Peace is Every Step: The Path of
Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh. Have you read it?
I read it in college, but back then it was lost on me.
Thich Nhat Hanh is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, peace activist, world-renowned
speaker, and author of more than 100 books on things like spirituality and
meditation. Clearly he’s a one-in-a-million type of guy, but I didn’t much appreciate
this when I was a 21-year-old.
Thich wrote Peace is Every Step
to encourage people to heed the “bells of mindfulness.” He isn’t talking about actual bells, rather he is pointing out
areas in our lives where we can slow down and pay better attention. I remember
thinking that his bells of mindfulness were kind of crazy. As I recall, for instance,
he suggests that instead of looking at washing dishes as a monotonous task, we
should treasure every minute of the suds on our hands while “breathing in and
smiling out.” I also remember a chapter devoted to an orange and how we should try to “see the whole world in that orange.”
Twenty years later, the concept of mindfulness has become much more prevalent.
I recognize the significance (and try to practice it, too, if sometimes grudgingly) of being present
in the moment. In fact, I've been thinking there might be some value in
revisiting Peace is Every Step, so I've tracked down Thich on my bookshelf where he has sat unopened since 1995.
A quick flip through the book confirms that yes, Thich has written
about doing dishes, and yes, he has written about a tangerine (not an orange, but
close enough). I’m glad my memory is intact. But there are a lot of things I
don’t remember, like conscious breathing and eating with
awareness. There’s some good stuff here.
Then I stumble upon a chapter called “Driving Meditation.” Ah, driving!
I’m in my car all the time, so this ought to be helpful. Thich begins with a
few easy lines for us to recite:
"Before starting the car,
I know where I am going.
The car and I are one."
Why, yes, he's gotten that right: the car and I are certainly one! Next, he
suggests we “drive consciously” instead of “thinking only about arriving.” I
feel like he wrote this line just for me. I think only about arriving because I
am always running at least 10 minutes late to my destination. So, how exactly do
I drive more consciously? He offers some guidance:
“The red light is a kind of enemy that
prevents us from attaining our goal. But we can also see the red light as a
bell of mindfulness, reminding us to return to the present moment. The next
time you see a red light, please smile at it and go back to your breathing… It
is easy to transform a feeling of irritation into a pleasant feeling. Although
it is the same red light, it becomes different. It becomes a friend, helping us
remember that it is only in the present moment that we can live our lives.”
Well, Thich. This might be a stretch for me. I’m guessing you’ve never
sat through five red lights at the torn-up intersection of Verona Road and the
Beltline during rush hour with three kids in the backseat, am I right? But I’m
trying to be open to your wisdom, so I read on:
“Sit back and smile to yourself, a smile
of compassion and loving kindness. Enjoy the present moment, breathing and
smiling, and make the other people in your car happy. Happiness is there if you
know how to breathe and smile.”
With all due respect, Thich, this is where I draw the line. Not only do
you not have three kids in your backseat, but you also aren’t responsible for
carting them to and from their extracurricular activities every bloody afternoon.
Let me put it this way: how is it really
possible to sit back and smile when my weekly carpooling schedule has
come to resemble an algebraic formula?
c = Caroline
j = Jane
o = Owen
s = soccer
d = dance
m = martial arts
t = weekly travel time in car
i = my irritation and fatigue
4cd + 5jd + 3os + 2om =
t
And t = i
Therefore, 4cd + 5jd + 3os + 2om =
i
Solve for i.
Let’s be honest, I will never be able to figure out the correct answer to this
equation because, crazy enough, i seems to fluctuate,
even if the number of hours I drive remains similar each week. (I can
guarantee i ˃ 0, though. Always.)
Furthermore, I know that I will never be able to hear the bells of mindfulness (b) when
I drive. And I’m really trying. (So b ≠ t and b ≠ i.)
These failures, along with my dislike of algebra, are starting to make me feel like a very lousy person, until
I realize that maybe I just need to give it another 20 years.
So back on the shelf
you go, Peace is Every Step. Back on
the shelf you go.
