Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

Table of Contents
Copyright
About the Author
About the Editor
Books by the same author
Peace is Every Step
Foreword
Editor’s Introduction
Part One: Breathe! You Are Alive
Twenty-Four  Brand-New  Hours,  The  Dandelion  Has
My  Smile,  Conscious  Breathing,  Present  Moment,
Wonderful  Moment ,  Thinking  Less,  Nourishing
Awareness in Each Moment, Sitting Anywhere, Sitting
Meditation, Bells of Mindfulness, Cookie of Childhood,
Tangerine Meditation
, The Eucharist, Eating Mindfully,
Washing  Dishes
,  Walking  Meditation,  Telephone
Meditation,  Driving  Meditation,
Decompartmentalization
,  Breathing  and  Scything,
Aimlessness
,  Our  Life  Is  a  Work  of Art ,  Hope  as  an
Obstacle, Flower Insights, Breathing Room, Continuing
the Journey
Part Two: Transformation and Healing
The  River  of  Feelings,  Non-Surgery,  Transforming
Feelings,  Mindfulness  of  Anger,  Pillow-Pounding,
Walking  Meditation  When  Angry
,  Cooking  Our
Potatoes,  The  Roots  of  Anger,  Internal  Formations,

Living  Together,  Suchness,  Look  into  Your  Hand,
Parents
,  Nourishing  Healthy  Seeds,  What’s  Not
Wrong?,  Blaming  Never  Helps,  Understanding,  Real
Love, Meditation on Compassion, M editation on Love,
Hugging Meditation
, Investing in Friends, It  Is a  Great
Joy to Hold Your Grandchild, Community  of  M indful
Living, Mindfulness M ust Be Engaged
Part Three: Peace Is Every Step
Interbeing,  Flowers  and  Garbage,  Waging  Peace,  Not
Two, Healing the Wounds of War , The Sun My Heart,
Looking  Deeply
,  The  Art  of  M indful  Living,
Nourishing  Awareness
,  A  Love  Letter  to  Your
Congressman,  Citizenship,  Ecology  of  M ind,  The
Roots of War, Like a Leaf, We Have Many Stems , We
Are All Linked to Each Other, Reconciliation, Call  Me
by My True Names, Suffering Nourishes Compassion,
Love  in Action
, The River,  Entering  the  Twenty-First
Century

This eBook is copyright material and must not be

copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased,

licensed or publicly performed or used in any way

except as specifically permitted in writing by the

publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions

under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted

by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised

distribution or use of this text may be a direct

infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and

those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Epub ISBN: 9781407061306

Version 1.0

www.randomhouse.co.uk

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Published in 1995 by Rider, an imprint of Ebury

Publishing

First published in the USA by Bantam, an imprint of

Random House, Inc., in 1991

Ebury Publishing is a Random House Group company

Thich Nhat Hanh has asserted his right to be identified

as the author of this work in accordance with the

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the copyright owner.

The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

Addresses for companies within the Random House

Group can be found at

www.rbooks.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from

the British Library

The Random House Group Limited supports The

Forest Stewardship Council (FSC), the leading

international forest certification organisation. All our

titles that are printed on Greenpeace approved FSC

certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper

procurement policy can be found at

www.rbooks.co.uk/environment

Cover illustration © Patricia Curtan

Printed in the UK by CPI M ackays, Chatham, ME5

8TD

ISBN 9780712674065

Copies are available at special rates for bulk orders.

Contact the sales development team on 020 7840 8487

for more information.

To buy books by your favourite authors and register for

offers, visit www.rbooks.co.uk

About the Author

Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Zen master, poet, and

peace activist, has been a monk for over 40 years. In

Vietnam, he founded the School of Youth for Social

Service (“the little peace corps”), an instrument for

rebuilding villages that were destroyed by bombs and

for resettling tens of thousands of people fleeing the

war zones. He also founded Van Hanh Buddhist

University, La Boi Press, and the Tiep Hien Order of

Interbeing. In 1966, he came to the U.S. and Europe at

the invitation of the Fellowship of Reconciliation to

“represent the wishes of the Vietnamese people of all

faiths who had no means to speak for themselves” (New

Yorker, June 25, 1966). He was nominated by Martin

Luther King, Jr. for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1967.

Unable to return to Vietnam after his overseas tour, he

received asylum in France, where he served as chairman

of the Vietnamese Buddhist Peace Delegation to the

Paris Peace Talks. He presently lives in Plum Village, a

small community in France, where he continues

teaching, writing, gardening, and helping refugees

worldwide.

About the Editor

Arnold Kotler was an ordained student at the San

Francisco and Tassajara Zen Centers from 1969 to

1984. He is the founding editor of Parallax Press, a

publishing company in Berkeley, California, dedicated

to producing books and tapes on mindful awareness and

social responsibility, including the works of Thich Nhat

Hanh.

Thich Nhat Hanh has a retreat community in

southwestern France (Plum Village), where monks,

nuns, laymen and laywomen practise the art of mindful

living. Visitors are invited to join the practice for at least

one week. For information, please write to:

Plum Village

13 Martineau

33580 Dieulivol

France

NH-office@plumvillage.org

(for women)

LH-office@plumvillage.org

(for women)

UH-office@plumvillage.org

(for men)

www.plumvillage.org

Please contact the Community of Interbeing, the charity

practising in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh in the

UK, for information on retreats, events, and local and

national sanghas:

Tel: 0870-041-1242

www.interbeing.org.uk

BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Being Peace

Breathe! You Are Alive: Sutra on the Full Awareness of

Breathing

A Guide to Walking Meditation

The Heart of Understanding: Commentaries on the

Prajñaparamita Heart Sutra

Interbeing: Commentaries on the Tiep Hien Precepts

The Miracle of Mindfulness

The Moon Bamboo

Old Path, White Clouds: Walking in the Footsteps of the

Buddha

Our Appointment with Life: The Buddha’s Teaching on

Living in the Present

The Pine Gate

Present Moment Wonderful Moment: Mindfulness

Verses

for Daily Living

A Rose for Your Pocket

The Sun My Heart

The Sutra on the Eight Realizations of the Great Beings

Transformation and Healing: Sutra on the Four

Establishments of Mindfulness

Zen Poems

PEACE IS EVERY STEP

The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

Edited by Arnold Kotler

Thich Nhat Hanh

RIDER

LONDON ∗ SYDNEY ∗ AUCKLAND ∗ JOHANNESBURG

Foreword

BY H. H. THE DALAI LAMA

Although attempting to bring about world peace

through the internal transformation of individuals is

difficult, it is the only way. Wherever I go, I express

this, and I am encouraged that people from many

different walks of life receive it well. Peace must first be

developed within an individual. And I believe that love,

compassion, and altruism are the fundamental basis for

peace. Once these qualities are developed within an

individual, he or she is then able to create an atmosphere

of peace and harmony. This atmosphere can be

expanded and extended from the individual to his

family, from the family to the community and

eventually to the whole world.

Peace Is Every Step is a guidebook for a journey in

exactly this direction. Thich Nhat Hanh begins by

teaching mindfulness of breathing and awareness of the

small acts of our daily lives, then shows us how to use

the benefits of mindfulness and concentration to

transform and heal difficult psychological states. Finally

he shows us the connection between personal, inner

peace and peace on Earth. This is a very worthwhile

book. It can change individual lives and the life of our

society.

Editor’s Introduction

As I walked slowly and mindfully through a green oak

forest this morning, a brilliant red-orange sun rose on

the horizon. It immediately evoked for me images of

India, where a group of us joined Thich Nhat Hanh the

year before last to visit the sites where the Buddha

taught. On one walk to a cave near Bodh Gaya, we

stopped in a field surrounded by rice paddies and

recited this poem:

Peace is every step.

The shining red sun is my heart.

Each flower smiles with me.

How green, how fresh all that grows.

How cool the wind blows.

Peace is every step.

It turns the endless path to joy.

These lines summarize the essence of Thich Nhat

Hanh’s message—that peace is not external or to be

sought after or attained. Living mindfully, slowing down

and enjoying each step and each breath, is enough. Peace

is already present in each step, and if we walk in this

way, a flower will bloom under our feet with every

step. In fact the flowers will smile at us and wish us

well on our way.

I met Thich Nhat Hanh in 1982 when he attended the

Reverence for Life conference in New York. I was one

of the first American Buddhists he had met, and it

fascinated him that I looked, dressed, and, to some

extent, acted like the novices he had trained in Vietnam

for two decades. When my teacher, Richard Baker-

roshi, invited him to visit our meditation center in San

Francisco the following year, he happily accepted, and

this began a new phase in the extraordinary life of this

gentle monk, whom Baker-roshi characterized as “a

cross between a cloud, a snail, and a piece of heavy

machinery—a true religious presence.”

Thich Nhat Hanh was born in central Vietnam in 1926

and was ordained a Buddhist monk in 1942, at the age

of sixteen. Just eight years later, he co-founded what

was to become the foremost center of Buddhist studies

in South Vietnam, the An Quang Buddhist Institute.

In 1961, Nhat Hanh came to the United States to study

and teach comparative religion at Columbia and

Princeton Universities. But in 1963, his monk-

colleagues in Vietnam telegrammed him to come home to

join them in their work to stop the war following the

fall of the oppressive Diem regime. He immediately

returned and helped lead one of the great nonviolent

resistance movements of the century, based entirely on

Gandhian principles.

In 1964, along with a group of university professors

and students in Vietnam, Thich Nhat Hanh founded the

School of Youth for Social Service, called by the

American press the “little Peace Corps,” in which teams

of young people went into the countryside to establish

schools and health clinics, and later to rebuild villages

that had been bombed. By the time of the fall of Saigon,

there were more than 10,000 monks, nuns, and young

social workers involved in the work. In the same year,

he helped set up what was to become one of the most

prestigious publishing houses in Vietnam, La Boi Press.

In his books and as editor-in-chief of the official

publication of the Unified Buddhist Church, he called

for reconciliation between the warring parties in

Vietnam, and because of that his writings were censored

by both opposing governments.

In 1966, at the urging of his fellow monks, he accepted

an invitation from the Fellowship of Reconciliation and

Cornell University to come to the U.S. “to describe to

[us] the aspirations and the agony of the voiceless

masses of the Vietnamese people” (New Yorker, June

25, 1966). He had a densely packed schedule of

speaking engagements and private meetings, and spoke

convincingly in favor of a ceasefire and a negotiated

settlement. Martin Luther King, Jr. was so moved by

Nhat Hanh and his proposals for peace that he

nominated him for the 1967 Nobel Peace Prize, saying,

“I know of no one more worthy of the Nobel Peace

Prize than this gentle monk from Vietnam.” Largely due

to Thich Nhat Hanh’s influence, King came out publicly

against the war at a press conference, with Nhat Hanh,

in Chicago.

When Thomas Merton, the well-known Catholic monk

and mystic, met Thich Nhat Hanh at his monastery,

Gethsemani, near Louisville, Kentucky, he told his

students, “Just the way he opens the door and enters a

room demonstrates his understanding. He is a true

monk.” M erton went on to write an essay, “Nhat Hanh

Is My Brother,” an impassioned plea to listen to Nhat

Hanh’s proposals for peace and lend full support for

Nhat Hanh’s advocacy of peace. After important

meetings with Senators Fullbright and Kennedy,

Secretary of Defense M cNamara, and others in

Washington, Thich Nhat Hanh went to Europe, where

he met with a number of heads of state and officials of

the Catholic church, including two audiences with Pope

Paul VI, urging cooperation between Catholics and

Buddhists to help bring peace to Vietnam.

In 1969, at the request of the Unified Buddhist Church

of Vietnam, Thich Nhat Hanh set up the Buddhist

Peace Delegation to the Paris Peace Talks. After the

Peace Accords were signed in 1973, he was refused

permission to return to Vietnam, and he established a

small community a hundred miles southwest of Paris,

called “Sweet Potato.” In 1976–77, Nhat Hanh

conducted an operation to rescue boat people in the

Gulf of Siam, but hostility from the governments of

Thailand and Singapore made it impossible to continue.

So for the following five years, he stayed at Sweet

Potato in retreat—meditating, reading, writing, binding

books, gardening, and occasionally receiving visitors.

In June 1982, Thich Nhat Hanh visited New York, and

later that year established Plum Village, a larger retreat

center near Bordeaux, surrounded by vineyards and

fields of wheat, corn, and sunflowers. Since 1983 he has

travelled to North America every other year to lead

retreats and give lectures on mindful living and social

responsibility, “making peace right in the moment we

are alive.”

Although Thich Nhat Hanh cannot visit his homeland,

handwritten copies of his books continue to circulate

illegally in Vietnam. His presence is also felt through his

students and colleagues throughout the world who work

full-time trying to relieve the suffering of the

desperately poor people of Vietnam, clandestinely

supporting hungry families and campaigning on behalf

of writers, artists, monks, and nuns who have been

imprisoned for their beliefs and their art. This work

extends to helping refugees threatened with repatriation,

and sending material and spiritual aid to refugees in the

camps of Thailand, Malaysia, and Hong Kong.

Now sixty-four years old, yet looking twenty years

younger, Thich Nhat Hanh is emerging as one of the

great teachers of the twentieth century. In the midst of

our society’s emphasis on speed, efficiency, and

material success, Thich Nhat Hanh’s ability to walk

calmly with peace and awareness and to teach us to do

the same has led to his enthusiastic reception in the

West. Although his mode of expression is simple, his

message reveals the quintessence of the deep

understanding of reality that comes from his

meditations, his Buddhist training, and his work in the

world.

His way of teaching centers around conscious breathing

—the awareness of each breath—and, through

conscious breathing, mindfulness of each act of daily

life. M editation, he tells us, is not just in a meditation

hall. It is just as sacred to wash the dishes mindfully as

to bow deeply or light incense. He also tells us that

forming a smile on our face can relax hundreds of

muscles in our body—he calls it “mouth yoga”—and in

fact, recent studies have shown that when we flex our

facial muscles into expressions of joy, we do indeed

produce the effects on our nervous system that go with

real joy. Peace and happiness are available, he reminds

us, if we can only quiet our distracted thinking long

enough to come back to the present moment and notice

the blue sky, the child’s smile, the beautiful sunrise. “If

we are peaceful, if we are happy, we can smile, and

everyone in our family, our entire society, will benefit

from our peace.”

Peace Is Every Step is a book of reminders. In the rush

of modern life, we tend to lose touch with the peace

that is available in each moment. Thich Nhat Hanh’s

creativity lies in his ability to make use of the very

situations that usually pressure and antagonize us. For

him, a ringing telephone is a signal to call us back to our

true selves. Dirty dishes, red lights, and traffic jams are

spiritual friends on the path of mindfulness. The most

profound satisfactions, the deepest feelings of joy and

completeness lie as close at hand as our next aware

breath and the smile we can form right now.

Peace Is Every Step was assembled from Thich Nhat

Hanh’s lectures, published and unpublished writings,

and informal conversations, by a small group of friends

—Therese Fitzgerald, M ichael Katz, Jane Hirshfield,

and myself—working closely with Thây Nhat Hanh

(pronounced “tie”—the Vietnamese word for “teacher”)

and with Leslie Meredith, our attentive, thorough, and

sensitive editor at Bantam. Patricia Curtan provided the

beautiful dandelion. Special thanks to M arion Tripp,

who wrote the “Dandelion Poem.”

This book is the clearest and most complete message

yet of a great bodhisattva, who has dedicated his life to

the enlightenment of others. Thich Nhat Hanh’s

teaching is simultaneously inspirational and very

practical. I hope the reader enjoys this book as much as

we have enjoyed making it available.

Arnold Kotler

Thenac, France

July 1990

PART ONE

Breathe! You Are Alive

Twenty-Four Brand-New Hours

Every morning, when we wake up, we have twenty-

four brand-new hours to live. What a precious gift! We

have the capacity to live in a way that these twenty-

four hours will bring peace, joy, and happiness to

ourselves and others.

Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in

everything we do and see. The question is whether or

not we are in touch with it. We don’t have to travel far

away to enjoy the blue sky. We don’t have to leave our

city or even our neighborhood to enjoy the eyes of a

beautiful child. Even the air we breathe can be a source

of joy.

We can smile, breathe, walk, and eat our meals in a way

that allows us to be in touch with the abundance of

happiness that is available. We are very good at

preparing to live, but not very good at living. We know

how to sacrifice ten years for a diploma, and we are

willing to work very hard to get a job, a car, a house,

and so on. But we have difficulty remembering that we

are alive in the present moment, the only moment there

is for us to be alive. Every breath we take, every step

we make, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. We

need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.

This small book is offered as a bell of mindfulness, a

reminder that happiness is possible only in the present

moment. Of course, planning for the future is a part of

life. But even planning can only take place in the

present moment. This book is an invitation to come

back to the present moment and find peace and joy. I

offer some of my experiences and a number of

techniques that may be of help. But please do not wait

until finishing this book to find peace. Peace and

happiness are available in every moment. Peace is every

step. We shall walk hand in hand. Bon voyage.

The Dandelion Has My Smile

If a child smiles, if an adult smiles, that is very

important. If in our daily lives we can smile, if we can

be peaceful and happy, not only we, but everyone will

profit from it. If we really know how to live, what

better way to start the day than with a smile? Our smile

affirms our awareness and determination to live in peace

and joy. The source of a true smile is an awakened

mind.

How can you remember to smile when you wake up?

You might hang a reminder—such as a branch, a leaf, a

painting, or some inspiring words—in your window or

from the ceiling above your bed, so that you notice it

when you wake up. Once you develop the practice of

smiling, you may not need a reminder. You will smile as

soon as you hear a bird singing or see the sunlight

streaming through the window. Smiling helps you

approach the day with gentleness and understanding.

When I see someone smile, I know immediately that he

or she is dwelling in awareness. This half-smile, how

many artists have labored to bring it to the lips of

countless statues and paintings? I am sure the same

smile must have been on the faces of the sculptors and

painters as they worked. Can you imagine an angry

painter giving birth to such a smile? M ona Lisa’s smile

is light, just a hint of a smile. Yet even a smile like that

is enough to relax all the muscles in our face, to banish

all worries and fatigue. A tiny bud of a smile on our lips

nourishes awareness and calms us miraculously. It

returns to us the peace we thought we had lost.

