A PLUM BLOSSOM BRANCH – ZEN MASTER MAN GIAC

"Spring departs, a hundred flowers fall.
Spring arrives, a hundred flowers bloom.
Life’s affairs pass before our eyes.
Old age comes upon our heads.
Do not say that when spring ends, all flowers fall
Last night in front of the hall, a plum blossom bloomed."

(The poem above is a famous Tang-style poem, often referred to as " A PLUM BLOSSOM BRANCH " by Zen Master Man Giac, a monk from the Ly Dynasty period in Vietnam.)

A FEW THOUGHTS

With heartfelt respect and gratitude, we thank our wise teacher — an extraordinary Zen master. It’s a true blessing to be able to receive and reflect on your meaningful guidance 

“Spring departs, a hundred flowers fall. 

Spring arrives, a hundred flowers bloom.”

The Zen master begins with two clear and direct lines — no embellishment, no flowery words. He simply points us to the laws of nature. That is the way of the world: when spring comes, flowers bloom; when spring goes, flowers fall. It’s a truth so familiar... that we often forget it.

The law of human life is birth, aging, sickness, and death. Where there is birth, there will be death — it’s inevitable. Human life may be a bit longer. A flower lasts only about two weeks. Some creatures live just a few days, some months, some decades. Human life is the same — it can be a few days, a few months, or several decades, sometimes even a hundred years. So really, what’s the difference? Whether it’s a flower or a person, all must follow the same unchanging law: birth, aging, sickness, and death.

Sometimes, we convince ourselves that we’ll live until eighty or ninety — as if only others die young, not us. With that illusion, we waste our precious lifetime, taking each day for granted. That’s why the Zen master speaks with such clarity — to awaken his disciples, to remind them of the impermanence of life and the importance of living with awareness.

Đôi khi chúng ta cứ tin chắc rằng mình còn sống đến tám, chín mươi tuổi mới chết, người khác chết trẻ chứ ta thì không! Rồi phung phí tuổi thọ của mình. Cho nên thiền sư mới dạy cho đồ đệ thật rõ ràng.

"Life’s affairs pass before our eyes. 

Old age comes upon our heads."

It’s a wake-up call — not only for his disciples, but for all of us: 'Don’t forget, my child, you could die at any moment. Your lifespan isn’t as long as you think. In the blink of an eye, your hair has turned gray — the end is near. Wake up, don’t sleep through your life!”.

That’s just how we are — short-sighted and quick to forget. The human mind focuses only on what’s right in front of us, the present moment, so our feelings arise instantly. When we see the plum blossoms bloom, our hearts fill with joy; emotions surge as spring arrives. But then, when spring fades and the blossoms fall, regret and sorrow follow — wishing the spring would never leave!

Similarly, we feel a sudden sadness when we notice gray hairs appearing, and even more sorrow when they quickly cover our head. We feel pain when our legs ache, because it means we have entered the aging stage of life — a stage that brings us closer to death.

Death can be frightening for the elderly. They fear loneliness, the thought of departing this world alone. ‘Oh, I will be buried underground, suffocating, cold and isolated!”

That feeling is no different from the opening verse. The Zen master deliberately places ‘death’ before ‘birth’ — ‘Spring departs, a hundred flowers fall’ — to highlight the negative emotions within us.

‘Spring arrives, a hundred flowers bloom’ follows death with birth, showing the continuous and unchanging cycle of life and death unfolding without pause. 

This is the master’s final poem — a sincere teaching for his students and for all others. It is not merely a poem describing a scene or the poet’s emotions, but the essence distilled by an enlightened teacher after a lifetime of practice.

Though condensed into just a few lines, it is profound, insightful, and full of compassion from a noble teacher — humble, without exaggeration, and without unnecessary words. 

It is spring that brings the flowers to bloom, and it is also spring that causes the flowers to wither. Spring is just spring — it doesn’t invite the flowers to bloom, nor does it force them to fade.

The flowers are fragile; as soon as the cold winter fades and the weather warms, they quickly sprout and blossom. If they were not influenced by the seasons, they wouldn’t rush to bloom only to wither so soon! 

