brother Dong Hanh of the other years, just as the monastic living quarters Warm Hearth, Cloud Over Mountain, and Fragrant Palm Leaves were no longer the monastic living quarters of last year.  The Buddha sat alone in the Garuda Wing Meditation Hall, in which there was nothing left, not even the mats and cushions, nor the fish drum, the bell or the incense.  The Buddha altar was not even there.  Bat Nha was no longer Bat Nha.  The soul of Bat Nha, the Bat Nha Sangha, had left the corpse Bat Nha.  Bat Nha now is only a corpse without soul.  The young sisters felt regret.  They returned to look for Bat Nha, but they could not find Bat Nha, even though Bat Nha was standing right there in front of them.  It would have been better not to return.  It turns out that Bat Nha is not outside of us, but in our hearts.

Regret and Yearning

One Bat Nha young monastic came to ask for Thay’s advice about the practice of Dwelling Happily in the Present Moment, saying that her regret and yearning for Bat Nha were still so deep that she could not truly benefit from the joy available in the present moment.  Thay looked at her with a lot of compassion and said: You are someone very fortunate because you have something to regret and long for.  There are those much more unfortunate than you who have nothing to regret and long for — they only have suffering, attachment and hatred.

While taking refuge at Phuoc Hue Temple, my Bat Nha children practiced wholeheartedly in order to fully live your days there.  You followed the schedule diligently, even though you knew the situation was uncertain, and that you could be forced out of Phuoc Hue any day just as you had been from Bat Nha.  Instead of doing sitting meditation twice a day, you sat four times.   The abbot of Phuoc Hue Temple, realizing the value of your practice, loved you and protected you with his whole heart.  Because you had come to take refuge in his temple, he had the opportunity to know who you were, far more accurately than the unclear notions he had about you before.  That is what ‘understanding is love‘ means,.  It is the greatest fortune to have a chance to understand and to love.  And if we want to understand, we have to release our preconceived notions and our grasping.  We’re human, we have the right to regret and to long for something, but we can go further.  We can ask ourselves: I miss such and such because it is no longer there, but while it was still around, did I live wholeheartedly with it ? For most of us, our shortcoming is not cherishing and living wholeheartedly with what we already have, whether it be a person, a place or an opportunity.  When impermanence arrives, we regret what has gone.  But it is too late: that person is already gone or dead; that place no longer is.  Thay does not have any regrets about Bat Nha because during the three weeks living with you at Bat Nha, Thay lived wholeheartedly.  Thay contemplated every flower, every bamboo grove, and asked: Are we seeing each other’s face clearly?  Because of this, Thay does not have regret.  Regretting is wishing things had gone differently — that’s all.  If you had lived wholeheartedly with Bat Nha as Thay did, you would not regret and yearn for Bat Nha to the point that you are unable to live happily and peacefully in the present moment.  In our practice, we should ask ourselves that question: Did we live wholeheartedly with Bat Nha during the moments Bat Nha was manifesting?  We will gain many insights when we ask ourselves that question.

This path of Yester-year

The next question is: The place where we are living now, is it a kind of Bat Nha?  Where are you sitting?  In the South, North or Centre of Vietnam, in Deer Park, Blue Cliff, France, Germany, the United States, Thailand, Hong Kong or India?  Perhaps you are sitting in a Bat Nha with brothers and sisters, with your beloved.  If in this moment you are not living truly and wholeheartedly, if you are not cherishing what you are having, then you know that later, you will regret this moment, this place and the people who are present with you right now.  You will regret this moment, because this moment will become a legend.

‘‘Returning here to this path of yesteryear.’’ If we walk this path with our brothers and sisters, and with Thay, and enjoy it fully, we won’t have any regrets.  Tomorrow, even if we come back to this path, it will not be the same path anymore. Our brothers, sisters and Thay will not be there.  Even we will not be there, even as we walk it again.  We will be unable to recognize the path — it will have already passed into legend. It will be just a corpse without a soul.

If in reading these words, you are startled and you wake up, then you will see that Bat Nha is still there, that it has not become a legend, and that it is still alive in you.  You are carrying Bat Nha in your hearts and the place where you are sitting, standing, and looking deeply in the present moment is also Bat Nha.  Whether the place you are sitting is in the Center or the North, the United States, France, Germany, Thailand, and so on, our Bat Nha is very beautiful, my dear children, and no one can take it away from us, no power is strong enough to do it.

If you can wake up, your present place of residence will immediately become a Bat Nha, even if next to you there may only be three brothers or sisters.  The Buddha taught that a Sangha must have at least four people.  You have learned how to build the Sangha, so you will certainly be able to build a Sangha that has the practice, learning, joy, aspiration, and brotherhood and sisterhood.  When Thay left our homeland in 1966, Thay went alone.  Going alone is very dangerous.  If we are separated from the Sangha, we will dry up like a bee that cannot find its way back to the beehive.  We will die like a cell being taken out of the body.  However, Thay did not dry up, and Thay did not die.  It was because Thay carried the Sangha in his heart.  Thay left to call for international awareness to help end the war in Vietnam.  Because of that, Thay was forced in exile, and he was not allowed to return home.  Suddenly, Thay was separated from all of his friends, his work and his community.  When Thay realized he had fallen into that situation, Thay immediately found a way to build a Sangha.  Thay looked around to recognize the elements which he could use to build a Sangha.  In the end, Thay was able to establish a Sangha, and that Sangha is now present in over 45 countries.

You are Thay’s continuation.  Thay trusts that you will be able to build Sangha everywhere by one way or another, with one name or another, as long as it is a true Sangha, with mindfulness, with brotherhood and sisterhood, and with the aspiration to help living beings.  Thay trusts in the young people, and this is one of the elements that brings Thay great happiness.  In a true Sangha, the Dharma will be present, the Buddha will be present and Thay will also be present.

The Paradise of Brotherhood and Sisterhood

During this last monastic retreat at Upper Hamlet, most of our activities took place in the Still Water Meditation Hall.  This meditation hall, in its form as well as in its content, contains so much brotherhood and sisterhood.  At our last meal together one brother from the Upper Hamlet said, ‘‘Respected Thay, instead of calling this meditation hall Still Water Meditation Hall, we should call it Still Water Paradise.’’ [In Vietnamese, the words ‘meditation hall’ (Thiền đường) and ‘paradise’ (Thiên đường) only differ from each other by one diacritical mark over the letter ‘e’].  He’s right!  This is a paradise of brotherhood and sisterhood.  If we really want it, paradise can be available to us right in the present moment.  Paradise is now or never.  Here is the Pure Land.  The Pure Land is here.

Bat Nha was also a paradise, because we lived there happily together as teacher and students.  The Garuda Wing Meditation Hall could also be called the ‘‘Garuda Wing Paradise” because there we also enjoyed happy moments full of brotherhood and sisterhood.  Many of us have written to Thay to share that it was in the Bat Nha environment that you were able to live with your true selves for the first time.  We did not have to hide our thoughts or feelings anymore.  We could speak truthfully and directly with our brothers and sisters.  They had the capacity to listen and understand us, and we were not afraid to be judged as dissidents [literally, ‘‘losing our ground’’] or as reactionaries [or 'diversionists' - literally, ‘‘having ideas contrary to the set path’’].  We were accepted.  Out there in society, in school, at work and even in our own family, we could not live true to ourselves.  Yet at Bat Nha we could feel at ease.

The second condition for our happiness at Bat Nha was the healthy environment.  There was no alcohol, no drugs, gambling or sexual misconduct, no corruption, power abuse, hatred or jealousy, nor toxic entertainments and games.  Yet we didn’t feel we were missing out on anything.  On the contrary, we felt very safe and nourished.  The Bat Nha environment was the healthiest environment we’d ever encountered, and living in such an environment we were no longer afraid or worried.

The third condition for our happiness at Bat Nha was the brotherhood and sisterhood.  That’s right – brotherhood and sisterhood!  Many of us hungered for brotherhood and sisterhood before we found Bat Nha.  It was the brotherhood and sisterhood that was the most attractive thing at Bat Nha.  Once we’ve found it, how can we walk away from it?  Who does not need love to survive, to be loved and to love? Brotherhood and sisterhood is healthier and more lasting than all other kinds of love.

But that’s not all.  Coming to Bat Nha, we discovered the ideal path young people are searching for.  We found practices that had the capacity to transform and heal.  We had the chance to help others who came to us to practice transformation and healing, including so many young people.  It was at Bat Nha that we witnessed many relationships — between fathers and children, between husbands and wives, between brothers and sisters – in which, thanks to the practice, people were able to re-establish communication and reclaim their happiness.   Some retreats would have over a thousand people.  We saw happiness on everyone’s faces when they practiced successfully.  We had a beautiful path — the beautiful path that is our life’s deepest aspiration.  We had an opportunity to serve, and our lives began to have meaning and purpose.

Bat Nha provided us all these conditions of happiness.  That is why Bat Nha was our paradise.  We saw, heard, felt and lived with the Bat Nha paradise.  Bat Nha is truly in us, not outside of us.  If Bat Nha is inside us, then wherever we go, we have Bat Nha.  Wherever we go, we can establish Bat Nha.  Thay was able to do that, and Thay has the confidence that all of you will be able to do that.  Fragrant Palm Leaves as well as Bat Nha are in our hearts, because we have seen, heard, felt and lived with them.

Your Suffering is My Suffering (Máu Chảy Ruột Mềm)

While being expelled, betrayed and threatened, those of us who knew how to breathe and come back to Bat Nha within ourselves still had peace.  Many young monks and nuns were able to do that at Phuoc Hue and other temples such as Tu Duc, Dinh Quan, Dieu Nghiem.  Thay recalls the years of 1969 and 1977, and the times when Thay was persecuted, harassed and forced out, exactly as Thay’s Bat Nha children were persecuted, harassed and forced out from Bat Nha and Phuoc Hue.  For example, at the end of 1971, while Thay was still in Washington D.C. to call for peace, Thay was told by a journalist of The Baltimore Sun that the Vietnamese government [on the American government side] had just sent an official document to the governments of the United States, France and England to inform them that they had annuled Thay’s passport and to request these countries to not accept it anymore.  Thay’s intention was to travel around the world to call for a ceasefire and going towards reconciliation and peace.  The journalist suggested  Thay go underground and hide himself to avoid deportation and imprisonment for daring to call for peace.  Back then, Thay had a friend who was also working for peace like Thay; he had been imprisoned, and he also had to go on hiding at different times.  That was Father Daniel Berrigan, a Jesuit, who was also a famous writer and poet.  Together with his friends, he engaged in non-violent resistance actions such as encouraging others to burn their draft cards, going to places where atomic boms were produced or stored and using red paint as fake blood to pour over those fatal weapons, and so on.  They were acting according to the Bible’s teaching:  Take the sword and make it into a plough.  Father Berrigan went to France to visit, stay and practice three months with Thay at the office of the Vietnamese Buddhist Peace Delegation in Paris (Sceaux) and in Fragrant Cloud Hermitage (Fontvannes).  He also went back several times after that.  In Paris, Thay gave him Thay’s room, and Thay slept next door.  He had a chance to read the Lotus Sutra in English on Thay’s bookshelf.

