Where is the Year 2014 Right Now?

Thich Nhat Hanh — Winter Retreat 2013–2014 (in English) Stillwater Meditation Hall, Upper Hamlet, Plum Village · 29 December 2013 · talk 13 of 24

Illuminates: the birth and death of a year — “year,” like “money,” is a conventional designation; 2014 “is already in you and around you” (the hidden butterflies; the child who has not died) · no-birth-no-death (the first law of thermodynamics; the cloud) · ancestors alive in every cell; Touching the Earth and reconciliation (“both of you are children of the earth”) · Mother Earth as our home in the here and now · the four elements of a true home (body · feelings · understanding/compassion · the Sangha) via the mindful-breathing exercises (1–4 body, 5–6 joy/happiness, 7–8 recognize/calm the painful feeling) · transforming anger into compassion · “there is no way home; home is the way” · Sangha-building — the World Bank (Dr. Jim Yong Kim), Google, a Hong Kong company, and Martin Luther King’s “beloved community” · being a cell in the Sangha · Dharma · Buddha body.

---

Good morning, dear Sangha. Today is the 29th of December, 2013; we are in the Stillwater Meditation Hall of the Upper Hamlet, in the winter retreat.

It is pleasant to sit and breathe together. Focusing on the in-breath and out-breath, we bring the mind home to the body, and we are really there in the here and now. Mindful breathing produces awareness: breathing mindfully, we know that we are alive — and to be alive is a wonderful thing. We have a body, feet to walk, lungs to breathe, eyes to see; breathing in and out, we touch all these wonders of life in us and around us. Sitting and breathing together, we can hear the sound of the rain — also a wonder. With mindfulness we touch these wonders, and they nourish and heal us — which is why mindfulness is a source of healing and nourishment. And it does not come from outside: we generate it ourselves, by walking, sitting, breathing — doing everything mindfully.

The birth and death of a year

We think that in two more days the year 2013 will be gone — the year is going to “die.” But can we speak of the birth or the death of a year? This is an object of meditation. The notions of month, day, and hour are invented by us — conventional designations, like the arrow or the dollar — and their value depends on our way of thinking. “To die” means to pass suddenly from being to non-being. Will that happen to 2013? And the year 2014 — we think it is not here yet, it will come in two days; where is it now? Can we touch it? And whether the new year is really new, or only a repetition of the old, depends very much on us.

As the year ends, we can ask a simple question: what have I done during 2013? Have I been able to produce a feeling of joy, a feeling of happiness, each day? As practitioners we have learned that with mindfulness we can produce joy and happiness whenever we want — we know the conditions, the ingredients, needed to produce them, for ourselves and for those we love. Have we done that? And: have I been able to take care of painful feelings and strong emotions — to calm them, even transform them into something better, like compassion, friendship, forgiveness? For pain and pleasure are organic, like love and hate: if you don’t know how to handle love, it can turn into anger or hate; and if you know how to handle anger, you can turn it back into understanding and love. If we have not mastered the art of generating joy, nor of handling painful feelings, we will only repeat it in the new year — and the new year will not be new. So, for the new year to be new, you have to renew yourself. This year our phrase is “New year, new me”: I need a new me in order truly to enjoy the new year — and we have two days to prepare.

A year is time, and time is linked to space and action. Some Buddhist schools think of space as an unconditioned dharma; but we now know space is made of non-space elements — matter, speed, time, many conditions — so space too is conditioned. And the value of the year depends on our way of acting and living. With the practice of mindful breathing, mindful walking, and mindful dealing with pain and anger, we can improve the quality of our actions, our days, our years.

2014 is already here

Now it is winter, and walking, we do not see the butterflies and dragonflies of April and May, and we think they do not exist. But that is not true: they are there, only waiting for the conditions to manifest. So with 2014 — it is already in you and around you; you can touch it now, even forty-eight hours before the official announcement. And when you think of your childhood — you were a little boy, a little girl. Have they died? No: the little boy, the little girl is still very much alive in you (sometimes your behavior is exactly theirs). Meditating like this, we see that things continue; nothing is born, nothing dies — which corresponds to the first law of thermodynamics: you cannot create or destroy anything, whether matter or energy; you can only transform it. Birth and death are only on the surface; going deeply, there is no birth and no death. The same is true of 2013: we may sing au revoir to it — but as soon as we do, it continues; 2013 goes on even into January 2014. And our ancestors — we think they are dead and gone, but they are fully present in every cell of our body, and we carry them into the future; their nature too is the nature of no-birth-no-death.

Touching the Earth — reconciliation

In 2013, did you have difficulties with someone, get angry, want to leave him or her forever — and did you know how to handle that anger and despair? This morning in the Upper Hamlet, after sitting meditation, we touched the earth and invoked the bodhisattva of the Earth. We are all children of Mother Earth, and one day we will all return to her — not only you, but also that person; in maybe forty or fifty years, both of you go back. Touching the earth, you can be aware that you and that person are both returning to Mother Earth, both her children — and the days and months left to be together should be lived with more compassion, for you will have to reconcile anyway. Touched like that, all your anger and suffering vanish very quickly. And if you are in love with someone, knowing that one day you both return to the earth helps you cherish every moment you have together.

