Don't Cry, Baby

"Respected Teacher, without understanding love is most difficult.

It reminds me of something that happened to my sister Bhima.

One night she cried all night long until my sister Bala lost her patience and spanked Bhima. That made Bhima cry more.

I picked Bhima up and sensed that she was feverish. I was sure her head ached from the fever. I called Bala and told her to place her hand on Bhima's forehead.

When she did that she understood why Bhima was crying. Her eyes softened and she took Bhima into her arms and sang to her with love. Bhima stopped crying even though she still had a fever.

Respected Teacher, I think that was because Bala understood why Bhima was upset. And so I think without understanding, love is not possible."

"Just so, Svasti! Love is possible only when there is understanding. And only with love can there be acceptance.

Practise living in awareness, children, and you will deepen our understanding. You will be able to understand yourselves, other people, and all things. And you have hearts of love.

That is the wonderful path I have discovered."


Extracted from: Tangerine of Mindfulness, Old Path White Clouds, by Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh

How Can You Be So Stupid!

One fourteen-year-old boy who practices at Plum Village told me this story.

He said that every time he fell down and hurt himself, his father would shout at him.

The boy vowed that when he grew up, he would not act that way.

But one time his little sister was playing with other children and she fell off a swing and scraped her knee, and the boy became very angry. His sister's knee was bleeding and he wanted to shout at her,

"How can you be so stupid! Why did you do that?"

But he caught himself. Because he was able to recognise his anger and not act on it.

While the adults were taking care of his sister, washing her wound and putting a bandage on it, he walked away slowly and meditated on his anger.

Suddenly he saw that he was exactly the same as his father. He told me, "I realised that if I did not do something about the anger in me, I would transmit it to my children."

He saw that the seeds of his father's anger must have been transmitted by his grandparents.

This was a remarkable insight for a fourteen-year-old boy. Because he had been practicing, he could see clearly like that.

By making peace with our parents in us, we have a chance to make real peace with our real parents.


Extract from: Teachings on Love, by Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh

Sir, You Are Not My Daddy!

There is a story that is well-known in my country about a young couple who suffered deeply because of pride.

The husband had to go off to war, and he left his pregnant wife behind. Three years later, when he was released from the army, his wife came to the village gate to welcome him, and she brought along their little boy.

When the young couple saw each other, they could not hold back the tears of joy. They were thankful to their ancestors for protecting them, and the young man asked his wife to go to the marketplace to buy some fruit, flowers, and other offerings to place on the ancestors' altar.

While she was shopping, the young father asked his son to call him Daddy, but the little boy refused.

"Sir, you are not my daddy! My daddy used to come every night, and my mother would talk to him and cry. When mother sat down, daddy also sat down. When mother lay down, my daddy lay down."

Hearing these words, the young father's heart turned to stone.

When his wife returned, he could not even look at her. The young man offered fruit, flowers, and incense to the ancestors, made prostrations, and then rolled up the bowing mat and did not allow her to do the same. He believed that she was not worthy to present herself in front of the ancestors. Then he walked out of the house and spent his days drinking and walking about the village.

His wife could not understand why he was acting like that. Finally, after three days, she could bear it no longer, and she jumped into the river and drowned herself.

The evening after the funeral, when the young father lit the kerosene lamp, his little boy shouted,

"There is my daddy!" He pointed to his father's shadow projected on the wall and said,

"My daddy used to come every night just like that, and my mother would talk to him and cry a lot. When my mother sat down, he sat down. When my mother lay, he lay down."

"Darling, you have been away for too long. How can I raise our child alone?" she cried to to her shadow. One night the child asked her who and where his father was. She pointed to her shadow on the wall and said "This is your father." She missed him so much.

Suddenly the young father understood, but it was too late. If he had gone to his wife and asked,

"Darling, I suffer so much. Our little boy said a man used to come every night and you would talk to him and cry with him, and every time you sat down, he also sat down. Who is that person?",

she could have had an opportunity to explain and avert the tragedy. But he did not because of the pride in him.

The lady behaved the same. She was deeply hurt because of her husband's behaviour, but she did not ask for his help. She should have practised the fourth mantra,

"Darling, I suffer so much. Please help. I do not understand why you will not look at me or talk with me. Why didn't you allow me to prostrate before the ancestors? Have I done anything wrong?"

If she had done that, her husband could have told her what the little boy said. But she did not, because she, too, was caught in pride.


Extract from: Teachings on Love, by Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh

Baking A Kamma Cake

It's like baking a cake: kamma defines what ingredients you have, what you have got to work with.

So a person with unfortunate kamma, maybe as a result of their past actions, has not got many ingredients. Maybe they have just got some old stale flour, one or two raisins, if that, and some rancid butter, and - what else goes in cakes? - some sugar... and that is all they have got to work with.

