Monday, September 7, we will meet in person.
Go to calendar for our schedule
Address for OHMC meditation space:
3812 Northampton St. NW, Washington DC 20015
Please arrive a few minutes early so we can invite the bell on time. You may also arrive 15 minutes early to practice working meditation by helping us set up cushions.
New to sangha?
This Monday we are offering an optional Newcomers Orientation.
Learn more and sign up here
Dear friends,
This week, we will meet Monday evening, September 7, from 7-8:30PM ET in person at our meditation space (3812 Northampton Street NW); Wednesday morning, September 9, from 7-8AM ET online; and Friday, September 11, 12-1PM ET online/in person (Hybrid).
On Monday, our evening meditation will be facilitated by Magda.
“How can we live so that the seeds of happiness in us are watered every day?” (The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, p. 178)
“Joy comes from touching things that are refreshing and beautiful, within and outside of ourselves. Usually we touch only what’s wrong. If we can expand our vision and also see what is right, this wider picture always brings joy.” (The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, p. 203)
We met by pure chance on the second day of what felt like the beginning of a new stage in my path.
I had become preoccupied with what was missing—my disappointments, mistaken perceptions, and my resistance to accepting what life was offering. Once again, I found myself living reactively. In meditation, I continued embracing my suffering as one would hold a crying child with tenderness, but I had forgotten something equally important: to nourish the joy, gratitude, and love that were already present.
I was stuck.
The more attention I gave my painful thoughts, the stronger they became. I was watering the seeds of fear, disappointment, and resentment until they grew into mental formations that obstructed the natural flow of my energy. As these patterns deepened, so did my ego. I became the victim in my own story, and my suffering expanded in proportion to my reactions. My aspiration to heal, to love, and to serve others began quietly fading.
I was becoming a shell—closing myself off, no longer allowing love to flow outward. Instead, I trapped it inside until it hardened into bitterness.
The day before I met this person, I woke with a quiet determination to loosen my attachment to the past.
I was reminded of Thich Nhat Hanh's teaching on Right Diligence, which he described not as striving or forcing, but as the joyful, sustainable energy that nourishes mindfulness. Practice is not sustained by willpower alone; it is sustained by wisdom, gentleness, and joy.
I remembered that Right Diligence begins with becoming aware of what we choose to water within ourselves. We refrain from feeding unwholesome seeds before they manifest. When suffering does arise, we meet it with mindfulness and compassion, allowing it to settle naturally rather than suppressing it. At the same time, we water the seeds of joy, compassion, gratitude, and peace; we continue to nourish them until they become our natural way of being.
At the European Institute of Applied Buddhism, which I recently visited, Brother Pháp An described this practice as selective gardening. Like a mindful gardener, we cannot control every seed that lies dormant in the soil of our consciousness, but we can choose which ones receive our attention, care, and nourishment. Whatever we water is what grows.
I realized I had remembered only half of the practice. I had been faithfully embracing my suffering, but I had forgotten to cultivate my happiness. My attention had become one sided, and whatever receives our attention grows.
That realization created a small opening. It was enough to soften the shell that had begun forming around my heart. And in that opening, life introduced me to someone I could never have planned to meet.
Birthdays
As always, my day began with a walk before sunrise between Crystal House and the Lower Hamlet, where I would join a guided meditation. The path took me through a very dark area surrounded by woods. For a while, I used the flashlight on my phone to illuminate the trail.
Then, as I emerged from the darkness, I was greeted by the sight of the nearly full moon.
She seemed to be looking directly at me, as though presaging what was to come. I felt hope being born again within me, as if I were being baptized by her shower of light. Her radiance shone upon the joyful seeds that had lain dormant. I felt immense gratitude for the moon.
Why was I turning bitter? Why had I forgotten gratitude, one of the most essential mental formations?
As if the cosmos had recognized my renewed openness, Sister Peach Blossom led us through a guided meditation that invited us to find our joy and water it. It also invited us to find our suffering and embrace it.
From that meditation onward, I spent the day consciously replacing every dark thought with a grateful one.
As often happens when I take a step forward on the path, I met a young ray of sunshine the very next morning.
Because it was Relaxation Day, several women and I visited the small market in Loubès-Bernac. The first things I noticed about this stranger were her loving almond-shaped eyes and her open smile—the smile of someone whose energy flows freely through generosity and loving-kindness.
Immediately, I recognized something familiar.
This was how I used to be.
She felt almost like a younger version of myself.
She mentioned that it was her birthday, so I invited her for a latte. We sat together for quite a while, joined by several other women. As we talked, I saw in her a reflection of qualities I once embodied so naturally: trust, openness, enthusiasm, and an unwavering desire to help heal the world.
Perhaps she was less disappointed by life than I had become. Perhaps she was less burned out, less burdened by responsibilities, less consumed by the demands of caring for children. Whatever the reason, I could see my younger self reflected in her.
When we returned to the Lower Hamlet, it had begun to rain. We stood side by side under my tiny umbrella, talking for a long time.
I asked what had brought her to the practice.
She told me she had first encountered Thầy's teachings through The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching.
I was astonished.
That had been my introduction to Thầy as well, nearly fourteen years ago. By the third page, I knew I had found my path for the rest of my life.
We remained there, absorbed in conversation, almost oblivious to the rain soaking her clothes, until I finally suggested that perhaps we should find shelter under a roof.
She spoke about dedicating herself to healing others, especially women. I shared my vision of creating a healing house for women.
Then she described a web of light.
Immediately, I thought of the infinite reflections within Indra's Net in the Avatamsaka realm and of an illustration I had drawn. In her vision, points of light connected human beings, each person's light touching another's, forming a vast network of interconnected radiance.
In my new illustration, we are holding that web of light between us. She appears there as a younger version of myself—almost like my own daughter, or the self I once was. The Black Buddha and Thầy are our witnesses. The Poplar Cathedral, the Bell Tower, and the spring flowers are our witnesses.
Through this web of interbeing, she helped me recover something precious—my innocence. It felt as though, through a karmic design woven by the cosmos itself, I regained my aspiration to serve.
At the same time, I remembered something important. I must continue using my practice to renew myself first. Only then can I fully engage with the world again. Only after rediscovering my own light—which is sometimes rekindled through connection with luminous beings—can I offer that light to others.
Together, we witnessed the rekindling of a flame I feared I had lost.
When we parted, she thanked me for buying her a coffee on her birthday.
I thanked her for helping me feel as though it was my birthday as well. In a way, I felt I had been born again.
On Monday, we have the opportunity to share how we practice "selective gardening" by watering the seeds of joy in our daily life.