For myself, touching the earth is wonderful — but I do not think I need to wait to go back to Mother Earth: I am going back to her every moment. Mother Earth is in me and I am in her; there is no longer any “way home,” because I am already home, already with Mother Earth. I do not need to die to return to her — and anyway it is impossible to die. Meditating on a cloud, you see the cloud can never die — for “to die” would mean to become nothing, and it is impossible for something to become nothing. The cloud can become rain, snow, ice — and to fall as rain is also nice, to become snow is also nice; it would be boring to be a cloud forever. With that insight you are no longer afraid of dying: you do not die, you only continue in other forms — like the butterflies, which I can guarantee will be back up here in April.

Mother Earth is our home — and so are we

Mother Earth is our home in the here and now, and it is important to go back to her every moment, to be nourished and healed, for she has the power to heal and nourish. But many of us run away from her — which means running away from ourselves — and technology helps us do so. We are not comfortable with ourselves because we do not know how to handle a painful feeling, the loneliness, fear, anger, and despair in us; we fear that going home we will meet these blocks of pain. The practice of mindfulness helps us go home and take care of our body, feelings, and emotions — for with the energy of mindfulness we are no longer afraid to go home, to restore peace and harmony.

Your body is the first element of true home. Coming home to the body, we release its tension, and the pain is reduced; we learn to enjoy the body, to enjoy every breath and step. Time is not money — time is life, much more than money — and we do not want to waste a moment of the precious life given us. Going home, we recognize how lucky we are: eyes still able to enjoy the cosmos, the ocean, the stars, the trees, this beautiful planet; strong feet to walk; ears to hear. Mindfulness helps us make the best use of our senses to enjoy the wonders of life, and not let anger, worry, and fear carry us away.

The mindful-breathing exercises — building the home

The Buddha gave sixteen exercises of mindful breathing. The first four are about the body. Breathing in, I am aware of my whole body (the third exercise) — bringing the mind home to the body and recognizing its existence; breathing out, I smile to my body — an act of reconciliation and love, for we may have abandoned the body for a long time, letting tension and pain accumulate (spend two hours at the computer and you forget you have a body — so in Plum Village the monastics set a bell of mindfulness to chime every quarter hour, to stop and come back: Dear body, I am here for you). And the fourth: breathing in, I release the tension in my body. These are very practical — do them several times a day, in a car, in the office, on the grass.

The next four are about the feelings. The fifth and sixth create a feeling of joy and happiness: mindfulness lets us become aware of the many conditions of happiness already available, more than enough, here and now — the art of happiness, to nourish ourselves and others. The seventh and eighth are to recognize and calm a painful feeling: breathing in, I am aware of the painful feeling in me. If we are not good practitioners, we don’t know how to handle that energy, and the only thing we do is cover it up — food, music, internet — running away. But with the seventh and eighth exercises we generate a second energy, mindfulness, which can recognize the pain and embrace it tenderly to calm it down — the way a mother picks up her crying baby and holds it tenderly, so that the energy of tenderness penetrates the baby’s body and brings relief. My pain, I know you are there; I am not running away anymore; I will stay and take care of you. And with the exercises that follow, we can even transform anger into understanding and compassion — for when you look with mindfulness and concentration, you see that the person who hurt you has suffering in him and does not know how to handle it; he is helpless. Seeing that, you understand: that person needs help, not punishment — and understanding brings compassion, and you no longer suffer. So anger is impermanent. Without understanding, your eyes carry blame, and the other person suffers under that look; with compassion in your heart, your eyes carry understanding, and seeing you look at him like that, he feels much better. Producing the energy of understanding and compassion helps you suffer less and the other person suffer less at the same time — and you can help that person become a co-practitioner, walking the path of transformation together.

So your joy, peace, and happiness are the second element of your true home; and the understanding and compassion you generate by looking deeply are the third — they make your home comfortable and pleasant to return to. The Dharma helps you build this home inside, which is why the Buddha described the island within yourself as the Dharma: take refuge in the Dharma, not in anyone or anything else — for the Dharma, the practice of mindfulness, creates a cozy, peaceful home to come back to.

The Sangha is a home

The Buddha, at the age of eighty, after recovering from a great sickness, visited groups of practitioners — at the town of Vesālī and elsewhere — and gave short Dharma talks on taking refuge in the island within oneself, knowing that after his passing many would feel lost without a teacher: attā-dīpa — “be an island unto yourself; take refuge in the island that is yourself.” And when we are a family, a Sangha, practicing mindfulness, the collective energy of peace, joy, understanding, and compassion makes our community a home. In Plum Village the monastics have no salary, no private home or car, and yet feel very much at home with the Sangha, because with the practice of mindfulness, deep listening, and loving speech we build brotherhood and sisterhood — and wherever you go afterward, you remember the Sangha as home.

