Say goodbye, we meet each other in all forms of life.
疫情這年搬到新家的自宅祭壇
置放好以前去法國中心義賣時買到的禪師照片
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2022/1/22~1/30的一週紀念線上禪修與最後觀禮禪師納骨法會，莊嚴喪禮圓滿了
很感謝法師們、所有幕前幕後辛苦工作人員在越南現場的準備
可以讓世界各地的弟子們遠距參加 🙏
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本站2020年底停止更新，禪師圓寂來補一篇結尾
感謝讀者來信關心停更消息
目前尚無過去舊文搬遷或繼續書寫的新計畫
最近讀起禪師的每一首詩，現在都很催淚哭不完...
let us say goodbye, say goodbye, to meet again soon.
We meet today. We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source at every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.
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在禪師荼毗 (火葬)時，最後對大眾念的這首詩
Poem: A Teacher Looking for His Disciple
By Thich Nhat Hanh
I have been looking for you, my child,
Since the time when rivers and mountains still lay in obscurity.
I was looking for you
When you were still in a deep sleep
Although the conch had many times echoed in the ten directions.
Without leaving our ancient mountain,
I looked at distant lands
And recognized your footprints on so many different paths.
Where are you going, my child?
There have been times when the mist has come and enveloped the remote village,
But you are still wandering in faraway lands.
I have called your name with each breath,
Confident that even though you have lost your way over there,
You will finally find a way back to me.
Sometimes I manifest myself right on the path you are treading
But you still look at me as if I were a stranger.
You cannot see the connection between us in our former lives,
You cannot remember the old vow you made.
You have not recognized me
Because your mind is caught up in images concerning a distant future.
In former lifetimes, you have often taken my hand and we have enjoyed walking together.
We have sat together for a long time at the foot of old pine trees.
We have stood side by side in silence for hours,
Listening to the sound of the wind softly calling us
And looking up at the white clouds floating by.
You have picked up and given to me the first red autumn leaf
And I have taken you through forests deep in snow.
But wherever we go, we always return to our ancient mountain
To be near to the moon and stars
To invite the big bell every morning to sound,
And help living beings to wake up.
We have sat quietly on the An Tu mountain with the Great Bamboo Forest Master
Alongside the frangipani trees in blossom.
We have taken boats out to sea to rescue the boat people as they drift.
We have helped Master Van Hanh design the Thong Long capital.
We have built together a thatched hermitage,
And stretched out the net to rescue the nun Trac Tuyen
When the sound of the rising tide was deafening
On the banks of the Tien Duong River.
Together we have opened the way and stepped into the immense space beyond space,
After many years of working to tear asunder the net of time.
We have saved up the light of shooting stars
And made it a torch helping those who want to go home
After decades of wandering in distant places.
But still there have been times when the seeds of a vagabond in you have come back to life.
You have left your teacher, your brothers and sisters.
Alone you go...
I look at you with compassion,
Although I know that this is not a true separation
(Because I am already in each cell of your body)
And that you may need once more to play the prodigal son.
That is why I promise I shall be there for you
Anytime you are in danger.
Sometimes you have lain unconscious on the hot sands of frontier deserts.
I have manifested myself as a cloud to bring you cool shade.
Late at night the cloud became dew
And the compassionate nectar falls drop by drop for you to drink.
Sometimes you sit in a deep abyss of darkness
Completely alienated from your true home.
I have manifested myself as a long ladder and lightly thrown myself down
So that you can climb up to the area where there is light
To discover again the blue of the sky and the sounds of the brook and the birds.
Sometimes I recognized you in Birmingham,
In the Do Link district or New England.
I have sometimes met you in Hang Chou, Xiamen, or Shanghai.
I have sometimes found you in St. Petersburg or East Berlin.
Sometimes, though only five years old, I have seen you and recognized you,
Because of the seed of bodhichitta you carry in your tender heart.
Wherever I have seen you, I have always raised my hand and made a signal to you,
Whether it be in Bac Ninh, Saigon, or the Thuan An seaport.
Sometimes you were the golden full moon hanging over the summit of the Kim Son Mountain,
Or the little bird flying over the Dai Lao forest during a winter night.
Often I have seen you
But you have not seen me,
Though while walking in the evening mist, your clothes have been soaked.
But finally you have always come home.
You have come home and sat at my feet on our ancient mountain,
Listening to the birds calling and the monkeys screeching
And the mountain chanting, echoing from the Buddha Hall.
You have come back to me, determined not to be a vagabond any longer.
This morning the birds of the morning joyfully welcome the bright sun.
Do you know, my child, that the white clouds are still floating in the vault of the sky?
Where are you now? The ancient mountain is still there
In this place of the present moment,
Although the white-crested wave still wants to go in the other direction.
Look again, you will see me in you and in every leaf and flower bud.
If you call my name, you will see me right away.
Where are you going?
The old frangipani tree offers its fragrant flowers this morning.
You and I have never really been apart.
Spring has come.
The pines have put out new shining green needles
And on the edge of the forest, the wild plum trees have burst into flower.
