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Actions That Bring Peace

The war in Ukraine is very much on my mind. It seems that one of the important topics is how our Buddhist practice relates to international events that have such a big impact on all of us. Many of us are trying to figure out how to relate to it, how to live in a world that is unfolding in front of our eyes—a new world, a new era in human history that people will write about for centuries to come. We are living it. How do we live in this change, and how do we relate to it?

I want to begin by going back to the time of the Buddha. The Buddha was sometimes referred to as a teacher of action; the Pali word is kammavādin^[1]. Of all the different ways he could be represented—his stance, his approach—there were times when he was called a teacher of action. Why is that? What is so important about action that his teachings are associated with it? I would say that action is one of the core aspects of what the Buddha had to teach. To understand why action is so important is to understand the essence of Buddhist practice and how we practice it.

Given the war in Ukraine and this emphasis on action, I want to tell a little story from the 1950s that has circled around Western Dharma circles. It has to do with an early Western Dharma teacher named Paul Reps. He wrote the book Zen Flesh, Zen Bones—a collection, done in 1939, of wonderful little Zen stories that have been quite evocative for many people and probably introduced many to Zen in the 50s and 60s.

There are many versions of this story. I am sure it has some basis in truth, but exactly which version is accurate, I don't know. It has to do with Paul Reps going to the consulate in Japan in the 1950s, during the Korean War, to get a visa—apparently to be able to stay in Japan for another year. He was told that there were problems getting a visa. He had to either wait a long time, or it could be that he couldn't get one at all because of the Korean War; that was a difficult time for East Asia.

He was given the application but told he wasn't going to hear back anytime soon—it would be months. But he needed the visa. So he filled out the application while sitting in the waiting room. He apparently had a thermos with him and had some green tea. Then he handed back the application, but with a note on it. The note said: "Drinking a cup of green tea, I stopped the war." It was a haiku. He knew Japanese, he wrote in Japanese, and haikus mean a lot in Japan. He handed the application back for the visa with that poem. The person looked at it and said, "Okay, come back tomorrow." The next day, he got the visa.

I've heard this little saying quoted recently, with people saying, "Drinking this cup of tea, I stopped the war." Do you really stop the war by drinking a cup of tea? Isn't this ridiculous to say? Isn't it somehow diminishing the horror of what's happening, while in the comfort of your own life, drinking a nice cup of tea and saying that you stopped the war? How could that be? What is going on? Partly, this talk will be an exploration of this very topic.

Action has to do with what we do with our bodies—the activities of our bodies—and the activities of speech, what we say. Also, in Buddhism, it's what we think. All these are consequential. They have meaning, and they can be done in different ways. We can act in ways that are stressful, and we can act in ways that are peaceful, non-stressful, and calm. We can act in ways that express anger, hostility, or greed, and we can act in ways that express our generosity, our love, and our care. This can be done as the medium or the way in which we do things. Through practice, we learn to pay attention to how we do things.

Take something as simple as sweeping the kitchen floor. If it's one more thing in a long list of things that have to be done for the day—one more thing that interferes with being anxious about tomorrow—sweeping the kitchen floor might seem like something to just get over quickly. You grab the broom really tight, speed through it, don't worry about the corners because no one sees them anyway, and just get it over with.

When it's over, if you paid attention, you might notice that it was actually kind of tiring. It was a little bit stressful to do because of the tension, the hurry, and the feeling of "one more thing." But you might not notice that it was stressful because you have another thing to do, and you're already on to the next thing, or four things later. You're so distracted by your distractions that you don't notice the impact of how you do things.

But if you start being mindful, you might discover that there are different ways of sweeping the kitchen floor. You might do it in a way that's stressful, that continues the stress of the day. There might be resistance or resentment: "Why do I have to clean the floor?" And resentment is stressful. There might be a conceit: "Look at me! I hope everyone notices that I'm the best kitchen floor sweeper in the world, and they better know it." You might figure out ways to broadcast it on YouTube so people can see how good you are. All these strategies are themselves stressful.