Thay did not listen to the journalist of The Baltimore Sun. Thay did not want to stay in the United States and seek asylum there because the United States was involved in the war in Vietnam.  Thay decided to go to France to ask for political asylum.  To avoid deportation at Paris, Thay telephoned his friends in Paris, so that they organized to meet with Thay and to have a press conference at the airport.  If necessary, we would request for asylum right at the airport.  At that time, Sister Chan Khong was giving talks and calling for peace in Costa Rica, Central America.  She was also asked to return to Paris to prepare for the press conference.  Fortunately for Thay, not only France did not deport Thay, but they also granted Thay asylum after that.

In 1976, while directing the program Máu Chảy Ruột Mềm (literally, ”Your suffering is my suffering”) to save the boat people, Thay was discovered by the Singapore police and ordered to leave Singapore within 24 hours.  They surrounded Thay’s office at two in the morning, came inside and confiscated Thay’s passport, saying that they would only return it to Thay when Thay left their territory.  Meanwhile, the two boats Leapdal and Roland were full of boat people, and the plan to take them to Australia for refuge had been revealed by the press’s curiosity.  The boat Saigon 200, which was responsible for providing water, food and medicine to the boat people, was also captured.  Furthermore, a storm was raging out at sea, and the two boats full of Thay’s boat people (over 589) were not allowed to stop in the harbour to avoid the gale.  That night, Thay had the feeling that he was floating out there in the waves and the wind with all the boat people.  Thay did sitting meditation and walking meditation the entire night to look for a solution.  Thay had confidence in the Three Jewels, in the Sangha, and in the end, Thay found the solution.  Thay waited until the morning to ask the French ambassador, Mr. Jacques Gasseau, to intervene with the Singapore government to enable Thay could remain for another ten days to complete the program.  It was that night Thay meditated on the Koan ‘‘If you want peace, you will be peace.” If we truly want peace, and then there is peace.  Peace is in the midst of danger.  Thanks to the Sangha, the Three Jewels, the path, the brotherhood and sisterhood, Thay was able to overcome the difficulty.

Your elder brother Nhat Tri and many brothers and sisters in the Order of Interbeing in the Youth for Social Service Program in the old days also went through periods like that, just as you have gone through the experiences of Bat Nha, Phuoc Hue and now.  Thay trusts that, no matter the situation, you have the capacity to practice “If you want peace, you will be peace.” We have been able to do that at Bat Nha and Phuoc Hue, and we can do it now; our Sangha is still whole, and each one of us carries the Sangha within us.

Sadness and Loneliness

Just recently, about ten days ago, in a dream Thay saw his friend, Father Daniel Berrigan.  He is now over 90 years old.  Sitting next to this courageous monk, Thay recognized that he was worthy of all respect and reverence, even though he did not have the outer form of a Buddhist Most Venerable.  Thay suggested that the community touched the earth before him.  Before the community could do so, suddenly Thay saw that he was sitting alone with Father Berrigan in an open space, and he opened his arms to embrace Thay.  Thay also opened his arms to embrace his friend with all his heart in the true spirit of the Plum Village practice of hugging meditation.  At first, there was only happiness and the peace of brotherhood, but soon an unsettled energy arose in Thay.  It was the energy of sadness, pain and loneliness.  It felt strange, but Thay was able to recognize and accept these mental formations.  Thay had thought that those mental formations had already been transformed, and if their energy still existed, it would be minimal.

But it was not so. Thay’s whole being quaked with the feeling.  Thay’s arms were transmitting to the person he was embracing the energy of sadness, pain and loneliness.  Thay felt clearly that the other person was also receiving it and responding to it.  The time of our embrace was quite long, and Thay allowed himself to express those pains naturally and sincerely.  Waking up, Thay knew the dream had helped Thay’s wellbeing, because he’d had the opportunity to recognize and share his sadness and pain with a dear friend who had the capacity to touch and understand that sadness and pain, having gone through similar difficulties, sadness and loneliness.  Thay thinks that in our lives, those with whom we can share like that are few, even within our own tradition.  When we embrace a brother, a sister, a friend or a disciple, we only want to transmit the energy of peace and love, and the other person may believe that we only have such beautiful and peaceful energy.  But we are still human, and even though the energy of sadness and pain may be under control and transformed, it is still there in our human nature.  If it would sleep quietly, we would be peaceful enough.  But its presence is also very important.  Thanks to it, we can recognize and understand other people’s suffering and pain, and we also can acknowledge the good fortunes and wonders available in the present moment in us and around us.

Lotus in Our Hearts

Over the last four decades, Thay had the opportunity to befriend a number of people Thay considers kindred spirits.  Some were not at all known, and some were very famous.  Amongst them were Bertrand Russell, Martin Luther King, Heinz Kloppenburg, Hannes de Graaf, Alfred Hassler, Arthur Miller, Heidi Vaccaro, etc. They worked hand in hand with Thay in the struggle for peace, for human rights, and for the future of the earth.  Thay has not had the opportunity to embrace the Dalai Lama, but if there were one, and they were not surrounded by a crowd, then while embracing him, Thay would also have a chance to share that energy of sadness, because Thay knows the Dalai Lama has also gone through similar sadness and pain.  The Buddha also had his deep suffering, and he embraced it and transformed it with his energy of great understanding and great compassion.  The Buddha’s life of teaching also had many difficulties, and the Buddha  was also wrongly accused, rejected and oppressed.   After King Prasenajit passed away, the new king brought his army to destroy the Buddha’s homeland and killed the Sakya family line mercilessly, simply because the king had too much hatred and ignorance.  The Buddha did everything he could to stop it, but to little effect.  The patriarch Linchi spoke about the interbeing between the Buddha and living beings, and we have heard the teaching ”Buddha and living beings are not two different entities”.  As human beings, we have the chance to become Buddhas, and once we have become Buddhas, we can still be human beings.  Therefore, the path of the Buddha is truly humanistic.

The Buddha had friends and disciples who understood him deeply.  The Buddha was not alone.  The Dalai Lama is also like that.  King Tran Thai Tong was also like that.  Thay’s Bat Nha children have been denounced, discriminated against, attacked and persecuted, but you have responded as true children of the Buddha, without hatred, discrimination and despair in your hearts.  People in our country and our friends all over the world have been fortunate to witness that, and they have come to love you and vowed to protect you.  We are not alone.  We are known about, understood and loved.  Intellectuals, humanitarians, young people, workers, business people, as well as Venerables all raised their voice on your behalf.  You have inspired and offered confidence in the future of Buddhism to our country and to the world.

Bat Nha has become an immortal lotus in the hearts of the people.  Each of us is carrying this lotus in our heart.  No power can destroy it.  It will help manifest Bat Nha everywhere, in the future as well as in the present. This lotus is brotherhood and sisterhood, it is aspiration, happiness, love between fellow countrymen and human love.  The Buddha was not alone and the Sangha on the Vulture Peak was not alone, even though King Asajit had not woken up.  You know very well that in the end, the King Asajit woke up and found his way back to the Buddha.  The Dalai Lama is not alone even though his homeland has not yet reclaimed her dependency.  The path of the Buddha is also the path of compassion, loving kindness, non-violence, and brotherhood/sisterhood.  The Dalai Lama also has the Bat Nha lotus in his heart.  He spoke up to protect the Bat Nha Sangha.  Certainly, the mental formations of sadness and pain have also manifested in him at times, but he knows how to recognize and embrace them, so that in the end, they nourish his aspiration and determination.  My children also need to practice like that.

Do not be saddened that the path ahead is without kindred spirits.

In this world, who would not know about us?

If you need a few minutes to feel the regret, yearning, sadness and pain, then allow yourself those few minutes.  We recognize, embrace and smile with that human substance in us.  But after that, we must go forward, because we also have the Buddha nature in us.  If those bright fresh lotuses need mud to manifest, then our sadness and pain can also nourish our Mind of Love, our Beginner’s Mind.  Thay knows that your Beginner’s Mind is very strong, and Thay feels very assured.

Dream or Reality?

With the Bat Nha lotus in your hearts, you can smile and return to the present moment.  You will see that Bat Nha is available right where you are sitting.  You will cherish everything you are in touch with in this moment.  This is the miracle of mindfulness.  With mindfulness, life may be more beautiful than dreams.  About a month ago, Thay had a dream that was very ordinary but beautiful.  Thay dreamt that he woke up in a temple or in a practice center that seemed very joyful.  Thay asked someone nearby, ‘‘What’s happening that’s so joyful, my child?’’  The person replied:  ‘‘Dear Thay, some brothers and sisters just came back.  We are cooking a pot of rice to enjoy it together.’’ Thay sat up, walked to the court yard of the temple, did walking meditation, acknowledged each orchid, each bamboo, and his heart was full of joy like a festival.  What was there really?  It was just a few brothers and sisters coming home.  A small dream, simple, but it made Thay happy for many days.  Is this but a dream?  It is a reality.  Teacher and disciples, we have each other.  Brothers and sisters, we have each other.  Regardless of what may happen, that brotherhood and sisterhood is never lost.  It is our paradise.  We only need to look carefully at the brother or sister who is present.  We only need to look carefully at the orchid, the bamboo, and read the mantra written by the great poet Nguyen Du:  Now we see each other’s face clearly. Seeing each other’s face clearly today, tomorrow will never become a dream again.

Your Teacher,

Nhất Hạnh

Dear Beloved, Respected Thay,

I ask permission to share my initial insights on Thay’s Bat Nha Koan.

In Thay’s room in Lower Hamlet, when Thay asked Hien Nghiem to ensure politicians, governments, journalists and human rights campaigners received the koan as something for their own hearts and aspiration – and not as work, or a development in the story, Hien Nghiem couldn’t see a way to do it.

I know their world of dismissive, high-speed, practical expediency; and I also know our world of openminded, patient, wholehearted reflection. I love and trust Thay totally, but I just couldn’t see how the two worlds could ever fit together. I believe Thay perceived my consternation, and am grateful for Thay’s compassion in teaching me there and then.

Thanks to Thay’s guidance, I saw that the first obstacle was that even I hadn’t taken the koan for myself. Right away, I’d seen it as part of an external objective reality: it was a challenge, it was work. But listening to Thay, after some time I was suddenly able to touch a space of non-striving – of embracing acceptance, stillness and confidence. Thay helped me to see that the koan wasn’t out-there on a piece of paper, but that I was already in it, and right there in it with me was everyone – the policemen, the senior government officials in Vietnam, the Buddhist Church monks and international political community. We’d gone through the koan to a clear, intimate place of peace, forgiveness, compassion and fellowship. There was nothing to attain, and nothing separated us. In this vast still space, I was the police officers. They were as close to me as Thay was, sitting right there – if not closer: in my heart. They were not kicking and fighting, they were just being. And since they were just ‘being’, my own hardness and struggling at them just fell away – I was just being, there with them, too. Deeply, nothing separated us: my enmity, my anger, my tough righteousness fell away and I was humbled. My heart softened and compassion bloomed.

