Dear community, today is November 25th, 1999. We are here in Lower Hamlet, at Dharma Nectar temple, during the winter retreat. There are 37 days left until the end of the twentieth century, and then we will begin the year 2000—just 37 days more.
Today is also Thanksgiving Day in America. This year, in Upper Hamlet, the brothers did not have any pumpkins, so they could not make pumpkin pie. That is why they made apple pie instead. But it seems that here in Lower Hamlet, we do have pumpkins, so this afternoon, we hope we will have a chance to enjoy pumpkin pie together.
In the Buddhist tradition, we also practice gratitude. But instead of giving thanks to God, we express our gratitude directly to the sources of our blessings. Today, we need to set aside some time to reflect on the great sources of gratitude in our lives.
First of all, we remember the gratitude we owe to our parents. Thanks to our father and mother, we have this body and this mind. Our physical form, as well as our consciousness, are gifts—first and foremost—from our parents.
Today, we should remember our father and our mother, who are the closest roots of our being. Whether our parents are still alive or have already passed away, they are still present. If we look deeply into this body and this mind, we can see clearly that our parents are right here within us. We are the continuation of our father and our mother. Every time we smile, our parents smile with us. Every time we cry, our parents cry with us. So our happiness is also the happiness of our parents. Our suffering is also the suffering of our parents. That is why we should live in such a way that our parents can be happy within us, in every moment of our daily life.
Each time we bow to the Buddha, each time we receive the precepts—whether it is the Five Mindfulness Trainings or the Ten Precepts—we always remember that we are the child of our father and mother, and that today, having the opportunity to receive the precepts, we bow in gratitude to our father and to our mother. This happens many times in the life of a practitioner.
The second gratitude is gratitude to our teacher. We do not have just one teacher; we have many teachers. First and foremost, our teacher is the one who has given birth to us in our spiritual life. Perhaps our parents only gave birth to our physical form, but it is truly our teacher who gives birth to us in our spiritual life. And we are the children of our teacher. Our teacher teaches us to understand, to love, and to live deeply in the present moment so that we can nourish ourselves and transform the suffering within us, bringing peace and happiness to ourselves. And when we have peace, we can also bring peace to those around us.
And our teacher is not a reality that exists outside of us. Because when we receive the energy of our teacher, that energy enters our body and our soul. In every cell of our being, our teacher is present. That is why our teacher is with us in every moment of our daily life. Our root teacher, whom in Sino-Vietnamese we call Bổn sư—
Bổn means root, sư means teacher. Our root teacher is Shakyamuni Buddha (Đức Thích Ca Mâu Ni). And our root teacher is present within us, in every cell of our body. Whenever we need our teacher, we only need to return to our body, to each cell, and call our teacher’s name, and naturally our teacher is there for us. There is no need to search far away. If we know how to breathe, to return to the present moment, to walk in mindfulness, to eat our meal in mindfulness, to transform our suffering—this is all thanks to our teacher. So today, we also take time to remember the gratitude we owe to our teacher. Our teacher is right within us, and our teacher walks with us in every moment of our life.
The third source of gratitude is gratitude for our friends, our companions on the path. In the sutras, it is said that our parents give us birth, but it is our friends who help us succeed in our life’s journey. That is why the gratitude we feel for our friends is so great. It is thanks to good friends that we are able to leave behind the path of darkness and step onto the path of goodness. So the gratitude we have for our friends is immense. A friend may be older or younger than us, but anyone who guides us onto the right path is truly our friend. If we did not have such a friend, we might still be wandering, lost on the paths of confusion and suffering. That is why our friends are as important as our parents or our teachers. We are grateful to the friend who has brought us onto the path of goodness and who has supported us during the most difficult moments of our lives. Our friend is always there to support us, to offer us strength and encouragement in times of difficulty. That is why today, we must also take time to think of our friends and to feel gratitude for them—those whom the sutras call “spiritual friends,” or kalyanamitra (thiện hữu tri thức). Spiritual friends.