Or, you could just sweep the floor in a simple, direct, peaceful way, so that the only thing you're really doing at that moment is physically sweeping the floor, engaged in it wholeheartedly. Your thoughts are organized in harmony, actually involved with sweeping, as opposed to being someplace else. You start to gather yourself around the sweeping, and you discover that there are ways of doing it—gripping the broom, your posture, the speed at which you do it—that feel lovely, harmonious, and peaceful.

There are also ways to do it that add a little stress. Maybe there's resistance. As you get close to the corners, you can feel this pulling back, negotiating, and bargaining: "Okay, I don't have to do everything." It just doesn't feel peaceful. But as we notice the impact of how we do things on ourselves, we might learn there is a peaceful way of doing it. At the end of doing it, we actually feel more settled, more calm, and more present than we were before. It feels good. We learn that how we do things—not just what we do, but how we do things—is actually consequential.

When people hear that Buddhism is about action, some get exhausted. "One more thing to do! Give me a break. I thought Buddhism was about just being. I just sit down to meditate, and finally, I don't have to be racing around doing things. Buddhism gives me permission just to be."

But that's not really what Buddhism is about at its heart. It's closer to this idea of learning how to do things. In the doing, we enter a kind of harmony, peacefulness, non-conflict, or non-stressfulness. The very doing is nourishing and supportive. It creates a beautiful internal environment physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's about how we do things.

How do we learn this? For me, one of the primary ways of learning this has been through meditation. It looks like you're doing nothing, sitting there still, but sitting in a good meditative posture is a kind of doing. It is an activity; it's an action in itself. Being present and being mindful is an activity of the mind. We are acting as we start paying attention, noticing how we are and what happens to us as we meditate.

As we get more settled and calm, we see more. It isn't just about becoming calm. What's more important than becoming calm is beginning to discover and track the different ways we are in meditation. We notice when we are calm and when we are agitated, or where we are on that spectrum. We begin feeling that being agitated is stressful; being calm is better.

Maybe by accident, you find yourself calm in meditation one day. You're very familiar with the agitation that comes out of thinking about certain things. You start noticing yourself thinking about those things and leaving the calm. As the practice matures, you get to a situation where you see that transition happening, and you're able to say, "No thank you." You see that you're better off being calm than being agitated and stressing out. It is clearly better that way.

Mindfulness is staying in the present moment with present-moment experience. We start seeing that the mind leaves to think about something else—maybe something really important, like the war in Ukraine, from your meditation spot in California. You can feel as you do that, that you're getting angry. Then you ask yourself, "Am I better off being angry, or am I better off being mindfully present with what's happening here? Where am I taking up residency? Am I taking up residency in the anger, or in my peaceful state of mindfulness?" At some point, we discover that mindfulness, presence, peacefulness, and calm are the best alternatives going.

If someone asked me, "When should I be mindful?" I would respond, "When it's the best alternative available." How do you know? As people's mindfulness gets stronger, it's really clear that staying mindful is the better alternative to any state of being non-mindful. The tendency when not mindful is to enter a stressful state. Being distracted, caught up in thoughts, and preoccupied is not a healthy state to be in.

We start seeing that we have mental actions we have some choice over. We have a choice about whether to stay with the action of being mindful, or going along with the actions of being stressful, agitated, worried, anxious, angry, greedy, or wanting. It's fascinating to watch the impact different states of mind and trains of thought have on us. We see and feel it physically, emotionally, psychologically, and mentally.

Some activities of the mind are clearly not beneficial for us; they may be stressful or even harmful. They perpetuate harmful habits of being. There are other ways that are clearly beneficial, bringing a sense of harmony, peacefulness, and settledness that helps us connect to the best parts of who we are.

But then the "lawyers of the mind" come into play.

One of the lawyers will say, "You're not being responsible for the world situation unless you get angry." Or, "How can you take care of yourself without being greedy for the next thing? You're supposed to want things! That's what all the advertisements have been telling us." They say you deserve it, so you're supposed to go after it.

