Remembering Who We Are

Sadako Sasaki with origami crane, Children's Peace Monument, Hiroshima, Japan

Sadako Sasaki, the girl of 1,000 cranes

 

It has been 80 years since the US Atomic bombing on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan that killed and injured collectively over 200,000 people while impacting countless lives, too, of Indigenous and Latine people in the southwest, near Los Alamos, New Mexico and more people, animals, plants, minerals in the Pacific Islands due to nuclear testing resulting in long-term health issues, displacement, economic and emotional distress impacting life and health to this day.

like many, i am connected to and love two cultures: i am the descendant and citizen whose government bombed and destroyed lives of children, elders, schools, hospitals, homes, animals, plants, trees, food sources in Hiroshima and Nagasaki where my ancestors farmed the land and relatives continue to live and thrive today. i am also a descendant of incarcerated Japanese American citizens imprisoned for four years in the arid desert of the southwest and isolation of eastern northern California during WWII by my government. I know i can hold the complexity of our critical race history; because of my practice, i am buoyant and capable of tending to multiple catastrophes with heart mind of fierce tenderness and compassion. 

if our commitment is to be present while holding complexities of history and catastrophes of current time, we have to be aware of our bodies. when we are in touch and intimate with our bodies, we are deeply in touch with our feelings, thoughts and perceptions, we can remember to be rooted and stable with integrity, stability, wholeheartedness.  

one morning i began to ponder how language is used to oppress us and asked myself; who controls the narrative when culture imposes how and when we can and can't use words to express what we feel deep in our bodies?

i first noticed how the state controls language as a young child.  when my parents used the government's words to describe "we were interned", that was during "evacuation", when they were "relocated to camp" to let my siblings and me know they were incarcerated, imprisoned, separated from their home, friends, and livelihood. Even as a 10 year old, i knew in my heart it was more than relocation, a voice inside cried, they were in American concentration camps! in our country! against our people! it pierced a hole in my heart.

pondering turned to interrogating. when we utter the word "genocide" or "apartheid," who holds the keys to the locks that make us stumble, pause, bind, swerve, recoil, or cringe? i ask, who controls the power of words that describe how and what we feel and know in our bodies from the pierces on our hearts? 

a practice to remember who i am:

~ as i walk slowly meeting my breath in silence, i am aware how my feet caress the earth, i hear the rustling of birds in the trees. 

be still, walk in silence, listen.

what rises in stillness?  

~my inner voice says: 

honor those who lost their lives in the past and those vulnerable right now, reckon with the tangible and intangible weapons, the destruction we are capable of. acknowledge weapons continue to rain on Gaza, through bombs, bullets and forced starvation, they rain on Sudan, Haiti, Myanmar/Burma too. 

to remember who i am is to take responsibility and listen to the inner voice, and bear witness, and reduce the possibility of harm in my home, community, and as a citizen of the world through my thoughts, words, and and how i act and don't act. 

in my heart, the state has become perpetrator, imprisoning refugees and migrants, kidnapping neighbors, harassing and intimidating children at school, disappearing people off the streets without due process-  there's a reason i feel sick, there's a reason it feels familiar, we are repeating history. 

when crimes against humanity are occurring, some of us press an internal mute button. for me it's a familiar coping strategy, to hold back the felt sense of injustice and silence myself. i'm working to liberate myself from pressing mute. my heart tells me crimes against humanity are happening right now in our country, from our government. 

we are witnessing the degradation of the rule of law, cruel policies through executive orders, terror and imprisonment impacting brown and black bodies. we can feel it in the wisdom of our bodies when we stop, listen and feel.

this is the definition of human rights abuse to me (to harm, deny, ignore fundamental human rights). i know these truths in my body.  knowing these truths does not negate the suffering of other people on other lands. we know we are all connected, there is no real separation. 

practices to help us remember who we are: 

1) honor the truth of what's happening, the wisdom of a gut feeling, tension in the body while witnessing stories and images of people suffering. 

2)be in touch with the earth, look up and gaze at the night sky, ground yourself with a slow in-breath and out-breath, commune with a tree, a field, a lake. stay long enough to know the earth is our relative and that we are becoming ancestors. 

3) listen to the sound of a calming bell, or a drum re-connect you with reverberation of the present moment.

