She frequently visited her former teacher, Bai, to discuss Buddhism more deeply. Her teacher saw in her a true friend. Of all the people in the district, Kinh was the only one whose interest in learning and practicing Buddhism was comparable to his own. Teacher Bai told her of the large temples around the country and the scriptures being circulated. He told her of various temples where hundreds of monastics dwelled together to practice and study. Listening to him, Kinh’s deep longing was rekindled. “If I were a male, I definitely would become a monk!” she thought.
Chapter Three
STEPPING INTO FREEDOM
One morning, Kinh woke up very early. Unable to stifle any longer her deep desire to live a monastic life, she wrote a letter to her parents asking permission to travel for the sake of learning, and promising to return after five years of exploration. She then disguised herself as a young man, looking very bright and scholarly with a bundle of possessions slung casually over her shoulder. She left, not knowing where she would end up.
Seven days later, she arrived at Dharma Cloud Temple in Giao Chi district. The beautiful landscape surrounding the temple was peaceful and calming. The abbot was teaching an audience of about three hundred people gathered there. Everyone was listening attentively and with much respect as the abbot taught about the four factors of true love (also known as the Four Immeasurable Minds): loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity.
The young scholar arrived just as the talk began. Kinh listened zealously. Afterwards, when the teaching ended and everyone else had gone home, Kinh asked permission to consult with the reverend teacher. Prostrating deeply three times, the scholar made introductions and begged to be ordained as a monastic disciple.
The elderly abbot looked at Kinh in silence for a very long time, then calmly asked, “Where do you come from, my child? What reasons might you have for wanting to leave your home and family and become a monk?”
Palms together, the young scholar respectfully answered, “Reverend teacher, my family name is Ly, and I come from the Cuu Chan district. I began my schooling at a very young age. But I have seen that life is so impermanent. I do not find happiness or much interest in the career of a scholar or of being appointed as a minister or counselor to the king. Nor do I find happiness in married life.”
The scholar continued, “Many times I have learned from my village teacher about the way of liberation, and I was given a few books on Buddhist teachings for further study. I also had the good fortune to meet with monks. Observing their free, relaxed manner and hearing their teachings about liberation moved me so much. I have dreamed for so long of becoming a monk. My journey has now brought me to this district; and after hearing your teachings, I feel a great opening of mind and heart! I bow my head deeply, appealing to your immense generosity to accept me as a monastic disciple. I vow to practice diligently, so that in the future I may be able to help everyone who suffers.”
The abbot of Dharma Cloud Temple nodded. “Listening to you, it’s clear you possess the good heart of a monastic. You come from a good family, and you have a solid educational foundation, the refined bearing of a scholar, and a bright future ahead of you. Another person in your position would most likely not think of giving all that up to become a monk. But since the teachings of the Buddha have opened your eyes early, I earnestly hope you will be able to fulfill the deep vow of one who has the mind of awakening, the mind of love. You may come and practice at my temple as a novice-in-training for a trial period of three months.”
The abbot called for the two novices currently practicing at Dharma Cloud Temple and introduced Kinh to them. The abbot’s elder disciple, Chi Tam (“Heart of Aspiration”), was twenty-six years old and had been a novice for eight years. He was of tall stature and had shining eyes under a pair of bushy eyebrows. His gait could be likened to that of a grizzly bear; it reflected enormous strength, well contained. The second novice, Thanh Tam (“Sincere Heart”), was twenty-four years old and had practiced for four years as a novice. Though his frame was slender, he was healthy and strong. He had a well-proportioned face, and his smiles were always fresh. The abbot instructed the two novices to help get the young scholar settled and oriented in the ways of life at the monastery. Kinh was very lucky to be given a small, single room in the corner of the West Hall.
