When my grandfather passed away, his daughter decided to move into a temple and join the vietnamese buddhist association. I was thirteen, when my mother left us. She shaved her long black hair and put a grey cape over her shoulders and moved in the buddhist pagode in Hanover. I remember the funeral service for our grandfather who I unfortunately never met. The air was filled with incense and we had to carry white headscarfs for a whole week. This was the first time I saw the vietnamese monk Thich Nhu Dien who was leading the funeral service. My mother cried a lot. The monk was very professional and even smiled at me from time to time. My mother explained me later, that buddhist people don’t cry, because they don’t think that people are really leaving the earth when they die.
In the beginning of course I didn’t understand my mother. I mean she left us. My father cared for us. But later I started to accept her not only as my biological mother but also as my spiritual mother. I visited her every year in the Pagode and we sat on the floor or had a walk behind the house where she showed me the flower garden which she planted and I listened to her singing the prayers to praise Namo Quan Em and The Ambo Dat. I even recorded some parts of the ceremony and made a rap song out of it. Master of Ceremony – my mother gave it a new meaning, when I started to call myself an MC. She explained to me a lot without speaking and we exchanged a lot without talking. What I write down today is inspired by her:
If nature is a perfect system, what is the natural idea behind suffering for all the important milestones in life? Such as birth, growth of teeth, growth in general and particularly for girls: menstruation, the very first sexual penetration and pregnancy. Why didn’t nature (or god) made these stages of life a joyful and happy delightful experience? Why does life begins with so much suffering, for the bearing mother as much as for the child? When babies got born they do not laugh, they scream and cry. Laughing is something people do for the first time after 10 weeks on earth. Laughing and smiling is something we have to learn bit by bit. Suffering somehow is there before we are there. What is the evolutionary reason for all this pain? And what is the theological reason for pain? In the christian bible (in 1. Mose 3,19) it says, that we shall eat our bread in the sweat of our brow. As a punishment because of ignoring the rules of paradise. Actually this was the beginning of a definition of work which needs to be painful. Still today in our office jobs a lot of colleagues and our bosses won’t appreciate it if we laugh too much or having too much fun at work, because we are used to an idea of work as a painful thing. No pain no gain. This mentality culturally goes back to the phrase of the bible.
Philosophers and Pharma companies are discussing a lot about the concept of pain. F. J. J. Buytendiijk, a dutch doctor, says that the modern society doesn’t need to accept pain anymore. There is a fear for pain, he calls that Algophopic and Pharma companies sell pills to underline this attitude. There is nothing wrong about swallowing Aspirin pills when you suffer from a headache, but actually there is also nothing wrong about waiting till it’s gone – without the use of medicine. But there are also people who gloyifies pain like author Ernst Jünger, who published “War and Warriors” in 1930. In his essays you probably won’t find soldiers taking Paracetamol because of a headache. Pain is a tricky feeling, and the feeling itself can kill you. The Broken-Heart syndrom shows that pain caused by a broken romance can also lead to death, not only the pain caused by a broken leg or so.
There is a sanskrit word which buddhist people are familiar with: Dukkha. There is no congruent translation for this term in english. Suffering or pain would not really describe it properly, because suffer is a negative experience. Agony? Grief? Harm? No it doesn’t match. Dukkha is whether negative nor positive. Buddhists say, life begins with dukkha and ends with dukkha, and inbetween – guess what – it’s full of dukkha. Now you understand why buddhist monchs like the Dalai Lama are always smiling, because they know: It doesn’t make life less painful if you try to get rid off pain, the Dalai Lama doesn’t even try. He has accepted it as a crucial part of life: Life is dukkha. If you begin to realize this you automatically begin to smile more and worrying less. It’s not worth worrying. Worrying doesn’t eliminate worries, regretting doesn’t eliminate regrets and feeling sorry for something doesn’t eliminate your sorrows. I mean, if you cut your finger or suffer from problems with your backbone all these theories won’t help you much, but in all other moments, it helps me to appreciate every single minute in life, because I know that dukkha is part of my life. It’s nothing bad or nothing which I should be surprised about. It’s normal. Let’s wonder and celebrate the moments inbetween in which we achieve not to see dukkha.
Still today I visit my mother every year, at the Hanover Seelhorst Cemetry. She passed away when I was 20. She left me again. In the meanwhile the monk Thich Nhu Dien took over the lead of that Pagode. His kindness once talked to me about the last moments of my mother’s life. They had a ceremony in an italian pagode. She suddenly felt tired and went away to rest and then she slept away. My mother told me that buddhist don’t believe in the concept of dying. They believe in reincarnation. That means, every soul which leaves a body comes back again on earth as a new living being (except of the Buddhas – the delighted). His kindness said that normally dying is guided by dukkha. My mother told me that this was the reason why buddhist monks don’t wheep at funeral ceremonies. His kindness Thich Nhu Dien was leading the funeral service of my mother. He said: My mother must have been a very special person. She died. Obviously without dukkha. And I couldn’t trust my eyes when I looked in his. I saw tears.When my grandfather passed away, his daughter decided to move into a temple and join the vietnamese buddhist association. I was thirteen, when my mother left us. She shaved her long black hair and put a grey cape over her shoulders and moved in the buddhist pagode in Hanover. I remember the funeral service for our grandfather who I unfortunately never met. The air was filled with incense and we had to carry white headscarfs for a whole week. This was the first time I saw the vietnamese monk Thich Nhu Dien who was leading the funeral service. My mother cried a lot. The monk was very professional and even smiled at me from time to time. My mother explained me later, that buddhist people don’t cry, because they don’t think that people are really leaving the earth when they die.
