I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Good evening, everyone. We may pretty soon want some windows open. My preparations for the talk tonight have been interrupted by taking the cat, Olive, to the vet. I think I've been there three times in three days. And she seems to be doing better. She's perking up.

[01:03]

She's had two intravenous hydrations, some saline. And I asked the vet today, what would have happened, you know, like 50 years ago or 20 years ago to a cat who had gotten this hurt? And he said, well, 50 years ago, nobody ever brought a cat to a veterinarian. They just, you just get another cat, you know. So I thought that was interesting. So what I wanted to talk about tonight was family, food, and desire. I just got back from a trip to Minnesota visiting my family. My parents are in an assisted living facility.

[02:04]

So they have their own apartment, but they have 24-hour nursing staff that helps them do various things like get ready for bed at night. And escorting them down to meals and dressing and undressing and then other more medical type things. And they also count what pills they're supposed to have and check on that. So it combines their own home scene with their own furniture and things around them. And yet, as much help as they need. And it's very, oh, here goes a cat. So I hadn't seen them for a while. I hadn't seen them since August. And I talk to my, I talk to my mother pretty regularly.

[03:08]

My dad doesn't, he was the one who had the major stroke, and he doesn't speak as clearly as he did before. So he doesn't like to talk on the phone very much. But he'll say a few words. And, you know, in my mind's eye, their situation, you know, I create, one creates what it's all like, you know. And then how they're doing. And then when you see it for yourself and are daily in their routine and it's the reality of it, well, for me anyway, really was very, hit very deep. And it was, we had a, I'm just going to tell you about this. It was my mother's 82nd birthday, and we had this ladies' luncheon for her with cousins and aunts and the fake aunts. The fake aunts are all the friends of my mother's who weren't real aunts, but we weren't allowed to call them by their first name.

[04:17]

And it was funny to call them Mrs. So-and-so, so they were always aunt, you know, those kind of people. So the fake aunts were there, and they're all in their 80s. And to look at them, it's like going to your, you know, high school reunion, for those of you who have gone to these. And you see this kind of, you see the young face and the old face kind of like come together in this person. So here are all these people that I've known for 50 years, and getting older by the minute and shorter. But we had a lot of fun. We sat around the table and told stories and laughed. And I had this feeling of, you know, the evanescence of it all, that this may never happen again, this little family gathering and old friends. And I think we all felt it, you know, so it was very, we savored it, being together.

[05:27]

And the sadness of it and the happiness of it, it was very rich. And, you know, being in the Midwest, I was in St. Paul, did I say that? St. Paul, Minnesota. The Midwest is very, for example, very, I don't know what I was going to say, but my mother, there was a candy store called Maude Borup, Maude Borup Candies. And she would always order her candies for various parties and things from Maude Borup, so it's still there. And my sister called and ordered my mother's summer mix, and she had a winter mix and a summer mix, and they're on file still at Maude Borup. And my grandmother, who's been dead for the last almost 20 years, her summer mix and winter mix are on file at Maude Borup, so you can order, you know, Grandma Sarah's summer mix.

[06:29]

And they put it together in the box, certain white chocolate and the dipped pineapples and whatever for summer. It's so Midwest, I don't know, do you know what I mean? There's a kind of stability and a charm, a certain charm. So we had her summer mix, and I was amazed. I didn't know that she had such a thing on file. My older sister did. So being in the midst of my family, my sisters were there as well, I noticed the kind of inevitable way that I fall into being the youngest of three. You know, the old patterns and people treating me in a certain way, the way they've always treated me, and it doesn't matter kind of what I've been doing for the last 30 years, really.

[07:35]

They're not so interested. For example, I did have one conversation with my dad who got very excited about my future, you know, which Zen Center is talking about, you know, retirement and how to take care of aging monks and so forth. So it's not that I'm not in the midst of this conversation myself, but my dad was coming at it in a very interesting way, you know, which didn't include kind of the whole of my life and the sangha and practice. And he was saying, I don't want you to live like a pauper. They saw our house, you know, Zent Gringold's house, and I don't know, I mean, it's the best housing out here pretty much, you know.

