Last night, I had to trek up to the cities for a get-together with people from the film/screenwriting community, and on my way up, I listened to the latest podcast of MPR’s Speaking of Faith with Thich Nhat Hanh, a well-known and revered Zen master and poet who did an unusual thing during the Vietnam war–left monastic seclusion to care for the victims.  He was exiled in post-war Vietnam, because he refused to take sides.  He settled in France where he started Plum Village, a Buddhist community.  His teachings have reached far and wide, and have been incorporated into many different faiths.

Compassion is his primary tenet.  If we all had compassion, we would begin to heal the world.  First ours, then others.

Mindfulness is another.  “Mindfulness is a part of living. When you are mindful, you are fully alive, you are fully present. You can get in touch with the wonders of life that can nourish you and heal you. And you are stronger, you are more solid in order to handle the suffering inside of you and around you. When you are mindful, you can recognize, embrace and handle the pain, the sorrow in you and around you to bring you relief. And if you continue with concentration and insight, you’ll be able to transform the suffering inside and help transform the suffering around you.”

Krista Tippett, Speaking of Faith’s host, asked him what we do about terrorists.  Is it possible to have compassion for them?

I found his answer truthful and simple, yet requiring much effort on the part of all of us.  I think it goes for those closest to us, too–our extended families–our ill-conceived notions of them, because we’ve been separate from them for so long…or they or we have changed considerably.  His answer: “The individual has to wake up to the fact that violence cannot end violence, that only understanding and compassion can neutralize violence, because, with the practice of loving speech and compassionate listening, you can begin to understand people and help people to remove the wrong perceptions in them, because these wrong perceptions are at the foundation of their anger, their fear, their violence, their hate. And listen deeply. You might be able to remove the wrong perception you have within yourself concerning you and concerning them. So the basic practice in order to remove terrorism and war is the practice of removing wrong perceptions, and cannot be done with the bombs and the guns. And it is very important that our political leaders realize that and apply the techniques of communication.”

One of the stories that got to me was that of Larry Ward, “one of 500 people in attendance at this retreat. He’s a former management consultant for Fortune 500 companies and an ordained Baptist minister. Now, he and his wife lead a meditation center in California.”  Krista asked him to give her an example of how he handled a life situation differently after attending one of Thich Nhat Hanh’s spiritual retreats than before.

He said, “When my mother passed away about seven years ago, I was actually on vacation with my wife and some friends in Costa Rica. And I was in a small village that only had two telephones, one private, one public. The public one did not work. This was around Christmastime. So when I was finally able to get a phone and call, I found out my mother died. And so I went. It took three days to get back to Cleveland where she was, and by that time she was already buried. And my father was overwhelmed with grief, and he was so overwhelmed with grief that after the burial, he went home and he shut the door and he wouldn’t let any of the children in the house.

“So I started sending him flowers and love letters over six months’ time. And I would go visit, and I’d sit outside the house and bring my flowers and put them on the porch. And this is after flying from Idaho or wherever I was. And I knew he was in there, and I’d leave them. And then I’d go on and visit my sister, you know, etc., etc. And finally, he opened the door, which was to me opening the door to himself. And so now we’re in a totally different environment and a different situation, and I’m certain that without the practice that is not how I would have responded to an experience, quote, unquote, of ‘rejection.’

“You know, I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. If I’d have been operating out of that mindset of my youth, I would’ve just said, you know, forget you. And instead, I was able to understand what was happening to my father. I could see and feel his suffering, his tremendous heartbreak. I knew that he didn’t have any training in dealing with emotion. None. And I knew that, in my family, my mother was the emotional intelligence, and that when she passed away, he had no skills, no capacity to handle the huge ocean of grief he found himself in. So my practice was to communicate to him that I was there for him, that I supported him and that I loved him, but my practice also was to hold compassion for him and myself and my family so that we could all go through our grieving process peacefully and at our own pace.”

I got to thinking: is it that we have no patience for compassion?  Sometimes it takes forever–or seems to anyway–for it to “work.”  We begin to think that no amount of love and tenderness will work on this other person.  Or is it us?

I’m guilty of this with my own family.  I’m at a standstill sometimes with how to relate to some of them, so I tell myself I can love them from a distance.  I can listen to them, I can validate their feelings, I can be there for them, but other than that, I really don’t know how to be their friend.  There are too many old messages playing on our relationship phonographs, and it’s miserable to return to that mess that once-was.  I can sit quietly with them–that’s probably what I’d be best at–but to engage in that old sarcastic, mean dialogue just kills me.  That’s when I fold in on myself, except now I know enough to walk away quietly–to reject the abuse, in other words.

Or perhaps it’s that they need something from me I’m no longer able to provide.  Sometimes people just need more than you can give.  It’s a simple fact of life–whenever you’re around people in general.

And I don’t mean that I’m perfect.  I’m far from it.  I’m just wondering what this compassion thing looks like in the most complicated instances.  The situations where it is easier to walk away.

Do any of you have any advice?  Any real-life experiences that might speak to this?  As you know if you’ve been reading this blog long enough, I hold kindness as my goal–always.  Compassion and mindfulness are close seconds, so I do want to change in this regard.  I simply find it the most arduous task sometimes.

It’s a daily thing for me.

[Post image: Thich Nhat Hanh]