I Don't Eat Durian, Dear

One day when I was practicing chanting alone in my temple in Vietnam, there happened to be one durian on the altar that had been offered to the Buddha.

I was trying to recite the Lotus Sutra, using a wooden drum and a large bowl-shaped bell for accompaniment, but I could not concentrate at all. I finally decided to turn the bell over and imprison the durian so I could chant the sutra. After I finished, I bowed to the Buddha and liberated the durian.

If you were to say to me, "I love you so much I would like you to eat some of this durian," I would suffer. You love me, you want me to be happy, but you force me to eat durian.

That is an example of love without understanding. Your intention is good, but you don't have the correct understanding.

In order to love properly, you have to understand.

Understanding means to see the depth of the darkness, the pain, and the suffering of the other person. If you don't see that, the more you do for her, the more she will suffer.

Creating happiness is an art. If during your childhood, you saw your mother or father create happiness in your family, you were able to learn from those things. But if your parents did not know how to create happiness in your family, you may not know how to do it.

So in our institute, we have to teach the art of making people happy. Living together is an art. Even with good will, you can make your partner quite unhappy. Art is the essence of life. We have to be artful in our speech and action. The substance of art is mindfulness.


Extract from: Happiness of One Person, Touching Peace, by Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh