From King of Vietnam to Beloved Zen Master (Part 2)

Pilgrimage to Yen Tu Mountain (Part 2)

April 2019 

Having finished another incline and panting again with exhaustion, I stop to breathe at a narrow clearing in the forest. This is the hike of a lifetime, so why not enjoy it?, I remind myself. Turning to look back over the brush down the mountain, I feel the Noble Teacher’s eyes gazing in wonder behind me. How many times did he and his attendant overlook this splendor of the rolling blue mountains in the distance and the now miniature valley far down below? I feel the brightness of awe in his eyes as he silently asks, How could this miracle be so real?  I breathe with this sense of wonder as peace gently replaces my fatigue.

Turning my gaze back to the path we have been climbing, a forest hallway of upright pines narrowly cascades down the hillside. I stop to lean against the trunk of a pine, and caress the smooth polished surface of its roots which rise above the earth up to my knees. I am slightly startled upon realizing that these are the living descendants of the pines the Noble Teacher planted on Yen Tu mountain centuries ago. As the stories tell, he placed baby pines not only up the mountain, but along the entire path to the royal capital. Wherever he went, the Noble Teacher walked barefoot or on reed sandals, leaned on his bamboo staff, and carried no more than his wooden begging bowl.

Step by step, up the great hidden mountain

While stopping for another break, I watch two older Vietnamese women step barefoot up the stone and earthen path. How do they climb with such vigor and vitality at their age?, I ponder with admiration. “Xin chao co”, I say with my best Vietnamese accent. We exchange smiles as fellow pilgrims, and their eyes perk open as if to acknowledge our contrasting east and west origins. I am reminded that I am a guest on this mountain, the only hiker with European ancestral roots I’ve seen so far on the path. How many generations of their ancestors have been walking this mountain year after year, century after century?, I silently wonder. This holy mountain must be in their bones, its rivers coursing through their blood, its pine roots woven into their muscle fibers, and its earthen strength pressed into the soles of their feet.

Without hesitation, I take off my Chaco sandals and feel the cool stone under my warm feet. The mountain becomes more alive at each sensation of sand grains, pebbles, roots, and hard stone under my feet. I press my soles into the earth with all of my attention, as if the Noble Teacher were walking with my own feet. I surrender them to the joy and faith he must have felt while wandering barefoot across the same forests or distant village countrysides. Every time I begin to race forward, my feet gently push into the ground, reminding me to enjoy every step, knowing this journey will not last forever.

Beautiful steps or ugly steps, light steps or heavy steps… these concepts exist only in our mind.

The reality of interbeing is unsurpassed.

After 10 years of diligent practice on the mountain, the Noble Teacher traveled the country, offering teachings to other monastics and the public, and establishing temples and meditation centers throughout the country. Everywhere he went, people gathered to hear his talks. He counseled both rich and poor, encouraging them to practice the 10 virtuous deeds. They trusted his words, but were most moved simply by watching the gentle power of his presence, his rare noble bearing transformed into profound humility and grace.

Climbing finally to a plateau, bright green plumeria leaves sway gently over various grey stupas. On each side of the central stupa, a small fish pond surrounded by a walking path and small trees welcomes and refreshes the weary guests. This is the first pagoda, where the retired king and Noble Teacher’s relics are buried. I find it difficult to see the Noble Teacher in a pagoda or where his relics are buried. The foot polished stone steps, hovering mist, and screeching cicadas throughout the forest contain his presence more than anywhere else. I take in the solemn yet beautifully adorned monument for several minutes, touch the earth before his dedication, and continue on.

The second stage up the mountain is much steeper than the first. Each step up the staircase is a push, as we climb another 2,000 feet from the pagoda below. At this stage, a small cohort of Vietnamese pilgrims start to silently bond together as we aspire to collectively mount this vertical pure land and home of our ancestors. A misty fog rises with us, lightening and lifting our spirits up the staircase into this shrouded heavenly mountain. Our view of the fleeting valley and bucolic fields below disappear, reappear, and disappear again until at last we felt completely alone on the mountain.