4) remember our love is invincible, limitless, unconditional.* 

from a place of stability of breath, grounded in body and our deep knowing of what is going on, we will know how to take wise action, how to help those in need, how to resist, how to reinforce our deep commitment to community, to knowing we are. we are not separate from each other, we can love without boundaries. we have clarity to act with allegiance to each other. 

i believe we can hold the complexities of our critical histories and it's up to us to remember, not mute or tune out. it's our responsibility to use our skillful means, Upaya (Sanskrit) to see clearly, to act wisely, to listen more deeply. 

listening to our bodies and naming what's happening- crimes against humanity, human rights abuses, genocide- is the first step.  For change to take place, we need to see clearly what's happening, take good care of our hearts, to grieve and mourn the heavy losses taking place.

 To be of service is to see and meet the suffering of the world, a world so in need of love and care.  

from time to time wake up at dawn, offer gratitude to the sun and the moon, the clouds, write a haiku to celebrate the season. write a note to Sadako.

"From time to time, 

the clouds give rest

to the moon's beholders." ~Basho

photo of Sadako Sasaki, the girl who made 1,000 origami cranes with hope to realize her wish to survive radiation poisoning from the atomic bomb, the cause of leukemia. 

Notes: 

I am grateful for summer reading and listening sources: 

Book: To Save and To Destroy Writing As An Other by Viet Thanh Nguyen

Video: The Long Shadow of War, Intergenerational Grief and Narrative Justice,  with Linda Thai and Jungwan Kim https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nBAMHELawQ

"do the things that help you to remember who you are instead of the things that cause you to forget who you are" -Linda Thai, a healing presentation on how war impacts us descendants, generations later and how group rituals can help us heal.  

* inspiration from Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh

acknowledging the mud of our times

Enso by Kaz Tanahashi

 hello community circle,

dear friends who read my blog, please do not lose heart. you are needed, loved, felt, seen, and heard. we are here together. we are here for each other.  we are not alone. may these words replenish your compassionate heart. 

the other day at our sangha (a Buddhist community gathering), i shared a piece of inspiration that carried me through the early covid months, the murder of George Floyd, anti-Asian attacks, and police brutality of Black and Brown people. i didn’t realize it was an excerpt from a full letter addressed to "a young activist during troubled times". it’s about hope, it’s about acknowledging the mud of our times, and to quote, His Holiness the Dalai Lama, to “never give up. no matter what is going on.” 

 deep love and encouragement call us forward once again today. 

Bows to Clarissa Pinkola Estès, Ph.D.

with boundless love and gratitude 💛🪷

here’s the full letter~~~

To a Young Activist During Troubled Times

Mis estimados queridos, My Esteemed Ones:

Do not lose heart. We were made for these times.

I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now. It is true, one has to have strong cojones and ovarios to withstand much of what passes for “good” in our culture today. Abject disregard of what the soul finds most precious and irreplaceable and the corruption of principled ideals have become, in some large societal arenas, “the new normal,” the grotesquerie of the week.

It is hard to say which one of the current egregious matters has rocked people’s worlds and beliefs more. Ours is a time of almost daily jaw-dropping astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people.

…You are right in your assessments. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking.

Yet … I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is – we were made for these times.

Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement. I cannot tell you often enough that we are definitely the leaders we have been waiting for, and that we have been raised, since childhood, for this time precisely.

…I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able crafts in the waters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind.

I would like to take your hands for a moment and assure you that you are built well for these times. Despite your stints of doubt, your frustrations in arighting all that needs change right now, or even feeling you have lost the map entirely, you are not without resource, you are not alone.

Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. In your deepest bones, you have always known this is so.

Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a forest greater. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, and to advance, regardless.

… We have been in training for a dark time such as this, since the day we assented to come to Earth. For many decades, worldwide, souls just like us have been felled and left for dead in so many ways over and over — brought down by naiveté, by lack of love, by suddenly realizing one deadly thing or another, by not realizing something else soon enough, by being ambushed and assaulted by various cultural and personal shocks in the extreme.

We all have a heritage and history of being gutted, and yet remember this especially … we have also, of necessity, perfected the knack of resurrection.

Over and over again we have been the living proof that that which has been exiled, lost, or foundered – can be restored to life again. This is as true and sturdy a prognosis for the destroyed worlds around us as it was for our own once mortally wounded selves.

…Though we are not invulnerable, our risibility supports us to laugh in the face of cynics who say “fat chance,” and “management before mercy,” and other evidences of complete absence of soul sense. This, and our having been ‘to Hell and back’ on at least one momentous occasion, makes us seasoned vessels for certain. Even if you do not feel that you are, you are.

