Thầy reframes the ending of a year, observing that a year never truly dies but is continuously reborn into the next through our actions, speech, and thoughts. Defining impermanence not as a loss, but as an ongoing process of “becoming,” Thầy emphasizes that because we are always changing, we have the capacity to improve the quality of our lives in every moment.

Reflecting on the insight that each generation should surpass the last, Thầy asserts that as spiritual descendants of the Buddha, we must aspire to do better than our ancestor by building stronger Sanghas and adapting the practice for modern times. As a concrete example, he recounts how Plum Village found the courage to update the Prātimokṣa (monastic code)—a step the Buddha himself authorized before his passing, but which had been left untouched for centuries out of hesitation.

Grounding impermanence in the realities of late 2003, including the war in Iraq and the devastating Bam earthquake in Iran, Thầy urges us not to wait until late in life to begin living deeply, referencing Tino Rossi’s song La vie commence à soixante ans. He teaches that true love begins with self-love—learning to rest, listen, and care for our body and emotions rather than running away through noise or distraction. To illustrate the distinction between despair and compassionate action, Thầy reflects on the Vietnamese monks of the 1960s, explaining that their self-immolations were not acts of anger, but expressions of deep love and nonfear aimed at stopping a war.

Thầy brings these themes together with a personal story from his 2001 talk at Riverside Church in New York following 9/11. Calling for compassion over retaliation despite facing personal danger, he shares the profound insight that released his fear: even if shot, he would not die, because he continues onward through his students and the Sangha.

This talk was offered during the Christmas and New Year Retreat in the year 2003. Thầy offered this talk at the Upper Hamlet, Plum Village, France.