Just Love

Sister Tại Nghiêm: You were the first person to whom Thầy transmitted The Fourteen
Mindfulness Trainings in the West since he
left Vietnam in 1966. Could you share the circumstances and how you felt?
Anh Hương: In 1981, my younger brother,
Đức, and I visited Thầy in France. Thầy is
my father’s younger brother. After spending
a few days at Phương Vân (Fragrant Cloud)
Hermitage, cô Phượng (later Sister Chân
Không) drove us to Sơn Cốc, the hermitage
where Thầy lived. I feel such gratitude for cô
Phượng. It was a long drive, and she was the
only one who could drive. Whenever she got
sleepy, she sang to keep herself awake.
Every morning, we went to the backyard
to garden—such happiness! Thầy planted
vegetables, watered flowers, cut grass,
chopped wood, dried firewood, and stacked
the wood near the kitchen stove for cold
mornings and evenings. Thầy also wrote,
printed, and bound books there—including
his own—by hand.
About a week before we were to return
to America, after Thầy’s midday rest, Thầy
called me to sit beside him, handed me some
printed papers, and said, “Read this, my dear.” 
I read them from beginning to end. They
were the text of The Fourteen Mindfulness
Trainings. Thầy sat still, solid as a mountain,
while I read.
A few minutes later, Thầy asked, “What
do you think, my dear?” “It’s wonderful, Thầy,”
I answered. Thầy had touched my bodhicitta,
opening the path for me to step forward in
service within the Order of Interbeing (OI).
Something entirely new and fresh was
unfolding within me.
After a few moments of silence, Thầy
briefly recounted the history of the Order.
Then, we went out for a walk. The next
morning, while the mist lingered, Thầy went
outside with a pair of scissors. I followed to
see what Thầy was doing. Thầy cut a rose
and placed it in a vase on the altar. Then
Thầy called cô Phượng and said, “Today, Anh
Hương will receive The Fourteen Mindfulness
Trainings.” After reading each training, Thầy
asked, “Do you vow to receive, study, and
practice this training?” “Yes, I do,” I replied.
That was August 20, 1981. When Thầy had an
intention, Thầy acted on it right away. 
As soon as the ceremony was over, Thầy
asked cô Phượng to cook something to celebrate. Cô Phượng was a quick cook, so in no
time it was ready. We had a breakfast of freshly
made xôi bắp (sticky rice with corn) sprinkled
with fragrant fried shallots. Thầy finished his
bowl, then served us a little more, leaving a
tiny bit for himself. After eating, Thầy smiled
and said, “So wonderful!” The atmosphere at
Sơn Cốc was as joyful as during Tết!
After resting for a while, Đức followed
Thầy with a wheelbarrow to carry firewood
and stack it beside the kitchen stove. After
so many decades away from his homeland,
Thầy was happy to once again immerse himself in the warmth and simplicity of a family
atmosphere.
TN: The story behind your OI transmission is
so fascinating. What other interesting lessons
have you received from Thầy?
AH: I first came to Plum Village in July 1984
and met many young people, including
Brother Thư (Brother Chân Trí). During that
Summer Retreat, there was a ceremony to
recite The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings at
the Yên Tử Meditation Hall in Upper Hamlet.
Everything was prepared and the lay practitioners had gathered, yet Thầy had not come.
I felt obliged to go and invite Thầy.
When I entered the room, Thầy lay on his
mattress on the wooden floor with his eyes
closed. Thầy opened his eyes. I said, “Dear
Thầy, there is a precept recitation ceremony
this morning, and everyone is waiting for