And the fourth source of gratitude is gratitude for all living beings. It is thanks to all living beings that we are able to continue our life. First of all, there are the animals, and among them, human beings, the human society. If there were no other people, who would build the roads for us to walk on? Who would build the bridges for us to cross the river? Who would build the schools for us? Who would build the hospitals for us when we need surgery? Who would grow the vegetables for us to eat? Who would work the fields so that we have rice? That is why the presence of other people in society is so essential for us.
And then there are the other animals—those who live in the forests, those who fly in the sky, and those who dwell in the water. All these beings are connected to our own survival. Even the tiny bacteria in our body help us, and their role in our daily life is very important.
We know that in recent decades, many species of animals have lost the opportunity to continue their lives. And some species have been wiped out because of the immense greed of human beings.
That greed has disturbed the balance of nature. Because of this, many species have begun to disappear. This is a great bell of mindfulness, an urgent wake-up call. We must learn to live in such a way that other species can also have the chance to live. Only then can life be in balance for ourselves and for our children and grandchildren. That is why we need to feel gratitude for the presence of all living beings. The birds, the fish, the wild animals, even the tiny bacteria—all of them have their part, their responsibility, their role in maintaining the balance of life in nature.
If these species are destroyed, then life can no longer continue. That is why today we must remember the animals. These animals whose lives need to be protected, so that our own lives may also be protected.
We must live in such a way that animals have the chance to live as we do. This is our practice. And for the plants as well. We must live so that the plants also have the opportunity to live as we do. Because we have destroyed the forests, we have wiped out many species of plants after having already destroyed so many animal species.
And the air has become so polluted that many animals and plants have had to leave, have had to die. Today, we need to take time to reflect on this reality. And we must live in such a way that not only the animals have the right to live as we do, but the plants also have the right to live as we do. Only then can life truly be protected. And finally, we must remember the minerals. Minerals also have their own kind of life—like the air, the river water, the sea water, and the earth.
The earth has become polluted, the water has become polluted, and the air has also become polluted because of human greed.
And when the mineral world is polluted, the life of the minerals is threatened. In the Buddhist tradition, we see that even minerals have Buddha nature, they also have life; they are not just inanimate things. We also call them living beings.
Sentient and non-sentient beings. Sentient beings are animals, and non-sentient beings are minerals. But from the perspective of Buddhism, minerals are also a kind of living being. That is why, when we destroy the air, when we destroy the water, when we destroy the earth, we are also destroying animals, plants, and we are destroying ourselves. Therefore, we need to reconsider and find ways to give water, air, and earth the chance to live, just as we wish to live. Only then can we continue our own life. This is the Buddhist way of expressing gratitude. We give thanks directly.
We know that when we express gratitude to our parents, we also recognize that our parents are part of an environment, a living ecosystem. And if our gratitude for our parents is deep, then we also know how to be grateful to all beings—animals, plants, and minerals. That is why the four sources of gratitude are deeply connected to one another. If we are truly grateful to one of these four sources, we will see that our gratitude naturally extends to all four. This is called the Four Gratitudes (Tứ ân). In Vietnam, there is a Buddhist tradition called the Buddhism of Four Gratitudes (Phật giáo Tứ ân). If we practice just these four gratitudes, if we practice Thanksgiving wholeheartedly, we can already become a Buddha. That tradition is called the Buddhism of Four Gratitudes.
When we make a pumpkin pie, we should remember that making a pie, making a cake, is not just for the sake of having something to eat. According to our practice, when we lift up a pumpkin, we should lift it up with mindfulness. That means we must see that this is a gift from the earth and the sky. Because the pumpkin is a wondrous phenomenon, a work of art created by the collaboration of earth and sky. All the finest elements of the cosmos have gathered together to bring forth such a miraculous creation as the pumpkin.
When Christians look at a pumpkin, they may think of God. But when a Buddhist looks at a pumpkin, they can see all the wonders of the universe coming together, manifesting in the pumpkin as a miracle. And in that moment, we hold the pumpkin in our hands with all our care and reverence, with our admiration. That is already mindfulness. The pumpkin is nothing less than a miracle. That pumpkin is a miracle.