In the few months of training, Kinh practiced very diligently and did tasks well. The young scholar was able to memorize and do the morning and evening chanting very fluently after studying and practicing for only a couple of weeks. Kinh bound some papers together to make a book for copying down the text of the ten vows of a novice and the novices’ mindful manners. Kinh’s handwriting with the brush pen was so exquisite that it drew endless praise from the elder monks, Chi Tam and Thanh Tam. Being quite knowledgeable, Kinh made comments during discussions about the teachings that also earned the new student much respect from the elder brothers and from the abbot as well. Yet Kinh always remained very humble.
All the tasks in the temple—carrying water, chopping wood, preparing vegetables, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the Buddha Hall, attending the abbot— Kinh did very thoroughly and wholeheartedly. The elder brothers cared for the new student a great deal. Brother Chi Tam, seeing that Kinh had the slight build of a scholar, shouldered more of the work needing strength. Brother Thanh Tam was also thoughtful in wanting to help Kinh in all tasks. Both had a strong desire to be near Kinh, whether to do work, to study, or to converse, because both found Kinh so fresh, gentle, intelligent, and virtuous. Kinh somehow always kept a respectful, amiable distance.
Three months later, during the annual commemoration of the Buddha’s birth, Kinh was formally ordained, taking on the ten vows and the shaven head of a novice. Thus cleanly shaven and clothed in a dark brown robe of a monk, the newly ordained novice manifested the deeper beauty of a monastic, radiating so much brightness and freshness. The abbot gave the new novice the Dharma name Kinh Tam (“Reverent Heart”). This name was very meaningful and also appropriate, as Kinh Tam had much reverence for the Buddha, the spiritual patriarchs, and all other beings, including those of the animal, plant, and even mineral realms. Looking deeply, the novice saw that all life was wondrous and sacred, even the suffering of human beings. This insight just naturally made the novice always want to bow reverently before all. Ever since Kinh Tam was ordained, the Dharma Cloud Temple seemed to brighten up, and the young people of the village and other villages nearby were now visiting the temple more often and in greater numbers. Novice Kinh Tam was like a newly blooming lotus in a pond where lotuses had never been found before.
Kinh Tam had a beautiful chanting voice and had taken on the task of sounding the large bell in the tower every morning. The novice melodiously recited the poetic verses for sounding the bell, such as:
May the sound of this bell penetrate deeply into the cosmos.
In even the darkest places, may living beings hear it clearly
so that understanding comes to their hearts,
and without much hardship, they transcend the cycle of birth and death.
or:
Listening to the bell I feel the afflictions in me begin to dissolve.
My mind becomes calm, my body relaxed, and a smile is born on my lips.
Following the sound of the bell, my breath guides me back to the safe island of mindfulness.
In the garden of my heart, the flower of peace blooms beautifully.
In Dharma discussion, a period of time allotted to confer in depth about the teachings, novice Kinh Tam shared very profound insights into the written scriptures. The elder brothers, who’d had many more years of practice, listened intently and found they could learn much from what novice Kinh Tam had to share. On one occasion, the abbot himself openly praised the novice. Brother Chi Tam had to admit that, although his own Chinese character writing was beautiful, Brother Kinh Tam’s character writing was indisputably livelier. Brother Thanh Tam often asked Kinh Tam to explain further for him the difficult parts of the Sutra of
Forty-Two Chapters, like “Practice the nonpractice, realize the nonrealizable.”
Novice Kinh Tam, having already finished reading all of the Collection on the Six Paramitas by Master Tang Hoi, was well versed in the deeds and deep aspirations of Sakyamuni Buddha and in his past lives. The novice often retold those short stories to the elder novice monks, sharing with them the various praiseworthy deeds of the Buddha in past lives and in his life as Siddhartha Gautama. Whenever villagers, particularly the young people, came up to the temple, they had the chance to meet with the three novices and often heard novice Kinh Tam give teachings on the Dharma.
