At home in the world Stories and essential teachings from a monk's life

In a collection of previously published works and unpublished talks, Nhat Hanh (The Miracle of Mindfulness) offers readers stories and teachings from his life. Nhat Hanh, known for his simple and tender style of Zen instruction, teaches through short vignettes drawn from multiple periods of his life: his youth in Vietnam, the Vietnam War and his eventual exile, the establishment of the Sweet Potato Community and Plum Village in France, and his teachings abroad. Through these stories, he provides an inspirational and moving example of understanding and compassion constantly at work in the everyday world. Some lessons can be gleaned from his stories: that one should slow down and pay mindful awareness to daily activities; that one should practice nonviolence and compassion in the face of hatred, violence, or intolerance; and that one should cultivate a true home by taking care of the self, caring for one's feelings, and generating compassionate understanding. For Nhat Hanh, happiness is not to be found by constant pursuit: "There is no way home; home is the way." Followers and newcomers to Nhat Hanh's teaching alike will find this collection inspiring for everyday practice and for social engagement in the world. (Nov.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

The Leaf One day when I was a child, I looked into the water container in the front yard and I saw a very beautiful leaf at the bottom. It had so many colors. I wanted to take the leaf out and play with it. But my arm was too short to reach the bottom of the water container. So I used a stick to try to take it out. It was difficult and I became impatient. I stirred and stirred twenty or thirty times, and yet the leaf didn't come to the surface. So I gave up and I threw away the stick. When I came back a few minutes later the leaf had come to the surface of the water, and I picked it up easily. In the few moments I had been away, the water had continued to swirl and had brought the leaf up to the surface. This is how our unconscious mind works. When we have a problem or difficulty to solve or when we want to have more insight into a situation, our conscious mind has to entrust to the unconscious mind the task of finding the insight. The unconsciousness mind knows how to listen and collaborate with us and with our intentions. Sometimes before going to sleep you might tell your store consciousness: "Tomorrow I want to wake up at 4:30"; and tomorrow you will wake up at 4:30. To meditate you don't only use your conscious mind, what we call in Buddhism "mind consciousness"; you also need to know how to use and trust your unconscious mind, called "store consciousness" in Buddhism. When we plant a seed in the soil, we trust the soil. Mind consciousness should plant the object of meditation into the soil of store consciousness and not wrestle with it superficially on the level of mind consciousness. When a peace conference takes place, it must be organized in that spirit. We have to rely on the collective insight offered by the collective store consciousness of all those who are in the conference. We should know the techniques of taking care of our collective store consciousness in order to have the greatest insight possible. If we can become more civilized, our legislature will operate like that. Every member will know how to practice so that store consciousness can offer the best insight. During the day, mind consciousness creates all the conditions for store consciousness to be able to do it; it's by the practice of deep breathing, calming, looking deeply, and allowing ourselves to be, that we can help our store consciousness to offer the best. Not only psychotherapists, but also members of government should learn how to make good use of our unconscious mind to serve our people in our country and our world. We should all know how to practice to have more insight and to have the best kind of insight. When you offer this way to others, it needs to be based on your own experience of practice. Kaleidoscope When I was a child I used to enjoy playing with a kaleidoscope that I made from a tube and a few pieces of ground glass. Whenever I turned it a little bit, I saw many wonderful sights. Every time I made a small movement of my fingers, one sight would disappear and another would appear. I didn't cry at all when the first spectacle disappeared, because I knew that nothing was lost; another beautiful sight always followed. When we look into a kaleidoscope, we see a beautiful symmetrical image; and whenever we turn the kaleidoscope, the image disappears. Can we describe this as a birth or a death? Or is the image only a manifestation? After this manifestation there's another manifestation that's equally beautiful--nothing is lost at all. I have seen people die very peacefully, with a smile, because they see that birth and death are only waves on the surface of the ocean, just like the spectacle in the kaleidoscope. Excerpted from At Home in the World: Stories from a Monk's Life by Thich Nhat Hanh All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.