Rooted in Resilience

Rooted in Resilience
Brother Nhất Ấn shares how his life
in Plum Village practice centers and
following monastic practice can
clarify the path to healing,
both personally and globally.
Escondido Rock photos courtesy of the Deer Park monastic Sangha

At twenty-one years old I came into the monastery, leaving behind a life marked by anxiety and
depression. I had dropped out of college because
I was drowning. Waves of pain, sorrow, and hopelessness kept pulling me under, and I couldn’t find
my way out. The weight of climate change, ethical
concerns about career choices, economic
uncertainty, conflict and violence, widespread
environmental destruction, and the plethora of
suffering in the world was constantly overwhelming me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it all.
Questions about how to engage with the
world without running away were always on my
mind. Could I help without feeling trapped by the
suffering around me? I felt powerless. The sky
felt perpetually gray and the grass was no longer
green. The beauty of the world had faded. I had
lost my longing for life.
Lost in a cycle of overthinking and worrying
about the future, I had forgotten my body. It became weak, thin, and fragile. Some days, I seldom
ate and lost the physical and mental strength to
get out of bed. I had lost all faith in society. It felt
like the world didn’t care. The desire to blame
someone was strong. I believed that if people just
opened their eyes, we could solve these problems
quite easily. I was naïve.
It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom that I realized I
needed help. I was afraid of my own mind. I knew
a part of me still wanted to live, but I didn’t know
how. I wanted to help others, but every effort felt
pointless. The challenges were too big, and I felt
too small. Out of despair, I had admitted myself to
a psychiatric hospital at nineteen years old.
That’s when I learned something that changed
everything. I had to take care of myself first. I had
let fear and despair take over my life. My psychiatrist gave me a simple yet profound suggestion:
walk, pay attention to my breath, and reconnect
with my body. He said, “You don’t know how to
be happy. A dog can see anyone, eat anything,
and be joyful. You are not a dog.” That became my
mantra in a way. How could I go out into the world,
no matter what was happening, and find joy and
happiness? That was my task.
I began to understand that if I wanted to help
end suffering in the world, I first needed to find
peace within myself. How could I fight greed, ignorance, and intolerance in society if I couldn’t
subdue them in my own mind? The battles inside
and outside are connected. If I wanted real change,
I had to confront my suffering, my feelings that I
had stuffed down since I was a little boy. The emotions that I never learned to tame, to befriend, to
listen to. If I didn’t learn to do this, my efforts would
crumble under the weight of power, fame, sex, and
greed, just as it happened to so many others.
Slowly I learned to be again. Lightness found
its way back into my steps and with it came a firm
determination to help others. But above all else, I
How could I go out into
the world, no matter what
was happening, and find
joy and happiness?

learned to help myself, to prioritize my well-being.
I knew my situation wasn’t unique and I knew I
couldn’t navigate this path alone. It was necessary
to find a community of people who understood
this suffering, who had felt it and were committed
to finding peace. That’s how the monastic path
and Deer Park Monastery came into my life.
Just discovering the existence of the monastic
path brought hope and light to guide me forward.
The walls of my despair and anxiety began to
crumble. The unendurable pain and mental anguish I felt softened up until their grip was gone.
There were times when it seemed like these feelings would last forever, that my depression could
never get better. But in time I learned about the
nature of impermanence. Our happiness and joy,
as well as our sorrow and despair, are not eternal. I
was taught that if we want to be happy, we have to
cultivate happiness every day, in every moment of
our lives. The monastic path, it seemed, was a life
dedicated to that practice.
After the pandemic travel restrictions were
lifted, I spent a ninety-day retreat at Deer Park.
It was a profound opportunity for self-discovery.
I began to see clearly my shortcomings, my
strengths, my areas of focus, and some blind spots
I had overlooked for so long. Being in a community
of like-minded spiritual practitioners was something I had never experienced before. The intensity
of the monastery setting created the conditions for
me to start unraveling the knots that had bound
my mind for years. I was eager to continue this
practice, so I pursued novice ordination.
The monastic path has served not only as
my source of inspiration but also the means to
produce meaningful action in response to the
suffering in the world. I have felt that the spiritual
path of Buddhism, and within it the practice of
monasticism, is the direct antidote to the poisons
of ignorance, greed, and hatred that fuel the struggles of humanity and society.
I began to discover that the world’s problems
stem from our inability to face our internal suffering. We pass our pain to others through our actions,
thoughts, and words. I had seen this firsthand in
my relationship with my father. As a teenager, I
resented his anger and swore I would never be like
him. But through the practice of looking deeply, I
realized that I am my father. His anger lived within
me. It was passed down from many generations
before, from our ancestors. I was blind to his suffering and the hurts that weren’t really his but were
passed down from generation to generation, just
as so many other traits were. There is still a hurt
child in him that I had to acknowledge and befriend. One evening during sitting meditation, an
image of my father and me as children appeared
in my mind. I reached out my arms and gave him
a hug as tears rolled down my face. I am forever
grateful to my father now and for everything he has
How could I fight greed,
ignorance, and intolerance
in society if I couldn’t
subdue them in my
own mind?