Chapter Four
DELIRIUM
Thi Mau (“Wondrous”) was a young maiden, the daughter of the richest family in the village. She often went with her mother up to the temple to offer incense and prostrate before the Buddha. When she first saw novice Kinh Tam, Mau was amazed. How could anyone be so elegant and genteel, with such a glowing, fresh countenance? Although Kinh Tam had a clean-shaven head and only humble monastic garments, the novice was quite refined. Even as a layperson, Kinh already had exquisite beauty and cultured bearing. Yet incredibly, after shaving the head and taking the vows, the novice became even more beautiful. From Mau’s perspective, the novice’s eyes sparkled more, his complexion was brighter, and purity and goodness emanated from his radiant face. An unhappy person could never demonstrate such a fresh smile, such a glowing countenance, such twinkling eyes. Everyone who looked upon Kinh Tam felt immediately refreshed and inspired. And so the young maiden Mau fell in love with the novice.
Unfortunately, Mau’s love quickly became an obsessive craving. Returning home from Dharma Cloud, Mau had many sleepless nights. She was constantly haunted by the novice’s image. The novice was hand-some—was that why she secretly thought of him and loved him? This really could not be the reason. She had already met many handsome young men and had never reacted this way. Among the numerous young men who had extended marriage proposals via their parents, there were plenty who were quite attractive; but Mau had never experienced this kind of longing for any of them. Mau was powerless to resist this strange love. She knew that Kinh Tam was a monk and she should leave him alone, yet she simply could not suppress her longing for the novice.
Being from a rich family and endowed with beauty, Mau tended to be a bit conceited. It was very difficult for anyone to get an invitation to meet with her. If she disliked anyone, she would flatly refuse to see that person. She never imagined that anyone would not want to meet and get to know her. Yet this time, Mau’s overtures were deflected. She ardently sought to see and sit with Kinh Tam, but the novice always found various reasons to avoid being with her. It was not because the novice disliked this young woman. Kinh Tam was fully engaged in observing the precepts and fine manners of a novice monk, which included not befriending and conversing with women alone in secluded places.
As time passed, Mau often stood in the novice’s path either within the temple or on the dirt trails down to the village. Kinh Tam always had one excuse or another for not stopping to engage in private conversations with her. The novice had told her that she was welcome to join other young men and women who often gathered at the temple to hear and learn about the Dharma. But what Mau dreamed of was to be able to stand or to sit with the novice alone, to be able to declare her love for him and tell him she could not live without his love.
Kinh Tam soon became aware of Mau’s intention. After all, Mau was not very subtle. The novice went out of his way to avoid her and the possibility of ending up in an impossible situation. The novice’s deepest desire was to continue practicing as a monastic. This kind of desire is known as bodhicitta, the mind of bodhisattvas, of awakened beings—the mind of love. This is love that contains the spirit of kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity; it is not a sentimental, tragic, obsessive, or sensual kind of love. To love, according to the teachings of the Buddha, is to have compassion for and to relieve the miseries of all who suffer, miseries due to sensual desires, hatred, ignorance, envy, arrogance, and doubtfulness.
Mau loved the novice. But the fact that Kinh Tam did not pursue her, did not plead for her special attention, did not show any sign of desiring her, deeply wounded her pride. Never before had any young man dealt with her in this manner. All of her suitors were so willing to chase after her and flirt with her, begging for the tiniest crumbs of loving endearments. Now she had met a person who behaved very differently indeed. Novice Kinh Tam’s demeanor was so pure and noble that neither her family’s prestige, nor her beauty, nor her wealth could bend him to her will. Thus she became vindictive toward Kinh Tam, even as she continued to yearn for his embrace.
It was the full-moon night of the ninth lunar month. The moon was shining ever so brightly. Mau was home alone, as her parents had not yet returned from the annual memorial ser vice for her maternal grandparents. The late autumn night was cold and bleak. Mau could not endure the bitter loneliness engulfing her whole being. Earlier that morning, she had gone up to the temple to offer incense, accompanied by a servant boy named Thuong, who carried the various parcels of offerings. Mau had tried to see novice Kinh Tam. She asked novice Thanh Tam to pass on a message that she wished to meet privately with novice Kinh Tam, as she had several questions to put to him. But the young novice asked the older novice to relay the message that he had too many tasks in the meditation hall and did not have time to meet with her.