[08:45]

But I think he must have been appalled or something because he said, I don't want you to live like a pauper. He was able to say this, you know, in this kind of difficult kind of getting the words out. And, you know, I don't feel like a pauper at all, you know. I feel incredibly satisfied and full, you know, in the material realm as well as other realms. But I realized, you know, he, I guess he thinks that, I don't know what he thinks exactly, but I think it was out of fear that I would be taken care of and that I would, you know, that I would be all right. I think it comes out of that. And at the same time, it doesn't include, you know, living and dying together and practicing together for life with people.

[09:46]

It's outside his can, even though he's been out here. And so it's, it was very interesting. It really hit me, those words, you know, and the kind of disjunction between how I understand my life and how he understands it. And things like, we just want something for you and the kids, you know, we want something. And it was like some kind of safety or some kind of stability, some kind of something to count on, you know. And this is being said in the midst of this life that is at this point devoid of satisfaction, you know. His days are watching TV and going to the meals. He doesn't eat very much. He's lost all this weight. He has to chew very slowly because half of his throat is not, it's not totally paralyzed, but it's, so he chokes.

[10:55]

There's blackjack again. And angry, very, very angry and very resentful. The word resentful means, the root of it is to feel intensely, but it has to do with being indignation or ill will felt as a result of a real or imagined offense. So having resentment, feeling you've been cheated or you hold a grudge, he can stay if he wants to hear the talk. I don't know. If he doesn't bother anybody, it's okay with me. So Pema Chodron in one of her books, I think it's, I can't remember which one.

[12:02]

Oh, says that resentment is one of the main obstacles to enlightenment. Having this feeling like a grudge that your situation and your, what's happened to you and what's befallen you is, you know, this is not, you've been cheated. And so I thought that was very interesting that that was, that she sees that as one of the main obstacles to enlightenment is this feeling, this grudging feeling of resentment. And, you know, I shouldn't speak against my dad or not against him, but I feel from him an enormous amount of anger and unsettled, unresolved feelings about this stroke that he had. And, you know, these were supposed to be the golden years. And don't let anybody tell you these are the golden years. It's the worst, you know.

[13:07]

And so his ability to receive what has come to him and live it, it's not happening, you know, and the pain around that, it's not so much, he is in a very good situation. They live in a beautiful place. The people who help them are wonderful. My mother's there. We're all healthy. His grandchildren are healthy, you know, and yet there's an enormous amount of anger and resentment, indignation or ill will felt as a result of a real or imagined offense. So it's very hard to be around, you know, it's very hard to be around someone who's resentful of everything and contrasting it with so many people I know who have become sick and have, that has been the turning point in their life where they've realized the preciousness of their life.

[14:16]

You know, those last hours and days together with their loved ones are, you know, I've heard someone say they finally understood what the Buddha was saying, what the Buddha's words were when they got sick. And transiency and impermanence and the Dharma, it all was very clear. So, but this anger, this is not unusual. I don't think those of you who've done hospice work and work in medical fields know about this anger that comes up and this resentment. So I felt after being there about five days, do you remember Superman and kryptonite? You know, kryptonite is that substance that if you put it close to Superman, he begins to weaken, you know, his energy, it's the only thing, right, that will take his powers away.

[15:25]

And I began to feel kind of as the days wore on that I was getting kind of weaker in a certain way and falling back into these, I had no, I had all these ideas about what I was going to, I was going to take my parents out to beautiful places in nature down by the Mississippi River and wheel the wheelchair along the Mississippi River Boulevard and enjoy the spring. None of it happened. We didn't, we barely left the apartment. My dad actually didn't want to go anywhere. We got my mother out to go shopping, which was not my idea of, you know, the kind of time I wanted to spend with her, but it's what I used to do with her a lot of times anyway. So there we were at Nordstrom trying on, you know, pantsuits. Pantsuits. Pantsuits, yes. But I had hoped to, you know, pack an alfresco lunch and bring them out and because they don't get out very much and it was beautiful weather, but it was like the kryptonite, you know, was working on me and I couldn't, all my projects and all. Do you know how that is when you get with your family?

[16:36]

So, you know, all this expensive practice and kryptonite happens again, you know. Anyway, I was aware that this was happening and the force field of it, you know, was very strong and their own patterns and what works for them and what doesn't. So my ideas just missed. So there are three kinds of suffering. There's physical suffering, which is birth, old age, sickness and death, birth, life, old age, sickness and death, and all the physical things that happen. And this is one of the kinds of suffering and the suffering is, the truth of suffering is a holy truth, you know, it's the four noble truths or holy truths and they're holy because they are, we all experience them, they are not to be gotten rid of, pushed aside, manipulated in any way.

