Where is Thay? - Vulture Peak Gathering - 2016-06-08 Upper Hamlet

Vulture Peak Gathering
Upper Hamlet, Plum Village

Where is Thay?
June 8. 2016

A teaching from Lay dharma teacher
Eveline Beumkes

Yesterday the Dharma teachers

were invited to come together

and sit near the Buddha,

next to the hall.

And Sister Chan Khong was there.

And she started our coming together

with saying to us,

“Dear Friends, I have,

I have a riddle for you:

" Where, where, is Thay?”

(laughter)

No one answered.

But we all smiled.

And I thought, right away.

“Wow."

(Is it working?)

Wow.

This is exactly the theme of my talk,

what I want to speak about tomorrow:

"Where is Thay?”

More, a little bit more precisely,

for me the theme is

"In what way Thay is with me?"

And this has been
a burning question to me,

right from the moment I met Thay.

I came from a very dark place.

I had been looking for so long

and finally I found Thay

and the practice. So precious.

And right away I was afraid

that I might lose Thay.

I might lose him
before knowing what I needed to know.

And I knew that he was the one who could

teach me.

He was the only one I knew who really knew

what I needed to know in order to live.

Because I felt very closed,

I felt very fearful, unhappy, hopeless

and I knew that I needed Thay,

to get the information from him,

in order to find the way out.

So I was afraid that he ...

he might continue his journey

before I had received the information

I needed to be able to swim by myself.

I’ll give you

a little bit of background information

about the place where I came from,

so you understand better my happiness

to find Thay.

When I was 12 years old, or I guess 11,

the world turned grey. I lost my joy.

I was very surprised.

I didn’t understand it.

I used to enjoy playing,

going to school, seeing my friends.

And all of a sudden,

everything lost its meaning.

I didn’t care any more, doing this or that.

I didn’t understand it.

This mood, state of mind,
stayed maybe for a year,

and then it fortunately dissolved.

But it has been coming back,
more or less intense.

And it made me question,

what am I doing here on earth?

What is the reason of my life?

What is the meaning of life?

When I was 18,

there was a booklet

called...

It was a booklet written about the
report on the state of the environment,

a report from the Club of Rome.

And it was called Dead Spring, and
on the cover was a dead tree.

I was 18. I haven’t read the book.

I understood right away what was in it,
and I felt hopeless.

Already for some years, when I was
washing the dishes in the evening,

when I put soap in the water to
wash the dishes, I wondered ...

We were living in Amsterdam
on the third floor,

with many, many apartments around us.

When everybody in Amsterdam,
in Holland, all over the world,

is putting soap in the dish-washing
water a few times a day,

how can we drink the water?

How can we continue to survive?
And then this is only dish-washing water.

I was then maybe 15, 16.

So when I read, when I saw this booklet,
it confirmed my fear.

And, when I spoke about it with other
people, they said,

“Eveline, don’t worry.
Nature is very strong.

It can heal itself.”

Nobody understood my fear.

I felt very alone for a long time,
and I stopped talking about it.

But I always had this fear of
what is going to come.

I felt a cloud, a black cloud of
the threat, above my head, always.

And I didn’t see a way out.

It felt meaningless to me to do anything.

There was no sense,
there was no sense in doing anything.

So this was not a happy place to be.

I thought, well, this is it.

This seems to be it.

I will have to put up with this
and live my life.

I did, not very happy.

And then when I was 28, I read
a book about parapsychology.

Para... well, anyway, miraculous things.

I didn’t know whether what was
written in the book was true or not.

I didn’t say it was not true;
I didn’t say it was true.

But when I finished reading, I thought,

“Well, you never know.

Maybe there is more between
heaven and earth than I know.”

Maybe... So there was a small opening.

And then - I was 28 - I started to look,

to explore in different
spiritual traditions,

starting to read books and going
to workshops in Holland, retreats.

And then I found,

then I found a book of Etty Hillesum,
the diary of Etty Hillesum.

She is like Anne Frank.