Humiliated and angry, she rushed back home, not even staying as she normally did to listen to the abbot’s teachings. Sitting on the verandah beside the tea bushes, Mau was infuriated. She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. She thought of Kinh Tam, still longing for him to take her in his arms. The sky was very clear, the moon shone so brightly, yet Mau’s heart was utterly desolate.
Suddenly Mau noticed someone standing nearby. A shadow appeared on the moonlit courtyard. Looking up, she recognized Thuong, her family’s servant boy. Thuong was looking at her with pity. Mau seemed to look through Thuong, as if she was seeing the novice instead. She raised her two arms, gesturing him to come closer. She pulled him close to her, then led the young servant into her bedroom. Mau was in a state of delirium, completely overtaken by the force of her sensual craving, despondency, and wounded pride.
Mau led Thuong to her bed and let nature take its course, all the while imagining she was with Kinh Tam. She passionately held the imagined novice in her arms and ardently pressed her lips to his as if possessed.
The entire episode lasted less than five minutes. Immediately afterwards, Mau lashed out at Thuong and chased him from the room. Cowering with his head in his hands, Thuong ran, realizing he had just committed a fatal mistake. He surely would be put to death if his master were to learn of this incident; and his parents living out in the countryside also would be implicated. As for Mau, in the days that followed, the girl lived in agony, full of terror and regret.
One morning, Mau woke up with a lot of physical discomfort. From various indications, she realized she was pregnant. Her fear rose to even greater heights. She worried for herself, for her parents, and also for Thuong. All four people were now to be victims of her obsession, her sensual desires, her wounded pride and her vengefulness. After confirming that she truly was pregnant, Mau made arrangements to get a large sum of money. She gave it to Thuong and told him to flee from the country, never to return, not even to his parents’ home in Nhat Nam. She was well aware of her father’s violent temper. He surely would make things very difficult for Thuong’s parents.
Tearfully, young Thuong took the money she proffered and left that very day. Some months later, Mau’s parents noticed the changes in their daughter and knew the worst had happened. They queried her for details, but Mau adamantly refused to answer. She was ashamed. She could not acknowledge the truth, even to these two who had given her life. She could not tell them she had slept with a servant boy. She herself could not accept such a deed, nor would people in their society accept it. The couple questioned
their beloved daughter repeatedly for three days and three nights, but Mau just kept silent. She casually said she was just unwell, that was all. On the fourth day, while the three of them were in the front hall eating their meal, the village bailiff called for Thi Mau—the wanton young woman who had gotten pregnant out of wedlock, the daughter of the wealthiest high-class family—to present herself at the village town hall and explain her actions, after which the village council would proclaim judgment.
The rich couple was ashamed and humiliated beyond words. They had high status in the village, always having the seats of honor and being served the most delectable dishes. Upon seeing them, everyone had had to bow low and offer good wishes to them. Now their daughter had just been commanded to answer for the crime of getting pregnant out of wedlock. How would they ever be able to face anyone in the village again?
Mau’s father escorted and presented her to the village council, while her mother stayed home. Looking at the father and daughter, the council chairman said, “Thi Mau, dear child, you have foolishly gotten pregnant by someone. You should say what happened for all in the village to know. If you tell the truth, then the village council will arrange for you to marry the man. However, if you should tell even a small lie, your father will not be able to redeem your actions even with a payment of nine buffaloes and thirty cows!”
The chairman looked directly at Mau, and the other members of the council studied her face closely. Mau’s father also looked squarely at her. She avoided everyone’s gaze by casting her own eyes downward and thought, “I cannot tell the truth. Doing so would bring utter shame to my parents, to my entire lineage. Many families of good standing offered me proposals to marry their sons. I refused them all, only to end up sleeping with a servant boy. Even if I were to tell the truth, no one would believe me, especially now that Thuong has fled. Why don’t I just say I slept with novice Kinh Tam—the one I love? The council chairman promised that, according to the village’s regulation, I would be wedded to Kinh Tam, if I say he is the one . . .”