Nhung tam guong hieu hoc cua mac dinh chi

For the next hour, the short-term parking lot of the San Jose Airport is jammed with cars heading for the exit to follow her. On the stage is an assortment of pillows on a white chair.

Clip bé trai 4 tuổi bị buộc dây ở trường mẫu giáo tại Nam Định

The person audience chatters happily until an announcer approaches the microphone. Within two seconds, the room grows completely silent. Upon the request of a yellow-ribboned official, a fussing newborn is whisked through the doors by its mother. For the next hour, the only sounds in the Fir Room are the microphone tests and the setting up of several video cameras and klieg lights. When Ching Hai enters the room, the crowd stands and applauds. She walks under an arch of party balloons strung together by multicolored ribbons and down the center aisle toward the stage, stopping now and then to direct a smile at a lucky follower who inevitably convulses with delight.

She takes the stage, soaking up the adoration and barely able to conceal her pleasure. She begins her talk with phrases that are alternately humble and self-congratulatory: I don't know if I'm good enough for you. After a long and tortuous lecture, Ching Hai takes questions from the audience, even answering once or twice in Mandarin. Soon, it will get easier. The crowd applauds. Later, Ching Hai gets flustered by a more difficult question.

A young medical student wants to know if the Master condones euthanasia. She paces the stage. What's that for? Before the student can answer, she sighs crabbily. Why am I responsible for all the countries? So it's hard for me to tell you which one to kill and which one not," she says. Laughter erupts from the crowd, and then applause. Ching Hai wraps up her talk well after midnight. She makes her last rounds through the audience, touching a head here, smiling beatifically there.

A black man in African garb shrinks in his seat as she passes, his hands clasped together in worship, sobbing in great gasps, looking into the Master's face while tears stream down his. Ching Hai chortles as she passes him, and stops to poke her green umbrella at him, which he fondles gratefully.

I have stayed only because I want to arrange for a private interview with the Master. When I find Millar, she says she will see about it--and within seconds, I find myself sitting in a chair face to face with the Supreme Master Ching Hai. Our knees are almost touching. Six hundred pairs of eyes are riveted to us, several men hold microphones less than an inch from my nose, and every video camera and flood light in the house bears down upon me and the Master. With sweat already soaking through my shirt, I begin asking questions. Ching Hai tells me her organization is "rather big," with "a lot of centers around the world or 50 countries.

My next question--about funding--is answered with much humility. Though she calmly explains that the sales of clothing and jewelry accounts for most of her money, she adds, "We don't really need that much. She claims, as does Millar, that she and her followers sleep in plastic tents. Use tents. Plastic cheap. We live very simple. We eat vegetarian. Ching Hai shakes her head. God gives it to me. Neither of us seem to take this answer seriously--but I write it down anyway.

According to Millar, the Master's clothing and jewelry are "very expensive, but it's very high quality. God has certainly been kind to Ching Hai: My last question to the Master concerns a woman who had earlier stood to proclaim to Ching Hai, "The world has waited thousands of years for you. I find it hard to concentrate on her words, and stop writing momentarily. The interview is done, and the Master and I shake hands. Long after she has retired to her room, groups of disciples hang around in the lobby to touch the arm of the journalist who shook hands with the Master.

It occurs to me that I may now be seen on a videotape in the Ching Hai library: Our words may end up on a Web site, or in the Suma Ching Hai magazine, or condensed into an aphorism in a book. Against my will, I had become another prop in Ching Hai's magic show. Like the followers milling about me, I had stepped into the light and sound of the Master.

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From the March April 3, issue of Metro This page was designed and created by the Boulevards team. Much Ado: Clinton's legal defense fund returned donations received from the Supreme Master's followers. The mysterious, Vietnamese-born "Supreme Master" spoke to of her followers, mostly recent Taiwanese and Chinese immigrants, on the "key to immediate enlightenment" at the San Jose Red Lion Hotel. As it turns out, the self-proclaimed Buddhist messiah may have given out some political advice at the same time.

