The joyful path of my heart

Dear Buddha,
Dear Thay,

After the Plum village retreat in May, I have seen more clearly what path I need to take in order not to feel lost. 2 years after the last retreat in Thailand back in Jul 2015 with a new Dharma name "Tam Dao Hy", translated as the joyful path of my heart, I seldom recited the 5 precepts that i vowed to uphold for the rest of my life. Now I've understood that knowing is easy and that practicing is extremely difficult and it requires self-regulation. I probably understood the teaching but maybe it has yet penetrated inside me. I have broken the precepts, I let anger, sorrows, jealousy, wrong speech, wrong action, wrong thought and bad seeds arise in me. I forgot to practice mindfulness, meditation, breathe in and breathe out, I live fast and try to keep up with the fast pace of life. Seldom do I spend time to contemplate, reflect on myself and think deeply.

How many times have I shed tears in front of Buddha?  witnessing the ordination ceremony, the baby Buddha bathing ceremony or listening to the teachings. The sisters at Plum village told me that i might have some seed to renounce myself to become a nun. I have a strong belief that in the previous lives or futures lives, I may be a nun.

Now sitting in bed, I dwell in the short time back at the retreat when the inner peace was the only thing in me. I listened to the birds singing, the waves beating against the shores, the winds rustling leaves. I smiled inside and outside

Buddha and Thay you have sheltered me since I have consciously taken refuge in you. To me you are not just a religion, you are the light guiding my life.

I love this poem composed by Xuan Dieu. Until now have I realized and appreciated impermanence portrayed in his poem

Hoa nở để mà tàn
Xuân Diệu

Hoa nở để mà tàn;
Trăng tròn để mà khuyết; 
Bèo hợp để chia tan;
Người gần để ly biệt
Hoa thu không nắng cũng phai màu,
Trên mặt người kia in nét đau.

Flowers Bloom to Wilt

Flowers bloom to wilt,
Full moon turns crescent,
Duckweeds glean to split,
Man gathers to part.
Fall bloom’s hues, without light, fade,
As anguish’s etched on one’s face.