[17:56]

This is the truth of old age, sickness and death and to try and fight against it is more suffering. The second kind of suffering is mental suffering and the two primary parts of that are being apart from those that you love and being forced to be with those that you hate or those that you do not love. And also the attachment to the five skandhas, the attachment to the five aggregates of form, feeling, perception, impulses, formations rather than impulses, and consciousness. So this attachment to them is a mental suffering. And then the third, these are Kadagiri Roshi's definitions, the third is called radical suffering, which has to do with the experience of the transiency of our life, that everything is impermanent and experiencing that in a deep way.

[19:11]

So these are part of the first truth of suffering, the truth of suffering. And so, you know, I came back feeling very troubled, I also missed my plane, this was part of the kryptonite, I didn't look and my plane left at 11.30 and it was 11.30, it was like, how did this happen? I thought it was 1.30 but I arrived in San Francisco at 1.30. That kind of, you know, that wasn't a mistake somehow, that I didn't quite get that right, you know, and it seemed a little early to leave, 11 o'clock, we hardly saw each other the last morning, so I, you know, somehow I missed my plane and I traveled then the entire day, I had to go up to Seattle and transfer and go, it was just this big mess, you know, but that was part of it. So I got back troubled in mind, you know, kind of troubled, and partially that I'm so far away that I don't get a chance to go visit, that to be with these people that are so important in my life in an everyday way, you know, take my mother to the grocery store, pick up a little supper and bring it over, pick up the dry cleaning, go to the bank for them, get the watch repaired, all these kinds of,

[20:37]

R&D, just everyday stuff, there's nobody to do it for them, they, so feeling this separation from those you love, and not that I feel like I'm, you know, forced to be with people I do not love, but this separation from those you love, I could really feel that strongly and how far away it is, and what strong medicine these people are in my life, you know, they, there's nobody like them, and you all know this too, about your families, there's nobody who can get you in quite that same way where you, you know, feel things quite that strongly, so, you know, looking at what this troubled mind was, what was troubling me, the conditions, the causes and conditions, it's just basically old age, sickness and death, there's undeniably, how far away, you know, and all that that means, and I conventionally designate that trouble, this is troubled mind,

[21:56]

you know, kind of looking at it in that way, somehow was helpful for me to just see, this is what it's made up of, these are the elements of this, and those very people and all of their troubles are all, you know, rooting for me to take care of my life and to, supporting me to find my way, whatever it is, even what looks like they're not supporting me, is, makes it even, makes me even make more effort to find my way, you know what I mean, my dad calling me a pauper or not wanting me to be a pauper anymore, whatever he said, that hurt in some way, his not understanding my life, in some way support, I have no resentment about it,

[23:01]

it was just his way of expressing himself, and helps me to find my way, you know, even more strongly, so all of their, they're trying to help me, and are helping me, and I try to help them. So, the other, in this radical suffering, at the bottom of radical suffering, this experience of the transiency of life, is the ignorance about the way things really are, the ignorance about separation of self and other, and that thing, do things actually come and go, you know the Dharma, we talk about the Dharma, in the pure Dharma world there is no coming or going, this is the Buddhist truth, and yet we see things as coming or going, and the pain around that, and the craving for it to be different,

[24:13]

so within this ignorance is thirsting desire, craving or thirsting desire, I just wanted to say something about thirsting desire, the word desire itself comes from the root that means, comes from the root, this is a new word for me, although I know some people don't, sidereal, which means having to do with the stars and constellations, stellar, sidereal, so desire comes from the roots of sidereal, or longing for the stars, you know, to this longing of, well let me, don't tell me I didn't bring sidereal with me, I didn't, oh I'm sorry, anyway, constellations and stellar and longing for it, and also to consider means to contemplate the stars, consider, so I thought that was very interesting that the word desire has to do with the stars, you know,

[25:35]

when you wish upon a star, you know, so there's three kinds of thirsting desire, and the first one is desiring, thirsting desire to please oneself continuously, and this arises from this deep fear of transiency and that things are going and so we want to constantly get stuff for ourself to kind of, this is where the food comes in, I was going to talk about family, desire and food, to somehow assuage this fear of things passing away and that we can't get a hold of anything, grasping things are basically delusion, so thirsting desire to please oneself continuously, and setting out to do that in various ways, the second kind of thirsting desire is for the continuation of one's individual existence,

