Monday, July 8 we will meet online.
Dear friends,
This week: we will meet Monday from 7-8:30PM EDT online, Wednesday morning from 7-8AM EDT in person at our meditation space (3812 Northampton Street NW), and Friday 12-1PM EDT online.
This 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.
On Monday, Marie will facilitate and we will be discussing pages 43-78. You can find the pages for each week’s reading at the bottom of the full write up.
In the second part of Fragrant Palm Leaves, Thich Nhat Hanh reminisces about his beloved practice center, Phuong Boi, in the highlands of central Vietnam.
In this week’s section, 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.
I’ve chosen some excerpts that struck me. They are both heavy and light; his humor and human-ness resonate as deeply as does his wisdom.
I feel restored by my stay at Pomona... I’ve done all the things the children do - nature walks, crafts, ping pong and volleyball. I’ve run races, helped put on skits and played games. The children always walked with me back to Pomona when they had time. We’ve really enjoyed each other’s company.
One afternoon, Miss Phuong, the botany professor, came from Saigon. She gathered some greens that she thought were “ria” greens and made soup. After consuming the “ria” soup, we all felt a little high. We had a lot of fun teasing our good-natured friend about that - a botanist who couldn’t recognize the right greens!
Suddenly I thought of Phuong Boi and was filled with longing… Phuong Boi has slipped through our fingers. I mourn for each thicket, each glade, each path. What does the future hold? We’ve fled in the ten directions. Will Montagnard House remain standing through wind and rain until our return?
We can never really lose Phuong Boi. It is a sacred reality in our hearts. No matter where we are, just hearing the name “Phuong Boi” moves us to tears. Yesterday I wrote to (his friend) Man and told him that though hurricanes and gales have flung us in opposite directions, faith will return us to each other.
In ancient times, some Vietnamese chose to live in the highlands among wild beasts. They preferred the danger of being eaten alive to living under an oppressive regime. Of course, Phuong Boi was not filled with threatening beasts. It was a beautiful, peaceful and magical place. But what was it that had driven us to abandon city and village life? The Buddhist hierarchy did not accept us, especially Ly and myself, because we were determined to speak the truth. Now I understand that truth and virtue must be joined by strength.
When I first read the French author La Fontaine many years ago, I was disturbed by this statement: ‘The argument of the strongest party is always the best.’ Since then, decades have passed and life has taught me more than once that his statement is at least partly true. Truth without strength cannot stand firm. Strength does not have to mean tyranny or violence, but one must be strong. Without strength, how could those with no more than a pen challenge powerful authorities?
I looked out at a row of bare trees and tenderness filled my heart. I understood deeply that, like animals, trees are sentient beings that need to prepare for their future. Not so long ago, the same trees offered cool shade to the rows of houses, but now they stood austere and stripped, ready to endure another long winter...
When icy winter comes, it is unforgiving to all things young, tender and insecure. One must grow beyond youthful uncertainty to survive. Maturity and determination are necessary. Seeing the courageous, solid way that trees prepare for winter helps me appreciate the lessons I’ve learned. I thought about Ly’s poem, and I shuddered… We must be like the trees. We must dispel all indifference and uncertainty, and be ready to face the storm. We cannot remain attached to our youthful innocence. We must strengthen ourselves for the coming test.
When I read these passages, I felt like my roots had been watered at a deep level. I could feel the concepts of emptiness, interbeing, and right action woven throughout his words. So too was Thay’s practice of self-compassion, nourishing himself in ways that helped him have the fortitude for what he did and how he did it - including washing dishes: “Sometimes I even play with the soap bubbles and hum childhood songs.”
When we gather on Monday, you’re invited to share what moved you and how. Are there ways this has influenced your outlook and/or your practice?
I look forward to being together, virtually.
With a warm bow,
Marie
Upcoming reading of Fragrant Palm Leaves:
7/8 pages 43-78
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