Thầy.” Thầy said simply, “You lead it.” I thought,
“Dear Thầy, you have never taught me how—
how can you tell me to do this?” I just stood
there like a statue, unable to speak. Thầy
turned toward the wall and added gently, “Go
ahead, my dear. Go on.” I guessed Thầy had
a stomachache and hadn’t slept well. On one
hand, I felt tender concern for Thầy, knowing
Thầy needed to rest. On the other hand, I had
no idea what to do!
I had never guided a precept recitation
ceremony—let alone in English. But Thầy had
said, “Go ahead,” so I went. Once I entered
the meditation hall, though, I thought, “Now
what?” I felt very small in the solemn atmosphere of a ceremony Thầy had always led.
I had never even offered incense before the
sangha!
Looking around, I saw no one who could
help. So I had to sit in Thầy’s place. And somehow, the ceremony was completed. My heart
felt light and joyful. Thầy saw me clearly and
“pushed” me forward. Thầy never “pushed”
me in a way that made me fall. The question
was always whether I was willing to move
forward or not. Each time Thầy “pushed” me,
I felt I had truly grown—not in age or years
of practice, but beyond my small self, beyond
what I thought I was.
One afternoon during the 1991 Summer
Retreat at Plum Village, Brother Thư and I
went to visit Thầy in Lower Hamlet. Thầy was
resting in a hammock, and we were joyfully
chatting together when, quite suddenly, Thầy
said, “Next year, you two will receive the
Lamp Transmission.”
We were startled and fell silent. “No,
please, Thầy. We’re not ready.” I thought to
myself that receiving the Lamp meant having
to teach—and how could I teach when I knew
so little? Thầy smiled, his eyes radiant and
gentle, filled with love. Then he asked:
“Are you happy?”
“Yes, of course, dear Thầy.”
“Being here, do you have joy?”
“Yes, a lot of joy.”
“Then you just receive the Lamp.”
“But … I don’t know how to teach.”
“No need to teach. You have joy—just
share your happiness.”
I wanted to reason a little more, but I knew
that when Thầy “pushed,” it was time to “go.” 
The following summer, Brother Thư and I
returned to Plum Village to receive the Lamp
Transmission from Thầy.
Here is my transmission gatha by Thầy: 
Chân tâm ươm hạt quý
Ý vun bón vườn nhà
Thanh thản cùng năm tháng
Lòng đất tự đơm hoa.
Translated into English: 
It is in the true Store that the precious
seeds are entrusted
and it is the Mind that takes care of the
ancestral garden.
Enjoy deeply the months and years that are
offered to you
and the flowers of wisdom and love will
naturally spring forth from the heart of the
Earth.
A few days later, I was having tea with
Thầy at Sitting Still Hut (Cốc Ngồi Yên), along
with Arnie Kotler (Chân Đắc) from Parallax
Press. Thầy began to draft a flyer with us
for a retreat I would be leading. He folded
the paper and handed it to Arnie to finish
the rest. Thầy had just given me the Lamp
Transmission and immediately “put me to
work” leading a retreat! 
The retreat took place in December 1992
in West Virginia, with the theme  Touching
Peace. Thư and I looked at the freshly printed
flyers on colored paper, and joy filled our
hearts. We knew we could continue Thầy’s
work on the path of practice and helping
others.
The retreat began Friday afternoon. From
the upstairs bedroom, I watched retreatants
pulling their suitcases toward registration.
Some looked like football players, while
others were old enough to be my uncles,
aunts, or even grandparents. I felt very small

and began to tremble: “Oh no, I’m riding on a
tiger’s back!”
The more I watched, the more nervous
I became—yet curiosity kept me looking. I
paced mindfully back and forth in my room
until it was time for orientation. Walking down
the stairs into the meditation hall, I held Thầy’s
hand on one side and the Buddha’s hand on
the other. Step by step, I asked the Buddha
and Thầy within me to guide my footsteps.
Just walking—without thinking, without striving, with nothing to do. I let the Buddha and
Thầy carry everything for me. A gentle sense
of lightness, ease, and happiness began to
arise. In the meditation hall, everyone sat
quietly and solemnly. I walked to the seat that
had been prepared and sat down—together
with the Buddha and Thầy.
In 1980, Thầy had first visited our home
in New Jersey, six months after our family
arrived in the US. One day, Thầy called,
“Anh-Hương, come lie down here. Place your
hands on your abdomen. Breathe. Do you feel
your belly rise and fall?” Then Thầy quietly
stepped out of the room. Just a few simple
words, yet that lesson carried me through the
retreat. Ever since, whenever I give a Dharma
talk, I feel the Buddha and Thầy sitting beside
me—one on each side.
TN: Did you share this with him?

AH: Yes. Thầy smiled and let out a small
chuckle as he said, “I’ve been a bit naughty!”
[Thầy was acknowledging that he put Anh
Hương in a difficult situation, but he trusted
that she would be able to handle it.]
“JUST LOVE!”—A MANTRA
FOR THE PATH
TN: Practicing for more than forty years,
what is your reflection about the Order of
Interbeing and Engaged Buddhism? What do
you think Thầy wants us to continue?
AH: The Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings are
the concrete expression of our bodhicitta—
the deep aspiration to dedicate our energy
to practice and to help others. Sangha is the
soil that nourishes and protects this aspiration. Engaged Buddhism, as embodied in
the Order of Interbeing, is the path of deep
understanding and fierce compassion. This
bodhisattva path is sustained by the energy
cultivated through the practice of precepts,
mindfulness, concentration, and insight.
Since
Plum
Village’s
first
Summer
Opening in 1982, Thầy consistently emphasized the practice of mindfulness in everyday
life and in sangha building. Thầy called the
sangha a “community of resistance” that
resists the collective momentum of greed,
anger, and ignorance.
Through investigation and deep looking,
we recognize that what is happening in the
world and within the sangha is also happening within ourselves. Non-blaming is the
secret to maintaining genuine compassion.
When our inner suffering is not yet cared for,
we often project and vent it into our relationships with family, sangha, and our activism.
We stand now at a crossroads of how
Buddhism will evolve in this country and
on this planet. As members of the Order of
Interbeing, our challenge is to live our daily
lives so that the bodhisattva ideal is truly
embedded in the fabric of our existence. How
do we find peace, stillness, nourishment,
and healing while still engaging deeply with
social, political, and environmental issues?
Seeing the danger of activists burning
out due to a lack of deep spiritual training,
Thầy shifted the emphasis from “Engaged
Buddhism” toward “Applied Buddhism” and
sangha building. Thầy’s calligraphies—such
as “I have arrived, I am home,” “Peace in
oneself, peace in the world,” and “The way
out is in”—serve as essential reminders of
the importance of individual practice as the
foundation for collective awakening. This is
the essence of Applied Buddhism.
I can still hear Thầy saying, “This is a
happy moment!” If we are not peaceful and
Each time Thầy “pushed” me,
I felt I had truly grown—
not in age or years of practice,
but beyond my small self,
beyond what I thought I was.