The very next day, in Washington, D. And according to group investigator Loren Berger, many of the personal checks, cashier's checks and money orders under scrutiny actually came from San Jose, where Suma Ching Hai has one of her largest followings outside of Taiwan. Just last Tuesday, Michael Cardozo, executive director of the legal defense fund, announced that the contributions had been returned, much to the dismay of local followers. The reason given by Cardozo was that the donations looked suspicious: Money orders supposedly given by people in different cities had sequential numbers, while some checks were written in identical handwriting.

The xenophobic reaction of the Clinton trust, driven by scandal attack dogs in Congress, has angered some local Ching Hai followers who say they're just trying to support the president. Local Ching Hai representative Pamela Millar of Palo Alto tells Eye that members of the group pooled their checks after Suma Ching Hai suggested sending a donation to the fund "if you want to help the president.

She stresses that "Master" Suma Ching Hai never directly told her followers to send money. Millar's check was among the ones returned en masse by Cardozo with a letter questioning the source of the money. I don't know why it should be a scandal," she adds. Another representative of Ching Hai, David Bui of San Jose, says that support for the president is widespread in the group.

Ching Hai's organization derives most of its income selling to its followers thousands of videos, CDs, magazines and tapes--all bearing the image of the Master, smiling crookedly due to a slightly paralyzed cheek. Santa Clara streets, where David Bui works. This week Metro fielded calls from national press scrambling to get a fix on the elusive Suma Ching Hai and her flock, as yet unreported by the mainstream press.

The SJ Merc might have had little to add on the subject had it not tapped the expertise of normally byline-less former Metro managing editor Steve Buel, who some people may think has fallen into a black hole but actually now helps hold down the Merc's city desk and was credited at the end of the Post pickup as having "contributed to this report. Write again soon! The Washington Post on Clinton's knowledge of the fishy campaign funds. Mother Jones says Charles Trie is number on its list of the top campaign contributors. Mother Jones writer L. Davis says Clinton's Indonesian money scandal may be the real thing.

Controversial characters and groups keep trying to use the Sept.

Chị Thủy với tấm lòng "lá lành đùm lá rách"

Last month, the Church of Scientology raised eyebrows when victims were told to call the group for mental heath counseling. Now, sources say, a woman who has been called a cult leader has been trying very hard to give major donations to charities benefiting the victims of the terrorist attacks as well as Afghan refugees. The red-faced president returned the check. Lately, sources say Suma Ching Hai's reps have been working the phones hoping to give big money to major charities, including Unicef and the American Red Cross.

A spokeswoman for Unicef says the organization doesn't comment on donors or potential donors. A spokeswoman for the American Red Cross said she knows nothing of the donations. If they turn out to be true, we will consider returning the donations. Suma Ching Hai, a Taiwan-based guru who calls herself Supreme Master, gets her income from a chain of vegetarian restaurants run by her followers, who also buy her overpriced tapes and videos.

The red-faced Prez promptly returned his check from the messianic mystic. Ching Hai evidently viewed the Sept. On Monday, msnbc.

She tried to fly under the radar. Sources say she used that m. It was clear she was in it for publicity. I find the local offices of the International association of the Supreme Master of the Universe in a squat warehouse in a rather sad-looking industrial section of El Monte. An attractive blond on the far side of 40, she deposits me in a conference room amid blown-up photographs of Supreme Master Ching Hai with Martin Sheen and Swoosie Kurtz, another with Debbie Reynolds, taken at a "One World.

After several minutes, Hudson and a small Vietnamese woman join me. I ask Hudson about the press kit she'd sent promoting Ching Hai's works. It looked like an evening line for Far East Barbie. That's part of World Peace Media. I was like, 'Oh my god, she is so enlightened. I tell her I can roll it, thanks. As Hudson goes on to say that she studied world religions for 21 years but did not find "inner peace" until she began practicing Quan Yin meditation for two and a half hours a day, as she compares Ching Hai to Mother Teresa and Princess Diana, Vo continues to stare at me.

I get the distinct feeling that, while Hudson has invited me here, it's Vo who understands what's behind the curtain, and is waiting to decide how much I need to know and how I will learn it. Not that I haven't already learned a little. A quick online search yields more than 30, sites mentioning Ching Hai.


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