And when we see that pumpkin, our heart is filled, overflowing with gratitude—gratitude for the entire universe. Or when we hold a piece of bread or a bowl of rice in our hands, we feel our heart brimming with gratitude. In that moment, there is mindfulness. Whenever there is mindfulness, there is gratitude. And we are able to cherish everything that happens in each moment of our daily life.
And when we make a pumpkin pie or an apple pie, we need to let our mind dwell in that gratitude, in that wonderful awareness. Only then can we truly say we are practicing gratitude. But if we make the pie in forgetfulness, only thinking about the future or being pulled back into the past, not paying any attention to the apple or the pumpkin at all, then in that moment, we are not practicing.
That is why mindfulness is the heart of the practice. When we hold an apple in our hand, or a pumpkin in both hands, and we can see that these are wonders of life, then naturally gratitude fills our heart, and happiness also fills our heart. So the practice brings gratitude and happiness right into the present moment. The fourth day of the twelfth lunar month is coming soon, which means in about ten days we will have the ordination ceremony for some new novice monks and nuns.
As lay friends—upāsaka and upāsikā—we receive the Five Mindfulness Trainings. But for those who have left home and become monastics, we receive the Ten Mindfulness Trainings.
After about three years, a novice monk or novice nun will receive the great ordination, called full ordination. The trainings should be seen, should be understood, as means to protect us, to help us have more safety and more freedom. The trainings are not something that restrict our freedom. On the contrary, the trainings are means that protect our freedom, and help our freedom grow day by day.
In English, the word “giới” is often translated as “precept.” But many Westerners, when they hear the word “precept,” they think of commandments—rules given by a god or some authority that we are required to follow, that we must obey.
But the word “giới” in the Buddhist tradition has a different meaning. It does not mean rules that force us to follow, rules set by someone else that we must obey. Rather, a training is an aspiration, a wish to protect ourselves so that we can have more freedom, more safety. That is why the trainings are something we voluntarily receive. We are very happy, very joyful to receive these trainings, not because someone forces us to keep them.
The true nature of the precepts is mindfulness. Mindfulness is the capacity to see what is happening in the present moment. For example, when we say something critical or reproachful, we create suffering in our own heart and in the heart of the other person. Because we have mindfulness, we are able to see this clearly. When we speak words of blame or condemnation, they bring suffering to ourselves and to the other person. So mindfulness shines its light on this, and reminds us that next time, we will not speak in that way. We gently remind ourselves: from now on, I will not speak words that accuse, that judge, that blame, or that reproach the other person. When we make this promise to ourselves, that is mindfulness. So not speaking words of blame or condemnation, that is the precept. This precept arises from our own insight, from our own mindfulness, not because someone else forces us to keep it.
Thầy remembers last May, during the time in China, in Yangzhou province, staying at Gaomin Monastery, the local authorities advised the Plum Village delegation of practitioners to stay inside the temple, not to go out, not to walk alone in the streets, because they could not guarantee our safety. The monks, nuns, and Western practitioners were all encouraged to remain in the monastery, not to go out into the city. Some people did not understand why we were not allowed to go out. But our Chinese friends gave us this advice because they wanted to protect us.
Not long before that, the Chinese embassy had been bombed and shelled in Belgrade. And in China, there was a movement in the press criticizing and condemning the Western countries that belonged to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, or NATO.
There was a strong anti-Western sentiment. The Plum Village delegation arrived at a time when this feeling against Westerners was still very strong. That is why our friends in the Chinese organizing committee did not want us, the Westerners, to go out, fearing that the local people might attack us. So especially in Yangzhou province, in Yangzhou city, the organizing committee told the monks, nuns, and lay friends from the West—with blue eyes—to stay inside the monastery, not to go out.
When the retreat ended, the delegation had to visit some temples in the area, beginning with Daming Temple. Each time we went out like that, there was always a police car leading the way. After that, five buses carried 200 practitioners behind. First came the police car, then Thầy’s car. Thầy’s car was a small one, provided by the government’s religious affairs office. And Thầy had a driver assigned to drive the car.
