Thursday, December 23, 2010

An Assignment - Needs Some Viet Vocab

Master Kim has asked me to write about how I came to embrace Buddhism. This is an article that he will translate into Viet and publish in Viet and English for Tet. 

I knew that I was a Buddhist when I was a small child and understood reincarnation and karma, though no one ever taught me these things. I came to take Refuge in the Three Jewels because of pain and suffering, but there is also another truth: a very compassionate and powerful Buddha has held my life in her hands for many years, and sees to it that I deliver this message about courage, compassion and wisdom. 

It is to her that I dedicate my life and my work. In the tradition of Co Lam, this Buddha is Quan The Am. In China she is called Kwan Yin. In Tibet and in my heart, her name is Tara.



For white people in America, deeply encountering Buddhism is a rare and precious gift indeed, for unlike Vietnam and other Asian countries, Buddhism is not a part of our daily lives; we have no altars in our homes, there is no incense or food offerings or chanting.

I grew up in America in a middle class white family that held no spiritual or religious views. I would say it was a sad and frightened family. One of my parents suffered enormously from alcoholism and shame, and died before I became an adult. The other parent struggled for a lifetime with mental illness and insecurity. In this family there was little peace and safety.
In my childhood home there were many situations unsafe for children. We were left alone to care for ourselves when we were far too young to do so. In Vietnamese culture families stay together and grandparents help to care for young children. This is not how it is done in the United States; people move away from their parents and then pay strangers to raise their children. Or, if there is not money to pay others, the children are left to care for themselves.


Safety and Refuge are the reasons I came to the Buddhism.   Quan The Am has deeply touched my heart and my life so that I may now take care of myself and help others as well. Quan The Am has given me the love and protection that I needed. I needed to learn how to have compassion for my family and at the same time keep myself safe and able to lead a productive life.  

When children are not cared for properly for many days, months and years at a time, their brains will not develop properly and they become fearful. Of course children handle their fear in different ways - some become angry and harm others, some become fearful and harm themselves or withdraw. Buddhism can help us overcome these forms of suffering.
Later, as an adult, I learned that in Buddhism we call these reactions obscurations or impediments and we can work to change our thoughts and behaviors to eliminate these attachments and character defects.
During this time of my childhood the United States was at war trying to come to the aid of the people of Viet Nam. When I was a child, my parents wanted to help their children but they could not. At this same time, the US Government wanted to help Viet Nam but, in the end, could not. Though the US wanted to help, much pain was delivered to the US soldiers who went to Viet Nam and to their families who loved them. Even more pain was experienced by the people of Viet Nam, but I have no experience to tell you, the people of Co Lam, this. I can only try to share my compassion. I can only tell you this: there was a small girl in Colorado who watched and wondered and feared. Small American children knew that you suffered, and powerless over their own suffering, shared compassionately the injustice and desire for peace.




In order to become a Buddhist I knew that I needed to learn more. So first I read. I read books by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh. Then I started attending services at the Sakya Monastery in the Greenwood neighborhood. When I took refuge I was learning in the Tibetan tradition, which is very popular among white people.




Because of my work with young children and my desire to understand more about the experience of refugees I became very interested in the Vietnamese language and culture. Co Lam Pagoda is one place I learn more about Viet Nam and Vietnamese Buddhism.

I also gather with other women to practice the Dance of the 21 Taras, in which we praise the aspects of Tara/Quan The Am in order to bring blessings and release from suffering to all who witness the performance. This Dance is performed annually at Sayka Monastery and all people from Co Lam are invited to attend. People who wish to learn more are welcome to meet with us and give homage to Quan The Am in this manner.






I had the very good fortune and karma to meet a dear Vietnamese friend with whom I work to support families and children in White Center. This is a precious friendship which has taught me much about Buddhism and unconditional love. Master Kim has become my teacher and my friend, and helps me to understand Pure Land Buddhism.

I do not speak or read Vietnamese, unfortunately, so it is a very slow process for me to learn the Dharma at Co Lam or Van Hoa. I study Buddhism in English, but I strive to attend Quan The Am chanting as often as I can.

The people at Co Lam have been very helpful and kind to me. I would love to see more white people come to Co Lam and learn about the beautiful culture and kindness of the Viet people here. I thank you for your warm welcome.

May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.




Friday, December 3, 2010

Happy Birthday. I forgot.

Chúc mừng sinh nhật. Tôi quên.




My sponsor K reminded me that its my clean and sober birthday. How do you forget something like that? 


Hành trình bởi máy bay
I think the reason I forgot about December 3 is because I'm going to another city for a quick overnight trip next weekend to get my birthday coin with my sister and my aunt. It's a big deal cause it's Em's ONE YEAR of clean and sober. And we all know that's a challenging year.


So, some vocabulary comes of it:


một năm                   one year

bảy năm                   seven years

ba mười ba năm       thirty three years

Em                           younger sister

Cô                            aunt

đồng xu                    coin



Lòng biết ơn
Because, after all, if I hadn't given up the opiates and the alcohol there's no way I'd give a shit about learning Viet. So, for that, I am grateful.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Here. Today. Humble.

Bạn không khiêu vũ 
Learning Vietnamese has been one of the most humbling experiences in my life. And I mean humbling, not humiliating. I've been humiliated a time or two, but in general tasks, hobbies, educational efforts and athletic pursuits have come easily to me. Outside of getting my ass kicked by semiprofessional modern dancers in the 80s when I moved to Seattle to dance, I can't think of any other huge challenge like this. The difference is that I quit dancing post haste and took up soccer. And I was successful in the soccer pursuit. I haven't given up yet on the Vietnamese. Yet.


When I write "chủng tộc của tôi trái tim," I want this to say "I've been having heart palpitations." Seems straightforward enough but I won't be too surprised if it says "My heart is in a drag race on 8th avenue with all the other hearts."


This is humbling for me. Because I know that if I'm wrong, it will elicit amused chuckles or outright guffaws from my audience. Some days I'm OK with that; lately, not so much.


Tôi đang thử 
The reason I stick with it is the whole point of this blog: the learning of Viet is a metaphor that helps me to understand myself and my life as I age. What was I doing all those years? And more importantly, what do I want to be doing in the years ahead? For some reason, drilling the alcoholism and PTSD down to these really complicated and subtle pronouns and verbs has been profound for me. 


Tôi buồn
Been having plenty of problems lately with despair and anxiety. It's like my regular adjustment disorder and dysthymia ate Jack's magic beans and now they are filling up every bit of free space in my cells. And it's gotten so bad that I can't meditate because I can't get my emotions aside enough to get near the emptiness. For months now.


Finally my heart went whacky on me as a result, so I went to the doctor and she amped up my meds, which I'm not loving, but I'm willing to give it a try for a month. (She did give me one prn med that is absolutely useless and I won't take it again. Yeah, it relieves anxiety. It also relieve consciousness.Tôi đang ngủ.)


Specifically, I struggle so with Vietnamese because it comes so SLOWLY and I'm used to picking things up quickly. It takes me forever to learn all the vowels and to type and to look up the words and forever and ever and ever to translate the assignments that Master Kim gives me.


So the meds may or may not help, but for now I'm not in tears all day. I can once again meditate. And I can (mostly) handle this super slow learning pace without falling apart and crying over it.


In Buddhism we practice mindfulness and presence. 
In AA we really practice dailiness, the business of just taking one day at a time, so as not to get overwhelmed by the prospect of coping. I have these two flash card over my desk at the home office:



Hôm nay. Nơi  đây.