More steps, or less steps… it doesn’t matter. Peace is always every step.

After a strenuous and sweaty effort, even with many breaks, we finally climb onto the last steps of level 2. At last, we made it to base of the pristine mountain peaks!, I excitedly think to myself. Seemingly out of nowhere, a gigantic golden statue of the Buddha King sitting in full lotus awkwardly manifests before my eyes. Famished and ready for a break, I take a sweet potato from a vendor for about 40 cents, and briefly contemplate the massive icon plopped on top of this holy mountain. Here we were met by throngs of other visitors who took a gondola up from the bottom to visit the statue and perhaps walk the rest of the way to the peak.  After walking amidst such natural beauty for the last few hours, this ginormous golden dude just didn’t seem properly seated up there to me. The statue is actually made in copper, and weighs over 138 tons, the biggest such statue in Vietnam. I was more fascinated by the engineering feat of hauling up there than anything else. With fresh tuber energy, and the peaks not far away, I walked past Mr. Golden Buddha King and continued on.

Because people revered King Nhan Trong so greatly, the country was swept away by his teachings and dedication to monastic life. After his ordination, the Viet Kingdom underwent a spiritual revolution as 15,000 monastics ordained in Vietnam in the following three decades. During his lifetime and afterwards, people referred to him with different names – the Great Ascetic Monk, The Buddha Enlightened King, and the Noble Bamboo Forest Teacher, as he established a new school of Zen in Vietnam: the Bamboo Forest School of Zen (Truc Lam Thien lineage). This is the only Zen school that was founded in Vietnam, as the other Zen lineages originated in China and subsequently flowed into Vietnam. This lineage includes great Zen masters from Huyen Quang in the 14 century, to Lieu Quan in the 18th century, as well as Thich Nhat Hanh in the Plum Village tradition today.

I have arrived, I am home.

On a large stone slab at the peak of Yen Tu, the Noble Teacher meditated and drank tea, either alone or with the company of his closest disciples and family. His sons, the king and prince, as well as his daughter who ordained as a nun all visited him from time to time. Nearby lotus ponds, surrounded by purple bamboo thickets growing between the rocky surfaces decorate the peak. What a magical setting to meditate and drink tea with family and friends!

Finding my own path up the rocky creviced peak, I step and skip from stone to slab, weaving around bamboo patches with renewed enthusiasm to my weary limbs. I approach an old, gorgeously carved shrine, whose wooden refuge is filled with incessant prayers, sandalwood fragrance, and tropical fruits from an endless source of Vietnamese pilgrims. I find a quiet place nearby to listen to the wind’s cool refreshing notes, soak in the 360 view of blue mountains rolling like waves into the foggy distance, and savor the end of my ascension. Thousands of feet higher than where I started this morning, a sense of lightness and freedom settles. The river of worries, drama, and excitement in the world down below seems so distant, unable to reach or tempt us way up here. Perched on a rock outcrop away from the crowds, I breathe gently with the swaying bamboo thickets and Noble Teacher’s presence by my side. Suddenly, in that moment, I realize the depth of my Zen tradition’s formal name – The Bamboo Forest School of Zen. The simple essence of the teachings shines through in the flickering bamboo leaves against the cool mountain fresh air. No frills, no big pagodas, no golden statues. Just a bamboo forest for our classroom, a pine rooted path as our temple walkway, a cup of tea is our holy teaching. Intimately in touch with the simple and profound gifts of the mountain is enough to fill our mind with awe and love.

Looking out to the west, the royal capital of Hanoi housed the new king centuries ago. But it was the Noble Teacher who the people loved and admired the most. He prevented foreign invaders and protected the country’s borders; later, he brought reconciliation and peace with the Cham people, an enemy to the Viet kingdom in the South. Seated here on the mountain top, meditating serenely on a stone slab among flowering bamboo, he dwelled in peace, and the heart of the Viet people dwelled with him.


Even though we have never met the Noble Forest Bamboo Teacher, we may still encounter his his presence through teachings, stories, and poetry. They are a gate for us to truly step into this sacred mountain.

