A Mantle of Spiritual Protection

By Denise Nguyen

Our dinner conversation started simply enough. Our regular update on our lives. 

Then my mom said, “I’ve been thinking about our will.” My mouth, which had been chewing on pho noodles, stopped. Wills, death, the continuation of our parents in other forms: important conversations to have, but not always easy to digest. I took a deep breath, reminding myself of Thay’s teachings on no birth, no death to ground me.

“Dad and I are thinking about leaving money to the Thich Nhat Hanh Foundation,” she continued. I could tell there was a little hesitation on her part. The Vietnamese cultural norm is to leave all your money to your children. Bequeathing money to charities, while common in the West, hasn’t yet become a mainstream practice for my parents’ generation.

Like many moms and dads, mine worry about me. Even though I’m a grown adult, they worry about how my well-being will be supported after they pass away. Their will assumes the mantle of my financial protector in their absence; it is an act of parental love signaling they’ll still be taking care of me when they’re gone. 

“I think that’s a really great idea, Mommy,” I immediately answered. To assuage her hesitation, I shared my feelings on the interbeing nature of their wonderful aspiration:

“Mommy, by leaving money to the Foundation, you’re very much taking care of me. You and Daddy are looking after my spiritual and emotional well-being, and that’s just as important as my financial health. You’ll help make sure monasteries like Deer Park or Blue Cliff will be there for me to find refuge when I feel stressed and need a retreat.” 

I went on to tell my parents that their gift will support the health of the monks and nuns so they can continue to be my teachers, brothers, and sisters—my family. When the daily news is overwhelming and my hope is faltering, I will be able to find solace in our worldwide community of Sangha practitioners. As Thay writes in Peace Is Every Step, “Even if we have a lot of money in the bank, we can die very easily from our suffering. So, investing in a friend, making a friend into a real friend, building a community of friends, is a much better source of security. We will have someone to lean on, to come to, during our difficult moments.”

My parents deeply understand the value of community and the importance of helping Thay’s teachings and practices grow around the world. They know it is an investment in all of us and in the planet. I am so thankful they are putting their values into action by becoming members of the Cedar Society, the Thich Nhat Hanh Foundation’s legacy gift program. It was created to embody the energy of the original thirteen cedars, the name given by Thay to his first students, who supported him when he was a young Dharma teacher starting his teachings in Vietnam. When we look at Thay, when we see the manifestation of his tradition taking root in the West, we also see the grove of cedars in him. We are here because they were there. 

I’m so happy that my parents will continue not only through me, but also through the entire community. I see that I am strongly held by the “cedars” of the past and of the future. For more information about the Cedar Society, please visit thichnhathanhfoundation.org/bequest or email info@thichnhathanhfoundation.org.

Denise Nguyen, True Moon Lamp (Chan Nguyet Dang) is the director of the Thich Nhat Hanh Foundation and practices in Los Angeles, California.