It just happened to be that I ended up being here doing this, and they ended up being there doing that. Their mental formations, habits and wrong perceptions are mine; the difference is just historical-dimension context. I am so lucky to be in a practice centre, with a sangha, with the precepts, in the slipstream of virtuous ancestors and a wise and compassionate Teacher. They happen to be somewhere else, in unfavourable conditions where the very same weaknesses as mine play out so differently and so dreadfully. I ask myself, Why am I this nun here, and not that pointing young woman there, in the video of the December mob? She has the same age, dedication and determination. I feel compassion for her, pity even, and I feel that I’m very lucky. But deeply I know that there is no right and wrong; that I am not more right, nor more lucky. She is still being true to something, just a different something in a different world. I am sure her own, communist, ’sangha’ is grateful to her; I am sure she feels she has ’succeeded’. But deep down I know that with such passion and commitment, she must have the very same ideals for the good, the true and the beautiful as I do. I realize that I shouldn’t ask, “Why do I have the luck to be me, not her?”, but instead see that I am her, there, as well as me, here. Seeing that, I see that I must live this life well for her. Each day I could live as an offering to her. How many days do I really make the most of these conditions to transform our shared mental formations? I am chastened, humbled, shamed: I haven’t been diligent enough even with the good conditions I have. The task of practice, healing and transformation is urgent – I have the chance, I must do it.

I have been able to see that the koan is not an object, a product to be distributed, but a gateway to the ultimate truth of our deep intimacy, our deep interbeing. As such it is infinitely powerful, indestructible, all-embracing. The koan is not a move in a game that might succeed or fail, but something revealing an absolute truth that already is. I am the police officers, I am that young woman, whether I see it or not. The governments, politicians and journalists are in the koan, inter-are with one another and with me, and are as much the police officers as I am, whether they see it or not, whether they receive the koan in the ‘right way’ or not.

Realizing all this, I had faith in the koan’s power and knew that everything is possible. Who am I to think it’s not possible? Who am I to be an obstacle, withholding from others their chance to see the truth? I had the courage to accept Thay’s request. I knew I must try.

❧❧❧

How many days do I live my dream?

Plum Village is also a Bat Nha. Plum Village will also become a legend. How is my own diamond seed of awakening doing? Am I living each day in Plum Village’s Pure Land of practice wakefully, freely and with ease? Every day of growth is precious; the diamond seed will not always have this greenhouse. Do I live each day as the beautiful expression it is of my innermost aspiration?

During Tet 2006 I asked the Oracle, “Do I have the strength and capacity to realize my dreams?”, and the Oracle (and Thay) said “Yes”.  But the Koan’s alternative question wakes me up even more fiercely: “Do I have enough courage and intelligence to face my own weaknesses?” That is the real question. I must face them, embrace them and transform them every day. It’s the weaknesses that are standing between me and my dreams, and the way to realize my dreams is to face them, one by one, with love and intelligence.

I am already living my dream. Did I notice that today?

❧❧❧

I have so many more questions from the koan that stay with me day and night, but have not shared them here because I see I don’t yet have clarity or insight on them. I promise to write to Thay when they ripen.

In deep gratitude and respect,

and with love,

Your student,

con Hien Nghiem

Destination – Birds like you and me
Birds are flying in V,
side by side,
accompanied by the sun
that breaks through the clouds
Where are they flying to?
They don’t ask themselves
They only know
that they are flying together
And by the speed of their flight,
the natural movements of their wings
and their obvious strength
one can see
that deep inside
they know well where they are flying to
Together
attracted by warm places
To come home
to the sun shining in their heart

In gratitude and utmost respect,

The arrow that was shot from Bat Nha was already in our body even before the event took place.
All societies are being poisoned.
The event gives the opportunity to recognize our hidden suffering.
The koan Thay gives is hanging on the door of our liberation.
Bat Nha creates a place beyond space and time.
Because man tried to destroy the pure land,
Christians will recognize it as Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion of Christ.
When we accept the koan then we will awaken in Bat Nha. We shall see with our own eyes Christians and Buddhists sitting together, ‘chanting and sitting in meditation and locking arms’ in real brotherhood.
The koan will call us to transform these deepest sufferings and to visit right now ‘Bat Nha’.

The inspector came and demanded explanation…
And I showed him the last rose of my garden.

Bart Driessens, Belgium

You are the ones who have stayed with us throughout the unfolding Bat
Nha Sangha crisis always willing to help us in any way you could. It
is wonderful to know we are part of a wider Buddhist / Spiritual
community. Whereas previous letters have often asked for your support
this letter is to simply share with you Thays request for your
insights having read Bat Nha: A Koan along with some of first hand
perspectives of some brothers and sisters I recently had the joy to
reunite with in Plum Village.

Firstly then, I make sure you are aware of Thays offering to us all:
Bat Nha: A Koan. We are grateful to Shambhala SunSpace for posting an extract and link to
this. Thays deep intention is to nourish our collective Bodhicitta –
the mind of love. In this extraordinary writing Thay has contributed
his deep insight and invites us all to read, contemplate and practice
in order to come to our own insight – the kind of insight that can
show a way out. Thay suggests we offer our insight in written form to
be published on our website. It could be a short poem or an article -
whatever comes to you. (Please send to batn...@gmail.com)

The situation, as it has developed, is certainly sad in many ways. The
Vietnamese Communist Party’s aggressive policy remains steadfast.
After forcing the Sangha to leave Phuoc Hue they banned all temples in
the country from offering even a night of refuge to our brothers and
sisters, whether they were to arrive as a group or individually. While
the persecution continues we continue to pursue our request of France
to allow a portion of the brothers and sisters to take refuge in Plum
Village.

Despite all of this there is a greater happiness to celebrate. From a
spiritual point of view we know that Bat Nha is a huge success. Here,
I want to share with you a few anecdotes and conversations that have
given more intimacy and life to this statement for me.

Recently, a number of Most Venerable monks and nuns from Vietnam were
able, despite difficulties to come to PlumVillage and, along with
Thay, preside over our annual ordination ceremonies.*
Some stayed back after the week of ceremonies and we had time to hear
them share about their monastic life in Vietnam. Some have had direct
involvement with events concerning the Bat Nha Sangha. The Ven. Minh
Ngia (Abbot of a monastery in Saigon), Su Ba Tinh Hanh (the eldest and
most Venerable nun of South Vietnam) were among those Venerables who
came to visit on the 27th June to witness what was happening and
support a peaceful solution. You may be familiar with the events of
this day which are reported fully on the helpbatnha website. In short,
they were met by hurls of abuse and had excrement and rocks thrown at
them by the hired mob – ostensiby followers of Ven Duc Nghi – the
Abbot of Bat Nha. It was this event that saw the Ven. Thai Thuan
(Abbot of Phuoc Hue) hospitalised. Later in October Ven. Minh Ngia
publicly offered to receive 160 brothers and sisters in his Saigon
monastery. This offer, fully approved by the official Vietnamese
Buddhist Church office in Saigon (sometimes referred to as office
no.2) was finally nullified by ‘Office no.1’ in Hanoi (directly
controlled by central governments ‘Religious police Dept.’). I asked
Ven. Minh Ngia while here if he would mind me talking of his
involvement with our Sangha in articles. I understood the Venerables
are likely to be given some trouble on their return from Plum Village.
Although Ven. Minh Ngia has already been outspoken in his actions to
support the Bat Nha Sangha within Vietnam, I wanted to be sensitive. I
was most impressed by his response, “You can write what is true – the
truth is good.”

There are of course many aspects to the truth and all are important.
One aspect is that the conduct and spirit of Bat Nha Sangha was very
admired by the elder monastic community and they truly wanted to help
us in any way they could. They risked their peaceful coexistence with
the government and as with the June incident they put their elderly
bodies in harms way. Ven. Minh Ngia said, “When we saw how bravely the
young brothers and sisters were acting, exemplifying the precepts and
enduring immense difficulties we had to act. How could we call
ourselves elders of these young monastics if we did nothing but stand
by and watch?”

As Thay points out in Bat Nha: A Koan the truth is also that, the
Vietnamese Buddhist Church have found themselves powerless to defend
their own children. The Ven.Thai Thuan resisted almost 3 days of
sustained harassment before signing a document requiring the Sangha to
leave Phuoc Hue temple (on 31st Dec.). However, even if he had held
out in all likelihood the violence would have been stepped up. In
actuality, Ven. Thai Thuan supported the sangha to stay beyond the
deadline of Dec 31st despite the document. However this would
certainly have exposed the brothers and sisters, some as young as 14
years old, to increased violence on the part of the government.

One beautiful aspect of the truth is that the poor townspeople of Bao
Loc and neighbouring villagers loved us. This they demonstrated in
many ways including bring food. The government, try as they might,
using blackmail, bribes together with relentless propaganda broadcast
over the public speakers found it was impossible to enlist locals in
actions against the community after the September eviction. Even if
the local people could not protest and intercede directly, gaining
their respect and love is a spiritual success and made staying in
Phuoc Hue Temple possible.

A little time before the arrival of the Venerables a number of the
elder Bat Nha brothers; Chan Phap Lam, Chan Phap Si and Chan Phap
Quan, and sister Trang Nghiem found their own way to Plum Village. I
myself enjoyed “growing up” with these brothers and sister as a young
monk in different settings, including, Plum Village, Deer Park
Monastery (California) and Thays tours of Vietnam. Sister Trang Nghiem
and I ordained as novice monastics in PlumVillage in May 2002. During
the 2005 trip to Vietnam I had the opportunity to visit Sister Trang
Nghiems family home – a humble dwelling in the backstreets of Hue. Her
father, a delightful man, joined Thays ‘Order of Interbeing’ in the
days before Thay left Vietnam in 1966 and has found many ways to
continue social work ever since. So it has been a wonderful reunion
for me personally and, I am happy to report, they are all in good
spirits. Indeed, before saying anything it was clear in seeing them
face to face, a profound spiritual strengthening had taken place. By
now they have shared a lot with the community. These first hand
sharings have been very moving, sometimes difficult, sometimes funny,
yet always so rich in the living Dharma. One example comes from a
detailed interview with Chan Phap Si concerning the eviction on 27th
Sept. He described how a sister, during a lull in the unpleasantness
of the day, handed him a moon cake. (Dating from attack in June ,
electricity and running water had been cut off from outside and food
had to be smuggled in. They had, in effect, been starved for the
months leading up to the eviction. Phap Si mentioned at numerous
points in the interview how hungry they were on the day of eviction.)
Phap Si, having noticed a lone plain clothed policeman standing in the
courtyard, and knowing the other police had taken time for a lunch
break from their ‘work’, walked over and offered to share the
mooncake. The policeman looked at Phap Si strangely then politely
declined saying – “you will need it – you have a long journey ahead.”
Phap Si was later forcibly driven to his home town of Nha Trang (100s
of km away) to be placed under house arrest. In the months that
followed police would come round on spot visits to interrogate him. It
could be twice a day or as little as once a week – he never knew. He
shared how he when they came in his house he would skillfully have
them partake in a silent tea meditation before answering their
questions. As a result a trust developed in which they opened up.
Indeed, at some point, Br. Phap Si found himself listening to the
policemens personal suffering. They shared with Br. Phap Si how their
pain concerning the fact that, as police, they found they often have
to do things they feel are wrong. This very trap, in various forms, is
the subject of Thays Koan.

