Opening Dedication
Before we begin, I want to dedicate this talk to Plum Village — the community and organization that paves the way for us to come together to share and practice the Dharma. I am deeply grateful to Thầy (Thich Nhat Hanh) for his profound teachings that guide us gently toward understanding life, death, and impermanence.
I would also like to acknowledge our dear friend Kyle, who recently passed, and our Plum Village resident who also left us. Their passing has brought the theme of death and impermanence deeply into our community these past weeks.
Introducing the Subject
Today, I want to speak about death and impermanence — realities that touch us all.
In Buddhism, we don’t see birth and death as absolute beginnings or endings. Instead, we understand life as a continuous cycle called samsara — a cycle of ongoing birth, death, and rebirth.
Because of this, we often call our birthdays “continuation days.” We believe that our existence began even before we were in the womb, coming from both our mother and father, continuing a long chain of transformation.
So birthdays mark milestones in our human journey — moments along this unfolding path. Death, then, is not a final end but another cycle folding us into a new form or realm. Our soul or consciousness does not cease just because our physical body no longer exists here.
How can we embrace this understanding? How can it help us live with the fear, grief, and love that come with impermanence?
To begin, I’d like to share a personal reflection — a “Conversation with Death” — that I wrote recently.
Reading: Conversation with Death
If you had to have a conversation with death at this point in your journey, what would you say? This is my dedication.
As death, I identify personally with your attack on my life. I have to remind myself that it’s your journey/destiny to move our cycles along on our path and to remind us of the constructed idea of time. In a way, you are a poet for the remembrance of impermanence. You dance with us all and hold our hands as we walk back home. And in this way, you’re very misinterpreted. And when I remember this, I’m filled with compassion for you. Sometimes it’s a reminder not to “shoot the messenger.” The biggest struggle I have with you isn’t your job. It’s the way you’ve held the hands of the soul that has held my hand. And how you were the last one who got them before they take another form. I hope that you hold them gently, send them off with a kiss, and with the warmth of my love as their fingers slip away from yours into the next realm. What a difficult job you must have.
Teaching: The Wave, the Drop, and the Cloud — Impermanence & Continuation
After writing that, I came back to one of Thầy’s teachings that I want to share with you:
“The water knows it is a wave.”
The wave has a beginning and an end. It rises and eventually crashes on the shore. It knows it must end.
But the drop of water — the essence of the wave — does not hold to that limited form.
As a drop, it is ever-changing and free. It doesn’t suffer death because it knows no fixed form.
Like that, our loved ones who have passed continue in a never-ending cycle of transformation.
Let’s imagine the journey of a drop of water:
A drop falls into the soil. It’s not lost.
It is drawn up through the roots of a tree, becoming part of its sap.
Then, under the sun, it evaporates and rises to join other droplets in the sky as a cloud.
That cloud changes again — it becomes rain, joining a river, flowing to the sea, becoming part of the air, or even a cup of tea.
The cloud never dies — it just changes form.
Applying This to Those We Love
So, when someone we love passes, it may seem like they are gone.
But they have simply changed form.
They live inside us — through our actions, our spirit, the values and love they instilled.
Every act of kindness, every moment of compassion you show is a continuation of their presence.
Their spirit flows in you, shaping your heart and your world.
They are never truly lost.
Thầy’s Tender Words
Thầy said:
“The one you love is trying to reach you. They are saying to you: ‘I’m still here, my darling. I’m just a drop in the sky.’”
They are in the rain, the mist, and the silence between heartbeats.
Guided Reflection
I invite you now to close your eyes, or soften your gaze.
Bring to mind someone you’ve lost — a friend, a teacher, a family member.
As you breathe in, say silently: “I know you are with me.”
As you breathe out, say silently: “You continue in me.”
Allow yourself to feel their presence.
Where are they now in your life?
What form have they taken in you?
(Pause for about 1 minute)
Closing with Plum Village Chant
I invite you to listen or join in singing a Plum Village chant that reminds us of this truth:
No coming, no going
No coming, no going
No after, no before
I hold you close to me
I release you to be so free
Because I am in you
And you are in me.
Final Words
So yes — we grieve, we miss the form we once held.
But let us remember:
A cloud never dies.
Our loved ones are here — just in a new form.
If we stop, breathe, and open our hearts,
we may hear them whispering:
“I’m still here, my darling. I’m just a drop in the sky.”
Thank you for sharing this moment together.