In the beginning of course I didn’t understand my mother. I mean she left us. My father cared for us. But later I started to accept her not only as my biological mother but also as my spiritual mother. I visited her every year in the Pagode and we sat on the floor or had a walk behind the house where she showed me the flower garden which she planted and I listened to her singing the prayers to praise Namo Quan Em and The Ambo Dat. I even recorded some parts of the ceremony and made a rap song out of it. Master of Ceremony – my mother gave it a new meaning, when I started to call myself an MC. She explained me a lot without speaking and we exchanged a lot without talking. What I write down today is inspired by her:
If nature is a perfect system, what is the natural idea behind suffering for all the important milestones in life? Such as birth, growth of teeth, growth in general and particularly for girls: menstruation, the very first sexual penetration and pregnancy. Why didn’t nature (or god) made these stages of life a joyful and happy delightful experience? Why does life begins with so much suffering, for the bearing mother as much as for the child? When babies got born they do not laugh, they scream and cry. Laughing is something people do for the first time after 10 weeks on earth. Laughing and smiling is something we have to learn bit by bit. Suffering somehow is there before we are there. What is the evolutionary reason for all this pain? And what is the theological reason for pain? In the christian bible (in 1. Mose 3,19) it says, that we shall eat our bread in the sweat of our brow. As a punishment because of ignoring the rules of paradise. Actually this was the beginning of a definition of work which needs to be painful. Still today in our office jobs a lot of colleagues and our bosses won’t appreciate it if we laugh too much or having too much fun at work, because we are used to an idea of work as a painful thing. No pain no gain. This mentality culturally goes back to the phrase of the bible.
Philosophers and Pharma companies are discussing a lot about the concept of pain. F. J. J. Buytendiijk, a dutch doctor, says that the modern society doesn’t need to accept pain anymore. There is a fear for pain, he calls that Algophopic and Pharma companies sell pills to underline this attitude. There is nothing wrong about swallowing Aspirin pills when you suffer from a headache, but actually there is also nothing wrong about waiting till it’s gone – without the use of medicine. But there are also people who gloyifies pain like author Ernst Jünger, who published “War and Warriors” in 1930. In his essays you probably won’t find soldiers taking Paracetamol because of a headache. Pain is a tricky feeling, and the feeling itself can kill you. The Broken-Heart syndrom shows that pain caused by a broken romance can also lead to death, not only the pain caused by a broken leg or so.
There is a sanskrit word which buddhist people are familiar with: Dukkha. There is no congruent translation for this term in english. Suffering or pain would not really describe it properly, because suffer is a negative experience. Agony? Grief? Harm? No it doesn’t match. Dukkha is whether negative nor positive. Buddhists say, life begins with dukkha and ends with dukkha, and inbetween – guess what – it’s full of dukkha. Now you understand why buddhist monchs like the Dalai Lama are always smiling, because they know: It doesn’t make life less painful if you try to get rid off pain, the Dalai Lama doesn’t even try. He has accepted it as a crucial part of life: Life is dukkha. If you begin to realize this you automatically begin to smile more and worrying less. It’s not worth worrying. Worrying doesn’t eliminate worries, regretting doesn’t eliminate regrets and feeling sorry for something doesn’t eliminate your sorrows. I mean, if you cut your finger or suffer from problems with your backbone all these theories won’t help you much, but in all other moments, it helps me to appreciate every single minute in life, because I know that dukkha is part of my life. It’s nothing bad or nothing which I should be surprised about. It’s normal. Let’s wonder and celebrate the moments inbetween in which we achieve not to see dukkha.
Still today I visit my mother every year, at the Hanover Seelhorst Cemetry. She passed away when I was 20. She left me again. In the meanwhile the monk Thich Nhu Dien took over the lead of that Pagode. His kindness once talked to me about the last moments of my mother’s life. They had a ceremony in an italian pagode. She suddenly felt tired and went away to rest and then she slept away. My mother told me that buddhist don’t believe in the concept of dieing. They believe in reincarnation. That means, every soul which leaves a body comes back again on earth as a new living beeing (except of the Buddhas – the delighted). His kindness said that normally dieing is guided by dukkha. My mother told me that this was the reason why buddhist monks don’t wheep at funeral ceremonies. His kindness Thich Nhu Dien was leading the funeral service of my mother. He said: My mother must have been a very special person. She died. Obviously without dukkha. And I couldn’t trust my eyes when I looked in his. I saw tears.