Chan Phap Lam, whose English allows us one to one conversation,
offered some deep sharings. As with Br. Phap Si, on the day of
eviction (Sept 27th), Br. Phap Lam had placed himself under a taxi in
an effort to prevent his younger brothers being driven off. They had
accepted they were being forced out of their home but were determined
not to allow themselves to be dispersed. Unlike Chan Phap Si, Br. Phap
Lam was not singled out as a ‘leader’ and was able to stay with the
400 or so brothers and sisters in Phuoc Hue Temple (in the town of Bao
Loc under the protection of the Abbot Thai Thuan) for the 3 month
period before the forced eviction of Dec. 31st. He described how the
teachings of Thay, which always emphasise the importance of
brotherhood and sisterhood in the practice of the Dharma, came alive
for him in Bat Nha and Phuoc Hue. Although enjoying Plum Village his
heart is with his younger Bat Nha brothers and sisters and he wants to
be back with them to support them. “Memories of Bat Nha and Phuoc Hue
come up day and night. And all of these memories,” we might find it
suprising to hear, “are happy for me!” Br. Phap Lam described his
state of mind almost identically to Br Phap Si. “I was not angry with
the violent actions of the police and the hired thugs. I was only
conscious of my deep love for the brothers. It was this desire to
protect them that led him to place himself under the taxi. His action
came less from any idea to demonstrate non-violently but was more the
natural response of a monk who had cultivated non-violence as a way of
being and yet wanted to prevent the community being dispersed and
young brothers being taken off to unknown destinations.

In Phap Si’s account we heard how a heavy set policemen tried to drag
him away from the taxi wheel he had clasped. The policeman drew back
his fist to hit Phap Si. At this moment Phap Si looked into the eyes
of the policemen. The punch would have been brutally injurous given
the large gold ring Phap Si observed on the policemans index finger. A
this moment Phap Si said he was completely concentrated on compassion
having no fear or resentment only love for young brother in his heart.
As his fist came down perhaps the policeman was affected by this
because, it seems, he lost the heart to follow through withholding at
the last moment such that his fist only glanced Phap Si’s face.
Certainly Phap Si believes it was his concentration on compassion that
protected him. “In truth we had nothing and no-one to protect us from
the ill-will – it was the energy of compassion generated among us that
protected us that day”. There are so many elating anecdotes like this
- small triumphs of love over hate.

Sister Trang Nghiem is a sister who beams happiness but is seldom
drawn to speak in public, even when only among her brothers and
sisters. However, on the occasion of Thay transmitting her the lamp
(ordaining her as a Dharma Teacher) in the week of ceremonies Thay
asked her to speak. What she shared was profound, and, for me,
provides part of the solution to Thay’s koan. “Thay said to me in Plum
Village, ‘You will go to be part of the Sangha in Vietnam and you will
experience some suffering.’ It was true. I suffered – and I am so
grateful for this suffering for, through this, I have grown a lot.”

Of course, we are all sad for the country of Vietnam and the
dispersion of the Sangha. Brother Phap Quan likened the gradual
leaving of the brothers and sisters from Phuoc Hue Temple, in the days
leading up to the 31st Dec. deadline, to having ones intestines slowly
removed. During this time the Abbot of Phuoc Hue, the Venerable Thai
Thuan, cried and cried. Thay says these tears of love shall go down in
the history books. Thay also shared that the Sangha has been more
united by this experience than divided by the governments actions.
“The Bat Nha Sangha is already a legend in the history of Buddhism in
Vietnam” – one which, I believe we can allow to inspire and instruct
for years to come.

Dear friends, I feel it would be remiss of me to ask for you to share
your personal insight on the Koan without sharing my own. So I will
end with my contribution, a string of reflections, to this never
ending koan:-

Compassion is the energy that protects. With compassion and
non-violence as our way of being we discover non-fear and need not act
from anger.
Bat Nha is not a distant event remote from our lives in the West but a
collective experience of our international community. We are in this
together.
As individuals and as countries we should protect our integrity so
that we have the moral right to speak out and are free (from vested
interest) to act.
The brothers and sisters of Bat Nha used their time to prepare
mentally and spiritually for what they knew would come. They made the
very best of the present moment enjoying everyday of practice they had
given to them together. We might do the same.
Hearing the brothers and sisters of Bat Nha share their experience
brings fresh meaning to the old English adage, “It is better to have
loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” The Bat Nha Sangha
discovered brotherhood and sisterhood is something real and can be
lived. Once experienced firsthand we know its preciousness and want to
take every opportunity to build brotherhood and sisterhood in our own
community.

Once again thank you for staying with us and – may your koan practice
benefit all living beings.

May all be well, peaceful, safe and happy
May all attain enlightenment
No discrimination

Br Chan Phap Lai

Notes:
*This years Great Precepts Transmission Ceremony included the
transmission of The Five Mindfulness Trainings, The Fourteen
Mindfulness Trainings**, Shikshamana precepts for nuns, Bhikshu and
Bhikshuni precepts and some 34 Dharma lamps.
**The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings, composed by Thay during the
Vietnam war to show a “Way” for social workers in Vietnam at the time.
These are equivalent to the Bodhisattva vows and are formally
transmitted to those accepted into the core community – The Order of
Interbeing – which includes both monastic and lay practioners.

I am a singer, songwriter, and guitar player. I am also a practitioner of the five mindfulness Trainings. I hope that if I were ever confronted with such a difficult situation as the Brothers and Sisters of Bat Nha, that I could respond in the solidly peaceful, compassionate, and upright way that they demonstrated. This is why I practice. It is difficult enough for me to respond with non-violence and love when someone cuts me off on the freeway. How would I respond to direct attacks on my body and on my community? I hope that, like the Brothers and Sisters of Bat Nha, I could choose to respond with fierce and radical compassion and embrace the attackers with love. Wow!

I imagine someone stealing my guitar from my hands and smashing it to pieces in front of my eyes. This would break my heart! I would be very sad to lose the instrument that was given to me by my father, a medium that helps me to sing and write songs.

I would have to look deeply to see that both my father and my mother gave me a gift that reaches beyond that guitar. They gave me the gift of music rooted in love. Their songs are alive in my heart and no-one can take that away from me. I think those songs would grow even stronger if I had no guitar to play, or no hands to strum with, or even no voice to sing. The music would still continue in me.

I think this is what the brothers and sisters of Bat Nha have taught me. Even as their temple was destroyed and their community attacked and scattered, the gift of the practice, of a deep understanding, love and compassion, remained alive in their hearts. This gift continues in them and around them.

Dharma cannot be destroyed. It is ever-changing in form. What the Bat Nha brothers and sisters gave us was a beautiful mirror in which we can see ourselves as bit more clearly and gain greater trust in the practice that is alive in our hearts. This mirror can help us to have a deeper living faith in a way that is unattached to form, alive and always flowing, and that is with us whenever we sit, walk, eat, chant, and sing our songs.

“I burned my guitar
-used it for heat and light-
To bring me through the dark night
Now I have nothing
But these songs to sing.”

Joe Reilly, True Faith of the Heart February 8th, 2010

This is a moment of happiness.

I am sitting with a stick of incense, a pot of tea, sunlight, silence and ease. There are more than enough conditions for my happiness.

I have been through storms in the last few months; storms of doubt, fears, anxiety and despair, or rather disappointment. I think that sometimes I profoundly disappoint myself – I am not able to live up to my highest ideal, and failing to live up to my expectations, or the expectations I feel from others, I sink even lower – I give up on myself, I let go of my principles. I think this is what happened to those policemen, to certain members of the Buddhist Church of Vietnam, and to certain politicians, East and West. A small betrayal leads to a bigger one, and so it goes on.

It is heartbreaking to know what is the right thing to do and then to not do it. At the time the only way to justify this failure, this disappointment, is to say to oneself, well, I didn’t have any choice, my habits are too strong – I will change them later when conditions are more favourable; I am weak. There is a kind of bitter irony in knowing that and not doing anything about it – I tell myself that there was no choice, I was just doing what everyone else was doing – I can’t go against the system, that would be foolish and idealistic – I have to live in the real world. It’s just a dream to think that I can change – I know I’m fundamentally flawed and will never really change. The system is flawed, humanity is flawed, there is nothing really worthy to be called an ideal for my life and who am I to think I can change things? I should just keep my head down and continue business as usual – I have to be practical, reasonable, realistic; later, when more people support me and agree with me I will act. For now I’ll just grit my teeth and look after my own interests – just survive. And when the pain of the inner contradiction is too great I can turn on the TV or eat something. It would probably hurt more to uphold my ideal anyway – because I would only be disappointed. Isn’t that what politicians say about themselves? That the only thing they can guarantee is disappointment.

These thoughts have been strong in me and the thoughts too that there were things about me that would not change; that I was lazy, greedy, pushed around by my desires; that I liked to escape from reality – before I ordained as a monk I could erase entire days and weeks by losing myself in escapist novels or films – and well, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it, and so many times I just gave up trying.

The most amazing thing is that there are people who seem to have confidence in me – who seem to trust me, who trust me more than I do myself. Maybe it’s because they’re foolish and they don’t really know me – if they knew what I was really like they would not trust me at all, they would know I am not worthy of their trust. But somehow they don’t seem to be foolish, in fact, quite the opposite, they seem to be the wisest people I’ve ever encountered – and they seem to know me better than I do myself – they seem to see in me something beautiful, something strong. Could they actually be right? Could it be true that there is actually an energy in me that just wants all beings to be liberated from suffering? – that this energy may actually be stronger than all the others, and that they can see it in me even when I can’t. How could it be? They show such confidence in me, they never hesitate to water the seed of aspiration in me – in fact that is all they do – and strangely, I find myself getting stronger, more able to say no, happier, more determined and more energetic in helping others.

What is this thing they see in me that gives them such confidence? Don’t they see how confused I am and how I am controlled by my desire? – my desire for recognition, for love. Sometimes it seems as if my teachers are looking at me from beyond space and time, from a place of radiant stillness, untouched by coming and going, success and failure, increase or decrease. How can it be that they don’t blame me and are not angry with me? Have they already forgiven me for not being able to live up to my highest ideal? How can I deserve this extraordinary gift of compassion?

I think the attackers of Bat Nha monastery must have felt something similar when they looked into the eyes of the young monks and nuns. One man cut his hand as he was smashing the windows of the monastery and a sister immediately came to him and cleaned and bandaged his wound. How did he feel in that moment? They say he withdrew and stood silently, shaken and wondering. What about the policeman who sat down in a lull, tired and alone, after participating in the violent attack on the brothers, and was then approached by one of those very brothers, who sat down next to him and offered to share with him his small morsel of food? How did the policemen feel, when after having interrogated that brother for six hours straight, he treated them as friends, listening to their difficulties and offering them ways to deal better with the contradictions in their lives?

I have often wondered if I could have been as strong as that brother. What would I have done in the same situation? Would I have been able to maintain my peace and my compassion as the blows were raining down on me? Would I have been cowardly? Would I have been aggressive? Would I have tried to be heroic?

