Love as Thay Loves

Sister Chân Uyển Nghiêm

Sister Uyen Nghiem ordained in 2005 in Prajna temple, Vietnam and belongs to the Sunflower ordination family. She received the Dharma lamp transmission by Thay in 2013 in Plum Village, France. Currently, she lives and serves at Deer Park Monastery, California, USA.

Thay’s love

Talking about love, I cannot help thinking about Thay. Usually, whenever the monastic brothers and sisters, including myself, talk about Thay or the sangha, we tend to become emotional and shed tears easily. I began attending Thay when he was preparing for a tour in the UK. I was very new, and my practice was not strong enough to have a good sense of Thay’s needs. During that time, Thay was residing at the Hermitage to rest and work.

The morning Thay departed for the UK, Sr. Chan Khong was the driver. Before leaving, Thay called me into the library to assist him with a few things. After that, we went around to make sure all the lights were off, doors were locked and gas valves were turned off,… When we felt that everything was done, we got into the car and were ready to go.

On the way to the airport, Thay said to me, “My child, tell me. Do you have joy in your practice lately? How are the brothers and sisters getting along?” So, I started telling Thay one thing after another, and we had a good time laughing together. Halfway to the airport, suddenly Thay asked: “Did you bring Thay’s shoulder bag?” Startled, I replied: “Dear Thay, no.”

Thay’s bag had a voice recorder. On Thay’s teaching tours, his talks would sometimes be video recorded, and other times not. Regardless, the recorder was usually brought along so that Thay could record the talks himself. First, it was for documentation purposes; second, Thay knew that it would be the inheritance he would leave behind for future generations. That day, I had so much fun being with Thay, I completely forgot and was unaware of what I needed to prepare for Thay.

The moment I heard Thay’s question, I transitioned from a state of elation to one of regret, self-blame and fear. I was so afraid that I did not even dare to say “sorry” to Thay, especially when Sr. Chan Khong said that it was too late to return because we would be late for the flight.

I was shaking and speechless. Then, from the front seat, Thay extended his hand toward me in the backseat and asked, “Where is your hand?” At that moment, my hands were shaking and stone cold. I put my hand out, and Thay held it in his own. His hand was very soft and warm. He said, “No problem, my child. Perhaps the brother attendant brought a backup. But if he didn’t bring one, it doesn’t matter either.” Hearing that, my heart felt much lighter. I will never forget that moment. I feel that to Thay, recording the Dharma talks was important, but nourishing his disciples’ hearts was even more essential. He did not want me to feel bad or guilty. He always wanted his disciples to have beautiful memories.

Thay taught through love. His love motivated me to learn from my experiences and resolve never to repeat the same mistakes. I also promised myself that when I become a teacher, I will endeavor to love my disciples and younger siblings in the way Thay had loved us. Nevertheless, this is truly challenging to realize because my practice is still weak. Despite having good intentions, sometimes I unintentionally hurt my younger monastic siblings. However, having known the path and Dharma doors, I only need to have faith in the practice and do my best.

There is an adult who is not yet mature

When I was little, I often wished to grow up quickly. I liked the idea of being an adult. Because I didn’t like vegetables, my grandma used to coax me, by saying “Eating vegetables will help you grow up fast.”

When I received my first identification card at age 16, I had the impression that I was already a grown-up. Hence, the first thing I did as a grown-up was… to run away from home to become a nun. But I was wrong. When my parents came to the temple to look for me, Sư bà (the senior venerable nun) told me to go back home and continue my schooling since I was not yet 18 years old. My parents could sue the temple if she ordained me. I thought to myself, “So only when you are 18 will you be regarded as a grown-up, mature person.”

However, only when I turned 30, and had already been a nun for quite a few years, did I understand the real meaning of “being mature.” At that time, I was very angry with my younger monastic sister, I was intent on reprimanding her. I even prepared a “proper reprimanding lecture.” However, upon arriving outside her room, I suddenly turned around and went back to my study desk, sat for a long time and cried. After that, I wrote the following sentence on a piece of paper: “There is a child who doesn’t want to grow up, and there is an adult who is not yet mature.”

I cried for my younger sister, and I also cried for myself. I cried for her because I saw that although she had every favorable condition to make progress in her practice (guidance, care and reminders), it seemed she was unwilling to receive them. She refused to stand on her own feet. No matter how much she was embraced by love, it still seemed to not be enough.

I cried for myself because regardless of my years of practice, I was still not able to take care of my reactions. Suddenly, I thought to myself, “What’s the use of reprimanding my younger sister? She won’t grow up overnight because of it, and reprimanding will also not make me happy.” Right at that moment, I realized that I was not yet mature.

That was the first time I understood that maturity in the practice meant having the ability to deeply understand myself and others, and take care of my emotions, perceptions and mental formations. Only then could my practice be called mature. It is very possible that a 50- or 60-year-old person can still behave like a child and hurt the people around them.

Maturation is a process that everyone – children, parents, grandparents alike – has to learn. Nobody is perfect, and it is only through training that we can improve day by day.

Dharma friends

In our monastery, we refer to our senior elder brothers as “sư cha” (Dharma father), senior elder sisters as “sư mẹ” (Dharma mother). They have lived in the sangha for a long time, with many Dharma years, and are capable of embracing, loving and taking care of younger monastics. They play a role similar to elder brothers and sisters in a family, but also serve as parental figures. Additionally, there are “sư em” or younger siblings, who may be younger in Dharma age, but from whom we can also learn. So we can also regard them as our teachers. Even if just newly ordained, a novice’s solid and fresh mindfulness practice can help me transform my afflictions. This is when my “sư em” also becomes my teacher.

There is another term, called “sư bạn” (Dharma friend). Anyone who comes to the monastery to practice is also a teacher from whom we can learn. Living in the sangha, everyone is our friend, and each person can teach us certain lessons. Even the one we think is the cause of our anger becomes a teacher who shows us that we are not patient enough. I am thankful to that teacher who tests my compassion and patience. I am thankful to the one who can embrace and forgive me, because they help me understand what true love is. In the sangha, we can call each other “sư bạn.” Whenever I see my monastic siblings in the sangha, I join my palms together and say “Hello, sư bạn.”

“A lotus for you, a Buddha to be.”

All of us have the capacity to love and understand, as well as the capacity to offer our compassion. We all know that in everyone, there is Buddha nature. In our current time, people often talk about “self-love.” To me, self-love does not mean pampering ourselves with nice clothes, a fancy house, or a beautiful car, but rather the ability to come back and take good care of ourselves. From this foundation of loving ourselves, we will be able to extend our love to others.

The future Buddha is already here

Shakyamuni Buddha is the Buddha of the past, Maitreya is the Buddha of the future, symbolizing compassion. People used to ask Thay: “When will Maitreya Buddha manifest to help alleviate the suffering of the world?” The state of societies today reflects the increasing violence and anger in people; social injustice seems to escalate daily.

Thay replied that the future Buddha is already here. Because we are not truly present, we are not able to recognize them. The future Buddha is not an individual, even though that individual may be extraordinary. The future Buddha takes the form of a community of practice. Only a collective power has the sufficient capability, wisdom and compassion to heal the world. All of us are members of that community. Together, we contribute to that collective endeavor.