And another person might have very good kamma, all the ingredients you could ever wish for: whole wheat flour, brown sugar and all types of dried fruit and nuts.

But as for the cake that is produced in the end... Even with very meagre ingredients some people can bake a beautiful cake. They mix it all up, put it into the oven - delicious! How do they do it?

And then other people might have everything, but the cake they make tastes awful.

So kamma defines the ingredients, what we have got to work with; but that does not define what we make with it.

So if a person is wise, it does not matter what they have got to work with. You can still make a beautiful cake - as long as you know how.

Of course the first thing to know is that the last way to make a good cake is to complain all the time about the ingredients you have.

Sometimes in the monastery, if there is an ingredient missing the people who are cooking look in the pantry and just use whatever is there. They have to be quite versatile and you get some very strange cakes, but they are all delicious, because people have learned the art of using what they have and making something of it.

So where is kamma heading? What are we actually making of it? Is it to be wealthy or to be powerful?

No. This meditation, this Buddhism, the direction we are going in, is towards enlightenment. We are using the ingredients we have to become enlightened.

But what does enlightenment actually mean?

Enlightenment means there is no anger left in your heart. There is no personal desire or delusion left in your heart.


Extract from: On Making a Mistake, by Venerable Ajahn Brahmavamso

What's That Sound?

Suppose one morning you're walking to work and a man yells abuse and insults at you from across the street.

As soon as you hear this abuse your mind changes from its usual state. You don't feel so good, you feel angry and hurt. That man walks around abusing you night and day. When you hear the abuse, you get angry, and even when you return home you're still angry because you feel vindictive, you want to get even.

A few days later another man comes to your house and calls out, "Hey! That man who abused you the other day, he's mad, he's crazy! Has been for years! He abuses everybody like that. Nobody takes any notice of anything he says."

As soon as you hear this you are suddenly relieved. That anger and hurt that you've pent up within you all these days melts away completely.

Why? Because you know the truth of the matter now. Before, you didn't know, you thought that man was normal, so you were angry at him. Understanding like that caused you to suffer.

Having known, then you can let go. If you don't know the truth you cling right there.

This is knowledge of the truth.

Someone who sees the Dhamma has a similar experience. When attachment, aversion and delusion disappear, they disappear in the same way.

As long as we don't know these things we think, "What can I do? I have so much greed and aversion." This is not clear knowledge.

It's just the same as when we thought the madman was sane. When we finally see that he was mad all along we're relieved of worry. No-one could show you this. Only when the mind sees for itself can it uproot and relinquish attachment.

* * * * *

We say they disturb us, like when we sit in meditation and hear a sound. We think, "Oh, that sound's bothering me." If we understand that the sound bothers us then we suffer accordingly.

If we investigate a little deeper, we will see that it's we who go out and disturb the sound!

The sound is simply sound. If we understand like this then there's nothing more to it, we leave it be. We see that the sound is one thing, we are another.

The sound is just sound, why should you go and grab it? You see that actually it was you who went out and disturbed the sound.

This is real knowledge of the truth. You see both sides, so you have peace. If you see only one side, there is suffering. Once you see both sides, then you follow the Middle Way.

This is the right practice of the mind. This is what we call "straightening out our understanding."


Extract from: The Middle Way Within, by Venerable Ajahn Chah

Stop! It's Red Light

Every time you see the red light, you smile to it.

The red light means "stop!"—stop your running, stop your anguish, stop your belief that happiness can only be possible at the end of the road, that is a superstition and is not true.

Whether there is happiness or not depends on the present moment. So when you see the red light, look at it and smile, look at it as a friend, as a bodhisattva, as a bell master.

Smile, sit back, and enjoy your breathing. "Breathing in, I enjoy the present moment. Breathing out, I smile."

You try to live that moment with peace and freedom.

You don’t allow yourself to be caught in all kinds of afflictions, irritations and bad humor. We are prey for all these afflictions, and if you go back to yourself and use your mindful breathing and smiling, then you are a better self.


Extract from: Cultivating Mindfulness in the Context of a Sangha, by Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh

Oh, This Is Awful!

For example, a few years ago someone did something quite mean to me behind my back.

At the time, I was very upset and thought, "Oh, this is awful. How could this person do this to me?"

Now I realize that I'm glad this situation happened because it opened up a new direction in my life. If this person had not been so unkind to me, I would still be doing what I had done before and would probably be stuck in a rut. But this person's actions pushed me to be more creative.

Although initially the situation was very painful, in the long-term, it had a very good effect on my life. It forced me to grow and to develop other talents. So, even the people or situations that we feel are bad can turn out to be good in the long run.


Extract from: Dealing with Anxiety, by Venerable Thubten Chodron