"I realised that to lose your mother is to lose the whole
universe." -Thich Nhat Hanh, A Rose for Your Pocket(An Appreciation
of Motherhood)
( Retrieved
http://www.amazon.com/Rose-Your-Pocket-Appreciation-Motherhood/dp/1442996021)
"All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the
time." -Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven
( Retrieved
http://www.amazon.com/The-Five-People-Meet-Heaven/dp/1401308589)
As shown in the following excerpt and above link, loss may be the
next best thing to happen to you, if conscious of loss you are
striving beyond the loss, just as celebrated monk Thich Nhat Hanh's
thrived and rose beyond loss of his mother, and first spiritual
teacher, and just as author Mitch Albom thrived and rose beyond
loss of someone beloved.
So very common is losing someone or something, yet it is only at
the loss of someone or something that evokes appreciative
gratefulness, how can one not appreciate others around, for without
the said someone or something, living is definitely less
meaningful?
Of course, consciousness of how one relate with others is
important, for only when you are conscious of your action and the
fruit that bears from the act, do you act more mindfully, living
meaningfully!
A Rose for Your Pocket (An Appreciation of Motherhood)
Thich Nhat Hanh
The thought "mother" cannot be separated from that of "love". Love
is sweet, tender, and delicious. Without love, a child cannot
flower, an adult cannot mature. Without love, we weaken,
wither.
The day my mother died, I made this entry in my journal: "the
greatest misfortune of my life has come !". Even an old person,
when he loses his mother, doesn't feel ready. He too has the
impression that he is not yet ripe, that he is suddenly alone. He
feels as abandoned and unhappy as a young orphan.
All songs and poems praising motherhood are beautiful, effortlessly
beautiful. Even songwriters and poets without much talent seem to
pour their hearts into these works, and when they are recited or
sung, the performers also seem deeply moved, unless they have lost
their mothers too early even to know what love for mother is.
Writings extolling the virtues of motherhood have existed since the
beginning of time throughout the world.
When I was a child I heard a simple poem about losing your mother,
and it is still very important for me. If your mother is still
alive, you may feel tenderness for her each time you read this,
fearing this distant yet inevitable event.
That year, although I
was still very young
my mother left me,
and I realised that I
was an orphan,
everyone around me was
crying,
I suffered in
silence...
Allowing the tears to
flows,
I felt my pain
soften.
Evening enveloped
Mother's tomb,
the pagoda bell rang
sweetly.
I realised that to lose
your mother
is to lose the whole
universe.
We swim in a world of tender love for many years, and, without even
knowing it, we are quite happy there. Only after it is too late do
we become aware of it.
People in the countryside do not understand the complicated
language of city people. When people from the city say that mother
is "a treasure of love", that is already too complex for them.
Country people in Vietnam compare their mothers to the finest
varieties of bananas or to honey, sweet rice, or sugar cane. They
express their love in these simple and direct ways. For me, a
mother is like a "ba hu+o+ng" banana of the highest quality, like
the best "ne^'p mo^.t" sweet rice, the most delicious "mi'a lau"
sugar cane!
There are moments after a fever when you have a bitter, flat taste
in your mouth, and nothing tastes good. Only when your mother comes
and tucks you in, gently pulls the covers over your chin, puts her
hand on your burning forehead (Is it really a hand, or is it the
silk of heaven?), and gently whispers, "My poor darling!" do you
feel restored, surrounded with the sweetness of maternal love. Her
love is so fragrant, like a banana, like sweet rice, like sugar
cane.
Father's work is enormous, as huge as a mountain. Mother's devotion
is overflowing, like water from a mountain spring . Maternal love
is our first taste of love, the origin of all feelings of love. Our
mother is the teacher who first teaches us love, the most important
subject in life. Without my mother I could never have known how to
love. Thanks to her I can love my neighbours. Thanks to her I can
love all living beings. Through her I acquired my first notions of
understanding and compassion.
Mother is the foundation of all love, and many religious traditions
recognise this and pay deep honour to a maternal figure, the Virgin
Mary, the goddess Kwan Yin. Hardly an infant has opened her mouth
to cry without her mother already running to the cradle. Mother is
a gentle and sweet spirit who makes unhappiness and worries
disappear. When the word "mother" is uttered, already we feel our
hearts overflowing with love. From love, the distance to belief and
action is very short.
In the West, we celebrate Mother's Day in May. I am from the
countryside of Vietnam, and I had never heard of this tradition.
One day, I was visiting the Ginza district of Tokyo with the monk
Thien An, and we were met outside a bookstore by several Japanese
students who were friends of his. One discretely asked him a
question, and then took a white carnation from her bag and pinned
it on my robe. I was surprised and a little embarrassed. I had no
idea what this gesture meant, and I didn't dare ask. I tried to act
natural, thinking this must be some local custom.
When they were finished talking (I don't speak Japanese), Thien An
and I went into the bookstore, and he told me that today was what
is called Mother's Day. In Japan, if your mother is still alive,
you wear a red flower on your pocket or your lapel, proud that you
still have your mother. If she is no longer alive, you wear a white
flower. I looked at the white flower on my robe and suddenly I felt
so unhappy.
I was as much an orphan as any other unhappy orphan; we could no
longer proudly wear red flowers in our buttonholes. Those who wear
white flowers suffer, and their thoughts cannot avoid returning to
their mothers. They cannot forget that she is no longer there.
Those who wear red flowers are so happy, knowing their mothers are
still alive. They can try to please her before she is gone and it
is too late. I find this a beautiful custom. I propose that we do
the same thing in Vietnam, and in the West as well.