[26:44]

and you know traveling these planes and I got some extra rides because I had to go this rerouting, and in this one plane we didn't take off for quite a while because there was something on the dashboard, whatever they call it, that showed that there was something wrong with one of the engines, so we had to sit there, they were calling the mechanic, we sat there and the mechanic, and my mind is, oh, you know, something's wrong with one of the engines, and I had just heard this on NPR, this book review written about these two women who were in a plane crash, maybe some of you heard it on NPR, and it was a very kind of bizarre story, someone tried to hijack this plane and the plane ran out of gas in the middle of the ocean, and the captain said over the loudspeaker, they knew that the plane had been taken over and that they were in this situation, but they didn't know about the gas and everything,

[27:55]

and the captain just said over the thing, prepare for crash landing, and they then, they described that these two women were on vacation together, and they survived, but many didn't, but they were saying how to see the plane coming down, it would look very beautiful as it came down into the water, but inside the plane was horrific, you know, what was going on in there and the screaming and the panic and the fear as this plane did this crash landing into the water, and when they hit, these two women both had a kind of near-death experience, they were under the water, and they were calm, they were happy, they saw the light, they swam towards the light, they were like released in some way, they had this, both of them had this incredible experience, and no fear whatsoever, this is what the book is about, and then they were taken, they were very hurt, but during this, the actual near-death experience, they were fine, but in telling it in retrospect, that experience of hitting the water and coming up and being rescued,

[29:17]

they told before about what it was like inside the plane before, and I remember that as I was sitting there, you know, when he was saying something, it was one of the engines, and I was thinking about the continuation of my individual existence, you know, thirsting desire for the continuation of one's individual existence, and, you know, I've heard people say, and I've said it to myself, that I'm not afraid to die, and I'm not afraid of death, and sometimes, you know, in session or something, it's like, I'm ready, you know, there's no, and yet, there I was in this plane, sitting on the ground, contemplating, what would it be like to have the captain say, prepare for crash landing, you know, and Katagiri Roshi says, and I think he wrote this book when he, I'm not sure if he knew he was sick when he wrote this, but he said, when you see this reality of losing your individual existence, your mind begins to scream for help from anywhere, from Zazen, from Avalokiteshvara, from Buddha, from somebody, screaming for help, you know,

[30:43]

and all you can, you know, do is Zazen, you know, that's, just sit Zazen, there's nothing that can meet this, you know, so, I felt that, this, one of those thirsting desires, you know, it was rather fleeting, we were fine, plane was fine, but thirsting desire for the continuation of one's individual existence, and then the last one is thirsting desire to have and maintain power and prosperity, and this thirsting desire comes from the ignorance, these all come from ignorance of seeing things as separate and outside and inside, or I should say, not that we don't see things as separate, but believing in their separateness, so, this desire to have and maintain power and prosperity, you know, it reminded me of my dad talking about my future and, or his understanding of my lack thereof,

[32:03]

and wanting to maintain power and prosperity, you know, and I think, Katagiri Roshi gives the example of when Suzuki Roshi died, this is from Return to Silence, Katagiri Roshi's book, and after Suzuki Roshi died, he noticed that there are these pictures of Suzuki Roshi that were made, you know, and put in the bookstore, and he said they kept getting bigger and bigger, these big portraits of Suzuki Roshi, and everyone was buying them, had them on their altars, and he thought, I want to be remembered like that, I want to have a picture on people's altar, this kind of wanting to maintain your power and prosperity long after you're gone, and people won't forget you, that they'll remember you, and this fantasy of, you know, what people will say at your funeral, I love the story of Tom Sawyer, you know, that Mark Twain really understood, well, we know that he understood human nature, but when he wrote in Tom Sawyer how the boys, Tom and Huck, you know, and Joe, hid on the island, and everybody thought they had drowned, and then they found out that there was going to be the funeral, and they all sneaked in and got to go to their own funeral,

[33:27]