Now I see the real question, which is: how can I continue to nourish the seed of great compassion which is already in my heart? How can I let go of the mind of comparison and see that I am that monk, looking up with steady calm and compassion, thinking only of the safety of my brothers, as the fist fell towards my face. And I am also looking down as I launched my fist at him, my eyes meeting his and seeing no fear, no blame; hesitating suddenly as compassion bloomed in my heart and I pulled the punch, unable to strike. And I am there in Paris, refusing to give up, not resting until I had done everything I could think of to get the press to pay attention, not willing to stop until every avenue had been exhausted, every number called, every favour cashed in. I am also the sister who night after night stayed up writing emails to politicians who would not reply, not sleeping, not thinking of herself, driven only by the deep desire to help. I am the Thai diplomat whose professional calm suddenly broke and who cried simple tears of compassion upon hearing Thay Trung Hai speak of the courage of his young brothers and sisters.

How many times has this seed of compassion bloomed, only to be crushed again by the machinery of bureaucracy and pragmatism? How many times have I lifted my eyes in hope, only to turn them away again in shame at my own actions? By what miracle have I come to a place where this little seed of compassion can be so nourished that I start to trust again? – that I see again that nothing has been lost and that none of my actions, none of my disappointments has even in the least bit tarnished this pure source of compassion in my heart.

As my eyes open again to the wonderful reality all around me, I feel the tension drop from my shoulders. Maybe I can gently begin to deposit my burden – the burden I have carried for so long and added to without knowing – maybe I can start to put it down. Maybe there is such a thing as peace – not peace in the future but peace now.

I was struggling before. I wanted to convince everyone in the West that this tragedy had occurred – I wanted to convince the politicians that it was indeed a tragedy, that our happiness and wellbeing as westerners is somehow connected to that of a group of monks and nuns in Vietnam, that they needed to act. I wanted to awaken their humanity, to touch their compassion – for them to be moved. I was prepared to do anything to try to convince them of the truth of what we were saying. I was sure that if we marshalled the correct arguments – if we could gather enough witness testimonies, photos, videos, arguments, explanations and press-coverage, then the politicians would have to accept the truth of what we were saying – that no-one would anymore be able to suggest that we were lying or exaggerating, that no-one would be able to believe the lies and propaganda of the Vietnamese government, that everyone would see through the corrosive phrase “an internal conflict between two Buddhist factions”, that the truth would overrule this oft-repeated lie and banish it for good from peoples’ minds. And I was so upset and even angry when at times it seemed that it wasn’t working – that the Party line was winning and that we were beginning to hear it from European politicians and from other Buddhist organizations; that this insidious but oh so believable lie was worming its way into the hearts of members of our own community and that I even heard it from my own father.

I became desperate. I thought if only we could get one more witness testimony, if only we could meet in person with the French officials, if only they looked into the eyes of the brothers who were dragged down flights of concrete stairs and beaten with sticks – the brothers who fearlessly put their heads under the wheels of the cars to stop them from leaving, who were trampled and abused and treated like animals (though I would not wish animals to be treated like that either); maybe if they saw them they would be convinced. But my teacher saw my confusion and said this: “I think the French politicians are like the Vietnamese – they know the truth, but they want to continue doing business.” And later the realization ripened in me – that all my striving was in vain, that it would never be enough just to present the truth in the most convincing way, but that there had to be the conditions for the truth to be received – that it was not because I had failed in my task of presenting the facts of the case, but that there were other elements which meant that certain people did not want to see the truth because that truth was inconvenient.

When I can see that they are not ready to receive the truth then I can relax – I do not need to strive – there is no failure or success – there is just great peace. I will continue to play my role of course, if I am asked to speak I will speak and I will do my best to speak the truth in a way that can bring about reconciliation and healing, without anger or blame; and to do that I will continue to cultivate mindfulness in order to transform the anger and blame that is still in my heart. I will put all my energy into my mindful steps and breaths – because to do so is happiness; and because when I can touch happiness, then I know I am ready to act in the most effective and compassionate way. I know that in the future I may encounter many difficult situations – situations of injustice, intolerance, war, famine, drought, displacement of populations, and perhaps the death of millions of people – but I also know that the indestructible seed of awakening has begun to stir, the seed of compassion has started to germinate in my heart and I have nothing more to fear.

I think my aspiration before had a quality of desperation, of struggle. When we would chant the names of the Bodhisattvas at the end of formal meals and send energy to those who were suffering, I used to send energy with a kind of suffering compassion – a pained longing for others to be well and at peace – there was tension and struggle in my compassion. But now I feel something different, I have touched the peaceful aspect of my aspiration. I have touched the understanding that the only peace and happiness I can ever offer are my peace and happiness in this moment. Of course Thay has always taught us this – but the conditions were not yet right for me to receive this truth. How much more must that be so for everything else Thay teaches us? If I cannot realize the truth of what Thay is saying, it must be because there is something in me I am not prepared to release, to give up. But that is OK too.

Let me rest for a while –
Let me enjoy the cold and the sunlight,
The soft falling oak leaves
And the blue-white sky

I have struggled so long,
Let me rest a while –
I have struggled so long
To prove myself to myself,
Myself to others, to try
To be worthy of their love –
To try to prove I loved them.

Now I start to see
That I am neither lacking nor complete
And I let the burden of ages,
of generations softly down;
I put it down with all my love –
We did not know we were carrying it –
We did not catch the haunted look in the mirror –
We did not understand why we had no peace –
And it is only as I start to put it down,
To let it go,
That I see it for what it is;

I have been running for a long time –
Now I allow myself to stop and enjoy.

un puits

a well-spring

a riverbed that may and does change its course, and often

a long stone stairway down which newly ordained novices are descending slowly and gracefully with Thay

a grey robe draped over a young tea bush in full bloom, blowing gently in the warm breeze

a white boulder lying in a bed where a river of tears once flowed, on which to sit in the warm spring sun, facing the moon and soaking one’s feet in the fresh, cool brook

une hutte et son potager, en couleurs et formes géometriques diverses

a hammock

le Bouddha, serein et souriant, toujours assis sur la coline

il fallait/faut/faudra bien retourner à la source

–Tam Dai Hoa/Chan Mat Hanh/Phap Kinh

The moment of

The first smallest awakening

We can choose



A bitter old woman

Is in me.

She is afraid

She sees with the eyes of mistrust, suspicion, doubt

Inside her

Is a beautiful smiling child

Love breathes through them

Love breathes us all



I vow to be present in love

With this old woman,

This beautiful child

To witness her healing,

Transformation, liberation

And offer it to All



Bat Nha is me

I am Bat Nha

Chan Tue Chau

Annie Speiser

Generation after generation

They do what they do

And we do what we do

(This is like this because that is like that)

They see winners and losers

But our triumph is immeasurable

In beginningless time we started with nothing

When we are truly successful

We enjoy non-ending

With even less

Chan Phap Nhu’ – True Dharma Suchness

]]> http://helpbatnha.org/2010/03/three-poems-in-response-to-the-bat-nha-koan/feed/ 0 http://helpbatnha.org/2010/02/thich-nhat-hanh-12-points-hanoi-1000-years/ http://helpbatnha.org/2010/02/thich-nhat-hanh-12-points-hanoi-1000-years/#comments Fri, 12 Feb 2010 18:49:54 +0000 editors http://helpbatnha.org/?p=3925 download pdf

THICH NHAT HANH
Lunar New Year’s Eve, 13 Feb. 2010

Celebrating 1,000 Years of Hanoi

INTRODUCTION

In the year 1010, one thousand years ago, the first king of the Ly dynasty founded Thang Long, the city now known as Hanoi. The Ly dynasty has been described as “the most compassionate, peaceful and harmonious in the history of Vietnam” by the eminent historian Hoang Xuan Han. This, he wrote, was “thanks to the influence of Buddhism”.

The first king of the Ly dynasty was Ly Thai To. From a very young age he had been trained as a Buddhist monastic aspirant at Luc To temple by Zen Master Van Hanh. When he ascended to the throne he organized political and cultural life in the spirit of openness, fearlessness and non-dualism as taught by Zen Master Van Hanh. The practice of Buddhism gave the nation a solid foundation of peace and happiness which lasted for centuries. Ly Nhah Tong, the fourth king in the Ly Dynasty, spoke of Master Van Hanh with great respect. “Master Van Hanh’s actions embraced the whole of the past, present and future”, he said. “His words presaged events with extraordinary accuracy. In his hometown Co Phap, he needed only to plant his staff in the ground and sit in stillness, and the city of Thang Long could enjoy stability and peace for ever.”

Ten thousand actions embrace past, present and future,
Words of foretelling are effective,
With a monk’s staff firmly planted in Co Phap
Stability reigns in the kingdom

If we look again at the actions of the Ly Kings in the early years of Thang Long city, we will see how to celebrate 1,000 years of Hanoi in such a way that our actions continue the legacy of our ancestors.

In the year 1010, the year of Thang Long’s founding, king Ly Thai To gave the order for the people to be freed from the obligation to pay taxes for three years. Those who were poor, weak, sick, orphaned or widowed, and had accumulated debts of unpaid taxes over many years were pardoned. That Summer the king ordered Flourishing Sky Temple to be built in the inner city for his court to recite the precepts and practice meditation, and the Adornment With Victory Temple to be built on the outskirts of the city for the people to do the same.

In 1012 the king built Dragon Virtue Palace for the young prince Phap Ma to live close to the people and understand their situation. In 1016 he lifted taxes on land and property for three years, and the next year extended this to include farmland. In 1017 he announced an amnesty for all those who were exiled or living in hiding to be able to return home without fear of punishment; this applied even to those who feared reprisals because of their previous opposition to the government.

In 1014, at the request of Venerable Monk Tham Van Uyen, a Great Precept Transmission Ceremony was held in the newly-founded Thang Long city, and over 1,000 young men and women were ordained as monks and nuns. Two years later another Great Precept Transmission Ceremony was held with another 1,000 ordinees, and yet a third Ceremony was held in 1019. In 1018, the King sent a delegation to China, led by the two lay men Nguyen Dao Thanh and Pham Hac, to ask for the Tripitaka – the Three Baskets of Sutras, comprising the Sutras, the Vinaya and the Sastras. When the delegation returned in 1020, the Most Venerable Patriarch Monk Phi Tri formally welcomed the Tripitaka at the king’s invitation.

Prince Phat Ma ascended to the throne in 1028, taking the name Ly Thai Tong, the second king of the Ly Dynasty. He immediately declared another amnesty and ordered silk and money from the royal store to be distributed to the people. When the Lord Kai Quoc, Prince of Bo and ruler of Truong Yen Palace, betrayed him, the King himself went to quell the uprising. When Lord Khai Quoc surrendered, the King pardoned him and allowed him to retain his title and position.

The King built the Trung Hung Sutra Library in Limitless Light Temple in 1034 and ordered copies of the Tripitaka to be made and stored there. In 1036 he announced another amnesty for the people. In 1040 he inaugurated the Arahat Dharma Festival at the Dragon Lake within the Palace grounds, and decreed another amnesty for his subjects, pardoning all criminals and traitors, and repealing all taxes on the people that year. In 1049 he built Dien Huu temple which has now become the One Pillar Temple. In 1052 the king had a Great Temple Bell cast and hung at the Dragon Lake, for the people to come and sound, to call for a hearing with the king himself whenever they had been victims of miscarriages of justice or misunderstandings.

The third king, Ly Thanh Tong took the throne in 1054. He inspected Thien Khanh Court in person to see for himself how justice was dispensed by court officials. On one occasion he pointed at his daughter, princess Dong Thien, in his entourage, and told the judge, “I love my people just as parents love their children. The people break the law out of ignorance and lack of understanding, and I feel great compassion for them. From now on, whatever the offence committed, whether major or minor, tolerance and leniency should be exercised.” When there was a terrible drought in 1070 the King gave the order for rice, money and clothes from the royal storehouse to be distributed to the poor.

The fourth King, Ly Nhan Tong, took the throne in 1072. In 1076 he decreed an amnesty for the people, and in 1088 appointed Zen Master Kho Dau as the National Teacher, responsible for teaching meditation and advising the king on matters of state. In the Summer of 1095, when another great drought swept the country, he pardoned all those who had inherited debts or could not pay their taxes, and freed all prisoners. In 1103, the King’s mother used money from the royal treasury to buy poor young women out of indentured service and herself arranged for them to be married.

In 1127, King Ly Than Tong ascended to the throne and, in February 1134, in order to pray for rain, took up the practices of meditation, eating only vegetarian food and living simply. He also pardoned all criminals in the country. In the same year he gave permission for another Great Ordination Ceremony of monks and nuns to be held. In 1136 he appointed Zen Master Khong Lo as National Teacher and repealed income tax for the people.

During the Ly Dynasty, the Zen Masters Van Hanh, Kho Dau, Khong Lo, Tong Bien and Vien Chieu were all appointed by the kings as National Teachers. The understanding of these Masters was vast, their wisdom transcendent and their love unlimited. These were teachers of all the people in the country.

__________________________________________________

NOTES: The Zen Master’s name, “Van Hanh”, means “Ten Thousand Actions”; The Zen Master’s name “Nhat Hanh” means “One Action”. Thich Nhat Hanh founded a “Van Hanh Buddhist University” in Saigon in the early 1960s.

12 PROPOSALS

on How to celebrate Hanoi’s 1,000-year anniversary

from ZEN MASTER THICH NHAT HANH

The best way to celebrate 1,000 years of Hanoi is for the government and the whole nation to endeavour to take up and continue the work our forefathers began in founding the capital, namely:

1. To establish a university with the name Van Hanh, offering courses that have the capacity to transmit the spirit of openness, fearlessness and non-dualism, as taught by Master Van Hanh. Other campuses can be established simultaneously in other major cities of the country.

2. To allocate time for the daily study of global ethics at all levels of education, and invest money in training teachers to teach ethics, in the light both of traditional Vietnamese cultural values and global ethics. The classes should offer concrete practices that can be applied to address contemporary social evils such as domestic violence, divorce, suicide, drug abuse, prostitution, abuse of power and corruption. In this way the policy of model ethical towns and villages can be realized.

3. To call for a summit of all religious traditions and charitable organizations in Vietnam to draft a non-sectarian Charter of Ethics that can be a basis for the practice of ethics throughout the country. This text should have the capacity to bring about a healthy and compassionate society and save the planet. Each tradition should present and contribute their own ethical code (for example, Buddhism would present the Revised Five Mindfulness Trainings), and together discuss, exchange and learn from one another how these principles can be applied in family life, schools and workplaces. Recitations of the resulting non-sectarian text can be organized once a month in every temple, church, town hall or library. Government officials should also attend recitations alongside ordinary citizens.

4. To establish councils of wise and ethical people in villages, towns and cities. These councils should be composed of people renowned for their kindness and virtue, who can be ethical role models for the community. The councils could include Catholic priests, Protestant Ministers, and Buddhist Abbots and Abbesses, who would care for the ethical wellbeing of the community with their wisdom, loving kindness, encouragement and firmness.

5. To offer an amnesty for all those in exile abroad, banished from their hometown within Vietnam or imprisoned, whether for being members of unauthorized organizations or churches or because they have called for pluralism, multipartyism, freedom of religion or freedom of speech. A number of prisoners should be given early release on social work under the guidance and sponsorship of ordained members of all religions.

6. To repeal taxes for anyone without a home, without a job or source of income.

7. To establish Sundays as a ‘No Car Day’ in Hanoi and other big cities and towns: citizens should only use bicycles, rickshaws, horse carriages or walk, except in emergencies. Sundays should also be a No-Smoking Day and No-Alcohol Day – a day on which no cigarettes, wine or beer are sold.

8. To support the establishment of vegetarian restaurants in the capital and other major cities. Every restaurant must offer at least a few vegetarian dishes on the menu, and everyone should be encouraged to be vegetarian for at least 15 days a month (according to the UN’s recommendations to cut back meat consumption by 50% to save the planet). Those who fully embrace a vegetarian diet can benefit from a 50% discount on their health insurance contributions.

9. To subsidize solar power technology for cooking rice, boiling water, lighting, preparing tea, washing clothes and so on.

10. To end the production and use of plastic bags and packaging.

11. To call for a Great Buddhist Summit, and invite Venerable monks and nuns from inside and outside the country to re-establish a People’s Buddhist Church, totally free from political interference.

12. To organize retreats in Vietnam for Vietnamese people and foreigners to learn and practice ways to transform violence and build brotherhood and sisterhood in the spirit of openness and non-dualism as taught by Zen Master Van Hanh.

If the government, law-makers and law-enforcers of the country do not want to, or cannot, realize these proposals, then we, the People, will do it by ourselves, beginning with the Buddhists and with the support of other religions and charitable associations.

released Monday 25 January, 2010

Bat Nha: a Koan

Do not just look for what you want to see,

that would be futile.

Do not look for anything,

but allow the insight to have a chance to come by itself.

That insight will help liberate you.

– Nhat Hanh

introductory words from “Bat Nha: a Koan”

CLICK THROUGH for full text OR DOWNLOAD IT: 

THICH NHAT HANH

Bat Nha: a Koan

Bat Nha is a monastery in the central highlands of Vietnam, it is a community of monks and nuns being persecuted by the Vietnamese government, and it is the great crisis of Vietnamese Buddhism at the dawn of the 21^st Century.

A koan (known in Chinese as a gong an, and in Vietnamese as a cong an) is a meditation device, a special kind of Zen riddle. Koans are solved not with the intellect but with the practice of mindfulness, concentration and insight. A koan can be contemplated and practiced individually or collectively, but so long as it remains unsolved, a koan is unsettling. It is like an arrow piercing our body which we cannot take out; so long as it is lodged there we can neither be happy nor at peace. Yet the koan’s arrow has not really come from outside, nor is it a misfortune. A koan is an opportunity to look deeply and transcend our worries and confusion. A koan forces us to address the great questions of life, questions about our future, about the future of our country and about our own true happiness.

Some of the best known Zen koans include “The cypress in the courtyard”, “If everything returns to the one, where does the one return to?”, “Does a dog have Buddha nature?”, and “Who is invoking the Buddha’s name?” Vietnam’s great leaders and statesmen have long practiced the art of contemplating koans, and contributed many famous ones of their own.[1] Zen Master Tue Trung, whose brother General Tran Hung Dao repelled Genghis Khan’s invasion, offered the powerful koan “All phenomena are impermanent. Everything that is born must finally die. What is born, and what dies?”

A koan cannot be solved by intellectual arguments, logic or reason, nor by debates such as whether there is only mind or matter. A koan can only be solved through the power of right mindfulness and right concentration. Once we have penetrated a koan, we feel a sense of relief, and have no more fears or questioning. We see our path and realize great peace.

“Does a dog have Buddha nature?” If you think that it’s the dog’s problem whether or not he has Buddha nature, or if you think that it’s merely a philosophical conundrum, then it’s not a koan. “Where does the one return to?” If you think this is a question about the movement of an external objective reality, then that is not a koan either. If you think Bat Nha is only a problem for 400 monks and nuns in Vietnam, a problem that simply needs a ‘reasonable and appropriate’ solution, then that too is not a koan. Bat Nha truly becomes a koan only when you understand it as your own problem, one that deeply concerns your own happiness, your own suffering, your own future and the future of your country and your people. If you cannot solve the koan, if you cannot sleep, eat or work at peace, then Bat Nha has become your koan.

‘Mindfulness’ means to recollect something, to hold it in our heart day and night. The koan must remain in our consciousness every second, every minute of the day, never leaving us even for a moment. Mindfulness must be continuous and uninterrupted; and continuous mindfulness brings concentration. While eating, getting dressed, urinating and defecating, the practitioner needs to bring the koan to mind and look deeply into it.The koan is always at the forefront of your mind. Who is the Buddha whose name we should invoke? Who is doing the invoking? Who am I? You must find out. So long as you haven’t found out you haven’t made the breakthrough, you are not yet fully awake, you have not understood.

***

I AM A MONASTIC FROM THE BAT NHA COMMUNITY. Bat Nha is my koan and I have the opportunity to look deeply into it in every moment of my daily life. Every day I contemplate the koan of Bat Nha – I sit with it in meditation, I walk with it in mindfulness, I am with it when I cook, when I wash my clothes, peel vegetables or sweep the floor; in every moment Bat Nha is my koan. I must produce mindfulness and concentration, because for me it is a matter of life and death, of my ideals and my future.

We know we’ve been successful in our practice, because despite all the oppression and harassment, many of us in our community can still laugh and be fresh as flowers. We are still able to generate peace and love, and not be dragged down by worries, fears or hatred. Yet there are those of us who are still suffering, weighed down by the trauma of the days when Bat Nha and Phuoc Hue Temple were attacked. One of the nuns offered an insight poem to our teacher. She wrote, “The Bat Nha of yesterday has become rain, falling to the earth, sprouting the seed of awakening.” This nun is barely 18 years old, not even two years ordained, but she has successfully penetrated the koan of Bat Nha.

All we want is to practice – why can’t we? The senior monks of Vietnam want to protect and sponsor us – so why does the government stop them? We don’t know anything about politics, it doesn’t interest us at all – so why do they keep accusing us of meddling in politics and saying Bat Nha is a threat to national security? Why was dispersing Bat Nha so important that they had to resort to using hired mobs, slander, deceit, beatings and threats? The attackers were the age of our fathers and uncles; how could they have done that to us? If the government forbids us from living together and forces us, down to the last person, to scatter in all directions, how will our community ever be reunited? Why is it that in other countries people can practice this tradition freely, and we can’t?” These questions come up relentlessly and will not go away. They yearn to be answered.

During the time of sitting meditation, walking meditation, or listening to a Dharma talk; while cooking, gardening, or doing other work in mindfulness, we generate the energy of mindfulness and concentration. This energy is like fire that burns away all the haunting thoughts and questions.