Even if your puny little ego wants to contest the enormity of your soul, the smaller self can never for long subordinate the larger Self. In matters of death and rebirth, you have surpassed the benchmarks many times. Believe the evidence of any one of your past testings and trials. Here it is: Are you still standing? The answer is, Yes! (And no adverbs like “barely” are allowed here). If you are still standing, ragged flags or no, you are able. Thus, you have passed the bar. And even raised it. You are seaworthy.

…In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unmended in the world. Do not focus on that. Do not make yourself ill with overwhelm. There is a tendency too to fall into being weakened by perseverating on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails.

We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn’t you say you were a believer? Didn’t you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn’t you ask for grace? Don’t you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the Voice greater? You have all the resource you need to ride any wave, to surface from any trough.

…In the language of aviators and sailors, ours is to sail forward now, all balls out. Understand the paradox: If you study the physics of a waterspout, you will see that the outer vortex whirls far more rapidly than the inner one. To calm the storm means to quiet the outer layer, to cause it, by whatever countervailing means, to swirl much less, to more evenly match the velocity of the inner, far less volatile core – till whatever has been lifted into such a vicious funnel falls back to Earth, lays down, is peaceable again.

One of the most important steps you can take to help calm the storm is to not allow yourself to be taken in a flurry of overwrought emotion or despair – thereby accidentally contributing to the swale and the swirl. Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach.

Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely.

It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts – adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take “everyone on Earth” to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.

…One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times.

The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires … causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these – to be fierce and to show mercy toward others, both — are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

…There will always be times in the midst of “success right around the corner, but as yet still unseen” when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it; I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate.

The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours: They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here.

In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But … that is not what great ships are built for.

…This comes with much love and prayer that you remember Who you came from, and why you came to this beautiful, needful Earth.

CODA

The original title is Letter To A Young Activist During Troubled Times: with the subtitle, Do Not Lose Heart, We were Made for These Times. This is the original letter in full as written, unabridged.

Do Not Lose Heart, We Were Made for These Times ©2001, 2016, by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

a letter to memory keepers, storytellers and dreamers

i was introduced to the book, in love and trust, letters from a  Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, and while reading the first pages my connection to love letter writing was re-ignited. it feels like writer and reader are holding hands, holding a gaze.  

love letter writing is a way to convey, connect and express a life-moment, to remember this might be the only letter i write to this person or the last letter they might receive from me. i hope my words are met, received as a gift, with love, care, understanding.  recognizing that teachings arise from writing and reading love letters, the most meaningful are vulnerable where the giver and receiver are not two, not separate. they Interare.

i hold on to the possibility that a teacher, student, ancestor might read this letter. what do i wish to convey?  i enjoy practicing this way to remind myself: who might be present to witness these thoughts, learnings, leanings, perspective and aspiration? if this is my only message, what is the most important thing? 

please read as a kind of meditation for yourself, take breaths in-between the images and music. linger.

                                    (one breath)

A song: Little Blue by Jacob Collier. (little blue as breath)

little blue, be my shelter, be my cradle, be my womb, be my boat, be my river, be the stillness of the moon.

 you're not so far away, i hear you say, you'll never walk alone

singing, don't be afraid of the dark, in your heart, you're gonna find a way to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, 

you're gonna find a way home...

little blue how i love you, something strong, something true. in your arms so dear and gentle, there's a hope that leads me back to you. 

cuz you're not so far away, i hear you say, you'll never walk alone. 

you're gonna find a way home.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQvzX0Z3HE4

(two breaths)

dear memory keepers, storytellers, poets and dreamers, 

As the state tries to scrub and erase our histories from public spaces, websites, libraries, institutions, branches of the military, universities even- we memory keepers protect our stories through art, music, language. We nourish our true inheritance- steadfast, abiding breath,  noble upright posture and steps,  courageous pulsating hearts.  Like determined warriors, we cast our jeweled net of Indra* far and wide, leaving out no one, we carry an indestructible energy and deep aspiration to cut through illusion, to see what's real and true, and act to ease suffering. 

Our bones and blood hold the cells of memory of our ancestors wildest dreams. tears, labor,  and sweat literally built the institutions now threatened. We are here in this moment, awakened from the illusion of our separateness* and determined we will not be defined or carried away by cruelty and callousness. Deep down we know our real enemies aren't people, they are fear, greed and delusion. 