Our smile will bring happiness to us and to those

around us. Even if we spend a lot of money on gifts for

everyone in our family, nothing we buy could give them

as much happiness as the gift of our awareness, our

smile. And this precious gift costs nothing. At the end

of a retreat in California, a friend wrote this poem:

I have lost my smile,

but don’t worry.

The dandelion has it.

If you have lost your smile and yet are still capable of

seeing that a dandelion is keeping it for you, the

situation is not too bad. You still have enough

mindfulness to see that the smile is there. You only

need to breathe consciously one or two times and you

will recover your smile. The dandelion is one member of

your community of friends. It is there, quite faithful,

keeping your smile for you.

In fact, everything around you is keeping your smile for

you. You don’t need to feel isolated. You only have to

open yourself to the support that is all around you, and

in you. Like the friend who saw that her smile was

being kept by the dandelion, you can breathe in

awareness, and your smile will return.

Conscious Breathing

There are a number of breathing techniques you can use

to make life vivid and more enjoyable. The first exercise

is very simple. As you breathe in, you say to yourself,

“Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in.” And as

you breathe out, say, “Breathing out, I know that I am

breathing out.” Just that. You recognize your in-breath

as an in-breath and your out-breath as an out-breath.

You don’t even need to recite the whole sentence; you

can use just two words: “In” and “Out.” This technique

can help you keep your mind on your breath. As you

practice, your breath will become peaceful and gentle,

and your mind and body will also become peaceful and

gentle. This is not a difficult exercise. In just a few

minutes you can realize the fruit of meditation.

Breathing in and out is very important, and it is

enjoyable. Our breathing is the link between our body

and our mind. Sometimes our mind is thinking of one

thing and our body is doing another, and mind and body

are not unified. By concentrating on our breathing, “In”

and “Out,” we bring body and mind back together, and

become whole again. Conscious breathing is an

important bridge.

To me, breathing is a joy that I cannot miss. Every day,

I practice conscious breathing, and in my small

meditation room, I have calligraphed this sentence:

“Breathe, you are alive!” Just breathing and smiling can

make us very happy, because when we breathe

consciously we recover ourselves completely and

encounter life in the present moment.

Present Moment, Wonderful Moment

In our busy society, it is a great fortune to breathe

consciously from time to time. We can practice

conscious breathing not only while sitting in a

meditation room, but also while working at the office or

at home, while driving our car, or sitting on a bus,

wherever we are, at any time throughout the day.

There are so many exercises we can do to help us

breathe consciously. Besides the simple “In-Out”

exercise, we can recite these four lines silently as we

breathe in and out:

Breathing in, I calm my body.

Breathing out, I smile.

Dwelling in the present moment,

I know this is a wonderful moment!

“Breathing in, I calm my body.” Reciting this line is like

drinking a glass of cool lemonade on a hot day—you can

feel the coolness permeate your body. When I breathe

in and recite this line, I actually feel my breath calming

my body and mind.

“Breathing out, I smile.” You know a smile can relax

hundreds of muscles in your face. Wearing a smile on

your face is a sign that you are master of yourself.

“Dwelling in the present moment.” While I sit here, I

don’t think of anything else. I sit here, and I know

exactly where I am.

“I know this is a wonderful moment.” It is a joy to sit,

stable and at ease, and return to our breathing, our

smiling, our true nature. Our appointment with life is in

the present moment. If we do not have peace and joy

right now, when will we have peace and joy—

tomorrow, or after tomorrow? What is preventing us

from being happy right now? As we follow our

breathing, we can say, simply, “Calming, Smiling,

Present moment, Wonderful moment.”

This exercise is not just for beginners. M any of us who

have practiced meditation and conscious breathing for

forty or fifty years continue to practice in this same

way, because this kind of exercise is so important and

so easy.

Thinking Less

While we practice conscious breathing, our thinking will

slow down, and we can give ourselves a real rest. Most

of the time, we think too much, and mindful breathing

helps us to be calm, relaxed, and peaceful. It helps us

stop thinking so much and stop being possessed by

sorrows of the past and worries about the future. It

enables us to be in touch with life, which is wonderful

in the present moment.

Of course, thinking is important, but quite a lot of our

thinking is useless. It is as if, in our head, each of us has

a cassette tape that is always running, day and night.

We think of this and we think of that, and it is difficult

to stop. With a cassette, we can just press the stop

button. But with our thinking, we do not have any

button. We may think and worry so much that we

cannot sleep. If we go to the doctor for some sleeping

pills or tranquilizers, these may make the situation

worse, because we do not really rest during that kind of

sleep, and if we continue using these drugs, we may

become addicted. We continue to live tensely, and we

may have nightmares.

According to the method of conscious breathing, when

we breathe in and out, we stop thinking, because saying

“In” and “Out” is not thinking—“In” and “Out” are

only words to help us concentrate on our breathing. If

we keep breathing in and out this way for a few

minutes, we become quite refreshed. We recover

ourselves, and we can encounter the beautiful things

around us in the present moment. The past is gone, the

future is not yet here. If we do not go back to ourselves

in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.

When we are in touch with the refreshing, peaceful, and

healing elements within ourselves and around us, we

learn how to cherish and protect these things and make

them grow. These elements of peace are available to us

anytime.

Nourishing Awareness in Each Moment

One cold, winter evening I returned home from a walk in

the hills, and I found that all the doors and windows in

my hermitage had blown open. When I had left earlier, I

hadn’t secured them, and a cold wind had blown

through the house, opened the windows, and scattered

the papers from my desk all over the room.

Immediately, I closed the doors and windows, lit a

lamp, picked up the papers, and arranged them neatly

on my desk. Then I started a fire in the fireplace, and

soon the crackling logs brought warmth back to the

room.

Sometimes in a crowd we feel tired, cold, and lonely.

We may wish to withdraw to be by ourselves and

become warm again, as I did when I closed the windows

and sat by the fire, protected from the damp, cold wind.

Our senses are our windows to the world, and

sometimes the wind blows through them and disturbs

everything within us. Some of us leave our windows

open all the time, allowing the sights and sounds of the

world to invade us, penetrate us, and expose our sad,

troubled selves. We feel so cold, lonely, and afraid. Do

you ever find yourself watching an awful TV program,

unable to turn it off? The raucous noises, explosions of

gunfire, are upsetting. Yet you don’t get up and turn it

off. Why do you torture yourself in this way? Don’t

you want to close your windows? Are you frightened

of solitude—the emptiness and the loneliness you may

find when you face yourself alone?

Watching a bad TV program, we become the TV

program. We are what we feel and perceive. If we are

angry, we are the anger. If we are in love, we are love. If

we look at a snow-covered mountain peak, we are the

mountain. We can be anything we want, so why do we

open our windows to bad TV programs made by

sensationalist producers in search of easy money,

programs that make our hearts pound, our fists tighten,

and leave us exhausted? Who allows such TV programs

to be made and seen by even the very young? We do!

We are too undemanding, too ready to watch whatever

is on the screen, too lonely, lazy, or bored to create our

own lives. We turn on the TV and leave it on, allowing

someone else to guide us, shape us, and destroy us.

Losing ourselves in this way is leaving our fate in the

hands of others who may not be acting responsibly. We

must be aware of which programs do harm to our

nervous systems, minds, and hearts, and which

programs benefit us.

Of course, I am not talking only about television. All

around us, how many lures are set by our fellows and

ourselves? In a single day, how many times do we

become lost and scattered because of them? We must be

very careful to protect our fate and our peace. I am not

suggesting that we just shut all our windows, for there

are many miracles in the world we call “outside.” We

can open our windows to these miracles and look at any

one of them with awareness. This way, even while

sitting beside a clear, flowing stream, listening to

beautiful music, or watching an excellent movie, we need

not lose ourselves entirely in the stream, the music, or

the film. We can continue to be aware of ourselves and

our breathing. With the sun of awareness shining in us,

we can avoid most dangers. The stream will be purer,

the music more harmonious, and the soul of the

filmmaker completely visible.

As beginning meditators, we may want to leave the city

and go off to the countryside to help close those

windows that trouble our spirit. There we can become

one with the quiet forest, and rediscover and restore

ourselves, without being swept away by the chaos of

the “outside world.” The fresh and silent woods help us

remain in awareness, and when our awareness is well-

rooted and we can maintain it without faltering, we may

wish to return to the city and remain there, less

troubled. But sometimes we cannot leave the city, and

we have to find the refreshing and peaceful elements

that can heal us right in the midst of our busy lives. We

may wish to visit a good friend who can comfort us, or

go for a walk in a park and enjoy the trees and the cool

breeze. Whether we are in the city, the countryside, or

the wilderness, we need to sustain ourselves by

choosing our surroundings carefully and nourishing our

awareness in each moment.

Sitting Anywhere

When you need to slow down and come back to

yourself, you do not need to rush home to your

meditation cushion or to a meditation center in order to

practice conscious breathing. You can breathe

anywhere, just sitting on your chair at the office or

sitting in your automobile. Even if you are at a

shopping center filled with people or waiting in line at a

bank, if you begin to feel depleted and need to return to

yourself, you can practice conscious breathing and

smiling just standing there.

Wherever you are, you can breathe mindfully. We all

need to go back to ourselves from time to time, in order

to be able to confront the difficulties of life. We can do

this in any position—standing, sitting, lying down, or

walking. If you can sit down, however, the sitting

position is the most stable.

One time, I was waiting for a plane that was four hours

late at Kennedy Airport in New York, and I enjoyed

sitting cross-legged right in the waiting area. I just rolled

up my sweater and used it as a cushion, and I sat.

People looked at me curiously, but after a while they

ignored me, and I sat in peace. There was no place to

rest, the airport was full of people, so I just made

myself comfortable where I was. You may not want to

meditate so conspicuously, but breathing mindfully in

any position at any time can help you recover yourself.

Sitting Meditation

The most stable posture for meditation is sitting cross-

legged on a cushion. Choose a cushion that is the right

thickness to support you. The half-lotus and full-lotus

positions are excellent for establishing stability of body

and mind. To sit in the lotus position, gently cross your

legs by placing one foot (for the half-lotus) or both feet

(for the full-lotus) on the opposite thighs. If the lotus

position is difficult, it is fine just to sit cross-legged or

in any comfortable position. Allow your back to be

straight, keep your eyes half closed, and fold your

hands comfortably on your lap. If you prefer, you can

sit in a chair with your feet flat on the floor and your

hands resting on your lap. Or you can lie on the floor,

on your back, with your legs straight out, a few inches

apart, and your arms at your sides, preferably palms

up.

If your legs or feet fall asleep or begin to hurt during

sitting meditation so that your concentration becomes

disturbed, feel free to adjust your position. If you do

this slowly and attentively, following your breathing

and each movement of your body, you will not lose a

single moment of concentration. If the pain is severe,

stand up, walk slowly and mindfully, and when you are

ready, sit down again.

In some meditation centers, practitioners are not

permitted to move during periods of sitting meditation.

They often have to endure great discomfort. To me, this

seems unnatural. When a part of our body is numb or in

pain, it is telling us something, and we should listen to

it. We sit in meditation to help us cultivate peace, joy,

and nonviolence, not to endure physical strain or to

injure our bodies. To change the position of our feet or

do a little walking meditation will not disturb others

very much, and it can help us a lot.

Sometimes, we can use meditation as a way of hiding

from ourselves and from life, like a rabbit going back to

his hole. Doing this, we may be able to avoid some

problems for a while, but when we leave our “hole,” we

will have to confront them again. For example, if we

practice our meditation very intensely, we may feel a

kind of relief as we exhaust ourselves and divert our

energy from confronting our difficulties. But when our

energy returns, our problems will return with them.

We need to practice meditation gently, but steadily,

throughout daily life, not wasting a single opportunity

or event to see deeply into the true nature of life,

including our everyday problems. Practicing in this

way, we dwell in profound communion with life.

Bells of Mindfulness

In my tradition, we use the temple bells to remind us to

come back to the present moment. Every time we hear

the bell, we stop talking, stop our thinking, and return

to ourselves, breathing in and out, and smiling.

Whatever we are doing, we pause for a moment and just

enjoy our breathing. Sometimes we also recite this

verse:

Listen, listen.

This wonderful sound brings me back to my true

self.

When we breathe in, we say, “Listen, listen,” and when

we breathe out, we say, “This wonderful sound brings

me back to my true self.”

Since I have come to the West, I have not heard many

Buddhist temple bells. But fortunately, there are church

bells all over Europe. There do not seem to be as many

in the United States; I think that is a pity. Whenever I

give a lecture in Switzerland, I always make use of the

church bells to practice mindfulness. When the bell

rings, I stop talking, and all of us listen to the full sound

of the bell. We enjoy it so much. (I think it is better

than the lecture!) When we hear the bell, we can pause

and enjoy our breathing and get in touch with the

wonders of life that are around us—the flowers, the

children, the beautiful sounds. Every time we get back

in touch with ourselves, the conditions become

favorable for us to encounter life in the present moment.

One day in Berkeley, I proposed to professors and

students at the University of California that every time

the bell on the campus sounds, the professors and

students should pause in order to breathe consciously.

Everyone should take the time to enjoy being alive! We

should not just be rushing around all day. We have to

learn to really enjoy our church bells and our school

bells. Bells are beautiful, and they can wake us up.

If you have a bell at home, you can practice breathing

and smiling with its lovely sound. But you do not have

to carry a bell into your office or factory. You can use

any sound to remind you to pause, breathe in and out,

and enjoy the present moment. The buzzer that goes off

when you forget to fasten the seat belt in your car is a

bell of mindfulness. Even non-sounds, such as the rays

of sunlight coming through the window, are bells of

mindfulness that can remind us to return to ourselves,

breathe, smile, and live fully in the present moment.

Cookie of Childhood

When I was four years old, my mother used to bring me

a cookie every time she came home from the market. I

always went to the front yard and took my time eating

it, sometimes half an hour or forty-five minutes for one

cookie. I would take a small bite and look up at the sky.

Then I would touch the dog with my feet and take

another small bite. I just enjoyed being there, with the

sky, the earth, the bamboo thickets, the cat, the dog, the

flowers. I was able to do that because I did not have

much to worry about. I did not think of the future, I did

not regret the past. I was entirely in the present

moment, with my cookie, the dog, the bamboo thickets,

the cat, and everything.

It is possible to eat our meals as slowly and joyfully as

I ate the cookie of my childhood. M aybe you have the

impression that you have lost the cookie of your

childhood, but I am sure it is still there, somewhere in

your heart. Everything is still there, and if you really

want it, you can find it. Eating mindfully is a most

important practice of meditation. We can eat in a way

that we restore the cookie of our childhood. The present

moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are

attentive, you will see it.

Tangerine Meditation

If I offer you a freshly picked tangerine to enjoy, I think

the degree to which you enjoy it will depend on your

mindfulness. If you are free of worries and anxiety, you

will enjoy it more. If you are possessed by anger or

fear, the tangerine may not be very real to you.

One day, I offered a number of children a basket filled

with tangerines. The basket was passed around, and

each child took one tangerine and put it in his or her

palm. We each looked at our tangerine, and the children

were invited to meditate on its origins. They saw not

only their tangerine, but also its mother, the tangerine

tree. With some guidance, they began to visualize the

blossoms in the sunshine and in the rain. Then they saw

petals falling down and the tiny green fruit appear. The

sunshine and the rain continued, and the tiny tangerine

grew. Now someone has picked it, and the tangerine is

here. After seeing this, each child was invited to peel the

tangerine slowly, noticing the mist and the fragrance of

the tangerine, and then bring it up to his or her mouth

and have a mindful bite, in full awareness of the texture

and taste of the fruit and the juice coming out. We ate

slowly like that.

Each time you look at a tangerine, you can see deeply

into it. You can see everything in the universe in one

tangerine. When you peel it and smell it, it’s wonderful.

You can take your time eating a tangerine and be very

happy.

The Eucharist

The practice of the Eucharist is a practice of awareness.

When Jesus broke the bread and shared it with his

disciples, he said, “Eat this. This is my flesh.” He knew

that if his disciples would eat one piece of bread in

mindfulness, they would have real life. In their daily

lives, they may have eaten their bread in forgetfulness,

so the bread was not bread at all; it was a ghost. In our

daily lives, we may see the people around us, but if we

lack mindfulness, they are just phantoms, not real

people, and we ourselves are also ghosts. Practicing

mindfulness enables us to become a real person. When

we are a real person, we see real people around us, and

life is present in all its richness. The practice of eating

bread, a tangerine, or a cookie is the same.

When we breathe, when we are mindful, when we look

deeply at our food, life becomes real at that very

moment. To me, the rite of the Eucharist is a wonderful

practice of mindfulness. In a drastic way, Jesus tried to

wake up his disciples.

Eating Mindfully

A few years ago, I asked some children, “What is the

purpose of eating breakfast?” One boy replied, “To get

energy for the day.” Another said, “The purpose of

eating breakfast is to eat breakfast.” I think the second

child is more correct. The purpose of eating is to eat.

Eating a meal in mindfulness is an important practice.

We turn off the TV, put down our newspaper, and

work together for five or ten minutes, setting the table

and finishing whatever needs to be done. During these

few minutes, we can be very happy. When the food is

on the table and everyone is seated, we practice

breathing: “Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out,

I smile,” three times. We can recover ourselves

completely after three breaths like this.

Then, we look at each person as we breathe in and out

in order to be in touch with ourselves and everyone at

the table. We don’t need two hours to see another

person. If we are really settled within ourselves, we

only need to look for one or two seconds, and that is

enough to see. I think that if a family has five members,

only about five or ten seconds are needed to practice

this “looking and seeing.”

After breathing, we smile. Sitting at the table with other

people, we have a chance to offer an authentic smile of

friendship and understanding. It is very easy, but not

many people do it. To me, this is the most important

practice. We look at each person and smile at him or

her. Breathing and smiling together is a very important

practice. If the people in a household cannot smile at

each other, the situation is very dangerous.

After breathing and smiling, we look down at the food

in a way that allows the food to become real. This food

reveals our connection with the earth. Each bite contains

the life of the sun and the earth. The extent to which our

food reveals itself depends on us. We can see and taste

the whole universe in a piece of bread! Contemplating

our food for a few seconds before eating, and eating in

mindfulness, can bring us much happiness.

Having the opportunity to sit with our family and

friends and enjoy wonderful food is something precious,

something not everyone has. M any people in the world

are hungry. When I hold a bowl of rice or a piece of

bread, I know that I am fortunate, and I feel compassion

for all those who have no food to eat and are without

friends or family. This is a very deep practice. We do

not need to go to a temple or a church in order to

practice this. We can practice it right at our dinner table.