One day, Thầy got into the car and wanted to sit in the front seat, not in the back. Thầy wanted to sit close to the driver, to create a sense of warmth and friendliness. The police car was already parked in front, ready to lead the way. As the police car was about to depart, Thầy looked for the seat belt to fasten it. The driver glanced over and asked, “Why do you need to fasten your seat belt, sir?” Thầy replied, “Why shouldn’t I fasten my seat belt?” The driver said, “We have a police escort in front. There’s no police officer who would dare stop us or give us a ticket, so why do you need to fasten your seat belt?” Thầy couldn’t help but laugh and said, “Ah, so it turns out that people fasten their seat belts only so the police won’t fine them, not for their own safety.”
I have the feeling that in China, people see wearing a seat belt as something that takes away their freedom. And in previous years, when I was teaching in Moscow, I noticed that the taxi drivers there had exactly the same attitude. They never wore their seat belts. And when they saw me putting on my seat belt, they would look down on me, thinking I was old-fashioned or fearful.
In Moscow, every day the same taxi driver would come to take Thầy to the retreat. For three or four mornings in a row, each time Thầy would gently encourage him to fasten his seat belt. He had a wife and two children. Thầy told him, “If you love your wife and your children, please make the effort to fasten your seat belt.” On the first day, he didn’t do it. On the second day, he still didn’t do it. But on the third day, his heart was moved, and he began to fasten his seat belt. Thầy believes that from that day on, every morning when he drove his taxi, he always wore his seat belt. Because Thầy was able to touch the love in his heart. When we fasten our seat belt, we are protecting ourselves, and at the same time, we are protecting our wife and our two children.
In the car accident that happened in Watsonville, the reason the driver was completely unharmed, not even needing to be taken to the hospital, was because she had fastened her seatbelt. And when we see clearly that fastening the seatbelt is an act of mindfulness, an action that arises from mindfulness, then we fasten the seatbelt with all our joy, with our wholehearted willingness, and we do not feel as though we are being forced to wear the seatbelt.
It is the same with the precepts. If we know that the precepts and the mindful manners are there to protect our freedom, to help us have more freedom, more safety, then naturally we will join our palms, we will bow down to receive the precepts and the mindful manners, rather than seeing them as something that limits our happiness and our freedom.
No one forces us to receive the precepts or to receive the mindful manners, not even the World Honored One. The World Honored One does not want to force anyone to keep the precepts. The World Honored One does not want to force anyone to take up the mindful manners. But if someone has mindfulness, if someone sees that it is precisely the precepts and the mindful manners that have the capacity to protect us and help us keep our freedom, then those people will voluntarily receive the precepts and the mindful manners, and only those people.
In the time of the Buddha, we see that the precepts and mindful manners were gradually established within the sangha. During the first year that the Buddha began teaching, there were already some monks who ordained. But when someone wanted to ordain, all they needed to do was kneel down and recite the Three Refuges: “I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, and I take refuge in the Sangha.” Immediately, they would become a fully ordained monk (bhikshu) right away, without needing to receive any specific precepts at all.
But later on, as the sangha grew larger, there began to be some disorder. That is why the sangha introduced precepts, in order to protect the community.
One day, there was a nun who was walking alone in the forest. She was almost attacked. But thanks to her intelligence and her determination, she was able to escape the danger. She returned to Mango Grove and told the World Honored One about the danger she had just experienced. The Buddha then taught: “From now on, whenever the nuns go anywhere, they should go in pairs. To go alone like that is very dangerous.” And from that day on, whenever the nuns went out, they would go two by two. Going in pairs like that was to protect each other. That is an example.
We walk in pairs because we want to have safety, not because the Buddha forces us to walk in pairs. Walking in pairs belongs to the practice of mindful manners. That is why the precepts, the precepts and mindful manners, are skillful means, practices that protect us, that keep us safe, and help us to maintain our freedom.
