Originally published in elpais.com/smoda (automatic translation)
At Plum Village, the monastery near Bordeaux, France, where Phap Dung lives, bells ring constantly. And when they do, everything stops, in a peculiar version of English hide-and-seek. The goal is to cultivate «mindfulness,» which he defines as «the energy that helps us be fully present in life.»
Among other things, this means breaking the deep-rooted tendency to take everything for granted. You turn on the faucet and hot water comes out, for example, but the day a power failure occurs, many of us go crazy. “Mindfulness helps you break away from that routine way of seeing things, to appreciate the hot water every time you turn on the faucet. This way, you can enjoy every action, no matter how simple, even tying your shoes. Consider that there will come a day when you won’t be able to bend down as easily,” says Phap Dung.
The 42-year-old monk, who in his other life worked as an architect in Los Angeles, California, is participating in the mindfulness and education retreat that just concluded at Plum Village, the headquarters of Zen master, writer, and Nobel Peace Prize-nominated activist Thich Nhat Hanh.
You just participated in the retreat with a presentation on personal relationships. What does meditation have to do with relationships?
Most of us don’t have the appropriate tools to resolve family conflicts, from which all other conflicts then arise. You can live with your family without actually being there. Meditation isn’t just about staring at a wall; it’s also about being able to sit and talk with your family with the focus, compassion, and energy necessary to resolve conflicts without hurting anyone. Meditation is a tool that allows you to slow down, be present, and observe things more deeply, instead of chasing after all kinds of stimuli. Someone who meditates is calm, focused, and can become a refuge for the other person.
You’re a celibate monk. You don’t seem like the best person to talk about relationships.
I live with other monks and nuns. It doesn’t matter if it’s a marriage, a family relationship, or a friendship. It’s always the same. On the other hand, people think we monks are isolated from the world. But it’s the opposite: before, I was so busy that I didn’t have time to observe how I acted. But now I know that to relate to my fellow men, I have to learn to be calm, share, be present… the basic ingredients with which you build a relationship.
There are so many stressed people out there who have serious hearing difficulties.
We have a lot of tension in our body and mind. Rushing and the incessant chatter in our heads cause stress. It’s about returning again and again to breathing, identifying each inhalation as inhalation, each exhalation as exhalation. If the mind is there, on the breath, it stops circling around other external things. In society, we do the opposite. Young people can’t sit still for even a moment. They want to constantly check their phone or email. I tell them, ‘Relax, you’re not missing anything. Everything will continue there when you turn it back on.’ They’re constantly thinking about the next thing. But life only happens in the present.
Even when we’re waiting, doing nothing, we’re stressed. I see it at the airport, for example. You’re surrounded by anxious people, glued to their phones and computers. But if it’s a waiting period, why don’t you relax? But in our society, that’s experienced as normal. Constantly rushing around is normal.
I suppose he was one of those who ran, one of the anxious ones, before becoming a monk.
Absolutely. Los Angeles is a very tough city, and I had a busy social life. If you stayed home on a Saturday night, you were a loser.
I remember well the first time I attended a talk by Thich Nhat Hanh. I had never experienced anything like it: a little man capable of transforming the energy of an audience of 6,000 people with the simple ringing of a bell. Everything fell silent. It was the first time I felt truly at peace.
And he left his job as an architect.
When I was a student, I was one of those who wanted to change the world. But that was gradually left behind. I realized I was trying to succeed and achieve more and more at the cost of losing my humanity. I worked with many famous architects and saw that they weren’t happy. Then I knew I had to do something; I didn’t know what yet, but something.
But how do you change the world from a monastery? What if we all did the same?
Back then—as a student—I had this ambition to make big changes. Now I know you have to start with yourself. Be kind, be a good person. That’s the first thing.
With all this calm and deliberation, does anything happen?
We already have plenty of evidence that multitasking isn’t good. Companies aren’t just looking for quantity; increasingly, they’re looking for quality, and that’s not achieved by doing a thousand things at once.
On the other hand, look at those who produce a lot. Are they happy? We need to reevaluate the culture of performance and success. The desire to achieve more and more often causes you to lose your direction and harm others. Meditation helps you maintain direction and focus without losing your humanity. When you’re not happy, you don’t work well. Happiness, on the other hand, is contagious.
How do you define this happiness?
A happy person knows themselves well. They love life. They’re not trapped by their thoughts and emotions. They know how to take care of themselves. This doesn’t mean they have to be happy all the time, but they know how to deal with their suffering.
I used to think I was happy when I received things from outside: parties, interesting stimuli. But look: observe this moment. This is a happy moment. I’m alive. I’m talking to someone who wants to help others. I can nurture my happiness. This isn’t a constant, it shouldn’t be taken for granted; it’s a practice I can cultivate.
Happiness, enjoyment… little to do with the words one associates with a monastery: renunciation, darkness, suffering.
In other traditions, one might go to a monastery to find happiness in the future. But look at life. As if we were a flower: you bloom, enjoy the sun, the rain, and then return to the earth. As human beings, we came from the earth, we are alive, we have the gift of consciousness. Maybe we go to heaven, I don’t know; for me, this is enough. Complain? Want to go somewhere else? Look carefully at what’s behind that desire, those thoughts.
Some people think that living in a monastery is running away from something, but that’s a misinterpretation. In this tradition, we are motivated by the desire to live life intensely and help others do so as well. And to anyone who says this isn’t normal, I invite them to examine their lives: running, trying to accumulate more and more, waiting until 65 to retire and enjoy life… Here, in the monastery, I live intensely every day. I don’t have to wait to retire.
Happiness is contagious, yes, but so is fear. And we know a thing or two about that in Spain, where it’s been spreading like a virus lately…
The media spreads fear and negativity. They seep into us. That’s why we need to protect ourselves, not sow the seeds of fear we all carry within us. It’s a state of mind you can nurture with what you read, the conversations you have, the programs you watch.
In your talks, you talk about the need not to run away from suffering. What exactly do you mean by that?
We run away from our suffering because we don’t have enough strength to confront it. Someone who is strong is able to face adversity and challenges in a healthy way. It’s like martial arts: if you train and continue practicing, you are not afraid. To gain strength, you need to nurture your ability to enjoy life, your attention, gratitude for what you have… with all of this, you build clarity and strength. This doesn’t mean you don’t suffer pain, but that you don’t run away: you don’t turn on the TV, pick up a book, go to the movies, eat junk food, or take drugs to avoid avoiding your suffering.
Escaping isn’t possible; it never works. Sooner or later, it will haunt you. Perhaps at night, when you can’t sleep. Every suffering you have overcome will give you wisdom, knowledge, and compassion for another person. In fact, you don’t want to be free of all suffering, because part of it helps you understand humanity.
Is that what you intend from here?
For me, it’s enough that I’m able to help just one person be happier. When I die, I won’t die bitter. I won’t contribute to spreading fear and bitterness in this world. This isn’t Buddhism, it’s humanism: let’s put aside the religious issue, the monastery. Humans suffer; they want to be happy… that’s all it is.