Mindful eating can cultivate seeds of compassion and

understanding that will strengthen us to do something to

help hungry and lonely people be nourished.

In order to aid mindfulness during meals, you may like

to eat silently from time to time. Your first silent meal

may cause you to feel a little uncomfortable, but once

you become used to it, you will realize that meals in

silence bring much peace and happiness. Just as we turn

off the TV before eating, we can “turn off” the talking in

order to enjoy the food and the presence of one another.

I do not recommend silent meals every day. Talking to

each other can be a wonderful way to be together in

mindfulness. But we have to distinguish among different

kinds of talk. Some subjects can separate us: for

instance, if we talk about other people’s shortcomings.

The carefully prepared food will have no value if we let

this kind of talk dominate our meal. When instead we

speak about things that nourish our awareness of the

food and our being together, we cultivate the kind of

happiness that is necessary for us to grow. If we

compare this experience with the experience of talking

about other people’s shortcomings, we will realize that

the awareness of the piece of bread in our mouth is

much more nourishing. It brings life in and makes life

real.

So, while eating, we should refrain from discussing

subjects that can destroy our awareness of our family

and the food. But we should feel free to say things that

can nourish awareness and happiness. For instance, if

there is a dish that you like very much, you can notice if

other people are also enjoying it, and if one of them is

not, you can help him or her appreciate the wonderful

dish prepared with loving care. If someone is thinking

about something other than the good food on the table,

such as his difficulties in the office or with friends, he is

losing the present moment and the food. You can say,

“This dish is wonderful, don’t you agree?” to draw him

out of his thinking and worries and bring him back to

the here and now, enjoying you, enjoying the wonderful

dish. You become a bodhisattva, helping a living being

become enlightened. Children, in particular, are very

capable of practicing mindfulness and reminding others

to do the same.

Washing Dishes

To my mind, the idea that doing dishes is unpleasant

can occur only when you aren’t doing them. Once you

are standing in front of the sink with your sleeves rolled

up and your hands in the warm water, it is really quite

pleasant. I enjoy taking my time with each dish, being

fully aware of the dish, the water, and each movement

of my hands. I know that if I hurry in order to eat

dessert sooner, the time of washing dishes will be

unpleasant and not worth living. That would be a pity,

for each minute, each second of life is a miracle. The

dishes themselves and the fact that I am here washing

them are miracles!

If I am incapable of washing dishes joyfully, if I want to

finish them quickly so I can go and have dessert, I will

be equally incapable of enjoying my dessert. With the

fork in my hand, I will be thinking about what to do

next, and the texture and the flavor of the dessert,

together with the pleasure of eating it, will be lost. I will

always be dragged into the future, never able to live in

the present moment.

Each thought, each action in the sunlight of awareness

becomes sacred. In this light, no boundary exists

between the sacred and the profane. I must confess it

takes me a bit longer to do the dishes, but I live fully in

every moment, and I am happy. Washing the dishes is

at the same time a means and an end—that is, not only

do we do the dishes in order to have clean dishes, we

also do the dishes just to do the dishes, to live fully in

each moment while washing them.

Walking Meditation

Walking meditation can be very enjoyable. We walk

slowly, alone or with friends, if possible in some

beautiful place. Walking meditation is really to enjoy

the walking—walking not in order to arrive, but just to

walk. The purpose is to be in the present moment and,

aware of our breathing and our walking, to enjoy each

step. Therefore we have to shake off all worries and

anxieties, not thinking of the future, not thinking of the

past, just enjoying the present moment. We can take the

hand of a child as we do it. We walk, we make steps as

if we are the happiest person on Earth.

Although we walk all the time, our walking is usually

more like running. When we walk like that, we print

anxiety and sorrow on the Earth. We have to walk in a

way that we only print peace and serenity on the Earth.

We can all do this, provided that we want it very much.

Any child can do it. If we can take one step like this, we

can take two, three, four, and five. When we are able to

take one step peacefully and happily, we are working

for the cause of peace and happiness for the whole of

humankind. Walking meditation is a wonderful practice.

When we do walking meditation outside, we walk a

little slower than our normal pace, and we coordinate

our breathing with our steps. For example, we may take

three steps with each in-breath and three steps with

each out-breath. So we can say, “In, in, in. Out, out,

out.” “In” is to help us to identify the in-breath. Every

time we call something by its name, we make it more

real, like saying the name of a friend.

If your lungs want four steps instead of three, please

give them four steps. If they want only two steps, give

them two. The lengths of your in-breath and out-breath

do not have to be the same. For example, you can take

three steps with each inhalation and four with each

exhalation. If you feel happy, peaceful, and joyful while

you are walking, you are practicing correctly.

Be aware of the contact between your feet and the

Earth. Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your

feet. We have caused a lot of damage to the Earth. Now

it is time for us to take good care of her. We bring our

peace and calm to the surface of the Earth and share the

lesson of love. We walk in that spirit. From time to

time, when we see something beautiful, we may want to

stop and look at it—a tree, a flower, some children

playing. As we look, we continue to follow our

breathing, lest we lose the beautiful flower and get

caught up in our thoughts. When we want to resume

walking, we just start again. Each step we take will

create a cool breeze, refreshing our body and mind.

Every step makes a flower bloom under our feet. We

can do it only if we do not think of the future or the

past, if we know that life can only be found in the

present moment.

Telephone Meditation

The telephone is very convenient, but we can be

tyrannized by it. We may find its ring disturbing or feel

interrupted by too many calls. When we talk on the

phone, we may forget that we are talking on the

telephone, wasting precious time (and money). Often

we talk about things that are not that important. How

many times have we received our phone bill and winced

at the amount of it? The telephone bell creates in us a

kind of vibration, and maybe some anxiety: “Who is

calling? Is it good news or bad news?” Yet some force in

us pulls us to the phone, and we cannot resist. We are

victims of our own telephone.

I recommend that the next time you hear the phone ring,

just stay where you are, breathe in and out consciously,

smile to yourself, and recite this verse: “Listen, listen.

This wonderful sound brings me back to my true self.”

When the bell rings for the second time, you can repeat

the verse, and your smile will be even more solid. When

you smile, the muscles of your face relax, and your

tension quickly vanishes. You can afford to practice

breathing and smiling like this, because if the person

calling has something important to say, she will

certainly wait for at least three rings. When the phone

rings for the third time, you can continue to practice

breathing and smiling, as you walk to the phone slowly,

with all your sovereignty. You are your own master.

You know that you are smiling not only for your own

sake, but also for the sake of the other person. If you

are irritated or angry, the other person will receive your

negativity. But because you have been breathing

consciously and smiling, you are dwelling in

mindfulness, and when you pick up the phone, how

fortunate for the person calling you!

Before making a phone call, you can also breathe in and

out three times, then dial. When you hear the other

phone ring, you know that your friend is practicing

breathing and smiling and will not pick it up until the

third ring. So you tell yourself, “She is breathing, why

not me?” You practice breathing in and out, and she

does too. That’s very beautiful!

You don’t have to go into a meditation hall to do this

wonderful practice of meditation. You can do it in your

office and at home. I don’t know how phone operators

can practice while so many phones ring simultaneously.

I rely on you to find a way for operators to practice

telephone meditation. But those of us who are not

operators have the right to three breaths. Practicing

telephone meditation can counteract stress and

depression and bring mindfulness into our daily lives.

Driving Meditation

In Vietnam, forty years ago, I was the first monk to ride

a bicycle. At that time, it was not considered a very

“monkish” thing to do. But today, monks ride

motorcycles and drive cars. We have to keep our

meditation practices up to date and respond to the real

situation in the world, so I have written a simple verse

you can recite before starting your car. I hope you find

it helpful:

Before starting the car,

I know where I am going.

The car and I are one.

If the car goes fast, I go fast.

Sometimes we don’t really need to use the car, but

because we want to get away from ourselves, we go for

a drive. We feel that there is a vacuum in us and we

don’t want to confront it. We don’t like being so busy,

but every time we have a spare moment, we are afraid

of being alone with ourselves. We want to escape.

Either we turn on the television, pick up the telephone,

read a novel, go out with a friend, or take the car and go

somewhere. Our civilization teaches us to act this way

and provides us with many things we can use to lose

touch with ourselves. If we recite this poem as we are

about to turn the ignition key of our car, it can be like a

torch, and we may see that we don’t need to go

anywhere. Wherever we go, our “self” will be with us;

we cannot escape. So it may be better, and more

pleasant, to leave the engine off and go out for a walking

meditation.

It is said that in the last several years, two million

square miles of forest land have been destroyed by acid

rain, partly because of our cars. “Before starting the car,

I know where I am going,” is a very deep question.

Where shall we go? To our own destruction? If the trees

die, we humans are going to die also. If the journey you

are making is necessary, please do not hesitate to go.

But if you see that it is not really important, you can

remove the key from the ignition and go instead for a

walk along the riverbank or through a park. You will

return to yourself and make friends with the trees again.

“The car and I are one.” We have the impression that

we are the boss, and the car is only an instrument, but

that is not true. When we use any instrument or

machine, we change. A violinist with his violin becomes

very beautiful. A man with a gun becomes very

dangerous. When we use a car, we are ourselves and the

car.

Driving is a daily task in this society. I am not

suggesting you stop driving, just that you do so

consciously. While we are driving, we think only about

arriving. Therefore, every time we see a red light, we are

not very happy. The red light is a kind of enemy that

prevents us from attaining our goal. But we can also see

the red light as a bell of mindfulness, reminding us to

return to the present moment. The next time you see a

red light, please smile at it and go back to your

breathing. “Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out,

I smile.” It is easy to transform a feeling of irritation

into a pleasant feeling. Although it is the same red light,

it becomes different. It becomes a friend, helping us

remember that it is only in the present moment that we

can live our lives.

When I was in Montreal several years ago to lead a

retreat, a friend drove me across the city to go to the

mountains. I noticed that every time a car stopped in

front of me, the sentence “Je me souviens” was on the

license plate. It means “I remember.” I was not sure

what they wanted to remember, perhaps their French

origins, but I told my friend that I had a gift for him.

“Every time you see a car with that sentence, ‘Je me

souviens,’ remember to breathe and smile. It is a bell of

mindfulness. You will have many opportunities to

breathe and smile as you drive through Montreal.”

He was delighted, and he shared the practice with his

friends. Later, when he visited me in France, he told me

that it was more difficult to practice in Paris than in

Montreal, because in Paris, there is no “Je me

souviens.” I told him, “There are red lights and stop

signs everywhere in Paris. Why don’t you practice with

them?” After he went back to M ontreal, through Paris,

he wrote me a very nice letter: “Thây, it was very easy

to practice in Paris. Every time a car stopped in front of

me, I saw the eyes of the Buddha blinking at me. I had

to answer him by breathing and smiling, there was no

better answer than that. I had a wonderful time driving

in Paris.”

The next time you are caught in a traffic jam, don’t

fight. It’s useless to fight. Sit back and smile to

yourself, a smile of compassion and loving kindness.

Enjoy the present moment, breathing and smiling, and

make the other people in your car happy. Happiness is

there if you know how to breathe and smile, because

happiness can always be found in the present moment.

Practicing meditation is to go back to the present

moment in order to encounter the flower, the blue sky,

the child. Happiness is available.

Decompartmentalization

We have so many compartments in our lives. How can

we bring meditation out of the meditation hall and into

the kitchen, and the office? In the meditation hall we sit

quietly, and try to be aware of each breath. How can

our sitting influence our non-sitting time? When a

doctor gives you an injection, not only your arm but

your whole body benefits from it. When you practice

half an hour of sitting meditation a day, that time should

be for all twenty-four hours, and not just for that half-

hour. One smile, one breath, should be for the benefit of

the whole day, not just for that moment. We must

practice in a way that removes the barrier between

practice and non-practice.

When we walk in the meditation hall, we make careful

steps, very slowly. But when we go to the airport or

the supermarket, we become quite another person. We

walk very quickly, less mindfully. How can we practice

mindfulness at the airport and in the supermarket? I

have a friend who breathes between telephone calls, and

it helps her very much. Another friend does walking

meditation between business appointments, walking

mindfully between buildings in downtown Denver.

Passersby smile at him, and his meetings, even with

difficult persons, often turn out to be quite pleasant,

and very successful.

We should be able to bring the practice from the

meditation hall into our daily lives. We need to discuss

among ourselves how to do it. Do you practice

breathing between phone calls? Do you practice smiling

while cutting carrots? Do you practice relaxation after

hours of hard work? These are practical questions. If

you know how to apply meditation to dinner time,

leisure time, sleeping time, it will penetrate your daily

life, and it will also have a tremendous effect on social

concerns. Mindfulness can penetrate the activities of

everyday life, each minute, each hour of our daily life,

and not just be a description of something far away.

Breathing and Scything

Have you ever cut grass with a scythe? Not many

people do these days. About ten years ago, I brought a

scythe home and tried to cut the grass around my

cottage with it. It took more than a week before I found

the best way to use it. The way you stand, the way

you hold the scythe, the angle of the blade on the grass

are all important. I found that if I coordinated the

movement of my arms with the rhythm of my

breathing, and worked unhurriedly while maintaining

awareness of my activity, I was able to work for a

longer period of time. When I didn’t do this, I became

tired in just ten minutes.

During the past few years I have avoided tiring myself

and losing my breath. I must take care of my body, treat

it with respect as a musician does his instrument. I

apply nonviolence to my body, for it is not merely a

tool to accomplish something. It itself is the end. I treat

my scythe in the same way. As I use it while following

my breathing, I feel that my scythe and I breathe

together in rhythm. It is true for many other tools as

well.

One day an elderly man was visiting my neighbor, and

he offered to show me how to use the scythe. He was

much more adept than I, but for the most part he used

the same position and movements. What surprised me

was that he too coordinated his movements with his

breathing. Since then, whenever I see anyone cutting his

grass with a scythe, I know he is practicing awareness.

Aimlessness

In the West, we are very goal oriented. We know where

we want to go, and we are very directed in getting there.

This may be useful, but often we forget to enjoy

ourselves along the route.

There is a word in Buddhism that means “wishlessness”

or “aimlessness.” The idea is that you do not put

something in front of you and run after it, because

everything is already here, in yourself. While we

practice walking meditation, we do not try to arrive

anywhere. We only make peaceful, happy steps. If we

keep thinking of the future, of what we want to realize,

we will lose our steps. The same is true with sitting

meditation. We sit just to enjoy our sitting; we do not

sit in order to attain any goal. This is quite important.

Each moment of sitting meditation brings us back to life,

and we should sit in a way that we enjoy our sitting for

the entire time we do it. Whether we are eating a

tangerine, drinking a cup of tea, or walking in

meditation, we should do it in a way that is “aimless.”

Often we tell ourselves, “Don’t just sit there, do

something!” But when we practice awareness, we

discover something unusual. We discover that the

opposite may be more helpful: “Don’t just do

something, sit there!” We must learn to stop from time

to time in order to see clearly. At first, “stopping” may

look like a kind of resistance to modern life, but it is

not. It is not just a reaction; it is a way of life.

Humankind’s survival depends on our ability to stop

rushing. We have more than 50,000 nuclear bombs, and

yet we cannot stop making more. “Stopping” is not

only to stop the negative, but to allow positive healing

to take place. That is the purpose of our practice—not

to avoid life, but to experience and demonstrate that

happiness in life is possible now and also in the future.

The foundation of happiness is mindfulness. The basic

condition for being happy is our consciousness of being

happy. If we are not aware that we are happy, we are

not really happy. When we have a toothache, we know

that not having a toothache is a wonderful thing. But

when we do not have a toothache, we are still not

happy. A non-toothache is very pleasant. There are so

many things that are enjoyable, but when we don’t

practice mindfulness, we don’t appreciate them. When

we practice mindfulness, we come to cherish these

things and we learn how to protect them. By taking

good care of the present moment, we take good care of

the future. Working for peace in the future is to work

for peace in the present moment.

Our Life Is a Work of Art

After a retreat in southern California, an artist asked me,

“What is the way to look at a flower so that I can make

the most of it for my art?” I said, “If you look in that

way, you cannot be in touch with the flower. Abandon

all your projects so you can be with the flower with no

intention of exploiting it or getting something from it.”

The same artist told me, “When I am with a friend, I

want to profit from him or her.” Of course we can

profit from a friend, but a friend is more than a source

of profit. Just to be with a friend, without thinking to

ask for his or her support, help, or advice, is an art.

It has become a kind of habit to look at things with the

intention of getting something. We call it “pragmatism,”

and we say that the truth is something that pays. If we

meditate in order to get to the truth, it seems we will be

well paid. In meditation, we stop, and we look deeply.

We stop just to be there, to be with ourselves and with

the world. When we are capable of stopping, we begin

to see and, if we can see, we understand. Peace and

happiness are the fruit of this process. We should

master the art of stopping in order to really be with our

friend and with the flower.

How can we bring elements of peace to a society that is

very used to making profit? How can our smile be the

source of joy and not just a diplomatic maneuver? When

we smile to ourselves, that smile is not diplomacy; it is

the proof that we are ourselves, that we have full

sovereignty over ourselves. Can we write a poem on

stopping, aimlessness, or just being? Can we paint

something about it? Everything we do is an act of

poetry or a painting if we do it with mindfulness.

Growing lettuce is poetry. Walking to the supermarket

can be a painting.

When we do not trouble ourselves about whether or not

something is a work of art, if we just act in each

moment with composure and mindfulness, each minute

of our life is a work of art. Even when we are not

painting or writing, we are still creating. We are

pregnant with beauty, joy, and peace, and we are

making life more beautiful for many people. Sometimes

it is better not to talk about art by using the word “art.”

If we just act with awareness and integrity, our art will

flower, and we don’t have to talk about it at all. When

we know how to be peace, we find that art is a

wonderful way to share our peacefulness. Artistic

expression will take place in one way or another, but

the being is essential. So we must go back to ourselves,

and when we have joy and peace in ourselves, our

creations of art will be quite natural, and they will serve

the world in a positive way.

Hope as an Obstacle

Hope is important, because it can make the present

moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that

tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.

But that is the most that hope can do for us—to make

some hardship lighter. When I think deeply about the

nature of hope, I see something tragic. Since we cling to

our hope in the future, we do not focus our energies and

capabilities on the present moment. We use hope to

believe something better will happen in the future, that

we will arrive at peace, or the Kingdom of God. Hope

becomes a kind of obstacle. If you can refrain from

hoping, you can bring yourself entirely into the present

moment and discover the joy that is already here.