Why does someone choose the monastic path? They become a monk or a nun because they long for something, and that something is freedom. It is precisely because they wish for freedom that they choose to ordain. That is why the four words that express the aspiration of a person who leaves home are: “stepping into freedom” (Bước Tới Thảnh Thơi). Freedom means spaciousness, ease. We live in a world full of attachments, full of entanglements, full of things that bind us. That is why we wish to step into a world, a space, where there is openness and freedom. So we call it “stepping into freedom.” Next comes “phát túc siêu phương.” [Thầy writes on the board: 發 足.] It is very beautiful.
[Thầy writes on the board: 超 方.] Phát túc siêu phương. Phương means the direction, the horizon, a space. Siêu means to transcend, to go beyond. It means to go beyond all entanglements, to go beyond all that binds us.
[Thầy writes on the board: phát túc siêu phương.] It means stepping into the realm of freedom, stepping up to the horizon of freedom. That is called phát túc siêu phương.
Every day, as we put on our robes, we make the vow to step forward into the realm beyond. So, those who choose the monastic path do so because they wish for freedom. It is not because they want to lose their freedom that they become monks or nuns. And one of the means to protect that freedom is the precepts, the mindfulness trainings, and the mindful manners.
[Thầy writes on the board: precepts, mindful manners.] In short, we call them the precepts and the trainings.
And we must recognize, we must see the precepts and the mindful manners as something we truly want, something we deeply wish for, like a safety rope. If we have the feeling that the precepts and the mindful manners are binding us, that they take away our freedom, then we should not become monastics. Because we have not yet seen that the precepts, the trainings, arise from insight, from mindfulness. The reason there are precepts, the reason there are trainings, is because there is mindfulness, there is insight.
For example, when we keep the precept not to steal, does that mean we lose our freedom? When we practice the precept not to steal, not to rob, does it mean we are taking away our own freedom? Why is it that before, we were free to steal and rob, but now we are told we no longer have the freedom to steal and rob?
When we practice the precept not to steal, not to rob, we will never have to go to prison. Prison is the loss of freedom. So, if you want to have freedom, don’t steal, don’t rob, and you will never have to go to prison. That is true freedom.
For example, if we use drugs. When we use drugs, we lose our freedom. If we get caught in alcohol, in opium, in drugs, it means we lose our freedom, isn’t that so? Those who are not caught in opium, not caught in alcohol, not caught in drugs—those people are very free. But if we are caught in these things, our mind is not at ease. We keep thinking about them, and we have to find all kinds of ways to get money to buy those substances, those drugs, that alcohol, and we have absolutely no freedom to do anything else. So, those who are addicted, those who are caught in the circle of drugs, those who are caught in gambling—they are people who do not have freedom. Keeping the precept not to be addicted, not to use drugs, not to drink alcohol, not to gamble is to protect our freedom, not to lose it. That is why the purpose of the precepts is to protect freedom.
A practitioner is someone who deeply wishes to have freedom. And a practitioner knows that happiness is only possible when there is freedom. Without freedom, how can there be happiness? So, freedom is the most precious thing for a practitioner, whether monastic or lay.
And we must recognize, we must see the precepts and the mindful manners as something we truly want, something we deeply wish for, like a safety rope. If we have the feeling that the precepts and the mindful manners are binding us, that they take away our freedom, then we should not become monastics. Because we have not yet seen that the precepts, the trainings, arise from insight, from mindfulness. The reason there are precepts, the reason there are trainings, is because there is mindfulness, there is insight.
For example, when we keep the precept not to steal, does that mean we lose our freedom? When we practice the precept not to steal, not to rob, does it mean we are taking away our own freedom? Why is it that before, we were free to steal and rob, but now we are told we no longer have the freedom to steal and rob?
When we practice the precept not to steal, not to rob, we will never have to go to prison. Prison is the loss of freedom. So, if you want to have freedom, don’t steal, don’t rob, and you will never have to go to prison. That is true freedom.