happy right now, how can we truly be present
for our loved ones, much less those who are
suffering and crying for help?
Thầy is happy to see his students practicing
wholeheartedly—healing
wounds,
nurturing siblinghood, and building sangha
everywhere. As Thầy once said, “You are all
Thầy’s continuation. You are bringing Thầy
into the future; in whatever you do, Thầy is
always there beside you, walking with you.”
Wherever there is a Sangha, there is the
Buddha, the Dharma, and Thầy.
These days, our local sangha practices
the mantra, “Just love!” We don’t need to
strain or try hard to love—because understanding is love.
TN: Have you ever found practicing “Just
love!” difficult? Were there times it felt impossible to love, yet you found a way?
AH: As Thầy’s student, I have vowed to learn
to understand and to love, knowing love is the
miraculous medicine that heals the suffering
of all beings. Yet there are moments when I
encounter someone simply too difficult to
love—and sometimes that “someone” is myself. I make an effort and learn to be patient,
but when the situation remains unchanged,
my strength to love wanes. At times, the
thought surfaces: “Everyone has their place
in the universe—why bother?” What I thought
of as “contemplating suffering” might be
more or less an intellectual reflection, a tiny
corner of reality. The insight I had felt limited;
love arising from such a shallow well cannot
embrace truly difficult situations.
I ask myself, how long must I contemplate this suffering before I can understand
it deeply enough to give rise to great, unconditional love? How long before the spring of
love within my own heart can truly begin to
flow?
When the well of effort runs dry, when I no
longer know what to do, “Just love!” becomes
the ultimate practice. It is not an idea, but a
surrender. Once the sword of intellect is laid
down, and the agonizing illusion of a separate self evaporates, this mantra can carry us
directly into the ultimate dimension, even as
our feet still tread the muddy ground of the
historical dimension. 
Practicing mindfulness is like digging
a well. The mantra “Just love!” can help us
reach the water and draw it up. When that
spring of loving-kindness flows forth, we
become the hands, eyes, and heart of the
Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara. When the self
is fully released, selfless wisdom guides our
steps, and love becomes boundless.
TN: Do you have a wish for the OI family on
its sixtieth anniversary?
AH: Order of Interbeing sanghas are like
oases in a scorching desert—a vital place for
us to return to for refuge and renewal.
Recently, I shared this with our young OI
members: building sangha and walking the
bodhisattva path is deeply engaged spiritual
practice. The sangha door is wide open to all;
it excludes no one and makes no distinction
based on background, identity, or political
orientation. A true sangha cultivates loving
speech and deep listening, creating a safe
space for everyone to share their views—
even when they differ from our own.
Where I live, one of my neighbors has a
sign on their front lawn: “Hate doesn’t have
a home here.” I tell my friends that even the
mind of hatred can have a place to rest in the
sangha. The collective energy of mindfulness
and all-embracing love is what makes the
sangha a safe place for those who come.
We must continually renew the sangha.
No matter how healthy the seed of bodhicitta
may be, if the soil is not fertile and nourishing,
the seed cannot sprout—it will wither away.
The
very
heart
of
The
Fourteen
Mindfulness Trainings is understanding and

