{"id":8041,"date":"2022-01-28T12:35:14","date_gmt":"2022-01-28T19:35:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=8041"},"modified":"2022-01-28T12:35:14","modified_gmt":"2022-01-28T19:35:14","slug":"thich-nhat-hanh-please-call-me-by-my-true-names","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2022\/01\/28\/thich-nhat-hanh-please-call-me-by-my-true-names\/","title":{"rendered":"Thich Nhat Hanh – Please Call Me by My True Names"},"content":{"rendered":"

Please Call Me by My True Names
\nby Thich Nhat Hanh<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t say that I will depart tomorrow \u2014
\neven today I am still arriving.<\/p>\n

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
\nto be a bud on a Spring branch,
\nto be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
\nlearning to sing in my new nest,
\nto be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
\nto be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.<\/p>\n

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
\nto fear and to hope.<\/p>\n

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
\nof all that is alive.<\/p>\n

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
\non the surface of the river.
\nAnd I am the bird
\nthat swoops down to swallow the mayfly.<\/p>\n

I am the frog swimming happily
\nin the clear water of a pond.
\nAnd I am the grass-snake
\nthat silently feeds itself on the frog.<\/p>\n

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
\nmy legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
\nAnd I am the arms merchant,
\nselling deadly weapons to Uganda.<\/p>\n

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
\nrefugee on a small boat,
\nwho throws herself into the ocean
\nafter being raped by a sea pirate.
\nAnd I am the pirate,
\nmy heart not yet capable
\nof seeing and loving.<\/p>\n

I am a member of the politburo,
\nwith plenty of power in my hands.
\nAnd I am the man who has to pay
\nhis \u201cdebt of blood\u201d to my people
\ndying slowly in a forced-labor camp.<\/p>\n

My joy is like Spring, so warm
\nit makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
\nMy pain is like a river of tears,
\nso vast it fills the four oceans.<\/p>\n

Please call me by my true names,
\nso I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
\nso I can see that my joy and pain are one.<\/p>\n

Please call me by my true names,
\nso I can wake up,
\nand so the door of my heart
\ncan be left open,
\nthe door of compassion.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from Call Me by My True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh<\/a>, by Thich Nhat Hanh<\/font><\/p>\n


\/ Image by AlicePopkorn<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

This past week the great soul \u2013 spiritual teacher, peace activist, embodiment of compassion \u2013 Thich Nhat Hanh passed away at the age of 95. <\/p>\n

Thich Nhat Hanh has been such an important international figure of spirituality, integrity, and compassion, all combined with peace activism, that his passing will be felt by so many across the globe.<\/p>\n

Perhaps more than any other, this is the poem I think of first when I think of Thich Nhat Hanh, so I thought I would share it again today.<\/p>\n

=<\/p>\n

This is a lovely, unflinching meditation on how all of being and all of human experience weaves together into a single tapestry of the whole. It can even draw comparisons with Walt Whitman\u2019s \u201cSong of Myself,\u201d where everything, terrible and beautiful, is one, is witnessed, and is found within oneself. <\/p>\n

Don\u2019t say that I will depart tomorrow \u2014
\neven today I am still arriving.<\/i><\/p>\n

Most of us have learned to anticipate what will happen next, and we end up mentally dwelling in our fantasies and fears about the future. But the future is merely an idea; it never has reality. The present moment is all that is ever real. And that is where we must dwell if we want to truly be alive and know what is real.<\/p>\n

The present is a state of \u201cstill arriving.\u201d Because the present moment is not a fixed space in time, we can\u2019t say that anything encountered in the present is fixed and settled either. The present is a gossamer thin, moving thread of light where all things are just barely stepping into the visibility of being\u2026 as the moment keeps moving. Everything, everyone, in every second is always just arriving. The present is a continuous becoming. <\/p>\n

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
\nto be a bud on a Spring branch,
\nto be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
\nlearning to sing in my new nest\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

Another fascinating thing is discovered when we truly, deeply perceive the present moment: Not only are we and all things \u201cstill arriving,\u201d but the illusion of boundaries and separate being falls away. The notion of identity expands and recognizes itself just as naturally in all things witnessed. We find we are not just the person watching the bud on the Spring branch, but in our arriving we are equally the Spring bud itself, the young bird, the caterpillar in the flower, the jewel waiting in the stone. This is not some poetic game of words; it is what we actually perceive ourselves to be.<\/p>\n

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
\nof all that is alive.<\/i><\/p>\n

When we finally see this truth, for the first time we can truly witness the world as it is. And that is what this poem is most about: witnessing. Thich Nhat Hanh invites us to courageously witness the panorama of life, wonders and horrors alike. Through this honest witnessing, we are not spectators watching others from a distance; no, it all unfolds upon us and in us. We are witnessing ourselves in many forms. We recognize that anything that happens anywhere in the world, is actually happening to us. Everything done, is done by ourselves\u2026 to ourselves. There is no unfolding experience in the world that we are not participants in.<\/p>\n

Please call me by my true names,
\nso I can wake up,
\nand so the door of my heart
\ncan be left open,
\nthe door of compassion.<\/i><\/p>\n

This is why compassion is not altruistic. This is why service is no effort. When we finally see things as they are, it is all part of our own selves. When we offer our heart, when we offer our hand, we are simply helping ourselves. Who among us, when he touches a hot iron, doesn\u2019t immediately pull back and then soothe the burn under cool water? That\u2019s not altruism, it is the natural response to pain in one\u2019s body. When we see clearly, we see we are all of one body, and the joys and pains of any other is our own as well. <\/p>\n

Compassion and a heart that has broken open are the natural result of being awake to this truth, and they are no effort at all.<\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Thich Nhat Hanh<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n

\n\n\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Call Me by My True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nThe Heart of the Buddha\u2019s Teaching: Transforming Suffering Into Peace, Joy & Liberation<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\n\n
\n\"Thich<\/a>\n<\/td>\n\nThich Nhat Hanh<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Vietnam\/France\/US (1926 \u2013 2022) Timeline<\/a>
\nBuddhist<\/a> : Zen \/ Chan<\/a>
\n<\/a><\/a><\/em>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

More poetry by Thich Nhat Hanh<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Please Call Me by My True Names by Thich Nhat Hanh Don\u2019t say that I will depart tomorrow \u2014 even today I am still arriving. Look deeply: every second I am arriving to be a bud on a Spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings, learning to sing in my new nest, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[1465,1436,40,1245,369,118],"class_list":["post-8041","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-being-present","tag-buddhism","tag-buddhist-poetry","tag-present-moment","tag-thich-nhat-hanh","tag-zen-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8041","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8041"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8041\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8042,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8041\/revisions\/8042"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8041"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8041"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8041"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}