I mean, isn't that the fantasy of, you know, what everybody said, crying, and then they came marching down triumphantly, in the middle of it, it's great, so, you know, not wanting to be forgotten, and so that's after we're gone, you know, thinking that way, and then now, not wanting to, having this thirsting desire to have and maintain power and prosperity, and manipulating, and shifting, and moving, and butchering is the word that came to me, but I don't think it's a real word, maneuvering, I guess, yourself into positions so good stuff comes, you know, so, these desires do not, they cannot be destroyed or gotten rid of, and they, if you try to destroy them, that's just more of the same, more manipulating, but understanding that this is how our human life is, and looking at them squarely, and living with our desire, bringing the precepts,

[34:43]

into our, to bear on these three thirsting desires, wanting to please oneself continuously, desire to continue one's individual existence, and maintain power and prosperity, which brings me to, I don't know, let's see, how are we doing, it's five after eight, I've been wanting to read this for a long time, at a lecture, which has to do with desire, and transforming desire into working with our own desires, and having them work for, because we live in the desire realm, we live in the, you know, there's the desire realm, and the form realm, and the formless realm, the three lokas, and we, human realm is desire realm, this is kind of like fish swim in the water, we swim in desire, this is life force stuff,

[35:54]

so to think that you can get rid of it in some fashion is very wild thought, but how do you live in desire without harming self or others? I think what I wanted to talk about food, food, desire, and family, because food and family was very, I think was most, anyway, food is an issue, you know, is a kind of family issue, and one's own personal history with food and family is very bound up, you know, whatever it, whatever kind of family history you have, I listened to the radio when I, when I washed dishes up the house, and I heard this review of this book by this, I have to tell you this story, by this woman who's now the food critic for the New York Times, but she grew up in a family where her mother had no taste buds, did any of you hear this?

[36:55]

She had like no, she couldn't taste, so she woke her dad up one morning by saying, would you, would you taste this, she popped this morsel into his mouth, and it was the worst, most horrible thing he had ever tasted, he spit it out, and she said, I thought so, spoiled, she could not taste or probably smell, she would make gruel like we do with, she'd throw in a little leftover turkey, a little mushroom soup, some broccoli, half an apple pie, stir it all up, this is the food and family history of this person who's now a food critic and quite, you know, has quite a developed taste because she's out of self-defense, but anyway, the cook, this book she's written, it's a memoir, a kind of food memoir, so it must be very funny, but anyway, so each, each family has this kind of history, whether your mother or whoever was taking care of you cooked, whether there was enough food or not, or it's all part of what, who we are, you know, and so we have a lot of issues around food, which we all know,

[38:01]

and at this conference called the Celebration of Women in Buddhist Practice, which we had a number of years ago, Nina Wise, who's a performance artist, many of you know her, I think she's come here to do some work with us, and she's quite well known, she did this performance piece with a refrigerator, I don't know if some of you were there, it was a refrigerator on stage, and she did this whole dance, and by the end, she had kind of knocked the refrigerator down and mounted it, and it was kind of, it was, it was this wild, wild dance, the desire food, you know, expression, it was, it was amazing, we were hysterical, the audience was hysterical, we knew exactly what was going on. So, so these issues around food, and in my family, let's see, do I want to say this, one of the members of my family is very large, like obese, you know, like a huge, huge person.

[39:11]

And in Samoa, like the island of Samoa, there are huge people, women are enormous, and they don't have any more or less health problems than anyone else in the society, it's, it is fine to be that size, it's thought of as being, you know, it's well-being, it's prosperity, it's health, it's, and there are not the health problems we associate with overweightness, you know. But in our society, you see someone like that, and you kind of go like, when are they going to have their heart attack, you know, it's, so our conceptions and body image, and internally, how we see ourselves, no matter what weight we are, size, you know, we have these images that, you know, there's these studies of obese people who lose weight very fast, and they, they do not see themselves as thin, they cannot, make their mental picture of themselves and the reality do not, they miss, you know, so anyway, the issues around food, you know, are very deep, very, can be very problematic, and very connected with family, I feel.

