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Overview
This profound poetry collection, written by a disciple of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, charts a journey from turmoil to tranquility. In this deeply personal work, Sister Dang Nghiem, known for her insightful and compassionate teachings, unveils a journey of transformation and healing that bridges two pivotal phases of her life: the years prior to her monastic ordination and the profound insights gained thereafter. This unique compilation, divided into two distinct parts, illustrates Sister Dang Nghiem's evolution not just as a poet but as a spiritual practitioner.
- The first half, spanning 1989-1999, offers a glimpse into her pre-monastic life, filled with yearnings for reconciliation and liberation yet entangled in suffering and attachments.
- The latter half, encompassing her writings from 2000 to 2023, reflects a stark transformation, imbued with the wisdom and tranquility of her Zen practice.
Not just a display of poetic prowess, but also a testament to Sister Dang Nghiem's resilience and spiritual growth, these poems resonate with honesty and vulnerability, providing readers with a candid testament to the life-altering power of healing through mindfulness and deep community. The River in Me offers a path toward inner peace and wholeness for those navigating the complexities of life and is an essential read for anyone seeking solace and understanding.
Includes 17 black and white photographs prior to and after monastic ordination.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781952692864 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Parallax Press |
| Publication date: | 08/20/2024 |
| Sold by: | Penguin Random House Publisher Services |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 208 |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Foreword by James R. Doty, MD
Welcome to the profound world of Sister Dang Nghiem, where every poem is a step toward healing, understanding, and unconditional love.
In this deeply moving collection of poetry, Sister Dang Nghiem offers us a window into a soul that has traversed darkness and emerged with a message of light. Her journey, marked by leaving war-torn Vietnam as a refugee speaking little English, the profound scars of childhood trauma, the healing embrace of medicine, and f inally, the serene path of Buddhism, is nothing short of remarkable. Each poem is a testament to her resilience—a delicate weave of pain, hope, compassion, and transcendence.
As you turn these pages, you will encounter the raw honesty of Sister Dang Nghiem’s early struggles as she unfolds the vivid memories of a young girl grappling with experiences no child should ever face. Yet it is not despair that defines these verses, but the incredible strength of the human spirit. Sister Dang Nghiem's journey through the medical profession and the loss of a partner is an endeavor to heal others even as she seeks healing for herself, underscored by her profound empathy and commitment to service.
The transition from physician to Buddhist nun is a poignant narrative of self-discovery and spiritual awakening. In her poetry, Sister Dang Nghiem invites us to experience not only the world of her childhood but also her world of contemplation. Her verses resonate with the peace and clarity she has found, offering solace and guidance to others on their own journeys.
This collection is more than just poetry; it is a beacon of hope and a source of comfort. It reminds us of the resilience of the human heart and the transformative power of forgiveness and compassion.
The River in Me is not merely to be read; it is to be experienced, cherished, and shared. As you immerse yourself in her words, may you find your own inner strength and peace. May her journey inspire you to navigate your own challenges with grace and to seek the healing and enlightenment that lies within us all.
James R. Doty, MD, is the founder and director of the Stanford Center for Compassion and Altruism Research and Education (CCARE) at Stanford University School of Medicine, senior editor of The Oxford Handbook of Compassion Science, and New York Times bestselling author of Mind Magic: The Neuroscience of Manifestation and How It Changes Everything
Preface
As a child in Vietnam, I often sang made-up songs to comfort myself and to express the suffering and sadness I was experiencing. Much later, after I came to the United States as a teenager, I found myself drawn to English literature and writing courses. Writing poetry offered me another pathway, a different modality to reflect upon my life and make sense of the circumstances that had driven me to make up songs in my head all those years ago. Though creating poems was cathartic and liberating in many ways, when I became a Buddhist nun in my early thirties, my life and my writing style completely changed. This volume contains two distinct collections of poems: those written in the period from 1989–1999, before my monastic ordination, and those written afterward, from 2000 until the present. Looking back at the poems I wrote before I was ordained, I see deep aspirations for reconciliation, peace, and freedom in the midst of the drama and trauma of my life’s events. I see valuable insights into my circumstances. I also recognize, however, that the way out of suffering was not yet clear to me. My thinking was still caught in romantic notions, attachment, and sorrow. Perhaps my writing before was beautiful, but it went in circles.
You can be a great writer, but this in itself won’t save your life. It is the practice of mindfulness that has helped me save my life; this practice is the reason I choose to publish this collection of poetry now, more than three decades after first beginning to write. In the Zen tradition in general, and in the Plum Village tradition founded by my teacher, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, specifically, we write poems called “insight gathas,” verses that convey our deepest aspirations and point the way toward happiness. As a nun, I have the opportunity to confront the pain and misery of my past, and the Plum Village mindfulness practices of stopping and deep looking have helped me transform, heal, and release much of my suffering. As I began to see a way out of my internal prison, the insights arising from practicing mindfulness made their way into my poems, changing the quality and purpose of my writing. Instead of simply writing about suffering as I had previously, my words began to share a way out of suffering. Although stylistic changes came with my expanding and shifting vocabulary as I devoted myself to a life of practice in the monastic community, it is the shift toward transformation and freedom that I think make these poems worth sharing. The healing that is evident in the second half of this collection is a healing that is available to you, too.
