ShareOn August 21st, the first evening of the Estes Park 2009 retreat, we all gathered for orientation in the meditation hall.  900-ish of us, settling in, quieting, curious, happy, travel-weary, who knows what.  For me, happiness at the opportunity to quiet and focus on practice, to share the week with my 11-year-old daughter, and for us to be in Thay’s presence and hear his teachings.

We sang some songs.  Then the monks and nuns collected on the stage, and the bell-ringer rang the bell.  I calmly breathed and smiled, looking forward to the moment when Thay, my dear teacher, would walk in.  Then one of the monks said something about a love letter from our teacher.  What?  And then he read, “Boston, August 21, 2009.”  What???  

I could feel my awareness sharpen; my mind go into that slow-motion process that envelops disasters and other too-big things; and some other part of my mind try its best to begin hyper-speed thinking, spinning, theorizing, justifying, worrying, preparing; and my breathing, breathing….and in that nano-second, the monk went on reading in his calm, clear, gentle voice, “Dear Friends and Co-practitioners at the retreat One Buddha Is Not Enough, Estes Park, Co.   My dear friends, I am writing to you from the Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston……”  Aware of tears streaming down my face.  Aware of deep, deep concern for the seriousness of Thay’s condition.  Aware of tenderness and great love.  Aware of fear.  Aware of my own personal/historical losses and their ties to my current reaction.  Aware of breathing.  Aware of trying to breathe, at least.  Looking strongly, deeply at the monks and nuns, to give them support, and to get - what? – strength?  information? clues to help my own spinning mind re-center? Awareness that all around me, there was no sound or movement.  No physical shifting.  No gasp.  No impulsive in-breath of surprise.  No rustling, spreading whisper of comprehension, reaction, worry, disappointment, anything.  Absolute stillness.

The monk finished reading Thay’s letter, and the nuns and monks began chanting.  They were all calm and peaceful.  Some were calm and smiling and chanting.  Some were calm and chanting with tears streaming down their faces. Those minutes of chanting like that were, for me, one of the most profound dharma teachings I have ever encountered.  To see the truth of the heart so totally held in the practice burst a few of the restraining ties on my heart-mind.  In those moments, I was reminded of/felt embodied in me, Thay’s teaching from some retreat many years ago: “You cannot be a practitioner and not do the practice.”  Right, Thay, OK, I am doing the practice and they are doing the practice and you are doing the practice and the Buddha is doing the practice and we are all doing the practice.  And all of this was unsaid, verbally unthought, simply understanding woven into the weave of atoms spinning in me.  Aware of inner turmoil about the “right” emotional/behavioral response to this news, I experienced a new level of compassion, a deeper willingness to just hold the feelings and continue breathing in, breathing out.  Breathing with the monks and nuns in gratitude, breathing to offer solidity, breathing to offer love and respect and support to them and to Thay, breathing to the this-is-what-is of it all.

In those moments, I understood, I experienced the monks and nuns as Thay’s continuation.  I understood in a new way myself as Thay’s continuation, all of us in the room as Thay’s continuation.  What was conceptual understanding before was now much more real.  I felt happiness for the lives Thay would touch at Mass. General, lives that otherwise might not know him.  I felt sadness and frustration and wistfulness for my daughter, who would not have another opportunity this year to be in Thay’s physical presence.  I felt my own sadness and worry.  I remembered Thay’s letter to the nuns and monks at Bat Nha monastery, in which he wrote, “Don’t ‘worry back and forth.’  Each side only needs to behave beautifully, doing our part, and that is enough!” I sat gently with all these feelings, letting them mix with this new level of understanding, interbeing, continuation.  I watched the panorama of my own fears and dramas and imaginations and old grief and fear of future grief and let it all sit in the lap of interbeing and continuation.  All in those minutes of chanting.  Truthfully, I can’t remember anything else from that evening except the effort of breathing, practicing, doing my best to sit beautifully and stay open and mindful.

Beginning in those first few moments the first evening, and throughout the retreat, I noticed that I was sitting up straighter, with more stillness, for longer periods of time.  My mind remained still for longer periods of time.  I was aware more quickly when it strayed.  Not that I could always bring it back immediately, but stronger intent.  All around me, people were sitting up straighter, with more focus/less noise.  We were all trying our best.

As the week unfolded, I discovered that my own ups and downs were anchored so strongly in the stability of the monks and nuns.  I also discovered new levels of intention and desire to offer my own practice and stability in return, to them, to the whole retreat sangha, to Thay.  I thought about folks at the retreat who had not yet met Thay, and practiced to help them experience Thay through the collective energy of the retreat.  Though I would never “ask” for such an “opportunity,” it was indeed a precious gift to be at the retreat and to have the opportunity to “step up” to the situation.

I loved the dharma talks, every one of them.  I especially loved the stories about the monastics’ experiences with Thay; they were piercing in their teaching to both heart and mind.  They were also the parts of each talk most likely to evoke tearfulness in me, a wonderful opportunity to sit gently with whatever was coming up, look at myself with eyes of understanding and love, and stay with the talk besides. After a few days of this, I became aware that I was not the only one quietly pulling out a kleenex before each dharma talk and secretively hiding it away somewhere on my cushion; I shared a wry smile with many of my fellow retreatants as we observed each others’ discrete kleenex-stowing.  Of course there was far, far more dharma rain in those talks as well. There is great depth and breadth in the monastic community, and in their teaching.  I was continually touched and challenged and greatful.

The monastics were clearly concerned for all of us retreatants, and clearly wished to do their best to understand and direct their efforts toward an effective and supportive retreat.  They succeeded, and offered profound teaching through their efforts, both in their observable intent and caring interactions as well as through their dharma talks.  I feel such tender gratitude and respect for them all.  

I loved the “card” we all wrote to Thay.  What a mirror, what an opportunity.  I paced the dining hall, struggling with emotion and trying to quiet and center (and find just the right and perfect words, and finally realize I just had to let whatever it was come).  My daughter strode right up, paused for a moment, and wrote (all this I had to watch most surreptitiously, of course).  When I finally approached the sheets of brown paper, I found the energy of her cheery message just leaping off the page.  Talk about a lesson.  Just say it, Barb.

Through this unexpected-turn-of-events retreat I experienced how deeply, safely, strongly, greatfully I am rooted in this practice.  Thay’s physical absence from the retreat was his dharma talk.  The brilliance and stability and devotion and happiness of his monastic community was his dharma talk.  And their dharma talk.  And, simply, the dharma.

And by the way, I am really happy to know that Thay has arrived safely at Deer Park.  Dear Thay, whatever form you are in from moment to moment, you will always be my beloved teacher.  I am so happy for this practice, I am grateful for this teaching, and I am so happy to hear that you are feeling better.

read other articles from "One Buddha is Not Enough":

• The Miracle of Sangha
• We Take Refuge in the Sangha
• One Buddha Is Not Enough
• Thay’s Absence is His Dharma Talk
• Photos Album