Enlightenment, peace, and joy will not be granted by

someone else. The well is within us, and if we dig

deeply in the present moment, the water will spring

forth. We must go back to the present moment in order

to be really alive. When we practice conscious

breathing, we practice going back to the present moment

where everything is happening.

Western civilization places so much emphasis on the

idea of hope that we sacrifice the present moment.

Hope is for the future. It cannot help us discover joy,

peace, or enlightenment in the present moment. Many

religions are based on the notion of hope, and this

teaching about refraining from hope may create a strong

reaction. But the shock can bring about something

important. I do not mean that you should not have

hope, but that hope is not enough. Hope can create an

obstacle for you, and if you dwell in the energy of hope,

you will not bring yourself back entirely into the

present moment. If you re-channel those energies into

being aware of what is going on in the present moment,

you will be able to make a breakthrough and discover

joy and peace right in the present moment, inside of

yourself and all around you.

A. J. M uste, the mid-twentieth-century leader of the

peace movement in America who inspired millions of

people, said, “There is no way to peace, peace is the

way.” This means that we can realize peace right in the

present moment with our look, our smile, our words,

and our actions. Peace work is not a means. Each step

we make should be peace. Each step we make should be

joy. Each step we make should be happiness. If we are

determined, we can do it. We don’t need the future. We

can smile and relax. Everything we want is right here in

the present moment.

Flower Insights

There is a story about a flower which is well known in

the Zen circles. One day the Buddha held up a flower in

front of an audience of 1,250 monks and nuns. He did

not say anything for quite a long time. The audience

was perfectly silent. Everyone seemed to be thinking

hard, trying to see the meaning behind the Buddha’s

gesture. Then, suddenly, the Buddha smiled. He smiled

because someone in the audience smiled at him and at

the flower. The name of that monk was Mahakashyapa.

He was the only person who smiled, and the Buddha

smiled back and said, “I have a treasure of insight, and I

have transmitted it to Mahakashyapa.” That story has

been discussed by many generations of Zen students,

and people continue to look for its meaning. To me the

meaning is quite simple. When someone holds up a

flower and shows it to you, he wants you to see it. If

you keep thinking, you miss the flower. The person

who was not thinking, who was just himself, was able

to encounter the flower in depth, and he smiled.

That is the problem of life. If we are not fully ourselves,

truly in the present moment, we miss everything. When

a child presents himself to you with his smile, if you are

not really there—thinking about the future or the past,

or preoccupied with other problems—then the child is

not really there for you. The technique of being alive is

to go back to yourself in order for the child to appear

like a marvelous reality. Then you can see him smile and

you can embrance him in your arms.

I would like to share a poem with you, written by a

friend of mine who died at the age of twenty-eight in

Saigon, about thirty years ago. After he died, people

found many beautiful poems he had written, and I was

startled when I read this poem. It has just a few short

lines, but it is very beautiful:

Standing quietly by the fence,

you smile your wondrous smile.

I am speechless, and my senses are filled

by the sounds of your beautiful song,

beginningless and endless.

I how deeply to you.

“You” refers to a flower, a dahlia. That morning as he

passed by a fence, he saw that little flower very deeply

and, struck by the sight of it, he stopped and wrote that

poem.

I enjoy this poem very much. You might think that the

poet was a mystic, because his way of looking and

seeing things is very deep. But he was just an ordinary

person like any one of us. I don’t know how or why he

was able to look and see like that, but it is exactly the

way we practice mindfulness. We try to be in touch

with life and look deeply as we drink our tea, walk, sit

down, or arrange flowers. The secret of the success is

that you are really yourself, and when you are really

yourself, you can encounter life in the present moment.

Breathing Room

We have a room for everything—eating, sleeping,

watching TV—but we have no room for mindfulness. I

recommend that we set up a small room in our homes

and call it a “breathing room,” where we can be alone

and practice just breathing and smiling, at least in

difficult moments. That little room should be regarded

as an Embassy of the Kingdom of Peace. It should be

respected, and not violated by anger, shouting, or things

like that. When a child is about to be shouted at, she can

take refuge in that room. Neither the father nor the

mother can shout at her anymore. She is safe within the

grounds of the Embassy. Parents sometimes will need

to take refuge in that room, also, to sit down, breathe,

smile, and restore themselves. Therefore, that room is

for the benefit of the whole family.

I suggest that the breathing room be decorated very

simply, and not be too bright. You may want to have a

small bell, one with a beautiful sound, a few cushions or

chairs, and perhaps a vase of flowers to remind us of

our true nature. You or your children can arrange

flowers in mindfulness, smiling. Every time you feel a

little upset, you know that the best thing to do is to go

to that room, open the door slowly, sit down, invite the

bell to sound—in my country we don’t say “strike” or

“hit” a bell—and begin to breathe. The bell will help not

only the person in the breathing room, but the others in

the house as well.

Suppose your husband is irritated. Since he has learned

the practice of breathing, he knows that the best thing is

to go into that room, sit down, and practice. You may

not realize where he has gone; you were busy cutting

carrots in the kitchen. But you suffer also, because you

and he just had some kind of altercation. You are cutting

the carrots a bit strongly, because the energy of the

anger is translated into the movement. Suddenly, you

hear the bell, and you know what to do. You stop

cutting and you breathe in and out. You feel better, and

you may smile, thinking about your husband, who

knows what to do when he gets angry. He is now sitting

in the breathing room, breathing and smiling. That’s

wonderful; not many people do that. Suddenly, a feeling

of tenderness arises, and you feel much better. After

three breaths, you begin to cut the carrots again, but this

time, quite differently.

Your child, who was witnessing the scene, knew that a

kind of tempest was going to break. She withdrew to

her room, closed the door, and silently waited. But

instead of a storm, she heard the bell, and she

understood what was going on. She feels so relieved,

and she wants to show her appreciation to her father.

She goes slowly to the breathing room, opens the door,

and quietly enters and sits down beside him to show her

support. That helps him very much. He already felt

ready to go out—he is able to smile now—but since his

daughter is sitting there, he wants to sound the bell

again for his daughter to breathe.

In the kitchen, you hear the second bell and you know

that cutting carrots may not be the best thing to do

now. So, you put down your knife and go into the

breathing room. Your husband is aware that the door is

opening and you are coming in. So, although he is now

all right, since you are coming, he stays on for some

time longer and sounds the bell for you to breathe. This

is a beautiful scene. If you are very wealthy, you can

buy a precious painting by van Gogh and hang it in

your living room. But it will be less beautiful than this

scene in the breathing room. The practice of peace and

reconciliation is one of the most vital and artistic of

human actions.

I know of families where children go into a breathing

room after breakfast, sit down, and breathe, “in-out-

one,” “in-out-two,” “in-out-three,” and so on up to ten,

and then they go to school. If your child doesn’t wish

to breathe ten times, perhaps three times is enough.

Beginning the day this way is very beautiful and very

helpful to the whole family. If you are mindful in the

morning and try to nourish mindfulness throughout the

day, you may be able to come home at the end of a day

with a smile, which proves that mindfulness is still

there.

I believe that every home should have one room for

breathing. Simple practices like conscious breathing and

smiling are very important. They can change our

civilization.

Continuing the Journey

We have walked together in mindfulness, learning how

to breathe and smile in full awareness, at home, at work,

and throughout the day. We have discussed eating

mindfully, washing the dishes, driving, answering the

telephone, and even cutting the grass with a scythe.

Mindfulness is the foundation of a happy life.

But how can we deal with difficult emotions? What

should we do when we feel anger, hatred, remorse, or

sadness? There are many practices I have learned and a

number I have discovered during the past forty years

for working with these kinds of mental states. Shall we

continue our journey together and try some of these

practices?

PART TWO

Transformation and Healing

The River of Feelings

Our feelings play a very important part in directing all

of our thoughts and actions. In us, there is a river of

feelings, in which every drop of water is a different

feeling, and each feeling relies on all the others for its

existence. To observe it, we just sit on the bank of the

river and identify each feeling as it surfaces, flows by,

and disappears.

There are three sorts of feelings—pleasant, unpleasant,

and neutral. When we have an unpleasant feeling, we

may want to chase it away. But it is more effective to

return to our conscious breathing and just observe it,

identifying it silently to ourselves: “Breathing in, I

know there is an unpleasant feeling in me. Breathing

out, I know there is an unpleasant feeling in me.” Calling

a feeling by its name, such as “anger,” “sorrow,” “joy,”

or “happiness,” helps us identify it clearly and

recognize it more deeply.

We can use our breathing to be in contact with our

feelings and accept them. If our breathing is light and

calm—a natural result of conscious breathing—our mind

and body will slowly become light, calm, and clear, and

our feelings also. M indful observation is based on the

principle of “non-duality”: our feeling is not separate

from us or caused merely by something outside us; our

feeling is us, and for the moment we are that feeling. We

are neither drowned in nor terrorized by the feeling, nor

do we reject it. Our attitude of not clinging to or

rejecting our feelings is the attitude of letting go, an

important part of meditation practice.

If we face our unpleasant feelings with care, affection,

and nonviolence, we can transform them into the kind of

energy that is healthy and has the capacity to nourish

us. By the work of mindful observation, our unpleasant

feelings can illuminate so much for us, offering us

insight and understanding into ourselves and society.

Non-Surgery

Western medicine emphasizes surgery too much.

Doctors want to take out the things that are not wanted.

When we have something irregular in our body, too

often they advise us to have an operation. The same

seems to be true in psychotherapy. Therapists want to

help us throw out what is unwanted and keep only

what is wanted. But what is left may not be very much.

If we try to throw away what we don’t want, we may

throw away most of ourselves.

Instead of acting as if we can dispose of parts of

ourselves, we should learn the art of transformation. We

can transform our anger, for example, into something

more wholesome, like understanding. We do not need

surgery to remove our anger. If we become angry at our

anger, we will have two angers at the same time. We

only have to observe it with love and attention. If we

take care of our anger in this way, without trying to run

away from it, it will transform itself. This is

peacemaking. If we are peaceful in ourselves, we can

make peace with our anger. We can deal with

depression, anxiety, fear, or any unpleasant feeling in

the same way.

Transforming Feelings

The first step in dealing with feelings is to recognize

each feeling as it arises. The agent that does this is

mindfulness. In the case of fear, for example, you bring

out your mindfulness, look at your fear, and recognize it

as fear. You know that fear springs from yourself and

that mindfulness also springs from yourself. They are

both in you, not fighting, but one taking care of the

other.

The second step is to become one with the feeling. It is

best not to say, “Go away, Fear. I don’t like you. You

are not me.” It is much more effective to say, “Hello,

Fear. How are you today?” Then you can invite the two

aspects of yourself, mindfulness and fear, to shake

hands as friends and become one. Doing this may seem

frightening, but because you know that you are more

than just your fear, you need not be afraid. As long as

mindfulness is there, it can chaperone your fear. The

fundamental practice is to nourish your mindfulness

with conscious breathing, to keep it there, alive and

strong. Although your mindfulness may not be very

powerful in the beginning, if you nourish it, it will

become stronger. As long as mindfulness is present, you

will not drown in your fear. In fact, you begin

transforming it the very moment you give birth to

awareness in yourself.

The third step is to calm the feeling. As mindfulness is

taking good care of your fear, you begin to calm it

down. “Breathing in, I calm the activities of body and

mind.” You calm your feeling just by being with it, like

a mother tenderly holding her crying baby. Feeling his

mother’s tenderness, the baby will calm down and stop

crying. The mother is your mindfulness, born from the

depth of your consciousness, and it will tend the feeling

of pain. A mother holding her baby is one with her

baby. If the mother is thinking of other things, the baby

will not calm down. The mother has to put aside other

things and just hold her baby. So, don’t avoid your

feeling. Don’t say, “You are not important. You are

only a feeling.” Come and be one with it. You can say,

“Breathing out, I calm my fear.”

The fourth step is to release the feeling, to let it go.

Because of your calm, you feel at ease, even in the

midst of fear, and you know that your fear will not

grow into something that will overwhelm you. When

you know that you are capable of taking care of your

fear, it is already reduced to the minimum, becoming

softer and not so unpleasant. Now you can smile at it

and let it go, but please do not stop yet. Calming and

releasing are just medicines for the symptoms. You now

have an opportunity to go deeper and work on

transforming the source of your fear.

The fifth step is to look deeply. You look deeply into

your baby—your feeling of fear—to see what is wrong,

even after the baby has already stopped crying, after

the fear is gone. You cannot hold your baby all the time,

and therefore you have to look into him to see the cause

of what is wrong. By looking, you will see what will

help you begin to transform the feeling. You will realize,

for example, that his suffering has many causes, inside

and outside of his body. If something is wrong around

him, if you put that in order, bringing tenderness and

care to the situation, he will feel better. Looking into

your baby, you see the elements that are causing him to

cry, and when you see them, you will know what to do

and what not to do to transform the feeling and be free.

This is a process similar to psychotherapy. Together

with the patient, a therapist looks at the nature of the

pain. Often, the therapist can uncover causes of

suffering that stem from the way the patient looks at

things, the beliefs he holds about himself, his culture,

and the world. The therapist examines these viewpoints

and beliefs with the patient, and together they help free

him from the kind of prison he has been in. But the

patient’s efforts are crucial. A teacher has to give birth

to the teacher within his student, and a psychotherapist

has to give birth to the psychotherapist within his

patient. The patient’s “internal psychotherapist” can

then work full-time in a very effective way.

The therapist does not treat the patient by simply

giving him another set of beliefs. She tries to help him

see which kinds of ideas and beliefs have led to his

suffering. M any patients want to get rid of their painful

feelings, but they do not want to get rid of their beliefs,

the viewpoints that are the very roots of their feelings.

So therapist and patient have to work together to help

the patient see things as they are. The same is true

when we use mindfulness to transform our feelings.

After recognizing the feeling, becoming one with it,

calming it down, and releasing it, we can look deeply

into its causes, which are often based on inaccurate

perceptions. As soon as we understand the causes and

nature of our feelings, they begin to transform

themselves.

Mindfulness of Anger

Anger is an unpleasant feeling. It is like a blazing flame

that burns up our self-control and causes us to say and

do things that we regret later. When someone is angry,

we can see clearly that he or she is abiding in hell. Anger

and hatred are the materials from which hell is made. A

mind without anger is cool, fresh, and sane. The absence

of anger is the basis of real happiness, the basis of love

and compassion.

When our anger is placed under the lamp of

mindfulness, it immediately begins to lose some of its

destructive nature. We can say to ourselves, “Breathing

in, I know that anger is in me. Breathing out, I know

that I am my anger.” If we follow our breathing closely

while we identify and mindfully observe our anger, it

can no longer monopolize our consciousness.

Awareness can be called upon to be a companion for

our anger. Our awareness of our anger does not

suppress it or drive it out. It just looks after it. This is a

very important principle. M indfulness is not a judge. It

is more like an older sister looking after and comforting

her younger sister in an affectionate and caring way. We

can concentrate on our breathing in order to maintain

this mindfulness and know ourselves fully.

When we are angry, we are not usually inclined to

return to ourselves. We want to think about the person

who is making us angry, to think about his hateful

aspects—his rudeness, dishonesty, cruelty,

maliciousness, and so on. The more we think about him,

listen to him, or look at him, the more our anger flares.

His dishonesty and hatefulness may be real, imaginary,

or exaggerated, but, in fact, the root of the problem is

the anger itself, and we have to come back and look first

of all inside ourselves. It is best if we do not listen to or

look at the person whom we consider to be the cause of

our anger. Like a fireman, we have to pour water on the

blaze first and not waste time looking for the one who

set the house on fire. “Breathing in, I know that I am

angry. Breathing out, I know that I must put all my

energy into caring for my anger.” So we avoid thinking

about the other person, and we refrain from doing or

saying anything as long as our anger persists. If we put

all our mind into observing our anger, we will avoid

doing any damage that we may regret later.

When we are angry, our anger is our very self. To

suppress or chase it away is to suppress or chase away

our self. When we are joyful, we are the joy. When we

are angry, we are the anger. When anger is born in us,

we can be aware that anger is an energy in us, and we

can accept that energy in order to transform it into

another kind of energy. When we have a compost bin

filled with organic material which is decomposing and

smelly, we know that we can transform the waste into

beautiful flowers. At first, we may see the compost and

the flowers as opposite, but when we look deeply, we

see that the flowers already exist in the compost, and

the compost already exists in the flowers. It only takes

a couple of weeks for a flower to decompose. When a

good organic gardener looks into her compost, she can

see that, and she does not feel sad or disgusted. Instead,

she values the rotting material and does not discriminate

against it. It takes only a few months for compost to

give birth to flowers. We need the insight and non-dual

vision of the organic gardener with regard to our anger.

We need not be afraid of it or reject it. We know that

anger can be a kind of compost, and that it is within its

power to give birth to something beautiful. We need

anger in the way the organic gardener needs compost. If

we know how to accept our anger, we already have

some peace and joy. Gradually we can transform anger

completely into peace, love, and understanding.

Pillow-Pounding

Expressing anger is not always the best way to deal

with it. In expressing anger we might be practicing or

rehearsing it, and making it stronger in the depth of our

consciousness. Expressing anger to the person we are

angry at can cause a lot of damage.

Some of us may prefer to go into our room, lock the

door, and punch a pillow. We call this “getting in touch

with our anger.” But I don’t think this is getting in

touch with our anger at all. In fact, I don’t think it is

even getting in touch with our pillow. If we are really in

touch with the pillow, we know what a pillow is and

we won’t hit it. Still, this technique may work

temporarily because while pounding the pillow, we

expend a lot of energy, and after a while, we are

exhausted and we feel better. But the roots of our anger

are still intact, and if we go out and eat some nourishing

food, our energy will be renewed. If the seeds of our

anger are watered again, our anger will be reborn, and we

will have to pound the pillow again.

Pillow-pounding may provide some relief, but it is not

very long-lasting. In order to have real transformation,

we have to deal with the roots of our anger—looking

deeply into its cause. If we don’t, the seeds of anger

will grow again. If we practice mindful living, planting

new, healthy, wholesome seeds, they will take care of

our anger, and they may transform it without our asking

them to do so.