You may know her, a Jewish woman
in the Second World War.

Anne was 12 years, but Etty was 28,
just like me at that time.

And Etty became a friend.

I read every day
a few pages of her diary.

And Etty showed me a way from her…

She was 28, and she died finally,
in the war. So she didn’t survive.

But I read in her book that…

You could follow her way,
written day by day,

and you could see how she was growing,
how compassion

– I would say now,
I wouldn’t say it at that time –

that compassion and understanding
were growing in her.

And I saw that the darker
the situation she was in

- she went to a camp and the situation
became, for the Jews in Holland,

became more difficult and more difficult.

So it was a squeezing situation.

But the darker the situation is,
I could read,

the more intense and faster
her inner light was growing and shining.

And her strength was growing
very fast. And that gave me hope.

Because with the idea that in my life
very dark times might come,

now I had hope that however
dark it might get,

and even when the world around me
gets darker and darker,

then that it may be helpful for me to
grow in the direction of the light faster.

So I was less afraid
for the darkness to come.

And then I was so lucky
to find some day

The Miracle of Mindfulness,
a very small booklet.

And, um, no, no, before that, yes, yes,
I was looking.

I kept looking in different directions,
but I didn’t find anywhere a teacher

or a way, a spiritual path, where
my heart really resonated and

where I really said, “Yes, this is it.”

So, I didn’t want to make a compromise
and I continued searching.

And then I found
The Miracle of Mindfulness.

And before finishing that book, I knew,

“Now, this is it. Now I have found what
I have been looking for all these years.”

And half way the book,
there is an exercise,

“washing the dishes in mindfulness”.

(laughter)

I wrote a song about it.

But ... So I practised that
for the very first time,

and I clearly remember where it was
and I remember my experience.

It proved to me, it was such a different
experience to wash the dishes

and really be aware of the movement of my
hand, of the temperature of the water, and

the contact with the cup that I picked up.

And suddenly joy opened,
I really enjoyed it.

And this was what I had been looking for.
You know, I was not in touch.

I was hopeless, what I missed was the
connection with things.

And here I felt a real, direct connection.
I was in touch.

So I was very happy.

I knew this is my path.

But now ... the teacher -

because the author was a monk
who seemed to be living in Vietnam.

And who can describe my surprise when two
days after finishing reading this book,

I read somewhere in a newspaper that
the author, Thich Nhat Hanh,

was coming to Amsterdam - yes! - and
giving a meditation weekend in Amsterdam.

So, I was very, very, very curious
to meet him.

I came from a slightly
Christian background,

So Buddhism .... yes, that was something
to be very carefully explored.

And then Thay came with Sister Chan Khong.

And right away I felt, well,

I was so moved, so moved.

But. I need not explore,
tell you more about that,

because I guess that is the experience
we all know when we see Thay,

with his gentle energy, his smile.
How can your heart not melt?

(laughter)

And then I heard about Plum Village.

It was May when Thay and Sister Chan Khong
came to Amsterdam.

And I decided when I heard about
Plum Village, to go there.

And when I arrived,
I felt when I was in Plum Village...

Oh, maybe I should tell you what it
was like.

Lower Hamlet ...

at most 60 people, maybe 40,
mostly Vietnamese, 6 westerners.

And I felt so happy,
I felt so extremely happy.

I felt really like coming home.

And I’ve heard so many people
after me using the same words.

“It feels like coming home here.”

I went back to Amsterdam and I thought

I thought, “Now my life has changed;
now I will be happy.”

I really believed that.
And I was so surprised that within …

in less than 3 days I was back in my
old track of … as I used to feel before.

And so we, here, of course,
we understand that was because …

because… there was no Sangha.
There was no Sangha!

Next summer I went back to Plum Village,
of course looking forward, very much.

And the same experience,
enjoying it so deeply.

And then I remember one day I was in the
library, a very small room,

and I read a magazine. And until the
day of today I remember what I read there.

It made a very deep impression. It was an
article about

Rumi, from the twelfth century,
I think a Sufi mystic.

