Bài luận về thiền của nam sinh Hà Tĩnh giành học bổng Mỹ hơn 5 tỷ

Thành công của Dũng không phải là điều khiến các thầy cô trường THPT Chuyên Hà Tĩnh ngạc nhiên bởi cậu học trò từ lâu đã có thành tích học tập xuất sắc, đeo đuổi tư duy độc lập và tinh thần ham học hỏi. Là một học sinh chuyên Anh nhưng không vì thế mà em lơ là các môn học khác.

Dũng nghĩ rằng hệ thống giáo dục hiện tại khiến nhiều học sinh khó xác định được mục đích học thực sự, nhiều bạn học cho bố mẹ, cho nhà trường chứ không phải cho bản thân mình. “Em tin rằng một môi trường giáo dục phù hợp phải là môi trường có thể khuyến khích trí tò mò và tinh thần sáng tạo”, khiến học sinh phát triển và ý thức được động cơ học tập.

Học tập ở ngôi trường theo mô hình giáo dục khai phóng sẽ là bước đệm để Dũng “mở rộng chân trời tri thức, phá vỡ những giới hạn của bản thân”, là nền tảng giúp em xây dựng môi trường học lý tưởng cho các bạn trẻ Việt Nam, nơi ươm mầm sự sáng tạo, sự bền bỉ và ham học hỏi cho bản thân và cho cộng đồng.

BÀI LUẬN GIÀNH HỌC BỔNG CỦA HÀ VIỆT DŨNG

I once googled the images of meditation and popped out were pictures of people sitting flat on the ground of the hills, the seashores or the grass fields with perfect postures. Sky’s gradient beams of light were shining delicately, composing such peaceful, soothing scenery. Well, my meditation bore no resemblance to those pictures. Instead, it had been a hard-fought but immensely rewarding journey of exploration into the greater depth of my mind.

My first attempt to meditate occurred when I was twelve. Quietly sitting flat on the ground, I put my hand on my knees and counted my breaths. Somehow, I lost count usually around the twentieth inhales. The next thing I knew was that my thighs’ muscles began to sing a painful song. Time lasted to infinity, and as the pain climaxed, I had no other choice but to stop meditating. I looked at my watch: 3 minutes.

I withdrew from meditation for a few years because my wandering mind and my plumb body seemed unsuited for it. However, growing up in a Buddhist family, I gained enthusiasm for meditation once again when my father, mother and eventually brother started meditating. Having acknowledged the hardship of meditation, I asked for an experienced Buddhist to help me practice it every evening. I was excited, looking forward to the future with optimism.

After a few days, I couldn’t regret my decision more. Sitting with my leg crossed and my back straightened, the pain traveled in my thighs like a goldfish swimming playfully from left to right, quickly then slowly. But as the goldfish gradually grew into a humongous whale, I just wanted to cry. I started to be afraid of meditation, yet I desired to challenge myself. Slowly, the duration of my meditation sessions was longer, from 15 to 20, then 25 minutes.

30 minutes, however, seemed out of my reach. But in one evening when I was struggling to earn an extra five-minute, my first insight into my mind was born. I remembered sitting with immense body tension, as if I had a feeble back of an old man and the pressured legs of Atlas, desperately wanting to give up. But amid the chaos of my body and mind, my brain, without my command, projected a crystal clear image of my legs uncrossing, tempting me with a heaven-like feeling. Suddenly, I realized that underlying my desire to give up situated a mechanic of my mind reacting to the pain, which suggested me what to do based on the senses’ experience. At that moment, I smiled the most distorted, but the happiest smile of my life.

Like most animals, I averse being stung, beaten, or hurt, and thus avoiding the pain became my habit. Time after time avoiding it, that habit became an instinct ingrained into my brain. Slowly, I identified the suggestions of my mind as myself, unconditionally and unthinkingly following its direction. However, through the tranquility of meditating, I slowly separated myself from the operation of my body. I realized that the pain was not too severe after all; it was my body’s reactionary responses that intensified it.

My father used to tell me: “You have to defeat yourself.” It sounds cliché, but only now do I understand what it means. Immediate pleasures and bad habits are difficult to overcome, but as long as people consistently make conscious efforts to create the right habits and abstain from malicious ones, the brain will slowly act to their advantages. The key is to make them understand that desires are built from habits – the repetition of actions from the tiniest to grandest, and not from people themselves.

Now, as I google “meditation” again, I can’t help laughing, because though my meditation was full of literal darkness, straining muscles and even tears, the light that shined in my mind was much more miraculous than any of those googled pictures could ever be.

Đọc  thêm về Dũng tại: https://m.vietnamnet.vn/…/bai-luan-ve-thien-cua-nam-sinh-ha…