Happiness is here and now
Letting go of my cynicism and believing in a better world
Contemplations
In which ways can you let go of your cynicism and allow yourself to believe a better world is possible?
What does a world living in great harmony look like? Feel like, to you?
***
It’s so easy to be disheartened and hardened by the world we live in. Oftentimes, I feel like I am drowning in headlines that are filled with mass shootings, anti-LBGTBQIA2S+ legislation, and rhetoric that’s so divisive, that anger and fear overtake my consciousness. Or whatever the Supreme Court is overturning these days it’s hard to keep track
But when I go to places like Blue Cliff Monastery, I am hopeful that there can be another way. I used to say after retreats that I was heading back to reality, but I’ve recently started saying “I am going back to this reality” to not discount what I experienced elsewhere, to what might be possible.
Blue Cliff is tucked away in the forest on a long, winding road in the Catskills about 90 minutes outside of the city. It is one of Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh’s (lovingly referred to as Thầy by his practitioners, which means teacher in Vietnamese) Plum Village campuses, a fully practicing and active Zen Buddhist monastery where the aim for regular ol’ lay folks like me is to be immersed in the energy of mindfulness, to be bathed in the dharma. Though not explicitly said, it is a place for you to open your heart — to yourself and the world.
This 5-day retreat was my first solo in-person retreat since I studied devotional practices (Bhakti) in Rishikesh, India — almost five years ago. Leading up to the retreat, I was nervous, anxious even, about what would come up while I was alone with my thoughts. I have been to several retreats, online and in person, since India but it has always been with someone (friends or my wife Jess) or I was teaching. This was the first time in what feels like lifetimes that I took out time for my practice, myself. I went not only for reprieve, but to deepen my practice and to renew my vows to commit to living the Bodhisattva path.
Having co-taught at other retreats, I am so impressed by the thoughtfulness of the planning and organizing from the monastics. The first day was simply for folks to arrive, not just at the location, but in our bodies and minds. The following four days we engaged in a welcoming and also disciplined schedule of:
5:30A Wake-Up
6A: 30 Minute meditation
8A: Silent breakfast
9:15A: Working meditation / Sangha service
11A: Dharma Talk
12:30P: Lunch with the 5 Contemplations
2P: Deep relaxation
3:30P: Dharma sharing
6P: Dinner
7:30P: Group activity
9:30P: Noble Silence
10P: Lights Out
When you arrive at Blue Cliff, it can often feel like a foreign country. Monks and nuns, dressed in brown and golden robes wander and walk mindfully across the campus, emitting peace, ease and joy despite occupying humble living quarters and aging wooden buildings. Deers come up with no fear, happily eating apples and homemade baguettes out of the palm of the monastics’ hands. A deep resonate bell rings every 15 minutes to remind you to come back to your breath and the present moment. An abundance of flowers bloom all around you in bright white and shades of pink, sweetening the air with every step you take. It’s easy to wonder if it’s all a facade, to look for cracks, to not want to believe that it is possible for humans to co-exist in such a kind and gracious way.
In the dining hall, there is a piece of original calligraphy from Thầy that says “the aim is to create a community in harmony.” I stared at this every day while I ate in silence, surrounded by strangers, mindfully chewing every bite at least 20 times — as was advised — to be kind to my body and digestive system. In my dharma family group, which was a small group of folks I was paired with to reflect on the dharma (Buddhist teachings), a monk, from a different lineage, from South Korea shared how he admired how well the monks and nuns got along with each other — putting the teachings above their egos.
On day three, the monastics had planned a beautiful hike for us to Sam’s Point — a gorgeous peak in Minnewaska State Park. But it was pouring all morning till the afternoon when we were all supposed to make the trek to the mountain. I had heard other practitioners and monastics talk about how beautiful and perfect the weather was last year, how you could see the sun setting over the entire Hudson Valley from this one vantage point. As the afternoon came upon us, the rain cleared but the fog remained. The monastics still pushed forward with a certain amount of fearlessness and drive that stemmed from a deep desire for all of us to have a memorable experience. I hopped in the backseat of one of the carpools driving to Minnewaska and watched as we swerved in and out of the endless fog, moving at a snail’s pace to ensure our safety, driving through and towards what felt like emptiness. Once we arrived, we continued to walk through the fog, up large boulder-sized steps and finally arrived at the top.
I excitedly walked to the edge but could only see a few feet ahead of me. Pine trees peeked through mist thick enough that left the tops of my arms damp and cool. Sounds of a flute started to make its way to me through the fog. Unsure of who or where it was playing from, I turned around to see the almost 150 people who had made the same journey to the top of the mountain to see nothing but haze. We all peacefully and joyfully ate our vegetarian bánh mì while we looked into the unknown, wondering what the future would reveal. In that moment, I realized that wasn’t the point — neither was the view — it was the deep sense of knowing that we persevered, despite the unfavorable conditions working against us. We had made it, and the faith that we could make it together and just simply be with that was worth celebrating. It was a reminder to me of how powerful sangha, community, can be if you find the right one.
As someone who has witnessed abuse first-hand in spiritual communities and have heard horror stories of many others, along with watching one too many cult documentaries, I have been trepidatious of leaning into new communities now that I have seen the seedy truth underneath the veil of ignorance, ripped away during the pandemic. Even still this is not my first time at a Plum Village retreat. I was amazed before — on zoom — at how the monastics and community embody the practice. Often there is a gap, sometimes wider than others, between the teachings and how the community actually practices it. Or in many cases, doesn’t.
As we moved through the week, I felt my skepticism — and cynicism — start to dissolve, realizing that the monastics were in fact kind, gentle; that the singing wasn’t corny but in fact healing; that we could sit, walk and eat in silence; that we could touch the ultimate — nirvana — in the present moment, if we allowed ourselves to. It wasn’t something that we had to work for, or earn, or would take many lifetimes to get to. It is right here, right now. It is the deep understanding that great harmony is possible —in ourselves and with each other.
As I sat and watched all the dharma families share a group performance at the Be-In (the monastery’s take on a talent show), I started crying. Overwhelmed by the fact that objectively most of us did not care that our performances were mediocre at best but instead we relished in the joy of community, of expressing from the heart. That was inspiring. All the pretenses of society we have to navigate and manage in every day life seemed to have faded away. We were just there. Fully present. In the fullest expression of ourselves.
Happiness is here and now
I have dropped my worries
Nowhere to go, nothing to do
No longer in a hurry.
Happiness is here and now
I have dropped my worries
Somewhere to go, something to do
But I don’t need to hurry.
~ Thich Nhat Hanh
(To listen to the practice song, go here.)
A dharma family sang this practice song (originally a poem by Thầy) with such earnest that it broke down any remaining walls that were still guarding my tender heart. As I looked around the room, everyone swayed and sang along, smiling. I let go of my resistance, my skepticism, my cynicism and allowed myself to see that this place was real, the sangha was real, the teachings were alive — and that a world that I wanted to live in wasn’t just possible, it existed. And I was in it right in that moment.
I started to sing along, tears streaming down my face, not only understanding the meaning behind the words, but also feeling it. In my body. In my breath.
And I started to believe in the possibility of a better world a little more than I did before.
***
Contemplations
In which ways can you let go of your cynicism and allow yourself to believe a better world is possible?
What does a world living in great harmony look like? Feel like, to you?
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I love this. I love you. I love that foggy photo. I love this reminder that happiness is here and now.