Our mindfulness will take care of everything, as the

sunshine takes care of the vegetation. The sunshine does

not seem to do much, it just shines on the vegetation,

but it transforms everything. Poppies close up every

time it gets dark, but when the sun shines on them for

one or two hours, they open. The sun penetrates into

the flowers, and at some point, the flowers cannot

resist, they just have to open up. In the same way,

mindfulness, if practiced continuously, will provide a

kind of transformation within the flower of our anger,

and it will open and show us its own nature. When we

understand the nature, the roots, of our anger, we will

be freed from it.

Walking Meditation When Angry

When anger arises, we may wish to go outside to

practice walking meditation. The fresh air, the green

trees, and the plants will help us greatly. We can

practice like this:

Breathing in, I know that anger is here.

Breathing out, I know that the anger is me.

Breathing in, I know that anger is unpleasant.

Breathing out, I know this feeling will pass.

Breathing in, I am calm.

Breathing out, I am strong enough to take care of

this anger.

To lessen the unpleasant feeling brought about by the

anger, we give our whole heart and mind to the practice

of walking meditation, combining our breath with our

steps and giving full attention to the contact between

the soles of our feet and the earth. As we walk, we

recite this verse, and wait until we are calm enough to

look directly at the anger. Until then, we can enjoy our

breathing, our walking, and the beauties of our

environment. After a while, our anger will subside and

we will feel stronger. Then we can begin to observe the

anger directly and try to understand it.

Cooking Our Potatoes

Thanks to the illuminating light of awareness, after

practicing mindful observation for a while, we begin to

see the primary causes of our anger. M editation helps

us look deeply into things in order to see their nature. If

we look into our anger, we can see its roots, such as

misunderstanding, clumsiness, injustice, resentment, or

conditioning. These roots can be present in ourselves

and in the person who played the principal role in

precipitating our anger. We observe mindfully in order

to be able to see and to understand. Seeing and

understanding are the elements of liberation that bring

about love and compassion. The method of mindful

observation in order to see and understand the roots of

the anger is a method that has lasting effectiveness.

We cannot eat raw potatoes, but we don’t throw them

away just because they are raw. We know we can cook

them. So, we put them into a pot of water, put a lid on,

and put the pot on the fire. The fire is mindfulness, the

practice of breathing consciously and focusing on our

anger. The lid symbolizes our concentration, because it

prevents the heat from going out of the pot. When we

are practicing breathing in and out, looking into our

anger, we need some concentration in order for our

practice to be strong. Therefore, we turn away from all

distractions and focus on the problem. If we go out into

nature, among the trees and flowers, the practice is

easier.

As soon as we put the pot on the fire, a change occurs.

The water begins to warm up. Ten minutes later, it

boils, but we have to keep the fire going a while longer

in order to cook our potatoes. As we practice being

aware of our breathing and our anger, a transformation is

already occurring. After half an hour, we lift the lid and

smell something different. We know that we can eat our

potatoes now. Anger has been transformed into another

kind of energy—understanding and compassion.

The Roots of Anger

Anger is rooted in our lack of understanding of

ourselves and of the causes, deep-seated as well as

immediate, that brought about this unpleasant state of

affairs. Anger is also rooted in desire, pride, agitation,

and suspicion. The primary roots of our anger are in

ourselves. Our environment and other people are only

secondary. It is not difficult for us to accept the

enormous damage brought about by a natural disaster,

such as an earthquake or a flood. But when damage is

caused by another person, we don’t have much

patience. We know that earthquakes and floods have

causes, and we should see that the person who has

precipitated our anger also has reasons, deep-seated and

immediate, for what he has done.

For instance, someone who speaks badly to us may

have been spoken to in exactly the same way just the

day before, or by his alcoholic father when he was a

child. When we see and understand these kinds of

causes, we can begin to be free from our anger. I am not

saying that someone who viciously attacks us should

not be disciplined. But what is most important is that

we first take care of the seeds of negativity in ourselves.

Then if someone needs to be helped or disciplined, we

will do so out of compassion, not anger and retribution.

If we genuinely try to understand the suffering of

another person, we are more likely to act in a way that

will help him overcome his suffering and confusion, and

that will help all of us.

Internal Formations

There is a term in Buddhist psychology that can be

translated as “internal formations,” “fetters,” or

“knots.” When we have a sensory input, depending on

how we receive it, a knot may be tied in us. When

someone speaks unkindly to us, if we understand the

reason and do not take his or her words to heart, we will

not feel irritated at all, and no knot will be tied. But if

we do not understand why we were spoken to that way

and we become irritated, a knot will be tied in us. The

absence of clear understanding is the basis for every

knot.

If we practice full awareness, we will be able to

recognize internal formations as soon as they are

formed, and we will find ways to transform them. For

example, a wife may hear her husband boasting at a

party, and inside herself she feels the formation of a

lack of respect. If she discusses this with her husband,

they may come to a clear understanding, and the knot in

her will be untied easily. Internal formations need our

full attention as soon as they manifest, while they are

still weak, so that the work of transformation is easy.

If we do not untie our knots when they form, they will

grow tighter and stronger. Our conscious, reasoning

mind knows that negative feelings such as anger, fear,

and regret are not wholly acceptable to ourselves or

society, so it finds ways to repress them, to push them

into remote areas of our consciousness in order to forget

them. Because we want to avoid suffering, we create

defense mechanisms that deny the existence of these

negative feelings and give us the impression we have

peace within ourselves. But our internal formations are

always looking for ways to manifest as destructive

images, feelings, thoughts, words, or behavior.

The way to deal with unconscious internal formations

is, first of all, to find ways to become aware of them.

By practicing mindful breathing, we may gain access to

some of the knots that are tied inside us. When we are

aware of our images, feelings, thoughts, words, and

behavior, we can ask ourselves questions such as: Why

did I feel uncomfortable when I heard him say that?

Why did I say that to him? Why do I always think of

my mother when I see that woman? Why didn’t I like

that character in the movie? Whom did I hate in the past

whom she resembles? Observing closely like this can

gradually bring the internal formations that are buried in

us into the realm of the conscious mind.

During sitting meditation, after we have closed the

doors and windows of sensory input, the internal

formations buried inside us sometimes reveal

themselves as images, feelings, or thoughts. We may

notice a feeling of anxiety, fear, or unpleasantness

whose cause we cannot understand. So we shine the

light of our mindfulness on it, and prepare ourselves to

see this image, feeling, or thought, in all its complexity.

When it begins to show its face, it may gather strength

and become more intense. We may find it so strong that

it robs us of our peace, joy, and ease, and we may not

want to be in contact with it anymore. We may want to

move our attention to another object of meditation or

discontinue the meditation altogether; we may feel

sleepy or say that we prefer to meditate some other

time. In psychology, this is called resistance. We are

afraid to bring into our conscious mind the feelings of

pain that are buried in us, because they will make us

suffer. But if we have been practicing breathing and

smiling for some time, we will have developed the

capacity to sit still and just observe our fears. As we

keep in contact with our breathing and continue to

smile, we can say, “Hello, Fear. There you are again.”

There are people who practice sitting meditation many

hours a day and never really face their feelings. Some of

them say that feelings are not important, and they

prefer to give their attention to metaphysical subjects. I

am not suggesting that these other subjects of

meditation are unimportant, but if they are not

considered in relation to our real problems, our

meditation is not really very valuable or helpful.

If we know how to live every moment in an awakened

way, we will be aware of what is going on in our

feelings and perceptions in the present moment, and we

will not let knots form or become tighter in our

consciousness. And if we know how to observe our

feelings, we can find the roots of long-standing internal

formations and transform them, even those that have

become quite strong.

Living Together

When we live with another person, to protect each

other’s happiness, we should help one another

transform the internal formations that we produce

together. By practicing understanding and loving

speech, we can help each other a great deal. Happiness

is no longer an individual matter. If the other person is

not happy, we will not be happy either. To transform

the other person’s knots will help bring about our own

happiness as well. A wife can create internal formations

in her husband, and a husband can do so in his wife, and

if they continue to create knots in each other, one day

there will be no happiness left. Therefore, as soon as a

knot is created, the wife, for example, should know that

a knot has just been tied in her. She should not overlook

it. She should take the time to observe it and, with her

husband’s help, transform it. She might say, “Darling, I

think we’d better discuss a conflict I see growing.” This

is easy when the states of mind of husband and wife are

still light and not filled with too many knots.

The root cause of any internal formation is a lack of

understanding. If we can see the misunderstanding that

was present during the creation of a knot, we can easily

untie it. To practice mindful observation is to look

deeply to be able to see the nature and causes of

something. One important benefit of this kind of insight

is the untying of our knots.

Suchness

In Buddhism, the word “suchness” is used to mean “the

essence or particular characteristics of a thing or a

person, its true nature.” Each person has his or her

suchness. If we want to live in peace and happiness

with a person, we have to see the suchness of that

person. Once we see it, we understand him or her, and

there will be no trouble. We can live peacefully and

happily together.

When we bring natural gas into our homes for heating

and cooking, we know the suchness of gas. We know

that gas is dangerous—it can kill us if we are not

mindful. But we also know that we need the gas in order

to cook, so we do not hesitate to bring it into our

homes. The same is true of electricity. We could get

electrocuted by it, but when we are mindful, it can help

us, and there is no problem, because we know

something about the suchness of electricity. A person is

the same. If we do not know enough about the suchness

of that person, we may get ourselves into trouble. But if

we know, then we can enjoy each other very much and

benefit a lot from one another. The key is knowing a

person’s suchness. We do not expect a person always

to be a flower. We have to understand his or her garbage

as well.

Look into Your Hand

I have a friend who is an artist. Before he left Vietnam

forty years ago, his mother held his hand and told him,

“Whenever you miss me, look into your hand, and you

will see me immediately.” How penetrating these

simple, sincere words!

Over the years, my friend looked into his hand many

times. The presence of his mother is not just genetic.

Her spirit, her hopes, and her life are also in him. When

he looks into his hand, he can see thousands of

generations before him and thousands of generations

after him. He can see that he exists not only in the

evolutionary tree branching along the axis of time, but

also in the network of interdependent relations. He told

me that he never feels lonely.

When my niece came to visit me last summer, I offered

her “Look into Your Hand” as a subject for her

meditation. I told her that every pebble, every leaf, and

every butterfly are present in her hand.

Parents

When I think of my mother, I cannot separate her image

from my idea of love, for love was the natural ingredient

in the sweet, soft tones of her voice. On the day I lost

my mother, I wrote in my diary, “The greatest tragedy

in my life has just happened.” Even as an adult living

away from my mother, her loss left me feeling as

abandoned as a small orphan.

I know that many friends in the West do not feel the

same way about their parents. I have heard many

stories about parents who have hurt their children so

much, planting many seeds of suffering in them. But I

believe that the parents did not mean to plant those

seeds. They did not intend to make their children suffer.

Maybe they received the same kind of seeds from their

parents. There is a continuation in the transmission of

seeds, and their father and mother might have gotten

those seeds from their grandfather and grandmother.

Most of us are victims of a kind of living that is not

mindful, and the practice of mindful living, of

meditation, can stop these kinds of suffering and end

the transmission of such sorrow to our children and

grandchildren. We can break the cycle by not allowing

these kinds of seeds of suffering to be transmitted to

our children, our friends, or anyone else.

A fourteen-year-old boy who practices at Plum Village

told me this story. When he was eleven, he was very

angry at his father. Every time he fell down and hurt

himself, his father would shout at him. The boy vowed

to himself that when he grew up, he would be different.

But last year, his little sister was playing with other

children and she fell off a swing and scraped her knee. It

was bleeding, and the boy became very angry. He

wanted to shout at her, “How stupid! Why did you do

that?” But he caught himself. Because he had practiced

breathing and mindfulness, he could recognize his anger

and he did not act on it.

The adults were taking good care of his sister, washing

her wound and putting a band-aid on it, so he walked

away slowly and practiced breathing on his anger.

Suddenly he saw that he was exactly like his father. He

told me, “I realized that if I didn’t do something about

the anger in me, I would transmit it to my children.” At

the same time, he saw something else. He saw that his

father may have been a victim just like him. The seeds

of his father’s anger might have been transmitted by his

grandparents. It was a remarkable insight for a fourteen-

year-old boy, but because he had been practicing

mindfulness, he could see like that. “I told myself to

continue practicing in order to transform my anger into

something else.” And after a few months, his anger

disappeared. Then he was able to bring the fruit of his

practice back to his father, and he told him that he used

to be angry at him, but now he understood. He said he

wished that his father would practice also, in order to

transform his own seeds of anger. We usually think that

parents have to nourish their children, but sometimes

the children can bring enlightenment to the parents and

help transform them.

When we look at our parents with compassion, often

we see that our parents are only victims who never had

the chance to practice mindfulness. They could not

transform the suffering in themselves. But if we see

them with compassionate eyes, we can offer them joy,

peace, and forgiveness. In fact, when we look deeply,

we discover that it is impossible to drop all identity

with our parents.

Whenever we take a bath or a shower, if we look closely

at our body, we will see that it is a gift from our parents

and their parents. As we wash each part of our body,

we can meditate on the nature of the body and the

nature of life, asking ourselves, “To whom does this

body belong? Who has given this body to me? What has

been given?” If we meditate in this way, we will

discover that there are three components: the giver, the

gift, and the one who receives the gift. The giver is our

parents; we are the continuation of our parents and our

ancestors. The gift is our body itself. The one who

receives the gift is us. As we continue to meditate on

this, we see clearly that the giver, the gift, and the

receiver are one. All three are present in our body.

When we are deeply in touch with the present moment,

we can see that all our ancestors and all future

generations are present in us. Seeing this, we will know

what to do and what not to do—for ourselves, our

ancestors, our children, and their children.

Nourishing Healthy Seeds

Consciousness exists on two levels: as seeds and as

manifestations of these seeds. Suppose we have a seed

of anger in us. When conditions are favorable, that seed

may manifest as a zone of energy called anger. It is

burning, and it makes us suffer a lot. It is very difficult

for us to be joyful at the moment the seed of anger

manifests.

Every time a seed has an occasion to manifest itself, it

produces new seeds of the same kind. If we are angry

for five minutes, new seeds of anger are produced and

deposited in the soil of our unconscious mind during

those five minutes. That is why we have to be careful in

selecting the kind of life we lead and the emotions we

express. When I smile, the seeds of smiling and joy have

come up. As long as they manifest, new seeds of

smiling and joy are planted. But if I don’t practice

smiling for a number of years, that seed will weaken,

and I may not be able to smile anymore.

There are many kinds of seeds in us, both good and bad.

Some were planted during our lifetime, and some were

transmitted by our parents, our ancestors, and our

society. In a tiny grain of corn, there is the knowledge,

transmitted by previous generations, of how to sprout

and how to make leaves, flowers, and ears of corn. Our

body and our mind also have knowledge that has been

transmitted by previous generations. Our ancestors and

our parents have given us seeds of joy, peace, and

happiness, as well as seeds of sorrow, anger, and so on.

Every time we practice mindful living, we plant healthy

seeds and strengthen the healthy seeds already in us.

Healthy seeds function similarly to antibodies. When a

virus enters our bloodstream, our body reacts and

antibodies come and surround it, take care of it, and

transform it. This is true with our psychological seeds

as well. If we plant wholesome, healing, refreshing

seeds, they will take care of the negative seeds, even

without our asking them. To succeed, we need to

cultivate a good reserve of refreshing seeds.

One day, in the village where I live, we lost a very close

friend, a Frenchman who helped us considerably in

setting up Plum Village. He had a heart attack and died

during the night. In the morning we learned of his

passing. He was such a gracious person, and he gave us

a lot of joy every time we spent a few minutes with

him. We felt that he was joy and peace itself. The

morning we found out about his death, we regretted

very much that we had not spent more time with him.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The loss of a friend like

him was so painful. But I had to deliver a lecture the

next morning, and I wanted to sleep, so I practiced

breathing. It was a cold, winter night, and I was lying in

bed visualizing the beautiful trees in the yard of my

hermitage. Years before, I had planted three beautiful

cedars, a variety from the Himalayas. The trees are now

very big, and, during walking meditation, I used to stop

and hug these beautiful cedars, breathing in and out. The

cedars always responded to my hugging, I am sure of it.

So I lay in bed, and just breathed in and out, becoming

the cedars and my breath. I felt much better, but still I

couldn’t sleep. Finally I invited into my consciousness

the image of a delightful Vietnamese child named Little

Bamboo. She came to Plum Village when she was two

years old, and she was so cute that everyone wanted to

hold her in their arms, especially the children. They

didn’t let Little Bamboo walk on the ground! Now she

is six years old, and holding her in your arms, you feel

very fresh, very wonderful. So I invited her to come up

into my consciousness, and I practiced breathing and

smiling on her image. In just a few moments, I fell

soundly asleep.

Each of us needs a reserve of seeds that are beautiful,

healthy, and strong enough to help us during difficult

moments. Sometimes, because the block of pain in us is

so big, even though a flower is right in front of us, we

cannot touch it. At that moment, we know that we need

help. If we have a strong storehouse of healthy seeds,

we can invite several of them to come up and help us. If

you have a friend who is very close to you, who

understands you, if you know that when you sit close

to her, even without saying anything, you will feel

better, then you can invite her image up into your

consciousness, and the “two” of you can “breathe

together.” Doing just this may be a big help in difficult

moments.

But if you have not seen your friend in a long time, her

image may be too weak in your consciousness to come

easily to you. If you know that she is the only person

who can help you re-establish your balance and if your

image of her is already too weak, there is only one thing

to do: buy a ticket and go to her, so that she is with you

not as a seed, but as a real person.

If you go to her, you have to know how to spend the

time well, because your time with her is limited. When

you arrive, sit close to her, and right away you will feel

stronger. But you know that soon you will have to

return home, so you have to take the opportunity to

practice full awareness in each precious moment while

you are there. Your friend can help you re-establish the

balance within you, but that is not enough. You

yourself must become strong inside, in order to feel all

right when you are alone again. That is why, sitting

with her or walking with her, you need to practice

mindfulness. If you don’t, if you just use her presence

to ameliorate your suffering, the seed of her image will

not become strong enough to sustain you when you

return home. We need to practice mindfulness all the

time so that we plant healing, refreshing seeds in

ourselves. Then, when we need them, they will take

care of us.

What’s Not Wrong?

