One Time, One Meeting

Ven.  Thich Nhat Hanh in Washington, DC, September, 2003

“Peace,” writes Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, “is made of peace. Peace is a living substance we build our lives with. It is not only made of discussions and treaties. To infuse our world with peace, we must walk in peace, speak with peace, and listen with peace.”

As so described, peace is more than a noble goal. It is a practice for everyday life. Peace is to be cultivated not only by imagining a peaceful world, as John Lennon did, but also by walking, speaking, and listening in ways that embody a peaceful spirit. In Thich Nhat Hanh’s school of Vietnamese Zen, these practices are known as “walking meditation,” “loving speech,” and “deep listening.” Diligently pursued, these practices can, in Thich Nhat Hanh’s words, “help heal the wounds that divide our nation and the world.”*

Walking meditation is common to most forms of Buddhist meditation. It can be done in a variety of ways, ranging from slow to fast, formal to informal. Known in Japanese Zen as kinhin, walking meditation serves in part to provide relief between long periods of sitting. In principle, at least, kinhin also provides a bridge between the stillness of zazen (sitting meditation) and the activities of everyday life. By practicing kinhin, we bring the concentration and awareness engendered by zazen into our bodily movements. Later, we can bring those same qualities into all aspects of our daily lives.

Walking meditation, as taught by Thich Nhat Hanh, incorporates the traditional aims of kinhin but adds another dimension, namely that of cultivating a peaceful body and mind. As Thich Nhat Hanh often points out, when we are anxious or filled with anger, we print the earth with anxious or angry steps. By practicing walking meditation, we can be kinder to the earth, and we can also cultivate peace within ourselves. “To lessen the unpleasant feeling brought about by anger,” he observes, “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.” By so doing, we reclaim our calm, allowing us to look directly at our anger and ascertain its cause.

In similar fashion, the practice of “loving speech” enables the practitioner to use words in ways that do no harm and may actively promote a peaceful resolution of conflict. Thich Nhat Hanh quotes the Vietnamese proverb, “It doesn’t cost anything to have loving speech.” What it does require, especially when people are in conflict, is a clear and balanced mind. Those in conflict are advised to practice conscious breathing and refrain from speaking until their equanimity has been restored. Only then are they in a position to practice “loving speech.”

For Thich Nhat Hanh, that practice consists of saying “only loving things.” This guideline is easily misconstrued, especially by newcomers, as merely repressing anger or making nice. But as defined in the stern teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, to practice loving speech is “to say the truth in a loving way, with nonviolence.” It is to “tell the deepest kind of truth,” using “the kind of speech the other person can understand and accept.” Far from being an exercise in avoidance or self-repression, loving speech is a difficult practice, demanding not only a steady mind but also honesty, care, and tact on the part of the speaker. Simply put, we must think before we speak, and we must engage the compassionate heart as well as the analytic mind.

Loving speech is, of course, only one side of peaceful communication, the other being “deep listening.” This practice, suggests Thich Nhat Hanh, has “one purpose: to help the other person suffer less.” To that end, the practitioner is enjoined to give wholehearted attention to the other person’s words, bringing non-judgmental awareness to whatever is being said, however accurate or inaccurate, true or false it may be. That isn’t easy, and to some it may prove untenable. To support the practice, Thich Nhat Hanh recommends the verses, “Breathing in, I know that I am listening in order to make this person suffer less. / Breathing out, I remember the person in front of me suffers very much.” Should that measure fail, he advises the practitioner to postpone the conversation, lest harm ensue. “We have to renew ourselves,” he warns, “before continuing. It is important to know our limit.”

In a world scarred by violence and rent by deep political divisions, the integrated practices of walking meditation, loving speech, and deep listening may appear naive, utopian, and far removed from the corridors of power. But such was not the case in September, 2003, when Thich Nhat Hanh came to Capitol Hill to speak at the Library of Congress and offer a three-day retreat. ** Nine members of Congress, eleven family members, and nine clergy attended the retreat, which focused on loving speech, deep listening, and the resolution of conflict. However idealistic Thich Nhat Hanh’s effort may appear, its limited success kindles a spark of hope. Even in Washington, it confirmed, entrenched opponents can learn the practice of peace.

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*Thich Nhat Hanh, Calming the Fearful Mind: A Zen Response to Terrorism (Parallax, 2005), 63. Subsequent quotations are also from this text.

**Thich Nhat Hanh’s retreat was entitled “Leading with Courage and Compassion.” See Washington retreat.