For example, if we use drugs. When we use drugs, we lose our freedom. If we get caught in alcohol, in opium, in drugs, it means we lose our freedom, isn’t that so? Those who are not caught in opium, not caught in alcohol, not caught in drugs—those people are very free. But if we are caught in these things, our mind is not at ease. We keep thinking about them, and we have to find all kinds of ways to get money to buy those substances, those drugs, that alcohol, and we have absolutely no freedom to do anything else. So, those who are addicted, those who are caught in the circle of drugs, those who are caught in gambling—they are people who do not have freedom. Keeping the precept not to be addicted, not to use drugs, not to drink alcohol, not to gamble is to protect our freedom, not to lose it. That is why the purpose of the precepts is to protect freedom.
A practitioner is someone who deeply wishes to have freedom. And a practitioner knows that happiness is only possible when there is freedom. Without freedom, how can there be happiness? So, freedom is the most precious thing for a practitioner, whether monastic or lay.
That is why “phát túc siêu phương”—taking a step forward—is our action of walking toward the horizon of freedom. And that is why the precepts and mindful manners are very important means.
In the Catholic tradition, those who enter monastic life must follow three principles. The first is celibacy. The second is obedience. The third is poverty.
[Thầy writes on the board: (chastity obedience poverty).] In the Buddhist tradition, it is different—the spirit is different. It may look a little similar on the outside, but in terms of the essence, it is not the same. We need to distinguish these differences.
We have just spoken about precepts and mindful manners—these belong to what is called the Vinaya, the code of monastic conduct.
[Thầy writes on the board: Vinaya.] In Catholicism, obedience is absolute—obedience to the Holy See, to the bishops, to the superiors. But in Buddhism, to whom do we offer our obedience? We listen and follow our own mindfulness, our concentration, and our insight. Because mindfulness, concentration, and insight are the very substance of wisdom. It is mindfulness, concentration, and insight that give rise to the precepts and the mindful manners. We do not obey any divine being, nor do we obey any leader. We follow our own insight, and the collective insight of the sangha—the collective mindfulness. The wisdom of the community, the mindfulness of the community. Because the precepts and mindful manners are created by this collective mindfulness. They do not come from one person, even if that person is a divine being. Remember, when the Buddha first began to accept disciples, he did not have a ready-made set of precepts, saying, “If you want to join, you must follow these rules.” There were no precepts at all. But when the sangha began to grow, difficulties and suffering arose. And it was mindfulness itself that brought about the insight that certain guidelines and precepts were necessary in order to avoid suffering. That is why the precepts are the creation of mindfulness. Precepts are not the creation of a God or a spiritual leader. Do you see the difference between the two traditions?
The precepts are the collective practice of the sangha, of the community of practitioners. They are manifested through the practice of mindfulness, and their purpose is to protect the safety and freedom of the whole community as well as each individual member. This is what we call the mindfulness trainings. That is why we use the term “mindfulness training” instead of “obedience” or “obedience to rules.” We do not use the word “obedience,” but rather, we speak of mindfulness trainings.
The third element—in the Catholic tradition, it is called “poverty”—but we do not use the word “poverty.” We use the word “contentment” (tri túc).
[Thầy writes on the board: tri túc.] Tri túc means knowing what is enough. It means that we only need the minimum conditions to live and to practice. We have just enough of what is necessary to live and to practice. If we translate this into English, we can use the phrase “simple life” or “simple living.”
As for Buddhist practitioners, those who have chosen the monastic path, they never have the feeling that they are poor. They feel that they are very rich. They do not see themselves as people who are lacking. Because their happiness can be so abundant, they cannot use it all up. And the reason, the reason they have so much happiness is because they live a very simple life. Because if they, if they consumed too much, how could they have the time to practice, to truly live? So simple living is one of their three essential principles. And we see that this is not only true for monastics, but also for lay friends. Because any lay friend who knows how to live simply, that person will have more time and more opportunities to live happily. Because there are so many wonders of life—the cool breeze, the clear moon, the singing birds, the whispering pines, the blooming flowers. But if we spend all our days and nights chasing after money, trying to buy more and more, how can we have time to touch these miracles of life? So this is not only something that monastics need to practice, but also something that lay friends need to practice, if they want to live with greater happiness. And simple living is the way out for the world today. The reason people destroy their bodies and minds, the reason people destroy the conditions of the environment and cause the extinction of animals, plants, insects, and even the earth and stones, is because they do not follow the path of simple living. And so, what we call “tri túc”—knowing what is enough, simple living—is the way out, not only for monastics but for the whole world of lay friends as well. And we do not call this poverty. We call it “tri túc” knowing how to live simply, knowing what is enough.
