Một dòng thở nhẹ – Nhật ký Thiền

The fourth morning.

The sky was clearer than the days before.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, laying long golden ribbons across the yard.

The young man sat on the porch, holding a cup of tea in both hands,
but his mind was not at ease.

There was an emptiness inside him—
not sadness, not worry, just a quiet hollow space.

The teacher stepped out, glanced at him briefly, then paused.

“There’s another cloud in you today.”

The young man gave a faint, awkward smile.

“This morning I woke up with a sense of emptiness.
I don’t know why.

Not sad, not anxious… just a hollow space.”

The teacher sat beside him.
He didn’t ask more.
He didn’t rush to speak.

After a while, he said:

“Try looking directly at that feeling.”

The young man startled.

“Look… directly?
I’m afraid if I look at it, it will grow bigger.”

The teacher chuckled softly.

“That’s the habit of the mind.

It fears suffering, so it always tries to avoid it.”

A sentence from Jiddu Krishnamurti rose in him—
gentle but sharp:

“Suffering ends only when you look at it completely.”

The young man fell silent.
The words touched exactly where he was stuck.

The teacher continued:

“Try to see… where does this emptiness come from?”

The young man closed his eyes for a moment.

“Maybe because a conversation last night ended abruptly.
Maybe because I expected something and didn’t get it.

Maybe because I’m tired.

Maybe because… I’m afraid of being left behind.”

The teacher nodded.

“You see, suffering doesn’t arise on its own.

It is the result of many conditions:
a small expectation,
an old memory,
a thin layer of fear,
a tired body,
a bit of loneliness in the morning.”

He looked at the young man and spoke slowly:

“Suffering is not frightening.

What’s frightening is that we don’t dare look at it.”

The young man opened his eyes.

“But… if I look directly at it, what should I do next?”

The teacher shook his head gently.

“Nothing.

Just look.
Don’t analyze.
Don’t push it away.
Don’t try to change it.
Don’t hope it disappears.
Don’t fear it staying.

Just let it show itself fully.”

The teacher pointed lightly to his chest.

“Let it appear as it is.”

The young man tried.

He sat still, looking into the hollow space inside him.

No resistance.
No interpretation.
No naming.

After a while, he whispered:

“It’s… softening.

Not because I’m trying.
But because I’m seeing it.”

The teacher smiled.

“Krishnamurti said:

‘To see is to end.’

Not an ending through effort,
but through clarity.”

The young man looked up at the clear blue sky.

“I never thought suffering could dissolve so gently.”

The teacher replied:

“It’s simple, but not easy.

The mind is used to running away.
Only when you stop, look directly, without fear…
suffering melts like mist meeting sunlight.”

He stood up and brushed off his robe.

“Come.
Let’s sweep the yard a little.
When the mind is clear, any task becomes meditation.”

The young man rose with him.
The emptiness inside was no longer a hole—
it had become a space: wide, bright, and quiet.