Happiness

Waves pounded from every side; the boat had been smashed to pieces, and only fragments drifted about. The sea was still rough after the storm. Bình tried to hold tight to a life buoy and left everything to fate. When day broke, Bình realised his feet were touching sand. Ahead was a shore with large clusters of rock and green trees, looking wild, like some desert island. He dragged himself onto the island, collapsed on the sand and fell asleep until the sun was high and someone's call woke him.
He came to understand that two other people had also drifted onto this desert island and were alive. More than ten others were unaccounted for, no one knowing whether they were alive or dead. Lân and old Mr Đằng were sitting looking out to sea in despair.
Bình greeted them and invited them to walk round and see what was special about the island, whether it was large or small, whether anything was edible, whether there was any water to drink. Strange to say, it really was a desert island like in the novels, with nothing: just a cluster of rock and sand rising from the open sea, about two hectares in area. There was nothing to eat or drink. If there was no water to drink, in two days the three would die of thirst.
Bình climbed a high rock and looked out to sea. There were a few heaps of rubbish floating near the island, which might be useful. He ran down, swam out and pulled all the rubbish in. The three of them sorted through the pile of plastic rubbish and found a great deal of packaging, old clothes and a few sheets of foil that seemed to be packaging from some machine. He arranged stones in a parabola shape, then attached the foil sheets to make a concave mirror collecting sunlight for cooking. He told the other two to look for any dead animal that had washed ashore, to roast on this solar mirror stove.
Bình then searched for more rubbish and worked at making a water container, hanging it up to heat, so that the rising steam condensed and ran down drop by drop to be collected in plastic bags. Thanks to that, the three had a little fresh water to drink and hold out. Seeing Bình's diligent efforts, Lân and Mr Đằng began to regain their spirits to fight for survival. Together they fished rubbish from the sea to make temporary shelters from rain and sun.
In the evening, the three sat watching the waves and talking about all sorts of things in life. Lân suddenly asked:

• Bình, in a situation like this I see you still optimistic and not at all sad. So what is your happiness?
  Bình smiled and said:
• My happiness is very simple: just being able to help someone with small things. These past days, thanks to you, Lân, and Uncle Đằng, I have had a motive to live. As long as I keep trying to serve you two, I stay strong.
  Lân asked in surprise:
• And back home, what did you do?
• Well, I'm like you: I have a family, wife, children and parents to look after, a job, friends to talk with, colleagues to work with, a country to love.
• You say it lightly, but there's a strong vitality hidden in it. You just said a country to love; that is something very noble.
• Nothing noble about it, it's ordinary. We love the things close around us, but we also need to love something bigger in order to balance the mind.
• The ship sank, we drifted onto a desert island, we don't know whether anyone will rescue us, and yet you look so unruffled. Uncle Đằng and I are terribly sad from missing home, and from worry for our families at home, who must be anxious and grieving. Why are you so strangely calm?
• Worrying and grieving don't make anything better, Lân. For a long time I haven't allowed my mind to fall into sadness. Sadness over my own affairs gradually makes me selfish. I only allow myself to be sad about other people's affairs: a friend who lost his mother, a house next door that burned down, a country that has suffered heavily from an earthquake, terrorists who entered and killed villagers, the world that still has war, forests being destroyed...
• So you don't worry about your wife and children at home?
• I've always taught my wife and children in this way, so when something happens they'll know how to cope.
  Mr Đằng cut in:
• All my life I've gone in for pleasure and mistresses and everything, thinking that in this life one must enjoy oneself to live happily to the end. But to fall into a situation like this is so painful. I've realised from experience that enjoyment is not happiness. Happiness is something else.
  Lân asked again:
• And is your income good, Bình?
• My income is average. I live frugally, and set aside a little to help someone. Sometimes we come across a heartbreaking case and my wife and I agree to take more to help them, accepting that we'll be short that month. But it passes, and our minds are at ease. If we didn't help people in their hardship, we wouldn't be short of money, but we'd be short of happiness. Our view is that money and food and clothing are for not dying, but ethics is the source of happiness. So we keep trying to live well so as to enjoy happiness day by day. To live without ethics is only to exist without dying. Only to live with ethics is to have happiness.
  Mr Đằng said with tears in his eyes:
• If only I had heard these words earlier. On the boat I saw that you often took care to help everyone with this and that, and I didn't quite understand. I thought enjoyment was happiness, so I put all my effort into finding ways to enjoy myself, never imagining that enjoyment made my mind more selfish and more miserable.
  Lân asked:
• If it turns out no one rescues us and we die slowly here, what then, Bình?
• That is the heart of the matter. I live rightly day by day, so my mind has no regrets; death can come whenever it comes. If we don't live rightly day by day, we'll regret everything when death arrives.
• You're right, Bình. In my case I keep going round with the thought that to die now is such a waste, that I haven't done this, haven't done that. If only I'd treated my parents better, if only I'd helped the old lady in the neighbourhood more, if only I'd firmly refused the affection of that colleague, and so on...
  Bình said:
• Now nothing we do can pull it back. Lân, just resolve to love everyone; that way our minds won't be wasted in these last days.
• If death is near, what's the use of loving everyone, Bình?
• Death is not the end, Lân. If death were the end, there would be no fairness of the universe. Each person lives well or badly differently; surely they can't all be equal in death? After death there are still many interesting things we don't yet know, but we must believe that death is only a change of state, and the fairness of heaven and earth still operates. So if we know we'll die tomorrow, let's resolve now to love everyone so that the last few moments are not wasted.
  Mr Đằng asked:
• This morning I saw you sitting like in yoga?
• Uncle Đằng, I was sitting in meditation to settle my mind. A quiet mind is also a happiness. Why be foolish and let the mind rush about in useless thoughts? Let the mind be quiet and at ease; it feels good.
• Then Bình, teach me and Lân to practise settling the mind.
• Yes, of course.
  Lân asked:
• Thinking that the rescuers won't find us and we'll die here, I find it terrifying. But thanks to your noble words about what is right, about ethics, about happiness, I've been put at ease. If heaven lets me live, I'd like to follow you, Bình, to learn how to live so nobly and find more happiness.
  Mr Đằng also said:
• Me too. If I live this time, I'll live for everyone, live decently with everyone, and no longer live for myself.

Hardly had Mr Đằng finished when the sound of an aeroplane passed over, then circled back overhead 🏊‍♂️

We fear sadness, we fear suffering, we like joy, we seek happiness, but we do not understand happiness well and often take the wrong road. Sometimes we reach the end of the road and find suffering. If we take the right road, at the end of it will be true happiness.
May everyone find the right road to live together with much love and happiness.