[40:32]

And what vows we took as youngsters, and how we've armored ourselves, or, anyway, so, I, you know, coming out of Sashim, there's someone I know who, she's a Sunday person, and she's involved with OA, Overeaters Anonymous, which is, you know, part of the 12-step program. And when she had her first Oreoke meal, I think she was a little worried about eating, she has to eat various amounts of food at certain times, it's very regulated, because of food triggers, and her addictive behavior around food. And so she was a little worried about how it would be to just eat whatever is offered, and at these certain times, but the Oreoke meal was satisfying in a very, very deep way for her, receiving the food, I've talked about this somewhat before, slowly eating it, mindfully, not doing anything else but eating, not reading a book, or the newspaper, or listening to the radio, watching TV, chatting, just receiving the food and feeling it fill,

[41:43]

fill the body, and then, you know, there's supposedly about 15 minutes between feeling full and mentally wanting to stop eating, because you still want to eat more in your mouth kind of area, and it takes about 15 minutes, so if you slow down, like, just like about the time it takes for S seconds to come around, you know, and you realize, you know, I'm not really hungry, perhaps, you know, I'm just, but there's this, because of the pace, if you take a small amount, can chew it slowly, mindfully, upright, the relationship with the food is very different, and for her, this person who's had enormous difficulties with food, it was a very healing, very healing experience to eat Oreoke meal, plus the chanting, and, you know, eating to, you know, to really pay back, pay back our teachers, family, and all beings for all their help to support our life so that we can stay in the world to benefit others, and it's all within this ritual of the meal, so anyway, this food thing in my family is very painful, and very on the surface, you know, body image, size,

[43:12]

you know, I should lose 10 pounds, you know, seeing people pound their stomach and say, fat, [...] you know, that growing up sort of seeing women, usually, mostly, treating themselves that way, how internal, how one internalizes that, and then, then how do you practice with that, you know, so I just bring this up because I feel it's an issue for a lot of people, men and women, and also in our community life, our issues around food are not hidden, you know, even though, you know, we may think that it's not so noticeable, the difficulties around it, I feel like this is, it really, I'd like to encourage people to really bring their food practice and their issues with food right into the forefront of their practice, just as, you know, another area to examine and explore and be aware about.

[44:26]

So, we have about 15 minutes until it's 8.30, I was thinking I would stop at 8.30, and I wanted to read this book, this is about desire, this is about Thich Nhat Hanh falling in love, his first love, have any of you read this? I think I'll just go ahead and do this because I've been thinking about it for a long time, so I just might as well. I found this to be extremely helpful discussion and kind of confession, you might say, of falling in love and desire and how to bring the precepts and vows and community life right in there with it. So, would that be alright if I read this? Do you feel like hearing a bedtime story? This is called Cultivating the Mind of Love by Thich Nhat Hanh, and it's, I won't read all of it, there's chapters about him falling in love, and interspersed with that are chapters about different sutras, the Lotus Sutra, the Diamond Sutra, the sutra called The Better Way to Catch a Snake, and then it's all woven together.

[45:46]

So, here we go. Please think about your first, your own first love. Do it slowly, picturing how it came about, where it took place, what brought you to that moment. Recall that experience and look at it calmly and deeply, with compassion and understanding. You will discover many things you did not notice at the time. This is a koan in the Zen tradition. What was your face before your parents were born? This is an invitation to go on a journey and discover your true self, your true face. Look deeply into your first love and try to see its true face. When you do, you will see that your first love may not really be the first, that your face when you were born may not have been your original face. If you look deeply, you will be able to see your true original face and your true first love. Your first love is still present, always here, continuing to shape your life. This is a subject for meditation.

[46:47]

When I met her, it was not exactly for the first time we had met. Otherwise, how could it have happened so easily? If I had not seen the image of the Buddha on the magazine, our meeting would not have been possible. If she had not been a nun, I would not have loved her. There was a great peace in her, the fruit of sincere practice that was not present in others. She had been practicing in her nunnery in Hue, and she appeared as peaceful as the Buddha sitting on the grass. My visit to the hermit, tasting the pure water of his well, was also part of our first meeting. The moment I saw her, I recognized in her everything I cherished. She was in the highlands visiting her family, but as a nun she preferred to stay at the temple. She had heard about the course on basic Buddhism I had taught, so she expected to meet me, but I had not heard about her. When I got to the top of the stairs, I bowed and asked her name. We went inside to become acquainted.

[47:52]

In every temple there is a special seat for the abbot, and I had to sit there because the abbot was away for a few days and had asked me to serve in his stead. I invited her to sit in front of me, but she sat off to the side. Members of the community never sit in front of the abbot. It is just the form. To see each other's faces, we had to turn our heads. Her behavior as a nun was perfect. The way she moved, the way she looked, the way she spoke. She was quiet. She never said anything unless she was spoken to. She just looked down in front of her. I was shy too. I never dared look at her for more than a second or two, and then I lowered my eyes again. After a few minutes, I said goodbye and went to my room. I didn't know what had happened, but I knew my peace had been disturbed. I tried writing a poem, but I couldn't compose even one line. So I began to read the poetry of others, hoping that would calm me down. I read several poems by Nguyen Binh. He was longing for his mother and sister, and I felt the same way.