“Going Up Mount Bao Dai”

The landscape is deserted
and the moss makes it seem even more ancient. It is still pale early spring.
Cloud-covered mountains come close,
then waver and fade.
The flower-covered paths are cast with shadows. Everything is like water flowing into water.
For a whole lifetime
the heart always gives voice to the heart. Leaning on the magnolia,
I raise a flute to my lips,
as moonlight floods my heart.

References:

– Hermitage Among the Clouds, by Thich Nhat Hanh
– The Patriarchs of Truc Lam Sect, by Thich Thanh Tu, https://www.truclamvietzen.net/ZenFounders.htm


Climbing Up Zen History in Vietnam

Pilgrimage to Yen Tu Mountain

April 2019 

Standing next to a creek at the foot of the mountain, I beheld my first glances of the ancient pagodas jetting out of dark forest foliage. Misty clouds enveloped the mountain above, hiding the peaks in mystery. Early the next morning, just after dawn, I planned to follow the ancestral footsteps of those who lived, practiced, and pilgrimaged to this sacred mountain of Yen Tu. In particular, I wished to know more deeply the king who abandoned his life in the royal palace to live and train as a Zen monk in the splendor of this mountain. For those practicing in the Plum Village tradition, Yen Tu mountain is the home of our Bamboo Forest School of Zen, and whose soil and stones embody the unique story our Vietnamese Buddhist lineage.

In the 13th century, the royal prince of Vietnam had a hungering curiosity to learn and practice Zen. Instead of assuming his royal duties, he wished to live in the mountains where ascetic life flourished. The prince would soon become king, and when his father learned of his son’s wishes for renunciation, he pleaded for him not to abandon his country and people at such a time.

Does this story sound familiar? Like Siddhartha, the young prince was determined to walk the true path of awakening. However, he did not leave his worldly concerns and the plight of his people just yet. Instead, at the age of 21, he became king and promised to unite his country to defend against imperialistic forces in the North. Supported by his father’s guidance, the young King Tran Nhan Tong immediately developed a plan to unify and strengthen the country in order to fend off the inevitable invasions of the Mongolian empire.

Down at the foothills, several thousand steps under the cloud shrouded peaks, I crossed a charming pagoda bridge, under which an ancient stream flows. It is said that after the king left the capital to pursue monastic life on Yen Tu, many of his royal attendants drowned themselves in the river to demonstrate their unswerving loyalty. Hence a pagoda was later built there to honor them. Feeling unable to fully grasp such a dramatic display of fidelity, I stopped to breathe and gently ponder the river and entrance to Yen Tu. How overwhelmingly loved this king must have been by the people at such a time. What was it like for them to see their beloved leader walk away from palace leadership into the mountain caves and thatched roof hermitages?

At the entrance, one saunters up an endless sight of well laid stone steps weaving through the dense forest hillside. After about 15 minutes of heavy breathing and climbing, I crossed the forest floor at a more mellow incline until the path eventually forks in two. Straight ahead lies an embellished stone staircase, a seemingly new edition to this pilgrim route. To the right is an earthy pine rooted path; its ancient yet familiar appearance pulls me closer and eventually upward. Scattered stone steps rise high and lonely above the soil like the last teeth holding on to its earthen gums. Only the rugged pine tree roots which dominate former stone steps provide stability to the washed out soil. While the route grows ever more steep, the barren pine roots feel ever more sturdy for many native and foreign sandals and fingers to take hold.

