Beginning at 2:00 AM, the Sangha woke up and wrapped up the tents. We left the Hindu temple’s campus and departed at 3:30 AM. One after another, we climbed up the slope to the main road with flickering flashlights, listened to the cars honking, and watched the speeding cargo trucks – crossing the highway was a problem for a group of more than 100 people. When a few others and I crossed the street, suddenly, there was a scream from a bhikkhu. I looked back and saw a car and a cargo truck hit the brakes as they approached the monks behind us. Fortunately, the whole group was safe.

We continued the journey in the middle of the night and stopped for breakfast at a roadside corner. Each person was given one packet of instant noodles. If someone had boiling water, they could mix and eat it; if not, they had to chew the noodles dry. People were curious and stopped to ask questions. They asked to take pictures with us even though our languages were different. Thirty minutes passed, and the journey continued for another 15km, where we had lunch. At this point, I noticed the fatigue on the monks’ faces; of course, I was no exception. After lunch, each person chose a place to sit, lay down, massaged their feet, used a needle to puncture the soles of their feet to relieve the swelling, and sutured their wounds. My heart goes out to those who could not keep up with us, for we finished our meals when they arrived. The image of monks sitting and lying under the bamboo trees made me reflect on the genuine monks who lived in seclusion in the mountains and forests. The earth was their bed, and the sky was their blanket. How beautiful and noble it is!

It’s still quite a long way from here to the resting place at night. We kept going and going but still had not arrived; our whole body’s painful, burning sensations arose continuously. We had the same robe and alms bowls on our shoulders since the first day, but it felt like someone had quietly added more rocks and pebbles inside them. And finally, after 14 arduous hours (47km), we came to a resting place, an empty lot by the roadside, next to the bridge, with no electricity, no water, cold, and wet. This has rekindled the image of the homeless people to whom Hương Từ Foundation and I distributed blankets and food as winter arrives. Here, we are also living like homeless individuals. Even worse, the strong smell of feces and urine permeated the air. Tire tracks had churned on the ground, making it difficult to find a flat surface to set up a tent.

I deeply feel more of the Buddha’s teachings about impermanence and the life’s uncertainty of monks. I respectfully pay homage to the Blessed One, the Master of Celestial beings and Humanity…

Source: Dhammacetiya
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