And in the article it was described
how much Rumi loved his master.

He loved him so dearly. And I really
could connect with that.

And then, his master died,
and Rumi was inconsolable.

And surely I could connect with that.

And there was a description of how
Rumi kept looking for his master.

He kept looking and looking
and looking for years.

And then, after 5 years, it was written,
he found his master.

He found him everywhere.

And that was such a hopeful news to me.

I thought - and it was a deep intention,
a deep determination, deep in me -

"This is what I want,
I want to find Thay everywhere."

But in the magazine was not a description.

I had no clue how Rumi had found his
master. So this was a koan.

I had to find out for myself.

(The bell is awoken... )

(The bell is invited one time...)

So this was a question that I was holding
in my heart,

knowing about Rumi’s example

. And for me the question was:
“How can I find Thay everywhere?”

So it was in my heart.
I carried it along.

Then around Christmas that same year, Thay
and Sister Chan Khong offered a retreat

in Paris, in Fleur de Cactus,
which is now Maison de l’Inspire.

I think we were about 20, 25 people then.

And I had started to think
about quitting my job.

I felt very unhappy at my job. And at
first, I had been thinking that,

with the practice, I should be able
to make myself happy there.

I tried, but I did not succeed. And then,
one day I heard Thay say that a seedling -

-- you know,
a seed that has just sprouted ---

a seedling needs protection
in order to grow.

And then I knew I had
permission to leave my job.

(laughter)

But I was deadly scared to do so.

And during that winter retreat,
I spoke about my situation and my fear

with Thay and with Sister Chan Khong.

And when I left, Thay said to me,
“Eveline, we are with you.”

Well, those were precious words.

“We are with you.”

I don’t know how often I have turned
these words around in my mind,

wondering what exactly Thay meant by
“We are with you.”

In what way?

And what came up was a story I had read
in a book a few years ago,

one of the books
I read on my quest for a path.

The book was called
Living with the Himalayan Masters,

the masters of the Himalayas, and one of
the stories in the book described

a disciple who was walking by night
on a very small mountain path, alone.

And all of a sudden, he slipped from the
road and fell into an abyss.

And then, miraculously, his master lifted
him up and put him back on the path.

So that story came up, reflecting on
the question, “How is Thay with me?”

It didn’t feel like this was the way that
Thay was with me.

A few months later, I did quit my job, and

I went to America on invitation
of a monk and a friend,

who both lived in San Francisco,
and who had invited me to go there.

Again, I was deadly scared to make such a
big trip, with an airplane, all by myself,

to America.
But, I wanted the adventure.

No, that’s not true.

I wanted, in fact, to explore the
different Zen centers that were in America,

because in Holland by that time, we had
no Zen centers at all.

And from coming in Plum Village, I had
heard from people coming from America

that there were places in America
where you could practice.

And I was curious to go there and
to see other teachers than Thay.

Thay was the only teacher that I knew.
I can tell you, that it just confirmed,

being in America, that I was on
the right path being with Thay.

Okay. I went to San Francisco,
invited by Thay Tu Luc.

And he was living in a temple there,
in the busy streets.

And then he said, “Eveline, if you want
to, I can bring you to the monastery

in the mountains, in the middle
of the woods, the Kim Son monastery.”

That seemed a very nice adventure.
So I went to the Kim Son monastery,

and I enjoyed it very much,

with the redwood trees, the woods
- I had never seen so beautiful.

It was really wild there.

And after - I was planning to stay in
America for half a year at least,

maybe a year - and after a few weeks,

guess who visited, who came to
the Kim Son monastery?

(laughter)

Yes, yes, Thay came. I had no idea.
For me this was worlds apart.

And all of a sudden, there he was.
And he recognized me,

the woman with the bicycle, because
I came to Plum Village on my bicycle.

(laughter)

Not all the way from Amsterdam.

And I was so happy to be with Thay,
so happy, and I started to wonder,

“Is it a good decision to stay in America?

Shouldn’t I go back to Europe
and spend the summer in Plum Village?