We are gardeners, tending the gardens of our hearts who labored to build upon a dream, we believe in justice, freedom from oppression (liberty defined) and know there is much hard work, hardship ahead to defend our right to exist. We come from generations of gardener ancestors tending the gardens and fields of this country-many arrived from lands with a deep desire to build something better who took tremendous journeys to begin anew. 

The memory keeper inside and outside continues to encourage full heart, not shallow or petty; to see and hear clearly, not distorted or clouded by disinformation or lies, to be open to practice fearlessness in spite of sometimes being afraid. 

The storyteller in me will continue to live in and tell the truth even when it feels difficult. 

The dreamer in me will listen more closely to the dreams and visions held at arms length by my colonized mind. The dreamer in me knows that dreams are the marrow where wisdom and compassion reside. 

The poet in me is being called back to my true nature by the scent of ancestral hinoki  (cedar) forests where sky is breath, earth is body, sun is heart. 

I am a citizen of a nation in peril. 

I am a citizen of a nation experiencing a slide, collapse, contraction.

I vow to cherish the memory keeper, storyteller, poet and dreamer. May we continue to flourish. 

(three breaths and a bow)

with love and an entrusting heart, dear memory keepers, storytellers, poets and dreamers, 

🙏🏽🌕🪷

We are here to awaken from our illusion of separateness   ~Thich Nhat Hanh

* net of Indra-a Hindu and Buddhist metaphor of an infinite net with jewels at each intersection, reflecting all other jewels symbolizing interconnection and interdependence of all phenomena.

Our Dharma Inheritance

Intergenerational trauma taught Judy Yushin Nakatomi to suppress her true self. Now, she uses intergenerational wisdom to heal.

Judy Yushin Nakatomi

6 September 2024

Tule Lake Segregation Center, Newell, California. A kindergarten class at the Tule Lake Center on the playground. Photo: courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration

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My early memories of my mother are of her acting as perpetual hostess: When unexpected guests came to our home, trays of green tea and delectable homemade treats magically appeared. Growing up as a Sansei, third generation Japanese American, I witnessed my mother care for our family and friends with an effortless smile. When I talk about her with my therapist, the two words I use most often are “stoic” and “sacrifice.” As a young girl, I knew something about this made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t have the words. Now, I realize that the root of my discomfort was seeing her in a form of submission, erasing her full self for the benefit of the family and collective. 

As a sensitive and introverted child, when there were arguments and raised voices in our home, I would cry, but tears weren’t tolerated. I learned gaman, to endure whatever is happening. Early conditioning led to a form of internalized oppression. I accepted that because I was an Asian girl, my needs weren’t seen, heard, or investigated. I learned to keep feelings closed and locked.

My parents were two of the 120,000+ people of Japanese descent who were incarcerated in American concentration camps during WWII. This overwhelming experience taught them it could be dangerous to show a full range of emotions, and to survive and cope they could not speak openly or honestly to the dominant culture. Seeing them model how not to rock-the-boat, I inherited ways to mute and bury my own feelings. Most of my parents’ generation didn’t have a chance to tend to the trauma of incarceration: how to cope with the deep wound and loss of constitutional rights, livelihood, and property. The fear of anti-Japanese violence and racism, the sorrow of family separation, and the anger of being scapegoated without due process were deep, neglected wounds. Some of us still carry the legacy of imprisonment in our bodies, a kind of untended trauma. 

I have also inherited the dharma and a legacy to preserve. I am a descendant of the three treasures: the buddha, dharma, and sangha. What will I to do with my inheritance and legacy, which my ancestors kept intact for centuries in Japan and for over 125 years in the United States? What will become of my inheritance of the dharma if I don’t act and live in a way where my health and vitality matter? How will I cherish this precious moment, life, and connection to all beings? 

 One day, toward the end of a phone call with a dear friend, I felt compelled to say, “Remember, your health and vitality matter.” I teared up as I spoke. I imagined we were together and placed my hands on my heart. I realized I needed those words, too. It was unlike me, radical even, to turn that sentiment toward my own physical, emotional, and spiritual health. It turns out the words were a dose of medicine I needed. 

The first precept, to abstain from killing, is really about cultivating reverence for life. It means to have reverence for our health and vitality. 

Self-care is about tending to and remembering the sangha also resides inside of us. The phone call nudged me to remember that I am a part of the mahasangha, the collective community. I often recite a mantra from childhood: “I am a link in Amida’s golden chain of love that stretches around the world.” We keep our link bright and strong by taking good care of ourselves.

