A Spiritual Fast That Soothed My Heart

(Translated from French)

A genetic mutation that I passed on to my two children carries an implacable sentence: a malignant, inoperable tumor that spreads with the cruel slowness of a silent poison.

Each day, this trial tears my soul a little more. I walk beneath the weight of a crushing sorrow, my heart troubled by anxiety and misfortune. I bear this pain in silence, but it is heavy with guilt.

In their moments of doubt, my children face a naked fear: that of a life ending far too soon. This thought terrifies me as well, to the point of taking my breath away. And yet, a family should be a cradle of life, not an antechamber of death. Saving thus becomes not only an act of survival, but an act of love.

Renunciation, a Path of Inner Transfiguration

During the altruistic and temporary monastic retreat (Xuất Gia Vị Tha), I came to understand that the renunciation of a monk or nun is not merely isolation or strict adherence to precepts. It is a total offering: letting go of every bond, every attachment, whether material or invisible, tearing oneself away from oneself, to be available for what truly matters.

Such privations, far from diminishing the spirit, refine the soul and strengthen the mind. They center, align, and unify. Thus disciplined, the mind clears, focuses, and opens to a greater light.

To adopt—even for only a few days—the monastic life is to offer oneself the chance for a deep purification. Each renunciation becomes an empty space into which new light can settle. For me, it was a unique experience, as powerful as a revelation.

Sacrifice, the Foundation of Virtue

When the retreat at Pine Summit Camp came to an end, another stage began: after our first night in Anaheim, we entered the World Peace Gathering.

The Hall filled with the slow, solemn rhythm of “three steps, one bow.” 

The great room, divided into two spaces, offered a setting worthy of the highest homage:

At the front, the Buddha Hall, with its altar on a raised platform, radiant with flowers, adorned with columns inscribed with the siddhams of the 42 hands and eyes, and, at the center, the majestic statue of Kuan Yin, radiating compassion.

At the back, the Mandala Hall, dedicated to sacred ceremonies.

Under the guidance of Master Hằng Trường, representatives of spiritual traditions from around the world gathered together. This interfaith day, marked by teachings, meditations, and prayers, reflected the great openness of the Avatamsaka (Hoa Nghiêm) school. It ended in harmony with invocations for universal peace.

The Moment of Inner Offering

The next day, the high point of the gathering, again began with the ritual of “three steps, one prostration.” Throughout the day, prostrations, processions, teachings, and rituals followed one after the other, until it was time for the Mandala ceremony.

In the air vibrating with mantras and prayers, spiritual energy filled every corner. It seemed to float like an invisible breath—tangible and benevolent.

It was then, with hands joined and head bowed, that I offered my most intimate prayer: I implored the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to help my two children be healed of their incurable illness.

For me, the Mandala is a sacred path, an act of reconciliation and love, a gesture of forgiveness and peace that I offer to my children.

When I raised the green and yellow plaques in my palms, emotion overwhelmed me. Tears flowed, and in this inner stream, a gentle warmth began to fill my heart. I felt it moving toward them, as if, at that very moment, it reached their bodies, dissolved their suffering, and wrapped them in love.

On the Path to My Next Life

This retreat and the Mandala were, for me, a time of letting go and offering. I experienced the rigor of monastic discipline—not without difficulties—but also the example of the lotus bodhisattva, emerging pure above troubled waters.

Something within me has changed. I am no longer who I was, and I will never be that person again. Others may not notice it, but inside of me, a flame has been rekindled… or is just beginning to be reborn.

I know that the bodhisattva path, embraced late in life, extends beyond the span of a single lifetime. But in this very existence, I am already preparing for the next.

Đại Từ Đại Bi – Great Kindness, Great Compassion

My gratitude goes to the CSS community: to our Master Hằng Trường, to my Dharma brothers and sisters, to the Dharma helpers, and to all the silent presences. You welcomed me without reservation, with your acts of kindness, your trust, your friendship. You are now my family of the heart.

And finally, a special thanks to: Khai Nghiem, Ben Chen, Son Duong, Danny Au, Quan Vu, Sam Mai, Andrew Tran, Jason Lam, Tho Nguyen, Tinh Le, Toan Ta, Jon Tuan Tran, Tin Truong, Phương Anh, Steven Nghia Nguyen, Kim Chi, Minh Tam, Than Khai Niem, Hoang Tam Hilton, Lan Huong Lam, Quyen Le, Dyung Le, Judy, Dennis, Tony, June Nguyen, Diana, Nancy.

Thân Khai Thuận Hỷ Original article in French

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