Birth, existence, change, and death—or birth, aging, sickness, and death—are natural and unchanging laws. No one can reverse or stop this cycle.

The Buddha recognized this truth and showed it to us. After birth comes existence; after existence comes change; after change comes death. And after death comes birth again... It’s a continuous cycle, much like the seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. 

Yet when we enter the stage of aging, we feel sadness and fear. It is spring that brings the flowers to bloom, and it is also spring that causes them to wither. Spring is the condition for both blooming and fading.

Likewise, joy and sorrow arise because of the condition called aging. Aging is an unchanging law. So whether we feel happy or sad, this law is still unfolding. It has happened, is happening, and will continue to happen — with no end in sight.

"Do not say that when spring ends, all flowers fall

Last night in front of the hall, a plum blossom bloomed."

The Zen master says, "Do not worry that the flowers are gone. The plum tree is still here — it has been here for a long time. ‘Last night,’ you just didn’t notice it before it bloomed."

“Last night in front of the hall, a plum blossom bloomed.”

We must pay attention that the master says it is a plum branch—not a plum blossom! How could a flower bloom after spring has passed? If we say this is a ‘mutated’ flower, it doesn’t fit with the poem. Saying it’s a flower blooming at night contradicts the first two lines, where the master clearly states: spring arrives, flowers bloom; spring leaves, flowers fall.

Therefore, this can only be a plum branch—not a blossom. 

Another point is that plum blossoms — or any flowers, even leaves — usually ‘sleep’ at night, only to bloom brightly under the morning sunlight. 

Besides, plum blossoms are very delicate; even a strong wind can make the petals fall. So when the night is wet with dew, it’s unlikely that an entire branch of plum blossoms would suddenly bloom.

He wants to emphasize, to remind us that “the plum tree is still there, beyond fleeting joys and sorrows.” This poem reveals a teaching — it’s not an ordinary poem but a profound Dharma teaching given to disciples before his passing. 

So we must not let the beauty of the words distract us from the deeper message. 

The Zen master isn’t lamenting the joys or sorrows of spring, nor speaking in lofty terms. He is simply sharing the true Dharma with his disciples, knowing his time is limited. 

He shows us that human life is filled with suffering because emotions arise — and emotions are impermanent, only arising when conditions are right. Sadly, we fail to see this truth, and so we continue to suffer endlessly.

• When our eyes encounter something unpleasant, anger arises. It’s not the eyes’ fault, nor the unpleasant thing’s fault. The eyes are always there, and the unpleasant thing is always there — it’s only the mind that creates anger.
• When our eyes encounter something beautiful, desire arises. It’s not the eyes’ fault, nor the beautiful thing’s fault. The eyes are always there, and the beautiful thing is always there — it’s only the mind that creates desire.
• The eyes are just the eyes; the scene is just the scene. Beauty or ugliness arises from the mind.

The wise recognize each type of mind clearly and do not become attached to it. They allow it to arise and pass away without reaction.

Only then can we say, ‘The mind remains unchanging amid the ever-changing world.’ Those who realize and practice this understand the teaching ‘Duy Tuệ Thị Nghiệp’ from the Sutra of the Eight Great Awakening Factors.

The final poem of a noble master is clear and precise. Throughout his life of practice, he attained enlightenment and deeply understood impermanence in its fullest expression.

He never taught his disciples where to go after death! The Zen master only wished for them to realize the truth.

A wise disciple will take this poem as a guide on their path of practice. To apply it, the practitioner needs to:

• First, recognize the arising of emotions—whether joy or sorrow.
• Second, identify the causes that give rise to these feelings.
• Third, let go—learning from the line, “Gray hair has come upon the head.”

Let go of craving, hatred, anger, blame, gossip, and even the desire to become a Buddha.

A poem, a Dharma teaching—not only for disciples but for all of us: old and young, noble or humble, intellectual or ordinary. We are all sentient beings living in this world of samsara, enveloped by ignorance.

Once again, we respectfully bow and express our deep gratitude for your teachings.

--- Ven. Thich Chon Tu ---