It is striking that in Vietnam a husband and wife call each other “my home”: ask a husband where his wife is, and he says, “My home is at the post office; she will be home soon.” They call each other home — meaning: darling, you should be my home; build a home in yourself so that I can share it. So each person in a relationship should be a home for himself or herself, so the partner can share it — two homes that are one home. And when you have a happy home, you can welcome others to enjoy it. Your home should not be only a hope, somewhere far off in the distance — for there is no way home; home is the way. Every breath, every step contributes to making you a home, because each can generate peace and joy and calm a painful feeling.

Sangha-building — in companies and the world

When everyone in a community practices this, we create a quality home for all. If you lead a company, you might make it into a home: knowing how to create peace and joy and handle pain, you are home not only for yourself but for your partner and your company; and looking at your collaborators with compassionate, understanding eyes, you help them build their own home. Earlier this year we visited the World Bank and spent an hour in conversation with its president, Dr. [Jim Yong] Kim. The World Bank exists to help people in poor countries suffer less — but money alone cannot help people suffer less (when people don’t know how to handle money, they create more suffering); what is needed is the intention to help people suffer less, nourished — but if you yourself do not suffer less, how can you help others? So the practice begins with yourself, then your family, then your collaborators; and through deep, compassionate listening you come to understand the suffering of your associates and slowly build a home among the leadership — and from there bring the practice to the whole company.

We recommended the same to a big company in Hong Kong, whose owner, [Mr. Yeung], a Buddhist practitioner and a supporter of the Asian Institute of Applied Buddhism, was eager to bring the Dharma into his corporation: first practicing to make a true home in himself and his family, then training two hundred of his people in the art of compassionate listening (two weeks of training, then selecting those capable of deep listening, who go and listen to every employee: Dear friend, we want to listen to your difficulties and suffering; maybe we can help). Even before anything is done, compassionate listening already restores communication and promotes mutual understanding — and that is Sangha-building: you can build a Sangha out of your family, or out of your company.

In Plum Village we joke that we too are a “company” — but our purpose is not making money; our daily work is to organize retreats and days of mindfulness, attended by thirteen or fifteen hundred people; on the fourth, fifth, and sixth days we see much transformation and healing, and that is our “earnings,” the fruit that nourishes us and brings us joy, so that we can live simply and feel our life is useful. To continue, we maintain our practice as a community — sitting, walking, eating, and sharing together several times a day — for without mutual understanding, brotherhood, and sisterhood we could not organize the practice for others. During the last teaching tour in North America we spent an hour practicing sitting, walking, and eating with the people at Google, who were eager to learn, knowing mindfulness would improve the quality of their lives.

When I met Martin Luther King in Chicago in 1966, we already began to discuss Sangha-building, for we shared the belief that without a Sangha you cannot do much — even a very talented person, alone, cannot realize the dream. He said he had a dream; all of us have a dream, but alone we cannot fulfill it: we need a Sangha. The Buddha understood this — the first thing he did after enlightenment was to go and look for members of his Sangha, and by the end of the first year he already had a community of a thousand; he was an excellent Sangha-builder. Martin Luther King used the term “beloved community” instead of Sangha. The last time I met him was in Geneva, and I was able to tell him: Martin, in Vietnam, though we are at war, we appreciate your work for civil rights very much; we consider you one of the bodhisattvas. He was very pleased — and was killed a few months later. When I heard of his assassination, I got sick and had to stay in bed for weeks; but I made a determination to continue the work of Sangha-building. Not allowed to return to my country, I spent forty years in exile, and used that time to build Sanghas in Europe, America, and elsewhere. My book The Miracle of Mindfulness was published in 1974, when no publisher in France wanted it, because no one knew about mindfulness; now mindfulness is well known, and we have helped set up many Sanghas in many countries.

If you want to realize your dream, you need a Sangha — a refuge, a support. Sangha-building is what you practice every day: deep listening, loving speech, restoring communication, helping people suffer less, building brotherhood and sisterhood. It is the most noble thing to do in life. In the Sangha, everyone is a cell of the Sangha body (saṅghakāya): as our body has trillions of cells, each generating energy to nourish itself and the whole, so you are a cell generating mindfulness, concentration, insight, and compassion. And a true Sangha always carries within it the true Dharma — for without the living Dharma you cannot generate these energies. The living Dharma is not in a book or a recording (that is the spoken or written Dharma): it can only be found in a Sangha. When the Sangha walks mindfully, you feel the collective energy of mindfulness and brotherhood — a living Dharma talk without words. So if you are a cell in the Sangha body, you are at the same time a cell in the Dharma body (dharmakāya) — and the real Buddha too is found in a Sangha, for a Buddha is someone awake, understanding, and compassionate; the copper statue is not the real Buddha. To be a Buddha is not so difficult: become a cell in the Buddha body, generating mindfulness, understanding, and compassion with every step and breath. So Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha are not far away — they are touchable, inside you, the island of yourself, the object of your refuge, your home.

With that understanding, we are ready to welcome the year 2014.