Monday, July 15, we will meet in person.
Address for OHMC meditation space:
3812 Northampton St. NW, Washington DC 20015
Please arrive a few minutes early so we can invite the bell on time. You may also arrive 15 minutes early to practice working meditation by helping us set up cushions.
Dear friends,
This week: we will meet Monday from 7-8:30PM EDT in person at our meditation space (3812 Northampton Street NW), Wednesday morning from 7-8AM EDT online, and Friday 12-1PM EDT in person.
On Monday, we will continue our summer book club reading of Thich Nhat Hanh’s Fragrant Palm Leaves. We will read this book through August 19.
Please note there is no need to own or read the book in order to enjoy practicing together. Nor is there need to attend each gathering because each Monday’s sangha is a stand-alone and complete practice.
This Monday, Camille will facilitate and we will be discussing pages 79-115. You can find the pages for each week’s reading at the bottom of the full write up.
In the third part of Fragrant Palm Leaves, Thay writes from northern New Jersey and reflects on people and experiences (including the demise of “our paradise” in Vietnam) that shaped him, his practice, and what we now know as engaged mindfulness.
In this week’s section, Thay is in Princeton New Jersey just days before Christmas where Americans are festive and celebrating. He contemplates his life in the States feeling peaceful and comfortable, and at the same time he feels homesick for New Year’s Eve back home with family and friends. He shares about his suffering and going through a dark and difficult time, or what he calls a “storm,” and how he made it through the storm to feel “reborn” and able to come back to the present moment to listen and look deeply at the flowers, clouds, and wind.
Below are some of many excerpts that I felt most nourished by and wanted to share.
In Vietnam, the war is escalating. Our people are caught between a hammer and an anvil. We’ve lost so much already. The country has been divided in two and engulfed in flames. Even Phuong Boi is fading into the fog. But as long as we have each other, we can never be truly alone. We want to stand with those who have been abandoned. I want others, at least occasionally, to turn their thoughts to those who suffer – to think about them but not pity them. Those who suffer do not want pity. They want love and respect.
Direct encounter is necessary to understand another’s suffering. Only understanding leads to love.
Our joys and sorrows, likes and dislikes are colored by our environment so much that often we just let our surroundings dictate our course. We go along with “public” feelings until we no longer even know our own true aspirations. We become a stranger to ourselves, molded entirely by society. Our friends at Phoung Boi always stood up to social conformity and resisted society’s molds.
I cannot be a human being and, at the same time, be an unchanging object of love or hatred, annoyance or devotion. I must continue to grow.
Even if I find myself in opposition to public opinion, I must be who I am. I cannot force myself back into the shell I have broken out of.
I passed through a storm this past autumn. At first it seemed like a passing cloud. But after several hours, I began to feel my body turning to smoke and floating away. I became a faint wisp of a cloud. I had always thought of myself as a solid entity and suddenly I saw that I’m not solid at all. This wasn’t philosophical or even an enlightenment experience. It was just an ordinary impression, completely ordinary. I saw that the entity I had taken to be “me” was really a fabrication. My true nature, I realized, was much more real, both uglier and more beautiful than I could have imagined.
One morning I felt the sky brighten a little. I received a birthday card from home, which arrived exactly on my birthday. That was the day I felt myself reborn. In the card, Tue had copied three lines of a poem by VuTru:
Walking in the desolate desert
A bear attacks me by surprise.
I simply look him in the eye.
The winds of the storm had finally dispersed.
Christmas is almost here. I am awake in this sacred hour writing in my journal. My thoughts flow, and it feels wonderful to pour them onto paper. I’ve written about the spiritual experience that revealed to me how to look and listen with full attention. Such moments might only come once in a lifetime. They appear as ambassadors of truth, messengers from reality. If we’re not mindful, they may pass unnoticed. The secret of Zen masters is discovering the path of return to such moments, and knowing how to pave the way for such moments to arise. The masters illuminate the journey of return, the journey that begins from nowhere and has no destination. Quach Thoai’s poem describes the appearance of a dahlia:
Standing quietly by the fence,
You smile your wondrous smile.
I am speechless, and my senses are filled
By the sounds of your beautiful song,
Beginningless and endless.
I bow deeply to you.
The dahlia is so commonplace that most people do not truly see it. When you can hear its eternal song and see its miraculous smile, it is no longer an ordinary flower. It is an ambassador from the cosmos.
I felt a surge of joy, accompanied by the faith that I could endure even greater suffering than I had thought possible… My heart was overflowing with love. Courage and strength swelled in me, and I saw my mind and heart as flowers. All feelings, passions, and sufferings revealed themselves as wonders, yet I remained grounded in my body. Some people might call such an experience “religious,” but what I felt was totally and utterly human. I knew in that moment that there was no enlightenment outside of my own mind and the cells of my body. Life is miraculous, even in its suffering. Without suffering, life would not be possible.
I am filled with joy as I read and hear the poetry of Thay’s words in this book. While this passage was difficult at first to hear his experiences with darkness and suffering, I also felt hopeful in his encouragement for us to aspire to see and experience the truth, and in doing so, recognizing that our suffering can eventually lead to insight filled with love, joy, and understanding. I hear him say, over and over again, that we can transform suffering and come back to that present moment, a wonderful moment to look, listen, and really hear the world around us.
You are invited to share whatever resonated with you in this passage, other parts of the book, or in your life and practice. Has anything in your life encouraged you to move toward truth, and in doing so, helped you recognize and transform suffering? Are there moments in your life that have helped you come back to the present moment and enjoy the beauty of life around you?
I look forward to seeing you in person on Monday, and after our meditation, we will have time to reflect on all of this and more.
In love and light,
Camille
Upcoming reading of Fragrant Palm Leaves:
7/15 pages 79-112
7/22 Mindfulness Training
7/29 pages 113-132
8/5 pages 133-152
8/12 pages 153-178
8/19 pages 179-end
8/26 Mindfulness Training