The Bat Nha of yesterday was happiness. We could be true to ourselves and live the way we wanted to live. For the first time in our lives we were in an environment where we could speak openly and share our deepest thoughts and feelings with our brothers and sisters – without suspicion, without fear of betrayal. We had the opportunity as young people to serve the world, in the spirit of true brotherhood and sisterhood. This was the greatest happiness. Then Bat Nha became a nightmare, but no-one will ever take from us the inner freedom we discovered there. I have found my path. Whether or not Bat Nha exists, I am no longer afraid. I can see that Bat Nha has become rain, helping the indestructible diamond seed of awakening to sprout within us.  Even though we were forced from Phuoc Hue, and Bat Nha is no more, the seeds of awakening that have been planted in our hearts can never be taken away. Thay has taught each one of his students to become a Bat Nha, a Phuong Boi[2]. We are Thay’s continuation and we know that we will make many more Bat Nha’s and Phuong Boi’s in the future.

We already have the seed and we already have our path, so we are no longer afraid for the future – our own, or that of our country. Tomorrow we will have the chance to help those who persecute us today. They may not see that now, but later they will understand. We know that many of those who attacked us and made us suffer have already begun to see the truth. Prejudices and wrong perceptions like those that built the Berlin Wall eventually collapse and disintegrate. There is no need to worry or despair. We can laugh as brightly as the morning sun.

***

I AM A CHIEF OF POLICE IN VIETNAM. At first, I believed that the order from my superiors to wipe out Bat Nha must have been justified, that it must have been in the interests of national security. I trusted my superiors. However, as I carried out the order, I saw things that broke my heart. Bat Nha has become a koan for my life. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I toss and turn throughout the night. I ask myself, What have these people done, that I should treat them as reactionaries and threats to public safety? They seem so peaceful – but I have no peace at all. If I don’t have peace in my heart, how can I keep the peace in my society?

The young monks and nuns have not broken any laws. In fact we were the ones who collaborated with those who seized their property. We forced them to leave the place they helped to build, where they had been living peacefully for years. We tried everything to force them out, yet they held their ground. They seemed to have so much love for each other – there seemed to be something that bound them together. They lived with such integrity. Even though they were young, none of them was pulled into smoking, drug abuse or empty sex. They lived simply, ate vegan food, sat in meditation, listened to sutras, shared with each other and did no harm to anyone. How can we say they are dangerous? They have never said or done anything against the government. We cannot truthfully say they are reactionaries or involved in politics. And yet we have accused them of that and driven them out by every possible means: we threatened them, we cut off their electricity and water, we went every night for many months to harass them, demanding to see their identification papers, over and over again; we did everything we could to break their spirit. But they never said a reproachful word, they offered us tea, they sang for us and they asked to take souvenir photos with us.

In the end we hired mobs to destroy their community, to assault them and expel them. We had to be there wearing plainclothes to identify and single out the leaders so the thugs could neutralize and abduct them. Not once did they fight back. Their only weapons were chanting the Buddha’s name, sitting in meditation, and locking arms to stop us from separating them as we forced them into the waiting cars. Central government even sent a Major General to coordinate the attack. Why did we need to mobilize such a massive force, from the central to the local government, to break up a group of young people with empty hands and innocent hearts?

And why did it take us more than a year to kick them out? What was there in the temple that made them so determined to stay? Every day they had just two vegan meals, three sessions of sitting meditation, one lecture and one session of walking meditation. Why were there so many of them, so young and yet living so harmoniously with each other? Some of them had university diplomas, some were sons and daughters of high-ranking officials, some had had careers and high-paying jobs; but they left it all behind for a humble life. What was so good there that it attracted so many young people? How can we just say that they were tricked by the honeyed words of a person living in the West into opposing the government?

My orders came from above and I had to obey; but I feel deeply ashamed. At first I thought they were just temporary measures, for the greater good of the country, for the sake of preserving national unity. Now I know that the whole operation was deceitful, cruel and offensive to human conscience. I am forced to keep these thoughts to myself. I don’t dare to share them with the officers in my unit, let alone my superiors. I can’t go forward and I can’t go back; I am a cog in a machine and I can’t get out. What must I do to be true to myself?

***

I AM A MEMBER OF THE BUDDHIST CHURCH OF VIETNAM. Bat Nha haunts me night and day. I know those young monastics are practicing the true Dharma. Everyone who has come into contact with them confirms this. So why are we powerless to protect them? Why do we have to live and behave like government employees? When will I realize my dream of practicing religion without political interference? During the periods of foreign colonization, or the Diem and Thieu regimes, Buddhists faced hardships; but monastics were never as tightly controlled as they are now. What the officials want today is a Buddhism based on blind faith and rituals, not a Buddhism that offers true spiritual guidance and has the capacity to promote an ethical way of living. They are afraid of a Buddhism that offers powerful spiritual leadership, and only accept religious organizations that can be controlled and manipulated. But when the Buddha was alive, he refused to submit to domination, even that of King Ajatasattu. During the French colonization and the Diem, Ky and Thieu regimes, our ancestors fought for liberty. Why are we not continuing that work? Why have we allowed ourselves to become the instruments of a policy that is trampling our ideal of service, our noble aspiration of awakening?

At first, I thought that if I went along with the government, I would at least have a chance to do some of the ‘Buddha’s work,’ whereas if I opposed the government totally then I wouldn’t be able to do anything. And so I had to silently suffer the criticism and scorn of my colleagues for being in the system. After a while, however, I saw that it was thanks to the ability and courage of those outside the Buddhist Church to voice their protests that I was permitted to do Buddhist work, albeit in a limited way. When the history of Vietnamese Buddhism is written, how will I answer for this? My aim was to revive Buddhism in order to serve the people and the nation, not to become part of a system that exists to monitor and control Buddhists.

That venerable, who was pressured into withdrawing his sponsorship for the monks and nuns to stay and practice at his temple: he did not have the strength to resist. He was compelled to betray his teacher and his friends and break the deep vow he made just a few years ago. It is a tragedy for him. But who is that monk? Is he someone else, or is he none other than myself? He is in me. I am also being pressured, and don’t dare to do or say what I really believe in order to protect my spiritual children and young brothers and sisters. Isn’t it my deepest desire to ‘Guide the future generations, and repay my debt of gratitude to the Buddha?’ If so, then how can I justify the fact that I stood by helplessly and watched as the young monks and nuns, my spiritual descendents, were oppressed, humiliated and trampled upon? How can I dare to look my spiritual children, my continuation, in the eyes? What is my true face? Who am I?

We are brothers and sisters, children of the Buddha. Is it because our practice of brotherhood is not solid enough that they have been able to divide us, that we have fallen into blaming and hating each other? According to the Buddha’s teaching of non-dualism, whether we follow the Unified Buddhist Church or the Buddhist Church of Vietnam, we are still brothers and sisters in the same family. We can do what we have to do without fighting or opposing each other, without having to consider each other as enemies. Has this enmity arisen because our practice is still weak? Has this happened because our spiritual power is not great enough? But surely we have learned a lesson: if we can accept each other and reconcile with one another, we can still resurrect our brotherhood and sisterhood, inspire the confidence of our fellow citizens and be role models for everyone. Even though we’ve left it until it’s too late, the situation can still be saved. Just one moment of awakening is enough to change the situation.

It seems the monks and nuns of Bat Nha have learned this lesson. Even when they were attacked and expelled they never showed any resentment toward the venerable abbot who had taken them in during these years. They knew that he was under intense pressure to force them out and that eventually he crumbled. If we in the Buddhist Church have been cornered into betraying our own brothers and sisters it is because our spiritual integrity is not yet strong enough. How can we be wholehearted and determined enough in our daily practice to attain the spiritual strength we need? Only when we understand can we love. When we love each other we cannot see each other as enemies. As long as we see each other as enemies, we will fall prey to schemes of division and separation.

Bat Nha isn’t just an issue for the Central Buddhist Church of Vietnam to resolve. Bat Nha is a koan, the challenge of our lives. How can we solve it in such a way that we are not ashamed before our ancestors? Why can’t I share my thoughts and feelings with my friends in the Central Buddhist Church of Vietnam? Why aren’t we allowed to harmonize our views? Why do we have to hide our thoughts and feelings?

Vietnamese Buddhists have respected and followed the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha for the last two thousand years. But now groups of people were hired who wore shoes into the Buddha Hall, who put up offensive banners on the altar, who yelled and cursed and threw human excrement at venerable monks, who destroyed sacred objects, and who violently attacked, beat and expelled monks and nuns from their temple. It was government officers who hired them and said they were Buddhists. This is an ugly stain on the history of Buddhism in Vietnam. It disgusts us and sickens us, yet why don’t we dare to speak out? Can the Buddhist Church of Vietnam, whose members were slandered, falsely accused and framed by the government, shake off this insult and prove the innocence of Vietnamese Buddhists?

***

I AM A HIGH RANKING MEMBER OF THE COMMUNIST GOVERNMENT OF VIETNAM. Bat Nha is an opportunity for me to look deeply at the truth and find peace in my own heart and mind.  If I don’t have peace, how can I have happiness?  But how can I have peace, when I don’t really believe in the path I walk on, and especially when I don’t have faith or trust in those I call my comrades?  We may be bedfellows, but are we dreaming different dreams? Why can’t I share my real thoughts and feelings with those I call my comrades? Am I afraid of being denounced? Of losing my position? Why do we all have to say exactly the same things when none of us believe it? Isn’t this a case of The Emperor’s New Clothes, where all the members of the Emperor’s court swear the Emperor is wearing a beautiful robe, when in fact he is completely naked?

My greatest dream is for my own happiness to be in harmony with my country’s. Just as trees have their roots and water has its source, our homeland has its heritage of spiritual insight. The Ly dynasty was the most peaceful and compassionate dynasty in our country’s history. Under the Tran dynasty, the People’s unity was strong enough to enable them to push back the attacks from the North. This unity was possible thanks to Buddhism’s contribution as an inclusive and accepting spiritual path, that could co-exist with other spiritual and ethical traditions, such as Taoism and Confucianism, and so build a country that never needed to expel or eliminate anyone.

I’ve had the opportunity to study. I know Buddhism is not a theistic religion but is solidly humanist.  Buddhism is open-minded and undogmatic; it has the spirit of rational enquiry. In the new century, Buddhism can go hand in hand with science. ‘Science’ here means the spirit of scientific inquiry, the willingness to let go of old views in order to embrace new ones that are closer to reality. Modern science has gone far beyond traditional science, especially in the area of quantum physics. Is what I took for science in the past still science today?  Mind and matter are just two manifestations of one reality.  They contain one another and depend on one another to manifest.  Modern science is putting all its energy into overcoming dualistic ways of thinking – about mind and matter, inside and outside, subject and object, space and time, mass and speed, and so on.  If I am still caught in my anger, anxiety, craving and discrimination, then my mind cannot be collected and concentrated enough to see the truth. No matter how sophisticated the instruments are that I use, behind all that technology there is still the mind that observes.

In my heart I know that the people supported the revolution so strongly because they loved their country, not an ideology. If the people’s support had been based only on an ideology, and not on their deep love for the country, then we would surely have failed. I know that in the 1940s some of us, out of zealous and fanatical devotion to an ideology, crushed and assassinated revolutionaries fighting alongside us against foreign aggressors. To this day, the wounds of that time have not been healed.

