PHOTO: Thich Nhat Hanh, photographer unknown
On the back cover of “Living Buddha, Living Christ,” by Thich Nhat Hanh, Thomas Merton wrote: “Thich Nhat Hanh is more my brother than many who are nearer to me in race and nationality, because he and I see things the same exact way.”
Perhaps surprising from a Cistercian monk, but not if you have read much of Merton and Thich Nhat Hanh. I took “Living Buddah, Living Christ” with me on a trip to Thailand, knowing I would be staying in a predominantly Buddhist country. (On an earlier trip I read “Buddhism for Beginners” for the same reason: to understand and appreciate the people I would be living amongst.)
While sorting through books, deciding I could not live without, which I would pack away, and which I could give away, I came across another book by the Buddhist monk: “The Miracle of Mindfulness,” given to me by my daughter. Last week, I began reading it before going to sleep. The chapter “A Day of Mindfulness” resonated with deep-seated longing in my soul; What Thich Nhat Hanh called “a day of mindfulness” I knew as “Sabbath.”
Every Saturday, observant Jews move along my street on their way to synagogue. The men wear suits and yarmulkes or broad brimmed black hats; women were dresses and hats, often walking in heels. Some push baby strollers or hold the hands of their children. I watch for a moment, inspired by their faithfulness, then continue with my busy day.
Christians keep Sunday, the Lord’s day, sort of. Some are more faithful than others, and from all the people I see shopping at the department store where I work, I suspect most of us use Sunday to accomplish what we have been unable to do the other six days of the week.
Reading Hanh’s chapter on a day devoted to mindfulness hit me like a cold wave on a hot day. His words grabbed my whole attention: mind, body, spirit, perhaps because they expressed in an exotic way a reality that has become dangerously familiar. How often have I written about the importance of being “present to the moment” in order to encounter God? How often am I successful in doing it?
From “The Miracle of Mindfulness”:
“In principle, of course every day should be your day, and every hour your hour. But the fact is that very few of us have reached such a point…So I urge that everyone set aside one day each week.”
“To set up a day of mindfulness, figure out a way to remind yourself at the moment of waking that this is your day of mindfulness.” (A van Gogh print of sheaves of wheat that reminds me of all creation joining in prayer hangs in my bedroom.)
“Don’t do any task in order to get it over with. Resolve to do each job in a relaxed way, with all your attention. Enjoy and be one with your work…The feeling that any task is a nuisance will soon disappear if it is done in mindfulness.”
“Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the whole earth revolves–slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.”
(Drinking my cup of morning tea today, I realized I was not in the moment at all, but busily planning how I can pack up all the stuff in the spare bedroom to make it look neat for a realtor’s visit on Monday, what strategy I should use for finding a better job, when I can squeeze in time to write notes to two friends who have had surgery. The list goes on. I won’t meet God in the moment when I cannot be IN the moment, or as Hanh says, in mindfulness.)
“In the evening, you might read scripture and copy passages, write letters to friends, or do anything else you enjoy outside of your normal duties during the week. But whatever you do, do it in mindfulness.”
“Somehow we must find a way to allow each worker a day of mindfulness. Such a day is crucial. Its effect on the other days of the week is immeasurable…The day of mindfulness will begin to penetrate the other days of the week, enabling you to eventually live seven days a week in mindfulness.”
No wonder Merton found a brother in Thich Nhat Hanh. Christian mystics and teachers of prayer encourage similar practices to guide those who desire a deep expereince God in their lives and to grow closer to Jesus Christ.
Thank you, Thich Nhat Hanh for the powerful reminder.
© 2010 Mary van Balen
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