It is not selfish to take care of our health and well-being. Early causes, conditions, and conditioning laid a foundation for me to override and erase my feelings growing up. Talking about mental health struggles are stigmatized, and even seem to elicit shame, disgrace, or dishonor in some AANHPI and non-AANHPI communities. At this stage in life, I want to shake up old notions and stigmas. We don’t have time to keep mental health locked away. The world needs us to be present, clear, open, strong, and wholehearted.

To remember my ancestors survived and maintained our Jodo Shinshu tradition while imprisoned at Tule Lake and Gila River concentration camps fills me with buoyancy and confidence. I have a butsudan, a handmade Buddhist altar from one of the camps. Made from scrap wood and painted with shoe polish, it adorns a place of honor in our home. The three treasures stayed intact because many families were stewards of tradition and ritual. We never lost or abandoned our inheritance.

Judy Yushin Nakatomi’s butsudan (Buddhist altar) was handmade at one of the internment camps where Japanese Americans were imprisoned during World War II. Photo courtesy of the author.

With the guidance of my somatic therapist, I am now in touch with more of my roots, reclaiming my heritage—the fuller origins of our interconnected story. With understanding, patience, and care, I make my way back to expressing more of my true self and original nature. 

To practice in stillness, to allow silence to be a friend, and to settle in the energy of mindfulness are boundless gifts. Meditation and trauma-informed practice help to keep me stable and resourced. I bow and greet the gift of the three treasures every morning.

I’m learning to keep in closer touch with my hara, my energetic force, the center that allows me to be present with sincerity and honesty. 

There’s much work to do in our world. I have a responsibility to stay fresh, vital in heart mind spirit. My health and vitality matters.

I offer gratitude and devotion to blood, land, and spirit ancestors who kept the practice and traditions alive, for the innumerable conditions to heal, for the ability to preserve and keep the three treasures verdant for descendants and generations to come, for the benefit of all beings.

intentionally vulnerable 2.0

The rain falls everywhere,

coming down on all four sides.

Its flow and saturation are measureless,

reaching to every area of the earth,

to the ravines and valleys of the mountains and streams,

to the remote and secluded places where grow

plants, bushes, medicinal herbs,

trees large and small,

a hundred grains, rice seedlings,

sugar cane, grape vines.

The rain moistens them all,

none fails to receive its full share.

—Lotus Sutra*

a sutra is a Buddhist text, it's touching to be reminded poetically that the rain falls everywhere... even to remote and secluded places, that even those at the margins receive a sense of fullness is such a poignant example of equanimity, of inclusivity, non-discrimination.   intentionally vulnerable continues through the words and wisdom of Ocean Vuong. 

dear friends, 

i've been longing to write about my deep respect and affinity toward Ocean Vuong, while uncertain of the "right" way, time, entry point to do so.  jumping in here, entering with all my heart, the location that guides me. a devotee of his craft without formal credentials or literary training, here is why my heart sings when i hear Ocean Vuong's words, read his poetry or listen to the way his voice shares boldly with open heart and hand. the energy of the ancestors awakens, shakes us unearthing/revealing a part that longs and loves to write, to sing, to emote. 

Ocean Vuong's presence in the field of art and literature lets the ancestors know, we are no longer in the background, backroom, backseat, backdoor in service of prioritizing others. we are in service that includes our wholeness, belonging where we belong, here and now.

 an invitation to explore the gifts of Ocean Vuong.

   The Dharma Rain of Ocean Vuong

On her deathbed, she said, “In my next life, I want to be a professor, like you.” It was the hardest thing to hear. She was literally hours away from dying. I think when you go through that and you realize so many of your folks wanted to do this, so many immigrants, the refugees that are displaced now in Ukraine, so many of them want to be writers and artists, but they’re gonna have to forego that. They’re gonna have to surrender that. And their children, if they’re lucky, might be able to do it. This very cyclical ecology of the writer’s life comes with so much sacrifice. And I just thought, I don’t care. I have to do everything here, ’cause who cares if it matters to anybody else, it has to mean something to me.  