As for class struggle, I should ask myself: Which class is holding power now? The proletariat or the capitalists?  Is there such a thing as ‘The People’s Capitalism’, or is that just a convenient fiction?

If we want to be successful, the Party’s policy must reflect the People’s deep wishes (Y Dang, Long Dan).  The People’s deep wish is for monks and nuns to have the freedom to practice and help the world according to their ideal, in line with the laws of the land. The People’s deep wish is for every citizen to be able to speak his or her mind without fear of denunciation or arrest. The People’s deep wish is to separate religion from political affairs, and take the politics out of religion. If the deep wishes of the People are satisfied, then there will naturally be unity, and the Party will be supported. If the Party were in harmony with the hearts of the People, the Party would no longer need to appeal for unity or support. Such is the wish of the People. What is the policy of the party?

I know that during the Tran and Ly dynasties, Buddhism’s spirit of inclusiveness united the whole nation.  Thanks to that spirit, everyone who loved their country had an opportunity to contribute to the work of building and protecting the nation, and no-one was excluded. This spirit of inclusiveness in Buddhism is called ‘equanimity’, and is one of the four Buddhist virtues, alongside loving kindness, compassion and joy. Inclusiveness is a precious spiritual heritage, a cultural treasure. I know that during the Ly and Tran dynasties, kings and politicians practiced Buddhism just as the people did. By keeping the Buddhist precepts, following a vegetarian diet and doing good works, they were able to earn their people’s trust and confidence.

How can we eradicate the hideous social evils of drug abuse, prostitution, gambling, violence, corruption and abuse of power, when the officials responsible for abolishing them are themselves caught up in those very evils?  How can the government’s policy of ‘cultural districts’ and ‘cultural villages’ ever be successful if it is based merely on perfunctory inspections and punishment?  Who is the one that needs to be inspected and who is the one that needs to be punished?

I know that any family that practices and keeps the mindfulness trainings enjoys peace, joy and happiness. For the last two thousand years, Buddhism has been teaching people how to live ethical lives, be vegetarian and keep the trainings. Following a vegetarian diet is a sign of mastery over the craving mind, of not giving in to desires. When Buddhists observe a vegetarian diet, keep the trainings and do good deeds, they do so voluntarily and not by force or fear of punishment. At this very time, the young monks and nuns of Bat Nha are going in this direction, reinvigorating this ethical way of living. They have the potential to succeed. So why do we want to repress them and wipe them out? Are we afraid that if they have mass support, it will be at our expense? Why can’t I open my heart to practice like them, to be one with them and benefit from their support? Why can’t we do as the kings of the Tran and Ly dynasties did?  Just because we are Marxists, does that mean we don’t have the right to take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, to be vegetarian and practice the mindfulness trainings?

I know that in the party and in the government, many people now claim to be open-minded towards religion and spirituality. In fact, all the top officials believe in things like feng shui, destiny, psychic powers and even the idea of extending one person’s lifespan by transferring life-years from someone else. They have gone from one extreme to another. And yet they outwardly claim not to be superstitious.

The Ly and Tran kings truly believed in a path of virtue and spirituality. Many of them lived exemplary ethical lives, and the people had confidence in them and were inspired to do the same. One king knew how to practice the mindfulness trainings, followed a vegetarian diet, sent blankets to prisons, and went out into towns and villages to meet the people and see the truth of how they lived and what they suffered. A king who knows how to do sitting meditation, look deeply into koans, practice beginning anew six times daily, write commentaries on sutras, take refuge in the wise counsel of a Zen master whom he respects as the national teacher, and yield the throne to his son in order to become a simple monk on Yen Tu mountain – such a king can be a great example of morality for the whole nation.

Nowadays we’re always urging government officials and one another to “study and follow the virtuous example of Ho Chi Minh”. But who is the one that is living a good example for their comrades?  Mahayana Buddhism teaches that “You have to be that person. You have to be the role model. You have to live that way yourself. Only then will you give others the inspiration to do the same.” I have to be that person. I know that corruption and abuse of power have become a national catastrophe. We have been lamenting it for so many years already, and yet the situation just gets worse with every passing day.  Why?  Is it because I’m only able to proudly boast of my ancestors’ glorious past, and am not in fact able to do as they did? And today, when there are young people actually doing it, why do we block and suppress them?

The Bat Nha situation may have started with a travel agency owned by a high police officer. Soon it involved hotels, then visas, and eventually the abuse of power and the exercise of revenge. Now it has become a policy the whole country has to follow. Maybe I have not taken the time to examine this. I just go along with the false reports and casually allow the people I am supervising to use lies, deception and oppression against these gentle people who never have caused any disturbance to society. In the end I am put in a position where I become the enemy of the very things I once cherished. Are my true enemies really outside of me? My enemies are within. Do I have enough courage and intelligence to face my own weaknesses? That is the fundamental question.

The Plum Village practices offer a rare opportunity to modernize Buddhism in Vietnam; the last four years have proved their effectiveness. Why are we allowing ourselves to be pressured by our powerful neighbor into persecuting and destroying such a precious living treasure? What will we get that is so precious, in return for destroying this treasure we already have?

The best way to celebrate the thousand-year anniversary of Hanoi is to strive to practice, to live like our great ancestors Ly Cong Uan, Tran Thai Tong, Tran Thanh Tong, Truc Lam Dai Si, and Master Tue Trung. They were politicians, but at the same time lived a true spiritual life that they believed in. What have I to be proud of, other than the legends of my ancestors? I have lost my revolutionary ideal. I have snuffed out the sacred flame of my aspiration. My comrades are no longer truly my comrades because their own sacred flame of revolutionary idealism has gone out. They are only in the Party for self-interest, fame and status. The Plum Village tradition is part of my country’s cultural heritage and is contributing to a global cultural ethic – not just in theory but, most importantly, in practice. So many people all around the world have heard about this tradition and are benefiting from these teachings. I should be proud of this, so why did I allow the tradition to be attacked and wiped out in the very land where it was born? These are the questions that, if allowed to penetrate and act upon the depths of my consciousness, can awaken the wisdom within. This will give me the insight I need to see the path and way out I have been longing for.

***

I AM A HEAD OF STATE OR FOREIGN MINISTER. My country is or is not a member of the Security Council or the UN Commission on Human Rights. I know that events like Bat Nha, Tam Toa, Tiananmen Square and the annexation of Tibet are serious violations of Human Rights. But because of national interest, because our country wants to continue to do business with them, because we want to sell arms, airplanes, fast trains, nuclear power plants and other technologies, because we want a market for our products, I cannot express myself frankly and make real decisions that can create pressure on that country so they stop violating human rights.

I feel ashamed. My conscience is not at peace but because I want my party and my government to succeed, I tell myself that these violations are not serious enough for my country to take a stance. It seems that I too am caught in a system, a kind of machinery, and I cannot really be myself. I’m not able to give voice to my real feelings or to speak out about the situation. What do I have to do to get the peace that I so badly need? Bat Nha is of course a situation in Vietnam, but it has also become a koan for a high-ranking political leader like me. What path can I take in order to really be myself?

***

The koan “Bat Nha” is everyone’s koan; it is the koan of every individual and every community. The koan can be practiced by a Bat Nha monastic, by a monk or nun studying at a Buddhist Institute in Vietnam, a Venerable in the Buddhist Church of Vietnam, a police officer, a Head of Department, a Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, a Politburo member, a Chairman of a city’s People’s Committee, a Provincial Party Secretary, a member of the Central Committee, a newspaper or magazine editor, an intellectual, an artist, a businessman, a teacher, a journalist, an abbot or abbess, an international political leader or ambassador. Bat Nha is an opportunity, because Bat Nha can help you see clearly what you couldn’t – or didn’t want – to see before.

In the Zen tradition, there are retreats of seven, twenty-one and forty-nine days. During these retreats, the practitioner invests their whole heart and mind into the koan. Every moment of their daily life is also a moment of looking deeply: when sitting, walking, breathing, eating, brushing their teeth or washing their clothes.  At every moment the mind is concentrated on the koan. The most popular retreat is the seven-day retreat. Every day the practitioner gets the chance to interact with the Zen master in the direct guidance session. The Zen master offers guidance to help the practitioner direct their concentration in the correct way, opening up their mind and helping them to see, showing them the situation so the truth can reveal itself clearly.

In the direct guidance sessions the truth is not transmitted from master to practitioner. Practitioners must realize the truth for themselves. The Zen master may give about ten minutes of guidance, to open your mind and point things out, and then everyone returns to their own sitting place to continue to look deeply. Sometimes there are hundreds of practitioners, all sitting together in the meditation hall, facing the wall. After a period of sitting meditation, there is a period of walking meditation. Practitioners walk slowly, each and every step bringing them back to the koan. At meal times, practitioners may eat at their meditation cushion. While eating they contemplate the koan. Urinating and defecating are also opportunities to look deeply. Noble silence is essential for meditative enquiry, and that is why outside the meditation hall there is always a sign that reads ‘Noble Silence.’

In the past, King Tran Thai Tong became enlightened by investigating the two koans ‘Four mountains’ and ‘A true person has no position’. Zen master Lieu Quan became enlightened thanks to his practice of the koan ‘The all proceeds to the one; where does the one go?’. He presented his insight at Tu Dam Temple in the city of Hue.

If you want to be successful in your practice of koans, you must be able to let go of all intellectual knowledge, all notions and all points of view you currently hold. If you are caught in a personal opinion, standpoint, or ideology, you do not have enough freedom to allow the koan’s insight to break forth into your consciousness. You have to release everything you have encountered before, everything you have previously taken to be the truth. As long as you believe you already hold the truth in your hand, the door to your mind is closed. Even if the truth comes knocking, you will not be able to receive it. Present knowledge is an obstacle. Buddhism demands freedom. Freedom of thought is the basic condition for progress. It is the true spirit of science. It is precisely in that space of freedom that the flower of wisdom can bloom.

In the Zen tradition, community is a very positive element. When hundreds of practitioners silently look deeply together, the collective energy of mindfulness and concentration is very powerful. This collective energy nourishes your concentration in every minute and every second, giving you the opportunity to have a breakthrough in your practice of the koan. This kind of environment is very different from that of a conference, discussion or meeting. The firm discipline of your meditation practice, the favorable environment for concentration, as well as the guidance of the Zen master and silent support of fellow practitioners, all provide you with many opportunities to succeed.

The suggestions given above can be seen as direct guidance to help you in your practice of looking deeply. You have to see these words as an instrument, not as the truth. They are the raft that can bring you to the other shore; they are not the shore itself. Once you reach the other shore, you have to abandon the raft. If you are successful in looking deeply, you will have freedom, you will be able to see your path. Then you can just burn these words, or throw them away.

I wish you all success in the work of looking deeply into the Bat Nha koan,

Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh

Sitting Still Hut, Upper Hamlet

Plum Village, France

19 January 2010

[2] Thich Nhat Hanh’s first monastery, Fragrant Palm Leaves, founded in the 1960’s near where Bat Nha was later built.