We often ask, “What’s wrong?” Doing so, we invite

painful seeds of sorrow to come up and manifest. We

feel suffering, anger, and depression, and produce more

such seeds. We would be much happier if we tried to

stay in touch with the healthy, joyful seeds inside of us

and around us. We should learn to ask, “What’s not

wrong?” and be in touch with that. There are so many

elements in the world and within our bodies, feelings,

perceptions, and consciousness that are wholesome,

refreshing, and healing. If we block ourselves, if we stay

in the prison of our sorrow, we will not be in touch

with these healing elements.

Life is filled with many wonders, like the blue sky, the

sunshine, the eyes of a baby. Our breathing, for

example, can be very enjoyable. I enjoy breathing every

day. But many people appreciate the joy of breathing

only when they have asthma or a stuffed-up nose. We

don’t need to wait until we have asthma to enjoy our

breathing. Awareness of the precious elements of

happiness is itself the practice of right mindfulness.

Elements like these are within us and all around us. In

each second of our lives we can enjoy them. If we do so,

seeds of peace, joy, and happiness will be planted in us,

and they will become strong. The secret to happiness is

happiness itself. Wherever we are, any time, we have

the capacity to enjoy the sunshine, the presence of each

other, the wonder of our breathing. We don’t have to

travel anywhere else to do so. We can be in touch with

these things right now.

Blaming Never Helps

When you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you

don’t blame the lettuce. You look into the reasons it is

not doing well. It may need fertilizer, or more water, or

less sun. You never blame the lettuce. Yet if we have

problems with our friends or our family, we blame the

other person. But if we know how to take care of them,

they will grow well, like lettuce. Blaming has no

positive effect at all, nor does trying to persuade using

reason and arguments. That is my experience. No blame,

no reasoning, no argument, just understanding. If you

understand, and you show that you understand, you

can love, and the situation will change.

One day in Paris, I gave a lecture about not blaming the

lettuce. After the talk, I was doing walking meditation

by myself, and when I turned the corner of a building, I

overheard an eight-year-old girl telling her mother,

“Mommy, remember to water me. I am your lettuce.” I

was so pleased that she had understood my point

completely. Then I heard her mother reply, “Yes, my

daughter, and I am your lettuce also. So please don’t

forget to water me too.” Mother and daughter practicing

together, it was very beautiful.

Understanding

Understanding and love are not two things, but just one.

Suppose your son wakes up one morning and sees that

it is already quite late. He decides to wake up his

younger sister, to give her enough time to eat breakfast

before going to school. It happens that she is grouchy

and instead of saying, “Thank you for waking me up,”

she says, “Shut up! Leave me alone!” and kicks him. He

will probably get angry, thinking, “I woke her up

nicely. Why did she kick me?” He may want to go to

the kitchen and tell you about it, or even kick her back.

But then he remembers that during the night his sister

coughed a lot, and he realizes that she must be sick.

Maybe she behaved so meanly because she has a cold.

At that moment, he understands, and he is not angry at

all anymore. When you understand, you cannot help

but love. You cannot get angry. To develop

understanding, you have to practice looking at all living

beings with the eyes of compassion. When you

understand, you cannot help but love. And when you

love, you naturally act in a way that can relieve the

suffering of people.

Real Love

We really have to understand the person we want to

love. If our love is only a will to possess, it is not love.

If we only think of ourselves, if we know only our own

needs and ignore the needs of the other person, we

cannot love. We must look deeply in order to see and

understand the needs, aspirations, and suffering of the

person we love. This is the ground of real love. You

cannot resist loving another person when you really

understand him or her.

From time to time, sit close to the one you love, hold

his or her hand, and ask, “Darling, do I understand you

enough? Or am I making you suffer? Please tell me so

that I can learn to love you properly. I don’t want to

make you suffer, and if I do so because of my ignorance,

please tell me so that I can love you better, so that you

can be happy.” If you say this in a voice that

communicates your real openness to understand, the

other person may cry. That is a good sign, because it

means the door of understanding is opening and

everything will be possible again.

Maybe a father does not have time or is not brave

enough to ask his son such a question. Then the love

between them will not be as full as it could be. We need

courage to ask these questions, but if we don’t ask, the

more we love, the more we may destroy the people we

are trying to love. True love needs understanding. With

understanding, the one we love will certainly flower.

Meditation on Compassion

Love is a mind that brings peace, joy, and happiness to

another person. Compassion is a mind that removes the

suffering that is present in the other. We all have the

seeds of love and compassion in our minds, and we can

develop these fine and wonderful sources of energy. We

can nurture the unconditional love that does not expect

anything in return and therefore does not lead to anxiety

and sorrow.

The essence of love and compassion is understanding,

the ability to recognize the physical, material, and

psychological suffering of others, to put ourselves

“inside the skin” of the other. We “go inside” their

body, feelings, and mental formations, and witness for

ourselves their suffering. Shallow observation as an

outsider is not enough to see their suffering. We must

become one with the object of our observation. When

we are in contact with another’s suffering, a feeling of

compassion is born in us. Compassion means, literally,

“to suffer with.”

We begin by choosing as the object of our meditation

someone who is undergoing physical or material

suffering, someone who is weak and easily ill, poor or

oppressed, or has no protection. This kind of suffering

is easy for us to see. After that, we can practice being in

contact with more subtle forms of suffering. Sometimes

the other person does not seem to be suffering at all, but

we may notice that he has sorrows which have left their

marks in hidden ways. People with more than enough

material comforts also suffer. We look deeply at the

person who is the object of our meditation on

compassion, both during sitting meditation and when

we are actually in contact with him. We must allow

enough time to be really in deep contact with his

suffering. We continue to observe him until compassion

arises and penetrates our being.

When we observe deeply in this way, the fruit of our

meditation will naturally transform into some kind of

action. We will not just say, “I love him very much,”

but instead, “I will do something so that he will suffer

less.” The mind of compassion is truly present when it

is effective in removing another person’s suffering. We

have to find ways to nourish and express our

compassion. When we come into contact with the other

person, our thoughts and actions should express our

mind of compassion, even if that person says and does

things that are not easy to accept. We practice in this

way until we see clearly that our love is not contingent

upon the other person being lovable. Then we can know

that our mind of compassion is firm and authentic. We

ourselves will be more at ease, and the person who has

been the object of our meditation will also benefit

eventually. His suffering will slowly diminish, and his

life will gradually be brighter and more joyful as a result

of our compassion.

We can also meditate on the suffering of those who

cause us to suffer. Anyone who has made us suffer is

undoubtedly suffering too. We only need to follow our

breathing and look deeply, and naturally we will see his

suffering. A part of his difficulties and sorrows may

have been brought about by his parents’ lack of skill

when he was still young. But his parents themselves

may have been victims of their parents; the suffering

has been transmitted from generation to generation and

been reborn in him. If we see that, we will no longer

blame him for making us suffer, because we know that

he is also a victim. To look deeply is to understand.

Once we understand the reasons he has acted badly, our

bitterness towards him will vanish, and we will long for

him to suffer less. We will feel cool and light, and we

can smile. We do not need the other person to be

present in order to bring about reconciliation. When we

look deeply, we become reconciled with ourselves, and,

for us, the problem no longer exists. Sooner or later, he

will see our attitude and will share in the freshness of

the stream of love which is flowing naturally from our

heart.

Meditation on Love

The mind of love brings peace, joy, and happiness to

ourselves and others. M indful observation is the

element which nourishes the tree of understanding, and

compassion and love are the most beautiful flowers.

When we realize the mind of love, we have to go to the

one who has been the object of our mindful observation,

so that our mind of love is not just an object of our

imagination, but a source of energy which has a real

effect in the world.

The meditation on love is not just sitting still and

visualizing that our love will spread out into space like

waves of sound or light. Sound and light have the ability

to penetrate everywhere, and love and compassion can

do the same. But if our love is only a kind of

imagination, then it is not likely to have any real effect.

It is in the midst of our daily life and in our actual

contact with others that we can know whether our mind

of love is really present and how stable it is. If love is

real, it will be evident in our daily life, in the way we

relate with people and the world.

The source of love is deep in us, and we can help others

realize a lot of happiness. One word, one action, or one

thought can reduce another person’s suffering and bring

him joy. One word can give comfort and confidence,

destroy doubt, help someone avoid a mistake, reconcile

a conflict, or open the door to liberation. One action can

save a person’s life or help him take advantage of a rare

opportunity. One thought can do the same, because

thoughts always lead to words and actions. If love is in

our heart, every thought, word, and deed can bring

about a miracle. Because understanding is the very

foundation of love, words and actions that emerge from

our love are always helpful.

Hugging Meditation

Hugging is a beautiful Western custom, and we from the

East would like to contribute the practice of conscious

breathing to it. When you hold a child in your arms, or

hug your mother, or your husband, or your friend, if

you breathe in and out three times, your happiness will

be multiplied at least tenfold.

If you are distracted, thinking about other things, your

hug will be distracted also, not very deep, and you may

not enjoy hugging very much. So when you hug your

child, your friend, your spouse, I recommend that you

first breathe in and out consciously and return to the

present moment. Then, while you hold him or her in

your arms, breathe three times consciously, and you

will enjoy your hugging more than ever before.

We practiced hugging meditation at a retreat for

psychotherapists in Colorado, and one retreatant, when

he returned home to Philadelphia, hugged his wife at the

airport in a way he had never hugged her before.

Because of that, his wife attended our next retreat, in

Chicago.

It takes time to become comfortable hugging this way. If

you feel a little hollow inside, you may want to slap

your friend’s back while you hug him in order to prove

that you are really there. But to be really there, you

only need to breathe, and suddenly he becomes

completely real. The two of you really exist in that

moment. It may be one of the best moments in your

life.

Suppose your daughter comes and presents herself to

you. If you are not really there—if you are thinking of

the past, worrying about the future, or possessed by

anger or fear—the child, although standing in front of

you, will not exist for you. She is like a ghost, and you

may be like a ghost also. If you want to be with her,

you have to return to the present moment. Breathing

consciously, uniting body and mind, you make yourself

into a real person again. When you become a real

person, your daughter becomes real also. She is a

wondrous presence, and a real encounter with life is

possible at that moment. If you hold her in your arms

and breathe, you will awaken to the preciousness of

your loved one, and life is.

Investing in Friends

Even if we have a lot of money in the bank, we can die

very easily from our suffering. So, investing in a friend,

making a friend into a real friend, building a community

of friends, is a much better source of security. We will

have someone to lean on, to come to, during our difficult

moments.

We can get in touch with the refreshing, healing

elements within and around us thanks to the loving

support of other people. If we have a good community

of friends, we are very fortunate. To create a good

community, we first have to transform ourselves into a

good element of the community. After that, we can go

to another person and help him or her become an

element of the community. We build our network of

friends that way. We have to think of friends and

community as investments, as our most important

asset. They can comfort us and help us in difficult

times, and they can share our joy and happiness.

It Is a Great Joy to Hold Your Grandchild

You know that elderly people are very sad when they

have to live separately from their children and

grandchildren. This is one of the things in the West that

I do not like. In my country, aged people have the right

to live with the younger people. It is the grandparents

who tell fairy tales to the children. When they get old,

their skin is cold and wrinkled, and it is a great joy for

them to hold their grandchild, so warm and tender.

When a person grows old, his deepest hope is to have a

grandchild to hold in his arms. He hopes for it day and

night, and when he hears that his daughter or daughter-

in-law is pregnant, he is so happy. Nowadays the

elderly have to go to a home where they live only

among other aged people. Just once a week they receive

a short visit, and afterwards they feel even sadder. We

have to find ways for old and young people to live

together again. It will make all of us very happy.

Community of Mindful Living

The foundation of a good community is a daily life that

is joyful and happy. In Plum Village, children are the

center of attention. Each adult is responsible for helping

the children be happy, because we know that if the

children are happy, it is easy for the adults to be

happy.

When I was a child, families were bigger. Parents,

cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, and children all

lived together. The houses were surrounded by trees

where we could hang hammocks and organize picnics. In

those times, people did not have many of the problems

we have today. Now our families are very small, just

mother, father, and one or two children. When the

parents have a problem, the whole family feels the

effects. Even if the children go into the bathroom to try

to get away, they can feel the heavy atmosphere. They

may grow up with seeds of suffering and never be truly

happy. Formerly, when mom and dad had problems,

the children could escape by going to an aunt or uncle,

or other family member. They still had someone to look

up to, and the atmosphere was not so threatening.

I think that communities of mindful living, where we

can visit a network of “aunts, uncles, and cousins,” may

help us replace our former big families. Each of us needs

to “belong to” such a place, where each feature of the

landscape, the sounds of the bell, and even the buildings

are designed to remind us to return to awareness. I

imagine that there will be beautiful practice centers

where regular retreats will be organized, and individuals

and families will go there to learn and practice the art of

mindful living.

The people who live there should emanate peace and

freshness, the fruits of living in awareness. They will be

like beautiful trees, and the visitors will want to come

and sit under their shade. Even when they cannot

actually visit, they only need to think of it and smile,

and they will feel themselves becoming peaceful and

happy.

We can also transform our own family or household

into a community that practices harmony and

awareness. Together we can practice breathing and

smiling, sitting together, drinking tea together in

mindfulness. If we have a bell, the bell is also part of the

community, because the bell helps us practice. If we

have a meditation cushion, the cushion is also part of

the community, as are many other things that help us

practice mindfulness, such as the air for breathing. If we

live near a park or a riverbank, we can enjoy walking

meditation there. All these efforts can help us establish

a community at home. From time to time we can invite

a friend to join us. Practicing mindfulness is much easier

with a community.

Mindfulness Must Be Engaged

When I was in Vietnam, so many of our villages were

being bombed. Along with my monastic brothers and

sisters, I had to decide what to do. Should we continue

to practice in our monasteries, or should we leave the

meditation halls in order to help the people who were

suffering under the bombs? After careful reflection, we

decided to do both—to go out and help people and to

do so in mindfulness. We called it engaged Buddhism.

Mindfulness must be engaged. Once there is seeing,

there must be acting. Otherwise, what is the use of

seeing?

We must be aware of the real problems of the world.

Then, with mindfulness, we will know what to do and

what not to do to be of help. If we maintain awareness

of our breathing and continue to practice smiling, even

in difficult situations, many people, animals, and plants

will benefit from our way of doing things. Are you

massaging our M other Earth every time your foot

touches her? Are you planting seeds of joy and peace? I

try to do exactly that with every step, and I know that

our M other Earth is most appreciative. Peace is every

step. Shall we continue our journey?

PART THREE

Peace Is Every Step

Interbeing

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a

cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud,

there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot

grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper. The

cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is

not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we

can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are.

“Interbeing” is a word that is not in the dictionary yet,

but if we combine the prefix “inter-” with the verb “to

be,” we have a new verb, inter-be.

If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply,

we can see the sunshine in it. Without sunshine, the

forest cannot grow. In fact, nothing can grow without

sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in

this sheet of paper. The paper and the sunshine inter-

are. And if we continue to look, we can see the logger

who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be

transformed into paper. And we see wheat. We know

that the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and

therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this

sheet of paper. The logger’s father and mother are in it

too. When we look in this way, we see that without all

of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.

Looking even more deeply, we can see ourselves in this

sheet of paper too. This is not difficult to see, because

when we look at a sheet of paper, it is part of our

perception. Your mind is in here and mine is also. So we

can say that everything is in here with this sheet of

paper. We cannot point out one thing that is not here—

time, space, the earth, the rain, the minerals in the soil,

the sunshine, the cloud, the river, the heat. Everything

co-exists with this sheet of paper. That is why I think

the word inter-be should be in the dictionary. “To be” is

to inter-be. We cannot just be by ourselves alone. We

have to inter-be with every other thing. This sheet of

paper is, because everything else is.

Suppose we try to return one of the elements to its

source. Suppose we return the sunshine to the sun. Do

you think that this sheet of paper will be possible? No,

without sunshine nothing can be. And if we return the

logger to his mother, then we have no sheet of paper

either. The fact is that this sheet of paper is made up

only of “non-paper” elements. And if we return these

non-paper elements to their sources, then there can be

no paper at all. Without non-paper elements, like mind,

logger, sunshine and so on, there will be no paper. As

thin as this sheet of paper is, it contains everything in

the universe in it.

Flowers and Garbage

Defiled or immaculate. Dirty or pure. These are

concepts we form in our mind. A beautiful rose we have

just cut and placed in our vase is pure. It smells so

good, so fresh. A garbage can is the opposite. It smells

horrible, and it is filled with rotten things.

But that is only when we look on the surface. If we

look more deeply we will see that in just five or six

days, the rose will become part of the garbage. We do

not need to wait five days to see it. If we just look at

the rose, and we look deeply, we can see it now. And if

we look into the garbage can, we see that in a few

months its contents can be transformed into lovely

vegetables, and even a rose. If you are a good organic

gardener, looking at a rose you can see the garbage, and

looking at the garbage you can see a rose. Roses and

garbage inter-are. Without a rose, we cannot have

garbage; and without garbage, we cannot have a rose.

They need each other very much. The rose and the

garbage are equal. The garbage is just as precious as the

rose. If we look deeply at the concepts of defilement

and immaculateness, we return to the notion of

interbeing.

In the city of M anila there are many young prostitutes;

some are only fourteen or fifteen years old. They are

very unhappy. They did not want to be prostitutes, but

their families are poor and these young girls went to the

city to look for some kind of job, like street vendor, to

make money to send back to their families. Of course

this is true not only in Manila, but in Ho Chi M inh

City in Vietnam, in New York City, and in Paris also.

After only a few weeks in the city, a vulnerable girl can

be persuaded by a clever person to work for him and

earn perhaps one hundred times more money than she

could as a street vendor. Because she is so young and

does not know much about life, she accepts and

becomes a prostitute. Since that time, she has carried

the feeling of being impure, defiled, and this causes her

great suffering. When she looks at other young girls,

dressed beautifully, belonging to good families, a

wretched feeling wells up in her, a feeling of defilement

that becomes her hell.

But if she could look deeply at herself and at the whole

situation, she would see that she is the way she is

because other people are the way they are. How can a

“good girl,” belonging to a good family, be proud?

Because the “good family’s” way of life is the way it is,

the prostitute has to live as a prostitute. No one among

us has clean hands. No one of us can claim that it is not

our responsibility. The girl in M anila is that way

because of the way we are. Looking into the life of that

young prostitute, we see the lives of all the “non-

prostitutes.” And looking at the non-prostitutes and the

way we live our lives, we see the prostitute. Each thing

helps to create the other.