It’s so precious to be with Thay.
Who knows how long he is around?”

(I always was aware of that.)
“Shouldn’t I go back?”

I was doubting and doubting.

It was a squeezing question
because finally I had come to America.

It had taken me so much courage
to make this step.

Now I was here, and should I go back?

So, I haven’t asked Thay many
questions in my life,

but this is one of the questions I asked him.

I went to him and explained the situation
and asked him, “Thay, what do you think?

Should I stay or should I go
and be with you in the summer retreat?”

And you may guess what Thay answered...

He said - a very nice answer that I always
keep with me when I have to make a choice

- “Both are OK.”

(laughter)

I decided to stay.

And then after about ten days,
the moment came that Thay left us again.

It was a beautiful day, a beautiful evening.

Thay was gone and I had decided to stay,

and I knew I wouldn’t see him
for a very long time.

I went - I felt sad,
and I went into nature. I sat on a tree.

I sat for hours there in the neighbourhood
of the temple, looking at the trees,

at the sky and the sky was turning dark.

And of course, I was wondering,
"In what way Thay is with me?"

And then as I was looking at the sky, there
were mountains, mountains very far away.

And all of a sudden I noticed there was
some light above the mountains.

I was surprised. I thought I must not
have been looking very well before,

because I never noticed
there was a city over there.

But the light grew intenser,
more and more light.

And then, all of a sudden,
there was the moon.

It was not a city.
It was the light of the moon.

And as the moon was rising,
it wasn’t just the moon.

It was the most amazing, biggest,
radiant moon I have ever seen.

I could spread my arms to show
how huge this moon was.

And it moved so gracefully.
There were no clouds in the sky,

none at all. It was a very silent evening,
without the wind, very peaceful.

And very, very slowly, without moving,
the moon was moving and rising and rising.

And all of a sudden there was
a sound, the sound of the bell:

the bell inviting us to come to meditation.

I was not happy.
I was so gazing at the moon.

I was completely connected,

and I was so happy - and unhappy
at the same time as I was missing Thay.

And after - I don’t understand now
why I made the decision,

because now I would have
made a different decision,

but in those days I obviously did more
what was expected of me.

So I went in.

And as soon as I was in
with the other people, I did regret it.

I thought, “What have I done?
I should have stayed outside!”

Fortunately, the Kim Son monastery
has huge glass windows, really

- at least,in my memory,
but then it’s thirty years ago,

but in my memory the windows are
from the floor to the ceiling.

So, I took a place, I choose a place from
where I could see the moon.

I continued to look at the moon.
I wasn’t very concentrated.

I felt sad. Thay wasn’t there. I had
come inside. I should have stayed outside.

And as much as possible,
I tried to stay connected with the moon.

And then something happened.
I’ve never understood it. Not even today.

But what happened was that

this huge, brilliant, radiant moon
that I saw shining over there,

began shining from my own belly,
just as big and radiant.

I saw it. It wasn’t something I figured
with my mind. It happened to me.

And as we say in Dutch, “Ik stond er bij
en ik keek er naar.” Ik zat er bij.

[Translated to English: “I stood there, and
I looked at what was there.” I sat there.]

So I just observed it, in surprise.

Something else happened
at the same moment.

As this moon was shining

-- now there were two moons,
the moon outside and the moon inside --

at the same time, I felt that
Thay’s smile was sinking into me.

I really felt it.
I had seen Thay smiling so often.

And his smile, his serenity,
was just sinking into me,

and I felt it resting
at the bottom of my being.

And I knew, I would always find Thay there.

I had, from Store Consciousness I think,
received an answer to my question,

“How is Thay with me?”

And I always can find him there.

Although there have been waves -
but they have been on the surface -

in the depths of my being,
I feel Thay’s presence.

Then I stayed one year in America.

When I came back to Europe, Plum Village

opened its doors for the very first time
to residents, permanent residents,

and I didn’t need to think what to do.

Of course, I went to live in Plum Village.
This could be a story in itself.