given me. I inherited his smile, his hardworking
spirit, his playfulness, and his love for others. I vow
to transform our unwholesome qualities not only
for myself but for us.
If there is generational trauma, there must
also be generational healing. When I heal, my family heals—my direct family, my ancestors, and my
spiritual relatives. This is the nature of interbeing.
We are interconnected, not separate from anyone
or anything, even if at times we feel at odds.
We inter-are not just with our own families,
but with all phenomena. The suffering of starving
children, war-torn nations, drought-stricken farmlands, and bulldozed rainforests is all part of us. So
are the cool breeze, the gentle rain, and the white
clouds. Without them, we might not live, because
they each play a part in our daily life. Politicians,
military generals, and CEOs are human beings,
their lives shaped by causes and conditions, just
like us. If the seeds of suffering are watered within
us, we too can become like them. Though the effects of their suffering may be magnified by their
roles in society, at its core it is the same suffering
we all endure: loneliness, anxiety, fear, and despair, which give rise to craving, hatred, ignorance,
greed, violence, arrogance, and fanaticism.
Too often, we don’t know how to care for our
own suffering. We are prone to react. We want to
prove our strength, so we don’t become victims.
But our real strength comes when we stop, pay
T R A I NI NG S : TR UE H AP P I N E SS
Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice,
stealing, and oppression, I am committed to practicing generosity in my thinking, speaking, and acting. I am determined
not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to
others; and I will share my time, energy, and material resources
with those who are in need. I will practice looking deeply to see
that the happiness and suffering of others are not separate
from my own happiness and suffering; that true happiness is
not possible without understanding and compassion; and that
running after wealth, fame, power and sensual pleasures can
bring much suffering and despair. I am aware that happiness
depends on my mental attitude and not on external conditions,
and that I can live happily in the present moment simply by remembering that I already have more than enough conditions
to be happy. I am committed to practicing Right Livelihood so
that I can help reduce the suffering of living beings on Earth and
stop contributing to climate change.

attention to what’s happening inside, and transform our pain instead of passing it on. If we don’t,
we become the oppressor, even if we feel like the
victim. And of course, we need support. We need
communities where we can come together to share
our problems and our suffering, and to receive and
share support, guidance, and space.
When I found The Five Mindfulness Trainings
given to us by Thầy, they gave me clear, concrete
guidelines while still acknowledging the suffering
that existed in myself and in the world. I began
to feel that this was a path I could follow, as The
Five Mindfulness Trainings were not rigid rules but
guiding principles. They acted like a compass,
pointing me in the right direction. The Second
Training, True Happiness, in particular struck me
because it dealt with the exact circumstances
that brought me to the practice. It is a reminder
for me that happiness is the path itself, not the
destination. That the suffering in the world can
only be soothed, embraced, and transformed
step by step, breath by breath. Living as a spiritual
practitioner and a monk has shown me that the
suffering in the world and the suffering we carry
within us personally are not separate from each
other.
In Buddhism, there is a teaching called the Six
Pāramitās, or Six Perfections. If we wish to journey
from the land of sorrow and despair to the land
of joy and happiness, we must put forth effort
every day to get there. We can’t just go online,
buy a plane ticket, and arrive there. This effort is
the practice of these Pāramitās. I want to focus on
the third Pāramitā, which has been of great importance in my life, called Kshanti Pāramitā, which can
mean inclusiveness, the ability to receive, accept,
embrace, and transform the pain inflicted upon us.
Each of us has a certain capacity to endure
injustice, but if we are forced to bear more than
we can handle, we may break. Whether we suffer
depends on our capacity to understand and accept. Some people can hear the same harsh words
or face the same mistreatment we do, yet remain
unaffected. Their hearts are vast like an ocean, capable of receiving and embracing without anger or
frustration. This is why the practice of expanding
our ability to embrace and include is so important.
Through practice and training, the capacity of our
heart will grow, and we can suffer much less. There
are still moments in the monastery when suffering
arises. Even as I write this article, I notice the seeds
of depression and despair within me coming up,
echoes of a struggle I continue to navigate. I am
still learning to fully understand and accept myself, to make peace with my past, and to approach
my mind without fear. I am aware that certain
triggers can still stir up deep sadness, but part of
my practice is learning to accept my mind exactly
as it is, without judgment. I’ve come to realize that
trying to repress or push away my suffering only
The intensity of the
monastery setting
created the conditions
for me to start unraveling
the knots that had bound
my mind for years.
If there is
generational trauma,
there must also be
generational healing.

