What Made You Become a Monk?

Welcome to a new episode of The Way Out Is In: The Zen Art of Living, a podcast series mirroring Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh’s deep teachings of Buddhist philosophy: a simple yet profound methodology for dealing with our suffering, and for creating more happiness and joy in our lives.

This is the recording of our second live public event, which recently took place in London. Zen Buddhist monk Brother Phap Huu and leadership coach/journalist Jo Confino are joined on stage by special guest Ocean Vuong, Vietnamese American poet, essayist, and novelist.

Their conversation explores the themes of joy, togetherness, and cultivating courage in the face of hardship and suffering; the role of language, narrative, and technology in shaping modern experiences of suffering and joy; intergenerational trauma; and more.

All three share personal experiences and insights about finding meaning and community amidst individual and collective challenges. Ocean recollects the way that, growing up in a community impacted by the opioid crisis, Buddhism and the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh provided solace and a path to understanding suffering, while Brother Phap Huu reflects on his journey to become a Zen Buddhist monk, and the role of kindness, fearlessness, and vulnerability in his practice. 

The discussion culminates with a chant offered by Ocean as a message of hope and resilience in the face of adversity.

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Co-produced by the Plum Village App:
https://plumvillage.app/  

Plum Village UK
https://plumvillage.uk/

And Global Optimism:
https://globaloptimism.com/

With support from the Thich Nhat Hanh Foundation:
https://thichnhathanhfoundation.org/

Photo credit: Wayne Price

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List of resources

Ocean Vuong 
https://www.oceanvuong.com

Being with Busyness: Zen Ways to Transform Overwhelm and Burnout
https://www.parallax.org/product/being-with-busyness/  

Calm in the Storm: Zen Ways to Cultivate Stability in an Anxious World
https://www.parallax.org/product/calm-in-the-storm/ 

Interbeing
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interbeing 

W. S. Merwin
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._S._Merwin 

Harry Beecher Stowe
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Beecher_Stowe 

Tom Brokaw
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Brokaw

Duḥkha
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Du%E1%B8%A5kha 

Ford Model T
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ford_Model_T 

The Dhammapada
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dhammapada 

Anaphora
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaphora_(rhetoric) 

Schadenfreude
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schadenfreude 

‘Bright Morning Star’
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bright_Morning_Star 

‘The Five Earth Touchings’
https://plumvillage.org/key-practice-texts/the-five-earth-touchings 

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Quotes

“When drinking water, remember the source.”

“On the last day of the world / I would want to plant a tree / what for / not for the fruit […] / I want the tree that stands / in the earth for the first time / with the sun already / going down” – from ‘Place’ by W.S. Merwin. 

“Being a Vietnamese person in the diaspora, for many of us, the temple or the church or what have you is the place where we hear Vietnamese at the longest unbroken duration. Whereas someone native to Vietnam would hear it all the time. So, to this day, the Vietnamese language, to me, elicits this collective desire to heal and understand suffering. And it’s very specific to the immigrant. It’s what I call a third culture: there’s nothing like it in the homeland; there’s nothing like it in the assimilated American ethos. But there’s this special place that displacement and violence created.” 

“In Plum Village, when I first entered, I was 13 years old, and I touched a kind of kindness that I’d never touched before. And I asked myself whether I could be a kind person. I think I’m good; I think I’m going to have a career of offering smiles.” 

“I invite us, as a collective, to invoke this peace that we can bring in our hearts and into the world at this moment. Body, speech, and mind in perfect oneness. I send my heart along with the sound of this bell. May the hearers awaken from forgetfulness and transcend the path of anxiety and sorrow.”

“Just a smile can save someone’s life.”

“Technology was supposed to bring us together. This is the promise of the Enlightenment. But it’s interesting that all technological movements or renaissances are controlled by the wealthy and the elites. So what I’m interested in, as a writer, as a teacher, is that so much of our world is about material resources and narrative. And this is why I tell my students, ‘They shame you for being a poet, for being a writer: “Oh, you’re doing this liberal arts, naval-gazing, decadent thing, dreaming”’ – but the politicians and the elites are poets too. The greatest political speech is the anaphora. Walt Whitman used it as a catalog, but you hear it: ‘We will heal the working class, we will heal the great divide, I will solve, we will heal this country’s heart, we will heal the middle class.’ And that’s why the anaphora is so useful: because it doesn’t have to explain itself.” 

“All those in power are also poets. They’re manipulating meaning, but for votes, for profit, for power, towards fascism. And no wonder the system is designed to make you ashamed to be an artist. It’s so interesting, isn’t it, that, in the art world, we’re often asked to be humble, to be grateful for a seat at the table; to perform humility. And I think humility is good; as a Buddhist, I believe in it, but there is a discrepancy here: we never tell people on Wall Street to be humble. You never hear someone say, ‘You know what, we killed it last quarter, so let’s tone it down and be grateful that we have a seat at the economic table.’”

“Kindness is more difficult now than ever because I think kindness is something that is deeply dependent on our proximity to suffering. It’s harder for us to comprehend suffering, now. Schadenfreude is in our hands and it’s always easier to see. We’ve normalized suffering so much that we’ve been disassociated from it.” 

“We speak about inclusiveness and equanimity in Buddhism, but we’re not equal. Some of us are born in places where we have more privileges: in a particular race, in a particular situation, in a particular year. But what is equal is, as human beings, we’re all going to grow old, we’re all going to get sick, we’re all going to have to let go of what we think is permanent. And we’re going to learn to live deeply in the present moment.” 

“Sadness becomes not just a feeling, but knowledge. So think about sadness as knowledge, as potential, and that anger even has an aftermath. And you realize that the aftermath of anger is care.”

“The big trouble with masculinity is that we are not given the ability or the permission to feel and be vulnerable – but we are encouraged to have absolute agency. It’s incredible. It’s a perfect storm of violence: ‘Don’t feel, don’t interrogate, and don’t be vulnerable. But, meanwhile, go get ‘em, buddy.’”

“Under our greatest fear is our greatest strength.” 

“Camus says that writing itself is optimism, because it’s suffering shared. Even if you write about the darkest things, it is optimistic because someone else will recognize it. And recognition is a democratic ideal, because it means that one feeling could then be taken and collaborated with.” 

“It’s really hard to convince people to go to war, historically. You need a lot of text, you need a lot of airwaves, you need a lot of speeches to convince people to go to war – but it’s very easy to convince people to stop war. Very easy for people to stop armament. Difficult for folks who are in control to keep it up, but if you ask the general population, ‘Do you want peace?’, it’s quick. So that gives me a little hope.” 

“In fast food is a kind of sinister beauty, because it’s an industrialized promise of absolute replication of fulfillment – and yet it’s a kind of poison as well. It’s like the ultimate democratic ideal, sadly: we can’t have equality, income equality, or healthcare, but we can all eat McDonald’s French fries, and, whether you’re a billionaire or a houseless person, it will taste the same. Likewise with Coca-Cola, etc. In a way it’s the sinister capaciousness of the American dream: you can all feel the same thing while you’re all slowly dying.”