[48:58]

When you become a monk at a young age, you miss your family. In Vietnam, before reading this type of poetry, you burn incense, light candles, and then chant the poem. I remember that I had a few tears in my eyes when I chanted this in classical Chinese. I'm going to skip the poem and just continue. I continued to recite poetry all afternoon and evening. I thought about my family and chanted aloud, trying to relieve the feelings in me that I could not understand. At six o'clock, a student from the class I had taught knocked on my door and invited me to supper. Before leaving, the abbot had asked her to come every day to prepare lunch and dinner. The young nun and I ate in silence, and then we shared a pot of tea and spoke quietly together. She told me how she had become a nun, where she trained before entering the Buddhist Institute in Hue and what she was studying. She continued to look down, looking up only when I asked her a question. She looked like Kuan Yin, calm, compassionate, and beautiful.

[50:01]

From time to time, I looked at her, but for not long. If she saw me looking at her like that, it would have been impolite. After 10 or 15 minutes, I excused myself and went into the Buddha Hall to practice sitting meditation and chanting. The next morning, I went into the hall again for sitting and chanting, and after a few minutes, I heard her voice beside me. After we finished chanting, we left the hall and had another conversation before breakfast. That morning, she went to see her family, and I was alone in the temple. In the afternoon, I went to the village to help the young people rehearse their play. When I returned, climbing up the steps, I saw her again, standing in front of the temple, looking out at the tea plantation on the hillside. We had dinner together, and afterwards I read her some of my poetry. Then I went to my room and read poetry alone. Nothing had changed from the day before, but inside, I understood. I knew that I loved her. I only wanted to be with her, to sit near her, and contemplate her.

[51:03]

I didn't sleep much that night. The next morning, after sitting and chanting, I proposed that we go to the kitchen and build a fire. It was cold, and she agreed. We had a cup of tea together, and I tried my best to tell her that I loved her. I said many things, but I couldn't say that. I spoke about other things, hoping she would understand. She listened intently, with compassion, and then she whispered, I don't understand a word you said. But the next day, she told me she understood. It was difficult for me, but much more difficult for her. My love was like a storm, and she was being caught and carried away by the energy of the storm. She had tried to resist, but couldn't, and she finally accepted. We both needed compassion. We were young, and we were being swept away. We had the deepest desire to be a monk and a nun, to carry forward what we had been cherishing for a long time, yet we were caught by love.

[52:05]

That night I wrote a poem, which, do you mind if I don't read that? Just go ahead. You can read the poem later. I wrote this poem for relief. How could we continue as a monk and a nun and still preserve this precious love? Monks do not usually share stories like this, but I think it is important to do so. Otherwise, how will the younger generations know what to do when they are struck? As a monk, you are not supposed to fall in love, but sometimes love is stronger than your determination. This story is about precepts, mindfulness, sangha, bodhicitta, and transformation. Do you like it a lot? It was more difficult for her than it was for me. She had faith and confidence in me as a big brother, and I felt a real sense of responsibility toward her. On the day the abbot was expected to return, she was very calm and quiet. She spoke and walked exactly as before, but her smile was more radiant. When you are loved, you emit a great confidence.

[53:08]

That day, the last day of the lunar year, we had tea and a Dharma discussion for many hours. We belonged to the first generation of monks and nuns in Vietnam who had received a Western education. And then it talks about how they wanted to bring reconciliation to their country and society, and renew the tradition and do social service. He lived with six monks who were doing this kind of work, and he told her all about it. It was clear from our Dharma discussion that we shared the same ideals. She had already proposed to one sister that they form a center for young nuns to practice in much the same way that we six monks were practicing. I told her about a temple not far from ours that might be available. I was not aware that my suggestion was in part motivated by the desire to see her again. By three o'clock in the afternoon, the abbot had still not arrived, so we continued our discussion. I said that in the future I wanted to see monks and nuns operating high schools and kindergartens

