A good teacher, leader, parent, or mentor is someone who is attentive to the kind of guidance their student, team, child, or mentee needs. Our teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh (or Thay), was very mindful in understanding his students; he was able to see each student differently and recognize what kind of medicine they needed. Positive affirmations were very good for some novice monks because they lifted their confidence. But for others, this same approach could lead to excessive pride or arrogance, which would cause suffering. In those situations, Thay had to dish out the verbal equivalent of the “Zen stick,” the thwack with the wooden rod traditionally used during meditation to bring alertness back to a monk suffering from a lapse in concentration.

When Thay offered this kind of very direct teaching, it could sometimes sound quite harsh. But as one of Thay’s attendants, I was able to bear witness to more than a handful of these “Zen stick” teachings offered to brothers, sisters, and even to myself. I was able to recognize that whatever form Thay’s teaching took, the foundation of it was always love and true understanding. Thay recognized the suffering in us, and his teachings were always an expression of his care. Even when Thay’s feedback was tough, his intention was to help us grow, to see our shortcomings. I knew that Thay’s ability to teach like this came from his own experience of moving through and learning from many tough situations.

Like Thay’s more direct teachings, not all love is sweet on the surface.

In Vietnam, there’s a saying that if you love someone, sometimes you have to give them bitter soup. Like Thay’s more direct teachings, not all love is sweet on the surface. At the same time, when we’re offering a difficult lesson, we have to be very skillful in our speech and aware of differences. The foundation of our sharing must be one of understanding and love. Whenever Thay gave someone instructions, I saw that he first prepared himself by listening deeply and understanding the situation before offering loving speech.

Loving speech doesn’t mean just listing off compliments. There is a way to share about a friend’s shortcomings in a loving way so that it can be enlightening to them; we help them to see their mud, but we don’t do it from a place of judgment or condescension. Criticizing and complaining are certainly easy habits to fall into in relationships, but they can be destructive. If the other person only hears complaints from us like, “You failed,” “You have a problem,” “Why do you behave like that?” or “You let me down,” they may drown in despair. Particularly if we are in a position of power as a teacher, leader, parent, or mentor, we have to be very mindful of how we speak and act because of the role we represent in the minds of others, the influence we might have over their emotional well-being.

If we are not used to giving bitter soup, we may like to practice with small steps. Loving speech can come in the form of gently helping someone to be aware of something that’s upsetting you, something that they’re doing unconsciously. To take a small example, we train in Plum Village to be mindful even of ordinary everyday actions such as opening and closing the door when others are meditating. When people first arrive and are still getting used to monastery life, they may not realize how much noise they make when entering or leaving the meditation hall. “My dear friend,” I sometimes have to say, “when you open the door in that way, you disturb all of us. Can you be more mindful, more gentle? Please be aware that many of us are already in sitting meditation.” There’s always a tender way to say something very directly and with kindness, allowing the other person to receive your request and act on it. In the end, it’s always kinder to them and to yourself to ask for the change you’d like to see happen.

There’s always a tender way to say something very directly and with kindness, allowing the other person to receive your request and act on it.

Kindness can be very straightforward. When somebody sees a fault or a weakness in me and they don’t tell me directly, or they beat around the bush and make me guess what they’re trying to say, that feels unkind. It can feel like they see something unwholesome in me, but they don’t yet have the courage to say what it is. I would rather have some bitter melon soup.

As someone who is frequently offering and receiving guidance, I like to reflect: How can I best offer feedback to others in a straightforward way? And how can I practice equanimity with feedback that I myself receive?

♦

From Being with Busyness: Zen Ways to Transform Overwhelm and Burnout by Brother Phap Huu and Jo Confino, courtesy of Parallax Press, parallax.org.