love. When our collective mindfulness is
fragile, small frustrations can unfortunately
spiral into cycles of justification and conflict,
sometimes even leading to the weaponizing
of precepts to assign blame. Suffering is not
a problem to be solved; it is a wound to be
tended with the medicine of understanding
and love. Thầy often reminded his students,
“You have the right to suffer. You do not have
the right not to practice!”
Thầy’s simple yet profound calligraphy,
“The way out is in,” calls us to turn inward,
recognizing that the root of our distress
always lies within. Our practice is to listen
deeply and care for the pain we find inside.
This internal work is mirrored in the community practice of Beginning Anew, which is vital
for the well-being of our sangha. By renewing
ourselves, we naturally renew our bonds with
our siblings. Our ability to live harmoniously
and lovingly with one another—especially
those we find challenging—is the measure of
our practice’s success.
Throughout Thầy’s life—even after his
stroke, until his final days at the root temple—
Thầy never stopped nurturing the bonds of
teacher and students, of brotherhood and
sisterhood. Thầy reassured us, “Each of you
is a continuation of Thầy. When you care for,
love, and support one another, you are nourishing Thầy.”
In the midst of an increasingly complex
and challenging world, my deep wish is for
us to prioritize coming together, nurturing
siblinghood, and caring for our OI family. 
With every moment, every day, we dedicate ourselves to spiritual growth, moving
forward as a sangha—a beloved community,
a peace movement where healing, happiness,
and compassion are palpable in the light of
interbeing. Our local sanghas are like creeks,
sustaining life wherever they flow. 
Thầy told us many times that siblinghood
is the most precious of all. It is the loving
threads that weave our sangha blanket,
keeping us safe and warm during the acute
weather of global challenges. As this blanket
expands, it offers comfort and relief to those
in desperate situations. 
Thầy is still walking in front of us and with
us always. Who is walking behind us? What
legacy are we leaving for the next generation?
Thầy told us many times that siblinghood
is the most precious of all. It is the loving
threads that weave our sangha blanket,
keeping us safe and warm during the
acute weather of global challenges.

The younger generations, our children and
grandchildren, are watching how we live and
how we treat one another. As their blood and
spiritual ancestors, we must live in a way that
can help them discover the true meaning of
their existence and move forward on the path
of love and beauty as a beloved community.
To truly be Thầy’s continuation means
keeping the stream of love flowing. The
powerful energy of Thầy’s compassion once
touched our hearts so deeply; now, it is our
turn to practice in a way that the younger
generations can feel closer to us—and touch
that same love within themselves. True
transmission is only possible through true
continuation.
This interview was held in Plum Village, France,
during a May 2025 retreat for Order of Interbeing
members. Originally in Vietnamese, it was
translated by Sister Trăng Mai Thôn.
Đức in summer 1981, courtesy of Anh Hương
from Thầy, courtesy of Anh Hương
Village, May 2025, courtesy of the monastic sangha.
Anh Hương is in top row, fourth from left.
Becoming a member of the Order of Interbeing in 1981 and receiving the Lamp Transmission from Thầy
in 1992, Sister Chân Ý (Anh Hương, Thầy’s niece) has always carried within her the flame of service and
the aspiration of sangha building. Together with her husband, Brother Chân Trí, she founded the Fairfax
Mindfulness Practice Center of Fairfax in Virginia, US in 1998 and has guided numerous retreats for both
Vietnamese and international practitioners.

Dear Wake Up Order of Interbeing members,
We, the older members of the Order of
Interbeing (OI), know that you are there and
we are very happy. We need you. If we can
support you in any way, please let us know.
Why are we happy to know you are there?
It is because of your youthful energy of creativity and putting compassion into action.
Some of you in the US were prepared to help
Dharma teachers Larry Ward (Brother True
Great Voice) and Peggy Rowe Ward (Sister
True Original Vow) come to the June 2026
gathering in Plum Village. Now Brother True
Great Voice is physically no longer with us,
but that does not mean you will not bring
him to the gathering. Your deep aspiration
for inclusiveness and nondiscrimination is
the continuation of his aspiration. In Europe
and Asia, those of you who worked alongside
Dharma teacher Hà Vĩnh Thọ (Brother True
Great Understanding) will also keep his deep
aspiration alive, and if you come to the June
2026 gathering you will bring it with you. It is
the aspiration for Gross National Happiness
to be our measuring rod in what we do and
for happy teachers to change the world.
Dear young OI, what are the principles
that guide us in our service, our studies,
our practice, and our times of relaxation?
They are: nonattachment to views (破執),
appropriateness (契機), direct experience
of the truth (實證), and skilful means (方便).
Nonattachment to views means we break
through a veil of attachment to our own way
of seeing things and our beliefs. It means we
are always ready and open to learn something new. To do this we train ourselves in the
habit of deep listening, especially listening to
those we do not agree with. We do not argue
about small things. For instance, someone
says, “Sư Cô Hội Nghiêm gave the talk last
Walking Joyfully Together
Sister Chân Đức (Sister True Virtue) shares a message
for young members of the Order of Interbeing.
We accept there is a difference in our perceptions.
Why waste time and energy arguing
about insignificant things?