                                                                                                         Ocean Vuong, The New Yorker April 10, 2022

             

             

 this quote means so much, to feel the words of deep understanding, recognition and love, allowing the feeling to wash over, reconstitute me, a feeling of someone who recognizes an experience, our experience of doing everything across generations  for others and this one thing, writing, the way it's expressed carries so much meaning.  "I have to do everything here, ’cause who cares if it matters to anybody else, it has to mean something to me."this quote encapsulates why i write and share~part meditation, part spaciousness for reflection, part dedication to the ancestors. a way to listen to earth's lessons  in/sigh'd of me, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, to help see more, be more present, to see each other, to help so we don't feel so alone. 

writing is a solitary endeavor where we decide to take a leap to share what shapes us with another being.  and when the words reach some or many, may they help reduce, shift, relieve, soothe some suffering, some struggle. we can be in this together, we don't have to feel alone. 

a part of being is to live a dream my parents and ancestors didn't have access to. what were some of their gifts? i know they wanted to do more, express more as Isei and Nisei first and second generation immigrants, they were making a new life under harsh, sometimes hostile conditions. i have a way to express us.  i am because of them. i want them to know through my actions and expression, through words and images~this life is because of them. 

a few years ago i was gratefully introduced to Ocean Vuong's writing through his books, Night Sky with Exit Wounds, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous and more recently, Time is a Mother.

images and a felt sense of water, rain, moisture, were ever present after reading and listening . could it be because he's in an Asian body, a heritage Buddhist practitioner like me?  maybe. nevertheless, rain is an apt metaphor for the way my senses awaken.  dharma is known as truth or ultimate reality.  dharma rain permeates the skin and parched earth, hydrates dry land, nourishes life. like a gentle mist showering bare skin or a late spring cloudburst clamoring on the rooftop overflowing rain gutters, Ocean Vuong's writing is like both gentle mist and  cloudburst calling us to wake up, wake up, wake up! his poems and novels impel us to dispel, transform notions and limited perceptions.  after the rain, there's often a pause, a shift of our internal weather too, a stillness when a simple breath, an  i n h a l e,  e x p a n d s  chest and lungs to a new e x h a l e   and a  s p a c i o u s , clear, wider view. 

poetry is an art form that is helping me to stay grounded with all that is going on locally and globally- dozens of wars, conflict, polarization. poets like Basho, Issa, Thich Nhat Hanh continued to write and create through difficult historic times. they were creating, processing, recovering while living and working through great loss sometimes in solitude, sometimes in community.  i imagine poetry helped them to stay stable and upright enough to continue to create and share their great works. 

in a time and space where we are both captivated and held captive by mass media, i have felt swathed and soothed by poetry. this form offers a kind of breathing room to pause in the middle of things, from the wars, catastrophic intentional starvation, genocide, species extinction, the undeniable impact of our footprints on our shared home planet. i need a poetry pause regularly. 

as intentionally vulnerable continues on this interdependence day, i'd be remiss not to say that Ocean Vuong is much of the light that inspired this theme to awaken.  Ocean Vuong points unapologetically that vulnerability is a human condition, ever present,   normal, misguidedly seen as weakness. and as a culture we shame the vulnerable. Ocean Vuong invites us to stand up at the table and collaborate with our vulnerability as a strength for an artist and human being. being vulnerable is how we interconnect with each other as compassionate companions. yes, "vulnerability is power." the more we  express it, the more we can be accepting, forgiving, welcoming of each other as writers, artists, human beings. 

paying homage to the dharma rain of Ocean Vuong. may he continue to create and teach for a long time, may we continue to create,  serve in a good way to alleviate some suffering in another being. 

a vow to wake up with openness for the benefit of all, to realize liberation excluding nobody, and to look with the eyes of impermanence as we are endlessly connected. 

Beings are numberless, i vow to free them

Delusions are inexhaustible, i vow to transform them

Reality is boundless, i vow to perceive it

The awakened way is unsurpassable, i vow to embody it. 

~Upaya Zen Center

Ocean Vuong 

Poetry readings: 

 a poetry reading of the fall of Saigon read by Ocean Vuong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiVvQvvIPY4

8:46-13:40

 another poem, his raison d'etre for being a poet or ikigai in Japanese, the inner purpose of life: Threshold

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiVvQvvIPY4

5:00-8:40

An acceptance speech:

 "you don't have anything to prove. we are already so proud of you."

watch and listen: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPQiuL26jgg

*dharma, in one sense is the truth of nonduality- that we don't exist as a single entity, separate from the cosmos. in another sense it points to a teaching of ultimate reality. dharma rain opens the pores for liberation and true freedom to be possible.