(laughter)

[Sister Chan Khong asks from off-stage:
“Can you sing your song?”]

Yes, yes, it’s coming, Sister Chan Khong.

(laughter)

Yes, yes, yes. .

I was given a room from where
I could watch the sunset every evening

It was so beautiful.

[Looking around.]
No, no, we are in Upper Hamlet.

And there... So that was maybe a
few months after coming back from America.

And there Thay invited all of us
– that means eight people -

to express our experience with
the practice in a creative way.

He encouraged us to sing and to write songs.

And so I wrote a song about
this experience of the moon:

together, the moon in America
and the sun in Plum Village.

And I’ll give it a try...

The sun is going down,

and the sky is turning grey.

The day has not yet ended

while the night is on its way.

I hear a last bird singing,

and I join it in its song.

And then everything falls silent

while the twilight lingers on.

Now the stars are growing brighter,

we are waiting for the moon.

It is rising from a mountain

like a luminous balloon.

Shining brighter than the sunshine,

smiling limitless serene,

Shining inside, shining outside,

it’s a moon I’ve never seen.

I keep looking in amazement,

I keep looking in delight.

Every leaf has turned transparent;

now it seems no longer night.

I would like to look forever,

and I pray we never part.

Then at once I find it shining

from the bottom from my heart.

Shining brighter than the sunshine,

smiling limitless serene,

Shining inside, shining outside,

it’s a moon I’ve never seen.

I keep looking in amazement,

I keep looking in delight.

And my joy surmounts the mountains,

I have found the moon inside.

I’m aware of time ...

And this is one of the ways I have found Thay.

Very shortly I will share with you other
ways I’ve found Thay in the course of years.

I’ve discovered that when I am
concentrated in my practice -

which of course I’m not always,
which is from time to time -

the more I am concentrated, really
concentrated, then Thay’s energy is there.

The more I am concentrated,
the more I feel Thay near.

He is there, in my practice.

My favorite practice is walking meditation.

And a few years, no, I guess many years ago,

Thay taught us what he did
sometimes during walking meditation.

He said, “Sometimes I walk with my
students, with one of my students.

On my in-breath as I walk, I say
the name of that student.

And on my out-breath, I say,
‘I am here, I am here, I am here’.”

I thought, “This is a very nice practice.
I’m going to try that for myself.”

I tried it when my father died.

And I said, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,
I am here, I am here, I am here.”

And as I continued to walk in this way,

my father became so present

that all by itself - I didn’t think of it -
but the words “I am here” changed into

“We are here, we are here, we are here.”

And the same, when I invite
Thay to walk with me.

then I always begin with “I am here”
until I really feel the presence of Thay.

And then I change it
- or it changes itself - into

“We are here, we are here.”

So this is another way I have
found Thay in my practice.

And then, much to my relief, after coming
a few years to Plum Village

and making friends here
- dear friends, Dharma friends -

I began to sense that when I was
with my friends, I began to sense,

"Thay is here, Thay is here."

He is in my friends.

And that was… that took away my fear
that when Thay is no longer there …

I knew I have my friends.
I will find Thay in my Dharma friends.

And when I heard about Thay’s stroke,
I was shocked at first.

And that week, I went to the
Sangha in Amsterdam.

And in the Sangha, though there were people
who not even had been coming very often,

but yet the energy of the Sangha was there
and I experienced Thay’s presence there.

And I was so relieved.
It was such a reassurance to feel

Thay is really here. I can feel him.

And I am also aware that
Thay is in the way I look.

I have taken in so much of his words,
of what he has taught, that the way I see,

the way I hear, the way I think,
is so interwoven with what I’ve learned.

So Thay is there in what I see,
what I hear, what I think,

at least when I’m mindful.

And, now I am in the most lucky place

to see Thay all around me
-- inside and all around.

Now, thank you for listening so long.
It’s already almost 12:30.

[The bell is woken up.]

[The bell is invited the first of 3 times.]

[The bell second of the bell.]

[And soon, the third sound of the bell.]