As unrivaled horsemen and with superior naval forces, the Mongols had already conquered all of China and were rapidly spreading west, even conquering most of the Middle East and Eastern Europe. It was only a matter of time before their insatiable appetite wrapped its jaws around the Viet kingdom. The Mongols invaded with huge armies by both land and sea. Under the sophistication and courage of King Tran Nhan Tong and his father, the Viet forces used an ancient secret method developed centuries ago to protect against the Mongols’ large naval fleet. As the Mongol forces traveled up the Bach river towards the capital of Hanoi, the Viet forces ambushed them by both land and water, keeping them stalled on the river for a few hours. The Mongols’ greater naval fleet had no idea that underneath them, the Viet forces had previously installed iron tipped spears on the bottom of the riverbed.  As the tide gradually flowed out and the water level steadily decreased, the spears began puncturing the ships’ bottoms!  At the same time, Viet fishermen who were skilled in the art of deep sea diving, were also stealthily puncturing the Mongol boats with nails and hammers.  The famous Mongol admiral who was leading their naval fleet was wearing very strong and fancy metal armor that he used to vanquish his past enemies. But when his ship began to sink, he and his heavy armor did as well. Within a few hours, the Mongols’ naval fleet was nearly decimated. With minimal losses in the south, the Viet forces then repositioned themselves to impeccably defend the northern border against the fierce horsemen.

Under King Tran Nhan Tong, the country had become safe and protected, and enjoyed a period of peace. Without the hardships of war, the king lessened taxes to give relief to the poor, and postponed other military campaigns so that the country could recover after two fierce wars, several famines, and other natural disasters. Having fulfilled his royal duties to his people, King Tran Nhan Tong prepared for his deepest aspirations to unfold. After 15 years leading the dynasty, he passed the crown to his first son in 1293, while closely guiding him for the next 6 years. Relieved of the overwhelming burden of ruling the country, he could now dedicate the rest of his life to spiritual awakening, while also serving as the national counselor to his country and son.

Even as I savored the various dark and light green shaded forest rooms up the mountain, beads of sweat coursed down my face at every turn, and my body grappled with the dense jungle humidity. To escape my discomfort, I continuously felt the urge to push through the fatigue, and race upwards to my destination. The habitual tendency to push through and finish felt so familiar to me, and yet there was another force walking up the mountain alongside me. I could hear the soft and firmly planted footsteps of the Noble Teacher steadily following behind me. His steps had gracefully landed on this path countless times, and had infused his presence into the mountainside. As I stopped to catch my breath, it was as if he too was pausing to breathe at my side for a short rest. A black butterfly with fluorescent blue spotted wings drew near to me, a reward from the mountain for stopping to enjoy her beauty. As I later found out, the Vietnamese say that seeing this black butterfly means the ancestors are present!

The retired king studied the Dharma in depth with the Eminent Master Tue Trung, who was also been born into the Tran royal family and had dedicated half of his life to protecting the country before stepping into monastic life. After 6 years of study and training, the former king finally ordained as a Buddhist monk in 1299, and soon made his home in the majestic forests and peaks of Yen Tu Mountain, dedicating himself to mastering the 10 ascetic virtues. Having lived most of his life in a palace embellished with gold and precious gems, he finally discovered true peace as a homeless monk. He wore only a patchwork robe, slept under simple thatched roofs on Mount Yen Tu, and took the medicine and spiritual nourishment of nature’s offerings. After 10 years on the mountain, he was still not interested in building great temples or pagodas. Rather, he was content with the simple life of awakening, while finding ways to deeply guide and influence the well-being of his country.

Even though we have never met the Noble Forest Bamboo Teacher in person, we may still encounter his presence through teachings, stories, and poetry. They are a gate for us to truly step onto this sacred mountain.

“Going Up Mount Bao Dai”

The landscape is deserted
and the moss makes it seem even more ancient. It is still pale early spring.
Cloud-covered mountains come close,
then waver and fade.
The flower-covered paths are cast with shadows. Everything is like water flowing into water.
For a whole lifetime
the heart always gives voice to the heart. Leaning on the magnolia,
I raise a flute to my lips,
as moonlight floods my heart.

To continue the journey up Yen Tu Mountain and hear about the Noble Teacher’s life, visit

Part 2: From King of Vietnam to Zen Master

References:

– Hermitage Among the Clouds, by Thich Nhat Hanh
– The Patriarchs of Truc Lam Sect, by Thich Thanh Tu, https://www.truclamvietzen.net/ZenFounders.htm