Let us look at wealth and poverty. The affluent society

and the deprived society inter-are. The wealth of one

society is made of the poverty of the other. “This is

like this, because that is like that.” Wealth is made of

non-wealth elements, and poverty is made by non-

poverty elements. It is exactly the same as with the

sheet of paper. So we must be careful not to imprison

ourselves in concepts. The truth is that everything

contains everything else. We cannot just be, we can

only inter-be. We are responsible for everything that

happens around us.

Only by seeing with the eyes of interbeing can that

young girl be freed from her suffering. Only then will

she understand that she is bearing the burden of the

whole world. What else can we offer her? Looking

deeply into ourselves, we see her, and we will share her

pain and the pain of the whole world. Then we can

begin to be of real help.

Waging Peace

If the Earth were your body, you would be able to feel

the many areas where it is suffering. War, political and

economic oppression, famine, and pollution wreak

havoc in so many places. Every day, children are

becoming blind from malnutrition, their hands searching

hopelessly through mounds of trash for a few ounces of

food. Adults are dying slowly in prisons for trying to

oppose violence. Rivers are dying, and the air is

becoming more and more difficult to breathe. Although

the two great superpowers are becoming a little more

friendly, they still have enough nuclear weapons to

destroy the Earth dozens of times.

Many people are aware of the world’s suffering; their

hearts are filled with compassion. They know what

needs to be done, and they engage in political, social,

and environmental work to try to change things. But

after a period of intense involvement, they may become

discouraged if they lack the strength needed to sustain a

life of action. Real strength is not in power, money, or

weapons, but in deep, inner peace.

Practicing mindfulness in each moment of our daily

lives, we can cultivate our own peace. With clarity,

determination, and patience—the fruits of meditation—

we can sustain a life of action and be real instruments of

peace. I have seen this peace in people of various

religious and cultural backgrounds who spend their time

and energy protecting the weak, struggling for social

justice, lessening the disparity between rich and poor,

stopping the arms race, fighting against discrimination,

and watering the trees of love and understanding

throughout the world.

Not Two

When we want to understand something, we cannot just

stand outside and observe it. We have to enter deeply

into it and be one with it in order to really understand.

If we want to understand a person, we have to feel his

feelings, suffer his sufferings, and enjoy his joy. The

word “comprehend” is made up of the Latin roots cum,

which means “with,” and prehendere, which means “to

grasp it or pick it up.” To comprehend something

means to pick it up and be one with it. There is no other

way to understand something. In Buddhism, we call this

kind of understanding “non-duality.” Not two.

Fifteen years ago, I helped a committee for orphans

who were victims of the war in Vietnam. From Vietnam,

the social workers sent out applications, one sheet of

paper with a small picture of a child in the corner,

telling the name, age, and conditions of the orphan. My

job was to translate the application from Vietnamese

into French in order to seek a sponsor, so that the child

would have food to eat and books for school, and be put

into the family of an aunt, an uncle, or a grandparent.

Then the committee in France could send the money to

the family member to help take care of the child.

Each day I helped translate about thirty applications.

The way I did it was to look at the picture of the child.

I did not read the application, I just took time to look at

the picture of the child. Usually after only thirty or

forty seconds, I became one with the child. Then I

would pick up the pen and translate the words from the

application onto another sheet. Afterwards I realized

that it was not me who had translated the application; it

was the child and me, who had become one. Looking at

his or her face, I felt inspired, and I became the child and

he or she became me, and together we did the

translation. It is very natural. You don’t have to

practice a lot of meditation to be able to do that. You

just look, allowing yourself to be, and you lose yourself

in the child, and the child in you.

Healing the Wounds of War

If only the United States had had the vision of non-

duality concerning Vietnam, we would not have had so

much destruction in both countries. The war continues

to hurt both Americans and Vietnamese. If we are

attentive enough, we can still learn from the war in

Vietnam.

Last year we had a wonderful retreat with Vietnam

veterans in America. It was a difficult retreat, because

many of us could not get free of our pain. One

gentleman told me that in Vietnam, he lost four hundred

seventeen people in one battle alone, in one day. Four

hundred seventeen men died in one battle, and he has

had to live with that for more than fifteen years.

Another person told me that out of anger and revenge,

he took the life of children in a village, and after that, he

lost all his peace. Ever since that time, he has not been

able to sit alone with children in a room. There are many

kinds of suffering, and they can prevent us from being

in touch with the non-suffering world.

We must practice helping each other be in touch. One

soldier told me that this retreat was the first time in

fifteen years that he felt safe in a group of people. For

fifteen years, he could not swallow solid food easily. He

could only drink some fruit juice and eat some fruit. He

was completely shut off and could not communicate.

But after three or four days of practice, he began to

open up and talk to people. You have to offer a lot of

loving kindness in order to help such a person touch

things again. During the retreat, we practiced mindful

breathing and smiling, encouraging each other to come

back to the flower in us, and to the trees and the blue

sky that shelter us.

We had a silent breakfast. We practiced eating breakfast

the way I ate the cookie of my childhood. We did things

like that, making mindful steps in order to touch the

Earth, breathing consciously in order to touch the air,

and looking at our tea deeply in order to really be in

touch with the tea. We sat together, breathed together,

walked together, and tried to learn from our experience

in Vietnam. The veterans have something to tell their

nation about how to deal with other problems that are

likely to happen, problems that will not look different

from Vietnam. Out of our sufferings, we should learn

something.

We need the vision of interbeing—we belong to each

other; we cannot cut reality into pieces. The well-being

of “this” is the well-being of “that,” so we have to do

things together. Every side is “our side”; there is no evil

side. Veterans have experience that makes them the light

at the tip of the candle, illuminating the roots of war and

the way to peace.

The Sun My Heart

We know that if our heart stops beating, the flow of our

life will stop, and so we cherish our heart very much.

Yet we do not often take the time to notice that other

things, outside of our bodies, are also essential for our

survival. Look at the immense light we call the sun. If it

were to stop shining, the flow of our life would also

stop, so the sun is our second heart, a heart outside of

our body. This immense “heart” gives all life on Earth

the warmth necessary for existence. Plants live thanks

to the sun. Their leaves absorb the sun’s energy, along

with carbon dioxide from the air, to produce food for

the tree, the flower, the plankton. And thanks to plants,

we and other animals can live. All of us—people,

animals, and plants—consume the sun, directly and

indirectly. We cannot begin to describe all the effects of

the sun, that great heart outside of our body.

Our body is not limited to what is inside the boundary

of our skin. It is much more immense. It includes even

the layer of air around our Earth; for if the atmosphere

were to disappear for even an instant, our life would

end. There is no phenomenon in the universe that does

not intimately concern us, from a pebble resting at the

bottom of the ocean, to the movement of a galaxy

millions of light-years away. Walt Whitman said, “I

believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work

of the stars. . . .” These words are not philosophy.

They come from the depths of his soul. He said, “I am

large, I contain multitudes.”

Looking Deeply

We have to look deeply at things in order to see. When

a swimmer enjoys the clear water of the river, he or she

should also be able to be the river. One day, during one

of my first visits to the United States, I was having

lunch at Boston University with some friends, and I

looked down at the Charles River. I had been away from

home for quite a long time, and seeing the river, I found

it very beautiful. So I left my friends and went down to

wash my face and dip my feet in the water, as we used

to do in our country. When I returned, a professor said,

“That’s a very dangerous thing to do. Did you rinse

your mouth in the river?” When I told him yes, he said,

“You should see a doctor and get a shot.”

I was shocked. I hadn’t known that the rivers here were

so polluted. Some of them are called “dead rivers.” In

our country the rivers get very muddy sometimes, but

not that kind of dirty. Someone told me that the Rhine

River in Germany contains so many chemicals that it is

possible to develop photographs in it. If we want to

continue to enjoy our rivers—to swim in them, walk

beside them, even drink their water—we have to adopt

the nondual perspective. We have to meditate on being

the river so that we can experience within ourselves the

fears and hopes of the river. If we cannot feel the rivers,

the mountains, the air, the animals, and other people

from within their own perspective, the rivers will die

and we will lose our chance for peace.

If you are a mountain climber or someone who enjoys

the countryside, or the green forest, you know that the

forests are our lungs outside of our bodies, just as the

sun is our heart outside of our bodies. Yet we have been

acting in a way that has allowed two million square

miles of forest land to be destroyed by acid rain, and we

have destroyed parts of the ozone layer that regulate

how much direct sunlight we receive. We are imprisoned

in our small selves, thinking only of the comfortable

conditions for this small self, while we destroy our large

self. We should be able to be our true self. That means

we should be able to be the river, we should be able to

be the forest, the sun, and the ozone layer. We must do

this to understand and to have hope for the future.

The Art of Mindful Living

Nature is our mother. Because we live cut off from her,

we get sick. Some of us live in boxes called apartments,

very high above the ground. Around us are only cement,

metal, and hard things like that. Our fingers do not have

a chance to touch the soil; we don’t grow lettuce

anymore. Because we are so distant from our M other

Earth, we become sick. That is why we need to go out

from time to time and be in nature. It is very important.

We and our children should be in touch again with

Mother Earth. In many cities, we cannot see trees—the

color green is entirely absent from our view.

One day, I imagined a city where there was only one

tree left. The tree was still beautiful, but very much

alone, surrounded by buildings, in the center of the city.

Many people were getting sick, and most doctors did

not know how to deal with the illness. But one very

good doctor knew the causes of the sickness and gave

this prescription to each patient: “Every day, take the

bus and go to the center of the city to look at the tree.

As you approach it, practice breathing in and out, and

when you get there, hug the tree, breathing in and out

for fifteen minutes, while you look at the tree, so green,

and smell its bark, so fragrant. If you do that, in a few

weeks you will feel much better.”

The people began to feel better, but very soon there

were so many people rushing to the tree that they stood

in line for miles and miles. You know that people of our

time do not have much patience, so standing three or

four hours to wait to hug the tree was too much, and

they rebelled. They organized demonstrations in order

to make a new law that each person could only hug the

tree for five minutes, but of course that reduced the time

for healing. And soon, the time was reduced to one

minute, and the chance of being healed by our mother

was lost.

We could be in that situation very soon if we are not

mindful. We have to practice awareness of each thing

we do if we want to save our Mother Earth, and

ourselves and our children as well. For example, when

we look into our garbage, we can see lettuce, cucumbers,

tomatoes, and flowers. When we throw a banana peel

into the garbage, we are aware that it is a banana peel

that we are throwing out and that it will be transformed

into a flower or a vegetable very soon. That is exactly

the practice of meditation.

When we throw a plastic bag into the garbage, we know

that it is different from a banana peel. It will take a long

time to become a flower. “Throwing a plastic bag into

the garbage, I know that I am throwing a plastic bag into

the garbage.” That awareness alone helps us protect the

Earth, make peace, and take care of life in the present

moment and in the future. If we are aware, naturally we

will try to use fewer plastic bags. This is an act of

peace, a basic kind of peace action.

When we throw a plastic disposable diaper into the

garbage, we know that it takes even longer for it to

become a flower, four hundred years or longer. Knowing

that using these kinds of diapers is not in the direction

of peace, we look for other ways to take care of our

baby. Practicing breathing and contemplating our body,

feelings, mind, and objects of mind, we practice peace in

the present moment. This is living mindfully.

Nuclear waste is the worst kind of garbage. It takes

about 250,000 years to become flowers. Forty of the

fifty United States are already polluted by nuclear

waste. We are making the Earth an impossible place to

live for ourselves and for many generations of children.

If we live our present moment mindfully, we will know

what to do and what not to do, and we will try to do

things in the direction of peace.

Nourishing Awareness

When we sit down to dinner and look at our plate filled

with fragrant and appetizing food, we can nourish our

awareness of the bitter pain of people who suffer from

hunger. Every day, 40,000 children die as a result of

hunger and malnutrition. Every day! Such a figure

shocks us every time we hear it. Looking deeply at our

plate, we can “see” M other Earth, the farm workers,

and the tragedy of hunger and malnutrition.

We who live in North America and Europe are

accustomed to eating grains and other foods imported

from the Third World, such as coffee from Colombia,

chocolate from Ghana, or fragrant rice from Thailand.

We must be aware that children in these countries,

except those from rich families, never see such fine

products. They eat inferior foods, while the finer

products are put aside for export in order to bring in

foreign exchange. There are even some parents who,

because they do not have the means to feed their

children, resort to selling their children to be servants to

families who have enough to eat.

Before each meal, we can join our palms in mindfulness

and think about the children who do not have enough to

eat. Doing so will help us maintain mindfulness of our

good fortune, and perhaps one day we will find ways to

do something to help change the system of injustice that

exists in the world. In many refugee families, before

each meal, a child holds up his bowl of rice and says

something like this: “Today, on the table, there are

many delicious foods. I am grateful to be here with my

family enjoying these wonderful dishes. I know there

are many children less fortunate, who are very hungry.”

Being a refugee he knows, for example, that most Thai

children never see the kind of fine rice grown in

Thailand that he is about to eat. It is difficult to explain

to children in the “overdeveloped” nations that not all

children in the world have such beautiful and nourishing

food. Awareness of this fact alone can help us overcome

many of our own psychological pains. Eventually our

contemplations can help us see how to assist those who

need our help so much.

A Love Letter to Your Congressman

In the peace movement there is a lot of anger,

frustration, and misunderstanding. People in the peace

movement can write very good protest letters, but they

are not so skilled at writing love letters. We need to

learn to write letters to the Congress and the President

that they will want to read, and not just throw away.

The way we speak, the kind of understanding, the kind

of language we use should not turn people off. The

President is a person like any of us.

Can the peace movement talk in loving speech, showing

the way for peace? I think that will depend on whether

the people in the peace movement can “be peace.”

Because without being peace, we cannot do anything for

peace. If we cannot smile, we cannot help other people

smile. If we are not peaceful, then we cannot contribute

to the peace movement.

I hope we can offer a new dimension to the peace

movement. The peace movement often is filled with

anger and hatred and does not fulfill the role we expect

of it. A fresh way of being peace, of making peace is

needed. That is why it is so important for us to practice

mindfulness, to acquire the capacity to look, to see, and

to understand. It would be wonderful if we could bring

to the peace movement our non-dualistic way of looking

at things. That alone would diminish hatred and

aggression. Peace work means, first of all, being peace.

We rely on each other. Our children are relying on us in

order for them to have a future.

Citizenship

As citizens, we have a large responsibility. Our daily

lives, the way we drink, what we eat, have to do with

the world’s political situation. Every day we do things,

we are things, that have to do with peace. If we are

aware of our lifestyle, our way of consuming, of looking

at things, we will know how to make peace right in the

moment we are alive. We think that our government is

free to make any policy it wishes, but that freedom

depends on our daily life. If we make it possible for

them to change policies, they will do it. Now it is not

yet possible.

You may think that if you were to enter government

and obtain power, you would be able to do anything

you wanted, but that is not true. If you became

President, you would be confronted by this hard fact—

you would probably do almost exactly the same thing

as our current President, perhaps a little better, perhaps

a little worse.

Meditation is to look deeply into things and to see how

we can change ourselves and how we can transform our

situation. To transform our situation is also to

transform our minds. To transform our minds is also to

transform our situation, because the situation is mind,

and mind is situation. Awakening is important. The

nature of the bombs, the nature of injustice, and the

nature of our own beings are the same.

As we ourselves begin to live more responsibly, we

must ask our political leaders to move in the same

direction. We have to encourage them to stop polluting

our environment and our consciousness. We should help

them appoint advisors who share our way of thinking

about peace, so that they can turn to these people for

advice and support. It will require some degree of

enlightenment on our part to support our political

leaders, especially when they are campaigning for office.

We have the opportunity to tell them about many

important things, instead of choosing leaders by how

handsome they look on television and then feeling

discouraged later by their lack of mindfulness.

If we write articles and give speeches that express our

conviction that political leaders should be helped by

those who practice mindfulness, those who have a deep

sense of calm and peace and a clear vision of what the

world should be, we will begin to elect leaders who can

help us move in the direction of peace. The French

government has made some efforts in this direction,

appointing as M inisters a number of ecologists and

humanitarians, such as Bernard Cushman, who helped

rescue boat people on the Gulf of Siam. This kind of

attitude is a good sign.

Ecology of Mind

We need harmony, we need peace. Peace is based on

respect for life, the spirit of reverence for life. Not only

do we have to respect the lives of human beings, but we

have to respect the lives of animals, vegetables, and

minerals. Rocks can be alive. A rock can be destroyed.

The Earth also. The destruction of our health by

pollution of the air and water is linked to the

destruction of the minerals. The way we farm, the way

we deal with our garbage, all these things are related to

each other.

Ecology should be a deep ecology. Not only deep but

universal, because there is pollution in our

consciousness. Television, for instance, is a form of

pollution for us and for our children. Television sows

seeds of violence and anxiety in our children, and

pollutes their consciousness, just as we destroy our

environment by chemicals, tree-cutting, and polluting

the water. We need to protect the ecology of the mind,

or this kind of violence and recklessness will continue to

spill over into many other areas of life.

The Roots of War

In 1966, when I was in the U.S. calling for a ceasefire to

the war in Vietnam, a young American peace activist

stood up during a talk I was giving and shouted, “The

best thing you can do is go back to your country and

defeat the American aggressors! You shouldn’t be here.

There is absolutely no use to your being here!”

He and many Americans wanted peace, but the kind of

peace they wanted was the defeat of one side in order to

satisfy their anger. Because they had called for a

ceasefire and had not succeeded, they became angry, and

finally they were unable to accept any solution short of

the defeat of their own country. But we Vietnamese

who were suffering under the bombs had to be more

realistic. We wanted peace. We did not care about

anyone’s victory or defeat. We just wanted the bombs

to stop falling on us. But many people in the peace

movement opposed our proposal for an immediate

ceasefire. No one seemed to understand.

So when I heard that young man shouting, “Go home

and defeat the American aggressors,” I took several deep

breaths to regain myself, and I said, “Sir, it seems to me

that many of the roots of the war are here in your

country. That is why I have come. One of the roots is

your way of seeing the world. Both sides are victims of

a wrong policy, a policy that believes in the force of

violence to settle problems. I do not want Vietnamese

to die, and I do not want American soldiers to die

either.”