calligraphy by Thích Nhất Hạnh

intensifies it. Now, I understand that healing begins with embracing my pain, not avoiding it.
Kshanti can be easily misunderstood or
mispracticed as running away from the world,
becoming numb or complacent. Although it
wasn’t intentional on my part, I adopted those
unwholesome habits in the past to avoid being
constantly overwhelmed. To develop this capacity,
we must be able to look directly at the world, see
it for what it is, and understand its true nature. If
we have this capacity, we can smile and remain at
peace instead of reacting when we are faced with
adversity. We call someone with these qualities a
bodhisattva or an awakened person. They are not
driven by their own benefit or gain, but live with a
deep commitment to help relieve the suffering in
themselves and in the world by bringing harmony
and improving the well-being of others.
Although these teachings are called perfections, we should remember that human beings
are inherently imperfect, and the trap of unhealthy
and unnecessary self-criticism is easy to fall into.
I’ve experienced this firsthand, as many in the
world are often raised with the expectation to
excel constantly, both from family and societal
pressures. I grew up feeling like I always had to be
at the top; failure or ineptitude simply wasn’t an
option. But this relentless pursuit of perfection can
lead to burnout, causing us to inevitably tumble
from the tower of hubris we’ve constructed over a
lifetime. My previous notions of success were just
ideas fed to me, but I didn’t really want them for
myself. I was just constantly trying to prove that I
was enough. I didn’t feel I was worthy of love, kindness, rest, or relaxation. I didn’t know how to give
myself that approval. If we don’t have the ability to
cultivate self-compassion, we easily risk succumbing to feelings of inadequacy.
Just as with the practice of cultivating happiness, compassion is not a destination; it is the
path itself. With every action of body, speech, and
mind, we must learn to love, understand, and care
for ourselves. As we do, this energy will naturally
grow within us. Only when we have nurtured
compassion for ourselves can we truly extend it to
others. For much of my life, I didn’t know how to
be compassionate toward myself, and no one had
taught me its importance. But now, I’ve learned to
be that teacher for myself, to be the adult I once
needed, the guide I had been searching for. Once I
was able to generate compassion within, finding a
way forward became much clearer.
Now, as I celebrate my second year as a monk,
I see that the questions that weighed on me—such
as how to engage with the world’s suffering, and
how to find meaning in the face of overwhelming
despair—are the same questions I still hold today.
But there is a stark difference now. Whereas before
Through practice and
training, the capacity of
our heart will grow,
and we can suffer
much less.

I felt powerless, overwhelmed by the enormity of
the world’s pain, I now understand that meaningful change begins inward. Monastic life has shown
me that the path to healing, both personally and
globally, is not about grand gestures or solving
everything at once, it’s about cultivating peace
in each moment of our daily lives, in each breath
and each step. The problems I once feared haven’t
disappeared, but I’m beginning to understand that
true happiness doesn’t depend on external conditions. Ultimately, the monastic path is not a retreat
from the world but a powerful call to engage with
it more deeply. It reminds us that through inner
work, we inspire meaningful change in our communities and beyond. As one of Thầy’s famous
calligraphies reads: “Peace in oneself, peace in the
world.” By tending to our own suffering, we begin
to heal the suffering around us. And as we heal,
we become more capable of helping others do the
same.
Slowly, I see myself becoming like a wellrooted tree, unshaken by heavy rain or strong
winds. Though I may sway under pressure, storms
will pass and the sun always rises. The work is
never finished, but the path is clear. With every
breath and in every step, I remember that healing
the world starts with healing myself.
Brother Nhất Ấn (Brother Seal or Brother Mudrā) resides
at Deer Park Monastery, California, US, where he was
ordained in 2022 as part of the Manzanita Family. He
grew up in Montreal, Canada and became drawn to the
practice at age nineteen. He enjoys spending his time
doing photography, gardening, and fixing broken things.