[54:14]

and running health centers and so forth, and this has now become a reality. And as we discussed these things, I could see her happiness. So I continued to talk until my throat became sore. Seeing that, she went to her room and brought me some cough drops. I still remember the trademark on the box, Pate de Vosges. If the abbot had given me that box of cough drops, I don't think I would still remember the name. After dinner, we practiced sitting and chanting, and then we went to our rooms. Neither of us had slept much for three days, and we knew we needed to sleep well to regain our health and be presentable for the abbot, who would surely return the next day. But it was impossible to sleep. At one o'clock, I was still awake, and I felt a strong desire to be with her, to sit with her, to look at her, to listen to her. I knew it would be the last time we would have some privacy. During many moments that night, I felt the desire to go and knock on her door and invite her to the sitting hall to continue our discussion.

[55:15]

But I did not, because we had an agreement, and I had to honor that. I had the impression she was probably awake and that if I went to her room and knocked, she would be happy to go to the hall to continue our conversation. But I resisted. Something very strong in me protected her and me. During that night and all the previous days and nights, I never even had the idea to hold her hands in mine or to kiss her on the forehead. She represented everything I loved, my ideal of compassion, loving kindness, bringing Buddhism into society, and realizing peace and reconciliation. That desire in me was so strong and sacred that anything like holding her hand or kissing her on the forehead would have been a violation. She represented all that was important in my life, and I could not afford to shatter it. She was in her room like a princess, and the Bodhicitta in me was the guard protecting her. I knew that if anything happened to her, we would both lose everything. The Buddha, our ideal of compassion, and the desire to actualize Buddhism.

[56:18]

I did not have to make any effort to practice the precepts. Our strong desire to realize the Dharma protected us both. For our lives to continue, I could not be less than a monk, nor she less than a nun. As commander of the troops guarding her, it was impossible for me to open the door, walk to her room, and knock at her door. That would have destroyed everything. And this chapter is called Saying Goodbye, and the abbot comes back, and he had to return to his temple, and he came home a different person, but my brothers in the Dharma did not notice. My daily life must have looked almost normal, even though I was talking less and spending more time alone. At times I just called her name in a soft voice to keep from missing her too much. All I could do was continue my studies and practice. Then one day, when I came home, she was there. She had succeeded in carrying out the proposal I had made.

[57:21]

She and another nun had moved into the abandoned temple near ours to set up a small center where nuns could study and practice and engage in social work. We six monks were very happy to have Dharma sisters who shared our ideals and aspirations living so close. I propose that they join us in Buddhist studies. And then, to improve her Chinese, he had her translate things. Then he'd have to check them out and correct the passages, and then some French into Chinese, and he had all these things to do together. In two or three weeks, my brothers in the Dharma saw... Oh, it said, for every time I gave her a lesson, we stayed together longer than was necessary. In two or three weeks, my brothers in the Dharma saw this and realized I was in love. It was something difficult not to notice. And to my great surprise, they accepted it without criticism. The feeling of gratitude for their acceptance is still in my heart. But when her Dharma sister found out, she could not accept it.

[58:23]

And she ends up leaving. And at the end, she goes back to this other part of the country, and at the end, she bowed her head and said only one word, yes, meaning she should go. She had complete faith and trust in me. How could I not feel responsible? I was overwhelmed by sadness. In me, there was the element of attachment, but there was also the voice of wisdom recognizing that for us to continue to be ourselves, to succeed in our attempt to search and to realize, this was the only way. I remember the moment we parted. We sat across from each other. She, too, seemed overwhelmed by despair. She stood up, came close to me, took my head in her arms, and drew me close to her in a very natural way. I allowed myself to be embraced. It was the first and last time we had any physical contact. Then we bowed and separated. And then various things happened, and he tries to write her,

[59:25]

and the letters never get to her. And at the end, she ends up leaving the Order and being kind of disillusioned with, I don't know exactly what happened during the war. So, I just appreciated the accuracy of the way he described those feelings, and especially that night, that long night where he couldn't sleep and kept thinking over and over, I'm just going to go to the room, knock on the door, and then, you know, refraining out of his awareness of, you know, their wide vows and their commitment to being monks and nuns. So, thank you for letting me read you that, and I hope you found it helpful to hear Thich Nhat Hanh's struggle

[60:31]

and how he practiced that way. Thank you very much. Thank you.

[60:51]

@Text_v004
@Score_JJ