Mother is a boundless source of love, an inexhaustible treasure.
But unfortunately, we sometimes forget. A mother is the most
beautiful gift life offers us. Those of you who still have your
mother near, please don't wait for her death to say, "My God, I
have lived beside my mother all these years without ever looking
closely at her."
Just brief glances, a few words exchanged-asking for a little
pocket money or one thing or another. You cuddle up to her to get
warm, you sulk, you get angry with her. You only complicate her
life, causing her to worry, undermining her health, making her go
to sleep late and get up early. Many mothers die young because of
their children. Throughout her life we expect her to cook, wash,
and clean up after us, while we think only about our grades and our
careers. Our mothers no longer have time to look deeply at us, and
we are too busy to look closely at her. Only when she is no longer
there do we realise that we have never been conscious of having a
mother.
This evening, when you return from school or work or, if you live
far away, the next time you visit your mother, you may wish to go
into her room and, with a calm and silent smile, sit down beside
her. Without saying anything, make her stop working. Then, look at
her for a long time, look at her deeply. Do this in order to see
her, to realise that she is there, she is alive, beside you. Take
her hand and ask her one short question to capture her attention,
"Mother, do you know something?" She will be a little surprised and
will probably smile when she asks you, "What, dear?" Keep looking
into her eyes, smiling serenely, and say, "Do you know that I love
you?" Ask this question without waiting for an answer. Even if you
are thirty or forty years old, or older, ask her as the child of
your mother. Your mother and you will be happy, conscious of living
in eternal love. Then tomorrow, when she leaves you, you will have
no regrets.
In Vietnam, on the holiday of Ullambana, we listen to stories and
legends about the bodhisattva Maudgalyayana, and about filial love,
the work of the father, the devotion of the mother, and the duty of
the child. Everyone prays for the longevity of his or her parents,
or if they are dead, for their rebirth in the heavenly Pure Land.
We believe that a child without filial devotion is just artificial.
But filial devotion also arises from love itself. Without love,
filial devotion is just artificial. When love is present, that is
enough, and there is no need to talk of obligation. To love your
mother is enough. It is not a duty, it is completely natural, like
drinking when you are thirsty. Every child must have a mother and
it is totally natural to love her. The mother loves her child, and
the child loves his mother. The child needs his mother, and the
mother needs her child. If the mother doesn't need her child, nor
the child his mother, then this is not a mother, and this is not a
child. It is a misuse of the words "mother" and "child".
When I was young, one of my teachers asked me, "What do you have to
do when you love your mother?" I told him, "I must obey her, help
her, take care of her when she is old, and pray for her, keeping
the ancestral altar when she has disappeared forever behind the
mountain." Now I know that the word "What" in his question was
superfluous. If you love your mother, you don't have to do
anything. You love her; that is enough. To love your mother is not
a question of morality or virtue.
Please do not think I have written this to give a lesson in
morality. Loving your mother is a question of profit. A mother is
like a spring of pure water, like the very finest sugar cane or
honey, the best quality sweet rice. If you do not know how to
profit from this, it is unfortunate for you. I simply want to bring
this to your attention, to help you avoid one day complaining that
there is nothing left in life for you. If a gift such as the
presence of your own mother doesn't satisfy you, even if you are
president of a large corporation or king of the universe, you
probably will not be satisfied. I know that the Creator is not
happy, for the Creator arises spontaneously and does not have the
good fortune to have a mother.
I would like to tell a story. Please don't think that I am
thoughtless. It could have been that my sister didn't marry, and I
didn't become a monk. In any case, we both left our mother -- one
to lead a new life beside the man she loved, and the other to
follow an ideal of life that he adored. The night my sister
married, my mother worried about a thousand and one things, and
didn't even seem sad. But when we sat down at the table for some
light refreshments, while waiting for our in-laws to come for my
sister, I saw that my mother hadn't eaten a bite. She said, "For
eighteen years she has eaten with us and today is her last meal
here before going to another family's home to take her meals." My
sister cried, her head bowing barely above her plate, and she said,
"Mama, I won't get married." But she married nonetheless. As for
me, I left my mother to become a monk. To congratulate those who
are firmly resolved to leave their families to become monks, one
says that they are following the way of understanding, but I am not
proud of it. I love my mother, but I also have an ideal, and to
serve it I had to leave her -- so much the worse for me.
In life, it is often necessary to make difficult choices. We cannot
catch two fish at the same time: one in each hand. It is difficult,
because if we accept growing up, we must accept suffering. I don't
regret leaving my mother to become a monk, but I am sorry I had to
make such a choice. I didn't have the chance to profit fully from
this precious treasure. Each night I pray for my mother, but it is
no longer possible for me to savour the excellent "ba hu+o+ng"
banana, the best quality "ne^'p mo^.t" sweet rice, and the
delicious "mi'a lau" sugar cane. Please don't think that I am
suggesting that you not follow your career and remain home at your
mother's side. I have already said I do not want to give advice or
lessons in continuing to look into her eyes with a serene smile,
tell her, "Do you know that I love you?" Ask her this question
without waiting for an answer. Even if you are thirty, forty years
old, or older, ask her simply, because you are the child of your
mother. Your mother and you will both be happy, conscious of living
in eternal love. And tomorrow when she leaves you, you will not
have any regrets.
This is the refrain I give you to sing today. Brothers and sisters,
please chant it, please sing it, so that you won't live in
indifference or forgetfulness. This red rose, I have already placed
it on your lapel. Please be happy.
( Retrieved
http://www.buddhismtoday.com/english/others/007-tnh-rose%20for%20you.htm)