Smiling with Thay

Dear Wondrous Beings,

One tremendous thing that happened these past weeks was the illness of my beloved teacher, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. I attended the Colorado Retreat in the Rockies expecting Thay (affectionate term for teacher) to be there. I remember getting out of the car once we arrived and saying to my friends who were near me, “I know Thay is here in a room somewhere getting ready to give a talk.”

Spending Time with my teacher,
Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh

Photo taken at Plum Village, France 2006

Well, during orientation that evening we all learned that Thay was in the hospital with a lung infection and would not be able to attend the retreat in person, but would be following the retreat with us in his heart. My immediate response was that of sadness and grief. After the evening talk many of us spontaneously gathered and shared mindful hugs. There were many tears that evening. I went to my room, but could not sleep. Something was stirring inside of me from a very deep place.

Where is Thay, anyway? Where is this person I call, “Teacher”? Is Thay inside or outside of me?

An overwhelming sense of regret boiled up inside of me. I thought of the many times I took Thay’s presence for granted, feeling a little tired sitting at his talks, or feeling a little bored during our walking meditations together, and even doubting the effectiveness of the practices he was presenting. But in light of Thay’s impermanence, a different picture appeared--that of, how can I see Thay, know Thay and continue walking and sitting with Thay for many years to come? What part of Thay will live on even after the body we see as Thay decays? It is the part of Thay that continues for generations to come that I will have to get to know much better, because it is Thay’s True Nature.

We have a saying that is chanted after offering incense, to open a practice called Touching the Earth. The saying goes like this:

The one who bows and the one who is bowed to
Are both by nature empty.
Therefore the communication between them
Is inexpressibly perfect.

In everything that I am doing, I can see the body of my ancestors--both blood and spiritual ancestors. I am a continuation of many people and things. Likewise I continue in many people and things. In fact, I cannot really be separate from other people and things--most notably, I cannot really be separate from everyone and everything I love, because we are products of similar elements coming together to form a body and mind.

The radical shift in perspective, in practice is to live the truth of our true nature. Live as you are the embodiment of your ancestors. Live as future generations will continue you. We all share this perspective. We all have the capacity to live this way. No one really has to die. No one really has to make friends with birth and death. Birth and death, though they are conditions of life, are limited ways of seeing who and what we are.

The task, then, Thay asks of us, is to smile.

Wishing you a truly blessed Fall,

Brian

©2009 Brian Kimmel.

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