[Thầy writes on the board: brahmacaryā.] This means not establishing a family, not having a wife, not having children, not having a husband, so that all of your time and energy can be devoted to the path of awakening, to healing, and to helping others.
[Thầy writes on the board: tịnh hạnh.] And when a monastic breaks the third precept, it is called “phạm giới bất tịnh hạnh” — breaking the precept of unchaste conduct. Unchaste conduct.
The pure life, or the life of celibacy, is a very important condition for someone who has left home to follow the monastic path. Because if a monastic has a family to care for, it is not possible to have enough time, enough energy, or enough opportunities to fulfill their aspiration — to liberate themselves and to help others.
Let us imagine Siddhartha in the palace, having to take care of his family, having to manage the affairs of the kingdom. If Siddhartha had done so, he would not have been able to realize his great work of awakening and become the teacher of the three realms. That is why the essential condition for Siddhartha was to leave home. Even though his father, the king, did not allow him to become a monk, Siddhartha still left home to follow the monastic path.
And not only in form — being a monastic outwardly — but also in our mind, we must truly be a monastic. That means our mind does not dwell on those things. If our mind is preoccupied with those matters, then our mind does not have enough freedom to go deeply into the path of practice, contemplation, and transformation.
So, pure conduct does not simply mean the outer form of someone who does not get married. Pure conduct means that our mind is always directed toward the practice of liberation, awakening, and helping others. We do not have the time, nor the energy, to think about things like romantic relationships, sexual desire, or love affairs. Because we have already devoted our whole life to that direction. So, both our time and our heart must be wholly invested in the path of our ideal, and we must close that other door completely and forever. And when we are able to close that door completely and forever, naturally our energy and our direction become one-pointed, moving forward. But if that door is still half-open, half-closed, then we cannot truly go anywhere. Half-open, half-closed does not work. So pure conduct is like that. Therefore, in terms of outer appearance, it is already pure conduct, but in terms of the content of our mind, it must also be like that. That means the other door must be firmly and completely closed.
And when that other door is firmly closed, suddenly the energy rises up very strongly. I remember the day when Sister Chân Đức was ordained. She became at least ten times more beautiful. She said that before, she was still hesitating—whether to marry or not to marry—and because of that, she lost a lot of energy. But when she decided to ordain, when that door closed, suddenly her whole being became radiant, her beauty blossomed in a very wonderful way. Because she had so much energy, so much aspiration. That is why the other door must be completely closed so that we can have single-mindedness to move forward. This is what we call pure conduct (tịnh hạnh) and noble conduct (phạm hạnh). It is not just chastity.
This winter, we will have the opportunity to study the Ten Novice Precepts for both novice monks and novice nuns. And as we learn about the Ten Precepts for novices, we will see very clearly the three foundational principles: that is, pure conduct, the precepts, and knowing what is enough. The Ten Novice Precepts are very beautiful.
In the original Vietnamese text, there are details that we have not yet been able to fully express in English. That is why, during this winter retreat, we will try our best to supplement and enrich our English and French translations. Because the Ten Precepts in Vietnamese are truly wonderful, truly wonderful. Our younger brothers and sisters, those who will receive the precepts on the fourth day of the twelfth lunar month, should begin to receive guidance on the Ten Precepts and on the mindful manners.
And our practice, our practice of mindfulness, mindfulness training, will help us to refine the form of the Ten Precepts and to complete the many mindful manners. Our mindfulness and our awareness are the elements we use to make the form of the precepts and the mindful manners more and more beautiful, more and more harmonious.
Because these are the skillful means that bring us happiness, that protect our safety as individuals and as a community. And most importantly, they protect our freedom. The most precious thing for a practitioner is freedom.
We will have about twenty minutes to enjoy walking before returning to listen to the Dharma talk in English.