The roots of war are in the way we live our daily lives

—the way we develop our industries, build up our

society, and consume goods. We have to look deeply

into the situation, and we will see the roots of war. We

cannot just blame one side or the other. We have to

transcend the tendency to take sides.

During any conflict, we need people who can

understand the suffering of all sides. For example, if a

number of people in South Africa could go to each side

and understand their suffering, and communicate that to

the other sides, that would be very helpful. We need

links. We need communication.

Practicing nonviolence is first of all to become

nonviolence. Then when a difficult situation presents

itself, we will react in a way that will help the situation.

This applies to problems of the family as well as to

problems of society.

Like a Leaf, We Have Many Stems

One autumn day, I was in a park, absorbed in the

contemplation of a very small, beautiful leaf, shaped

like a heart. Its color was almost red, and it was barely

hanging on the branch, nearly ready to fall down. I

spent a long time with it, and I asked the leaf a number

of questions. I found out the leaf had been a mother to

the tree. Usually we think that the tree is the mother

and the leaves are just children, but as I looked at the

leaf I saw that the leaf is also a mother to the tree. The

sap that the roots take up is only water and minerals,

not sufficient to nourish the tree. So the tree distributes

that sap to the leaves, and the leaves transform the

rough sap into elaborated sap and, with the help of the

sun and gas, send it back to the tree for nourishment.

Therefore, the leaves are also the mother to the tree.

Since the leaf is linked to the tree by a stem, the

communication between them is easy to see.

We do not have a stem linking us to our mother

anymore, but when we were in her womb, we had a

very long stem, an umbilical cord. The oxygen and the

nourishment we needed came to us through that stem.

But on the day we were born, it was cut off, and we

received the illusion that we became independent. That

is not true. We continue to rely on our mother for a

very long time, and we have many other mothers as

well. The Earth is our mother. We have a great many

stems linking us to our Mother Earth. There are stems

linking us with the clouds. If there are no clouds, there

will be no water for us to drink. We are made of at least

seventy percent water, and the stem between the cloud

and us is really there. This is also the case with the

river, the forest, the logger, and the farmer. There are

hundreds of thousands of stems linking us to everything

in the cosmos, supporting us and making it possible for

us to be. Do you see the link between you and me? If

you are not there, I am not here. This is certain. If you

do not see it yet, please look more deeply and I am sure

you will.

I asked the leaf whether it was frightened because it was

autumn and the other leaves were falling. The leaf told

me, “No. During the whole spring and summer I was

completely alive. I worked hard to help nourish the tree,

and now much of me is in the tree. I am not limited by

this form. I am also the whole tree, and when I go back

to the soil, I will continue to nourish the tree. So I don’t

worry at all. As I leave this branch and float to the

ground, I will wave to the tree and tell her, ‘I will see

you again very soon.’”

That day there was a wind blowing and, after a while, I

saw the leaf leave the branch and float down to the soil,

dancing joyfully, because as it floated it saw itself

already there in the tree. It was so happy. I bowed my

head, knowing that I have a lot to learn from that leaf.

We Are All Linked to Each Other

Millions of people follow sports. If you love to watch

soccer or baseball, you probably root for one team and

identify with them. You may watch the games with

despair and elation. Perhaps you give a little kick or

swing to help the ball along. If you do not take sides,

the fun is missing. In wars we also pick sides, usually

the side that is being threatened. Peace movements are

born of this feeling. We get angry, we shout, but rarely

do we rise above all this to look at a conflict the way a

mother would who is watching her two children

fighting. She seeks only their reconciliation.

“In order to fight each other, the chicks born from the

same mother hen put colors on their faces.” This is a

well-known Vietnamese saying. Putting colors on our

own face is to make ourselves a stranger to our own

brothers and sisters. We can only shoot others when

they are strangers. Real efforts for reconciliation arise

when we see with the eyes of compassion, and that

ability comes when we see clearly the nature of

interbeing and interpenetration of all beings.

In our lives, we may be lucky enough to know someone

whose love extends to animals and plants. We may also

know people who, although they themselves live in a

safe situation, realize that famine, disease, and

oppression are destroying millions of people on Earth

and look for ways to help those who suffer. They

cannot forget the downtrodden, even amidst the

pressures of their own lives. At least to some extent,

these people have realized the interdependent nature of

life. They know that the survival of the underdeveloped

countries cannot be separated from the survival of the

materially wealthy, technically advanced countries.

Poverty and oppression bring war. In our times, every

war involves all countries. The fate of each country is

linked to the fate of all others.

When will the chicks of the same mother hen remove

the colors from their faces and recognize each other as

brothers and sisters? The only way to end the danger is

for each of us to do so, and to say to others, “I am your

brother.” “I am your sister.” “We are all humankind,

and our life is one.”

Reconciliation

What can we do when we have hurt people and now

they consider us to be their enemy? These people might

be people in our family, in our community, or in

another country. I think you know the answer. There

are few things to do. The first thing is to take the time

to say, “I am sorry, I hurt you out of my ignorance, out

of my lack of mindfulness, out of my lack of

skillfulness. I will try my best to change myself. I don’t

dare to say anything more to you.” Sometimes, we do

not have the intention to hurt, but because we are not

mindful or skillful enough, we hurt someone. Being

mindful in our daily life is important, speaking in a way

that will not hurt anyone.

The second thing to do is to try to bring out the best

part in ourselves, the part of the flower, to transform

ourselves. That is the only way to demonstrate what

you have just said. When you have become fresh and

pleasant, the other person will notice very soon. Then

when there is a chance to approach that person, you can

come to her as a flower and she will notice immediately

that you are quite different. You may not have to say

anything. Just seeing you like that, she will accept you

and forgive you. That is called “speaking with your life

and not just with words.”

When you begin to see that your enemy is suffering,

that is the beginning of insight. When you see in

yourself the wish that the other person stop suffering,

that is a sign of real love. But be careful. Sometimes you

may think that you are stronger than you actually are.

To test your real strength, try going to the other person

to listen and talk to him or her, and you will discover

right away whether your loving compassion is real. You

need the other person in order to test. If you just

meditate on some abstract principle such as

understanding or love, it may be just your imagination

and not real understanding or real love.

Reconciliation does not mean to sign an agreement with

duplicity and cruelty. Reconciliation opposes all forms

of ambition, without taking sides. M ost of us want to

take sides in each encounter or conflict. We distinguish

right from wrong based on partial evidence or hearsay.

We need indignation in order to act, but even righteous,

legitimate indignation is not enough. Our world does not

lack people willing to throw themselves into action.

What we need are people who are capable of loving, of

not taking sides so that they can embrace the whole of

reality.

We have to continue to practice mindfulness and

reconciliation until we can see a child’s body of skin and

bones in Uganda or Ethiopia as our own, until the

hunger and pain in the bodies of all species are our own.

Then we will have realized nondiscrimination, real love.

Then we can look at all beings with the eyes of

compassion, and we can do the real work to help

alleviate suffering.

Call Me by My True Names

In Plum Village, where I live in France, we receive many

letters from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia,

Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each

week. It is very painful to read them, but we have to do

it, we have to be in contact. We try our best to help, but

the suffering is enormous, and sometimes we are

discouraged. It is said that half the boat people die in

the ocean. Only half arrive at the shores in Southeast

Asia, and even then they may not be safe.

There are many young girls, boat people, who are raped

by sea pirates. Even though the United Nations and

many countries try to help the government of Thailand

prevent that kind of piracy, sea pirates continue to

inflict much suffering on the refugees. One day we

received a letter telling us about a young girl on a small

boat who was raped by a Thai pirate. She was only

twelve, and she jumped into the ocean and drowned

herself.

When you first learn of something like that, you get

angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the

girl. As you look more deeply you will see it

differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it

is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the

pirate. But we cannot do that. In my meditation I saw

that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and

raised in the same conditions as he was, there is a great

likelihood that I would become a pirate. I saw that

many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds

every day, and if we educators, social workers,

politicians, and others do not do something about the

situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will

become sea pirates. That is certain. If you or I were

born today in those fishing villages, we may become sea

pirates in twenty-five years. If you take a gun and

shoot the pirate, you shoot all of us, because all of us

are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs.

After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there

are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and

me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves

in each other? The title of the poem is “Please Call Me

by M y True Names,” because I have so many names.

When I hear one of these names, I have to say, “Yes.”

Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow

because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second

to be a bud on a spring branch,

to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,

learning to sing in my new nest,

to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,

to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,

in order to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and

death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of

the river,

and I am the bird which, when spring comes,

arrives in time

to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,

and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching

in silence,

feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,

my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly

weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small

boat,

who throws herself into the ocean after being raped

by a sea pirate,

and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of

seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of

power in my hands,

and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of

blood” to my people,

dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers

bloom in all walks of life.

My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the

four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,

so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can wake up,

and so the door of my heart can be left open,

the door of compassion.

Suffering Nourishes Compassion

We have been practicing “engaged Buddhism” in

Vietnam for the last thirty years. During the war, we

could not just sit in the meditation hall. We had to

practice mindfulness everywhere, especially where the

worst suffering was going on.

Being in touch with the kind of suffering we

encountered during the war can heal us of some of the

suffering we experience when our lives are not very

meaningful or useful. When you confront the kinds of

difficulties we faced during the war, you see that you

can be a source of compassion and a great help to many

suffering people. In that intense suffering, you feel a

kind of relief and joy within yourself, because you

know that you are an instrument of compassion.

Understanding such intense suffering and realizing

compassion in the midst of it, you become a joyful

person, even if your life is very hard.

Last winter, some friends and I went to visit the refugee

camps in Hong Kong, and we witnessed a lot of

suffering. There were “boat people” who were just one

or two years old, who were about to be sent back to

their country because they were classified as illegal

immigrants. They had lost both father and mother

during the trip. When you see that kind of suffering,

you know that the suffering your friends in Europe and

America are undergoing is not very great.

Every time we come back from such a contact, we see

that the city of Paris is not very real. The way people

live there and the reality of the suffering in other parts

of the world are so different. I asked the question, how

could people live like this when things are like that? But

if you stay in Paris for ten years without being in touch,

you find it normal.

Meditation is a point of contact. Sometimes you do not

have to go to the place of suffering. You just sit quietly

on your cushion, and you can see everything. You can

actualize everything, and you can be aware of what is

going on in the world. Out of that kind of awareness,

compassion and understanding arise naturally, and you

can stay right in your own country and perform social

action.

Love in Action

During our journey together, I have presented a number

of practices to help us maintain mindfulness of what is

going on inside us and immediately around us. Now, as

we make our way through the wider world, some

additional guidelines can help us and protect us. Several

members of our community have been practicing the

following principles, and I think you may also find

them useful in making choices as to how to live in our

contemporary world. We call them the fourteen

precepts of the Order of Interbeing.

1. Do not be idolatrous about or bound to any doctrine,

theory, or ideology. All systems of thought are guiding

means; they are not absolute truth.

2. Do not think that the knowledge you presently

possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being

narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and

practice non-attachment from views in order to be open

to receive others’ viewpoints. Truth is found in life and

not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn

throughout your entire life and to observe reality in

yourself and in the world at all times.

3. Do not force others, including children, by any means

whatsoever, to adopt your views, whether by

authority, threat, money, propaganda, or even

education. However, through compassionate dialogue,

help others renounce fanaticism and narrowness.

4. Do not avoid contact with suffering or close your

eyes before suffering. Do not lose awareness of the

existence of suffering in the life of the world. Find ways

to be with those who are suffering, by all means,

including personal contact and visits, images, and sound.

By such means, awaken yourself and others to the

reality of suffering in the world.

5. Do not accumulate wealth while millions are hungry.

Do not take as the aim of your life fame, profit, wealth,

or sensual pleasure. Live simply and share time, energy,

and material resources with those who are in need.

6. Do not maintain anger or hatred. Learn to penetrate

and transform them while they are still seeds in your

consciousness. As soon as anger or hatred arises, turn

your attention to your breathing in order to see and

understand the nature of your anger or hatred and the

nature of the persons who have caused your anger or

hatred.

7. Do not lose yourself in dispersion and in your

surroundings. Practice mindful breathing in order to

come back to what is happening in the present moment.

Be in touch with what is wondrous, refreshing, and

healing, both inside and around yourself. Plant the seeds

of joy, peace, and understanding in yourself in order to

facilitate the work of transformation in the depths of

your consciousness.

8. Do not utter words that can create discord and cause

the community to break. M ake every effort to reconcile

and resolve all conflicts, however small.

9. Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal

interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that

cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you

do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn

things that you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully

and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about

situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten

your own safety.

10. Do not use the religious community for personal

gain or profit, or transform your community into a

political party. A religious community should, however,

take a clear stand against oppression and injustice, and

should strive to change the situation without engaging in

partisan conflicts.

11. Do not live with a vocation that is harmful to

humans and nature. Do not invest in companies that

deprive others of their chance to live. Select a vocation

that helps realize your ideal of compassion.

12. Do not kill. Do not let others kill. Find whatever

means possible to protect life and prevent war.

13. Possess nothing that should belong to others.

Respect the property of others but prevent others from

enriching themselves from human suffering or the

suffering of other beings.

14. Do not mistreat your body. Learn to handle it with

respect. Do not look on your body as only an

instrument. Preserve vital energies for the realization of

the Way. Sexual expression should not happen without

love and commitment. In sexual relationships, be aware

of future suffering that may be caused. To preserve the

happiness of others, respect the rights and

commitments of others. Be fully aware of the

responsibility of bringing new lives into the world.

Meditate on the world into which you are bringing new

beings.

The River

Once upon a time there was a beautiful river finding her

way among the hills, forests, and meadows. She began

by being a joyful stream of water, a spring always

dancing and singing as she ran down from the top of the

mountain. She was very young at the time, and as she

came to the lowland she slowed down. She was thinking

about going to the ocean. As she grew up, she learned to

look beautiful, winding gracefully among the hills and

meadows.

One day she noticed the clouds within herself. Clouds

of all sorts of colors and forms. She did nothing during

these days but chase after clouds. She wanted to

possess a cloud, to have one for herself. But clouds

float and travel in the sky, and they are always changing

their form. Sometimes they look like an overcoat,

sometimes like a horse. Because of the nature of

impermanence within the clouds, the river suffered very

much. Her pleasure, her joy had become just chasing

after clouds, one after another, but despair, anger, and

hatred became her life.

Then one day a strong wind came and blew away all the

clouds in the sky. The sky became completely empty.

Our river thought that life was not worth living, for

there were no longer any clouds to chase after. She

wanted to die. “If there are no clouds, why should I be

alive?” But how can a river take her own life?

That night the river had the opportunity to go back to

herself for the first time. She had been running for so

long after something outside of herself that she had

never seen herself. That night was the first opportunity

for her to hear her own crying, the sounds of water

crashing against the banks of the river. Because she was

able to listen to her own voice, she discovered

something quite important.

She realized that what she had been looking for was

already in herself. She found out that clouds are nothing

but water. Clouds are born from water and will return to

water. And she found out that she herself is also water.

The next morning when the sun was in the sky, she

discovered something beautiful. She saw the blue sky

for the first time. She had never noticed it before. She

had only been interested in clouds, and she had missed

seeing the sky, which is the home of all the clouds.

Clouds are impermanent, but the sky is stable. She

realized that the immense sky had been within her heart

since the very beginning. This great insight brought her

peace and happiness. As she saw the vast wonderful

blue sky, she knew that her peace and stability would

never be lost again.

That afternoon the clouds returned, but this time she

did not want to possess any of them. She could see the

beauty of each cloud, and she was able to welcome all of

them. When a cloud came by, she would greet him or

her with loving kindness. When that cloud wanted to go

away, she would wave to him or her happily and with

loving kindness. She realized that all clouds are her. She

didn’t have to choose between the clouds and herself.

Peace and harmony existed between her and the clouds.

That evening something wonderful happened. When she

opened her heart completely to the evening sky she

received the image of the full moon—beautiful, round,

like a jewel within herself. She had never imagined that

she could receive such a beautiful image. There is a very

beautiful poem in Chinese: “The fresh and beautiful

moon is travelling in the utmost empty sky. When the

mind-rivers of living beings are free, that image of the

beautiful moon will reflect in each of us.”

This was the mind of the river at that moment. She

received the image of that beautiful moon within her

heart, and water, clouds, and moon took each other’s

hands and practiced walking meditation slowly, slowly

to the ocean.

There is nothing to chase after. We can go back to

ourselves, enjoy our breathing, our smiling, ourselves,

and our beautiful environment.

Entering the Twenty-First Century

The word “policy” is very much in use these days.

There seems to be a policy for just about everything. I

have heard that the so-called developed nations are

contemplating a garbage policy to send their trash on

huge barges to the Third World.

I think that we need a “policy” for dealing with our

suffering. We do not want to condone it, but we need to

find a way to make use of our suffering, for our good

and for the good of others. There has been so much

suffering in the twentieth century: two world wars,

concentration camps in Europe, the killing fields of

Cambodia, refugees from Vietnam, Central America, and

elsewhere fleeing their countries with no place to land.

We need to articulate a policy for these kinds of garbage

also. We need to use the suffering of the twentieth

century as compost, so that together we can create

flowers for the twenty-first century.

When we see photographs and programs about the

atrocities of the Nazis, the gas chambers and the camps,

we feel afraid. We may say, “I didn’t do it; they did it.”

But if we had been there, we may have done the same

thing, or we may have been too cowardly to stop it, as

was the case for so many. We have to put all these

things into our compost pile to fertilize the ground. In

Germany today, the young people have a kind of

complex that they are somehow responsible for the

suffering. It is important that these young people and

the generation responsible for the war begin anew, and

together create a path of mindfulness so that our

children in the next century can avoid repeating the

same mistakes. The flower of tolerance to see and

appreciate cultural diversity is one flower we can

cultivate for the children of the twenty-first century.

Another flower is the truth of suffering—there has been

so much unnecessary suffering in our century. If we are

willing to work together and learn together, we can all

benefit from the mistakes of our time, and, seeing with

the eyes of compassion and understanding, we can offer

the next century a beautiful garden and a clear path.

Take the hand of your child and invite her to go out and

sit with you on the grass. The two of you may want to

contemplate the green grass, the little flowers that grow

among the grasses, and the sky. Breathing and smiling

together—that is peace education. If we know how to

appreciate these beautiful things, we will not have to

search for anything else. Peace is available in every

moment, in every breath, in every step.

I have enjoyed our journey together. I hope you have

enjoyed it too. We shall see each other again.