These two poetry collections, presented here as one, feel like the before and after stages of a commitment to heal. This juxtaposition, I f ind, illuminates the metamorphosis of my writing style, attitude, and insights. Writing poetry or indeed any art or reflective practice can be a powerful mindfulness practice, illuminating both the mud and lotuses of life, and it is in this spirit that I am inspired to write today. T here are, of course, many writers and people who are much more capable than I am of eloquently expressing themselves, but I hope to offer something helpful nonetheless: insights expressed in simple, honest ways, based on direct experience, that may allow us to see a way out of our suffering.
May these verses support your healing.
SISTER DANG NGHIEM
Deer Park Monastery
Spring, 2024
PART 1. HERE LIE MY SHADOWS Poems before Monastic Ordination (1989–1999)
GRANDMA
Once I asked if you loved me.
You laughed and questioned who would love
My dog-born face.
Then you turned away to cough,
And I awkwardly reached for your back. '
Once I kissed your cheeks and tasted
Grooves of your skin between my lips.
You hit my teenage pimple with your quivering fist.
I laughed and dabbed my tears.
And the day I left you for America,
You placed my hands in your spread-out palm.
You spit chewed betel juice and circled it slowly on my hands,
Saying: “This is to help you not to miss Grandma too much.”
You refused to go to the airport.
I was sixteen and a half when I left Viet Nam with a five-dollar bill
And a few English greeting phrases.
From America, I wanted to send you newspapers and Smitty’s plastic bags,
So you could sell them by the gram;
People threw them away here.
I wanted to send you a waterbed, so you could float gently to your sleep;
Your seventy-five-year-old body would not have to strike
Against the wooden plank bed anymore.
I worked the midnight shift at a post office to send you dollars,
Bars of soap,
White laces,
Bottles of green oil.
I did not send you medicine, But prayers.
Every night, I prayed for you,
While I listened to the echo of your constant coughing,
Of the hard thumps against your aching body.
The day I heard you died, I looked at my face,
Half belonged to my mother,
Half to an unknown man,
And I cried with a fist, yours,
In my mouth.
FATHER
Are you the bald man
in that black-and-white photograph
Mother barred from me with her fingers?
And the 5×7 frame
and the black bordered pair of glasses
shoved me further into
a cell with no eye.
Are you the silent one
waiting for me outside the school wall
to raise me high to windless noon
to walk me halfway home with your tears?
Those dark drops I licked
and the saltiness on my tongue I preserved
until you told me ten years later
I was not your daughter.
You are without a daughter, and
I spit out the salt on my tongue.
I walk away from the history I made up,
from the land that was never mine.
[…]
PART 2. FEATHER ON A MIDDAY Poems after Monastic Ordination (2000–present)
WHAT DOES A NUN DO ALL DAY?
All day long,
I have only myself to be with,
Coming back to be aware of
Each step I take,
Each breath I inhale,
Each thought passing by.
All day long,
I have only myself to look at,
When the wall of anger rises,
When hurt fills my chest,
When tears are shedding, I tell myself, it’s okay, it’s okay. I am here.
All day long, I have only my “Self ” to let go.
[…]
HAPPINESS
Early spring evening,
High in the sky, a half-full moon.
I tilt my head to the moon,
Feeling the warm sunrays, the cool breeze,
Listening to cuckoo birds calling.
No happiness equals this.
DRINK YOUR TEA
Drink your tea
Drink the cloud
Drink the rain
Drink the melodious river
Drink your tea
Drink time
Drink the great Earth
Drink birth and death
Live authentically
Live beautifully
Live wholesomely
Tomorrow you will leave
Where will you be going?
Going to make clouds
To make rain
To high mountains
To the vast sea
Drink your tea!
[…]
MY ROBE
In my dream
An important event is
About to take place,
Perhaps my own wedding.
I have to choose what to wear.
One gown after another,
Beautiful, exotic,
Yet none feel befitting.
Such uncertainty!
Such dissatisfaction!
Then finally,
Standing at the center,
Surrounded by spectators
All alone
Cloaked in my brown monastic robe,
I feel most at ease. Free!
TO BE FREE
Treasure
What didn’t happen.
Release
What happened.
Be
Light.
[…]
AGING
The more
White hair
I have
The more often
I shave my head
Vain, I still am!
[…]
FEATHER ON A MIDDAY
If I had not stopped to watch
A feather coasting by,
I would not have seen its landing—
A tiny, pure white, fine feather.
Gently, I blew a soft breath to send it
Back to the spring.
If I had not looked up to watch
The feather gliding over the roof,
I would not have seen
The crescent moon hanging
At midday.