Some of us will have very strong ideas and beliefs that we're supposed to be—or it's good to be—angry, anxious, greedy, or conceited about what we do. "I deserve it. Of course I'm supposed to be the best kitchen sweeper on my block, and I make sure people know that, because if they don't, how will I get my just deserts? People need to know how important I am." We have to contend with these lawyers and beliefs.

These beliefs, which are subtle and sometimes subconscious, can become known. It's possible to recognize the impact just having these beliefs has on us. Chances are, those beliefs are not just floating peacefully like a gentle cloud in an empty sky, coming and going with no problem. They come with a force. They come with a grip and an insistence that is stressful.

If we have some choice about the actions we engage in, do we have a choice about whether to go along with those beliefs? Do we allow them to take over, influence us, and participate in them? Or do we have the choice to be mindful of their happening? We can look and say, "Wow, there's a belief. It's just another cloud. It's a dark one, but it's just a belief. I'm mindful of believing."

Then we see what the impact of that mindfulness is, learning how to be mindful so the mindfulness itself doesn't add to the stress. The mindfulness itself adds to a peacefulness, something that feels nourishing and pleasant. Sometimes the Buddhist tradition talks about states of mind that are beautiful; it creates beauty inside. But isn't that self-indulgent?

Well, the alternative is worse. The alternative is being caught up, preoccupied, and listening to the lawyers that say you have to be anxious, upset, and angry, or that you have to let people know how right you are. Why sacrifice your peace? Why sacrifice the best alternative available?

As we sit and meditate, one of the advantages is that we start learning to have a reference point for a healthier way of being in the world. At some point, we realize it's the best alternative going. Why diminish and undermine yourself with old habits? It is a navigation and negotiation for many people to discover that it's okay to have an inner life that's peaceful.

Sometimes our society doesn't appreciate it. You're supposed to be worried: "If you're not worrying, you don't love me." You're supposed to be angry: "If you're not angry, then you're not really concerned with justice." The more angry you are, the more you're proving yourself interested in justice in the world. The more angry you are about what's going on, the more you're showing that you believe the right things or are doing the right things. There are all these reasons why people feel they are supposed to be angry, or that it is not okay to be peaceful and present.

But as we start learning this new reference point through meditation or mindfulness, that new reference point becomes a teacher for us. It shows us what is healthy to do and what is not healthy to do. In Buddhism, we keep choosing the healthy alternative.

Four Kinds of Action

The Buddha's teachings on action are sometimes encapsulated in four kinds of action. Everything can fit into these four categories, which makes action simple. It has more to do with how you do things than what you do, though it can be what you do, too. In my own version, they are summarized in four words: to prevent, to stop, to start, and to protect.

The first is prevention. An ounce of prevention is better than anything else. Live a life that sets up the conditions to avoid getting caught up in states of mind, habits, thoughts, and activities that are unhealthy or detrimental to you. As we establish a stronger reference point of peace within, we develop a more subtle understanding of how to prevent. If we are living stressfully, it's very easy to not pay enough attention and have old habits take over. One way to prevent getting lost in unhealthy states of mind and activities is to stay calm. Don't allow yourself to get stressed out. It's easier said than done, but that's what we're trying to do here.

Maybe there are things you should avoid doing entirely. Maybe you should avoid drinking alcohol. It seems innocent enough—"I can do it, no problems"—but it turns out that whenever you drink alcohol, the next day you're not quite up to your usual, full self in a good way. You tend to say things you later regret because you get more casual or tired. There are a lot of things we can pay attention to. What can we do to make it less likely we succumb to some of these unhealthy tendencies?

For example, one of the great preventive activities for meditators is to meditate. The presence of mind, the attention, and the calm that comes from meditation sometimes have a lingering effect through the day. If you meditate in the morning, maybe you're less likely to get stressed out or caught in preoccupations. You're less likely to do something mindlessly, and you're in a frame of mind and heart where you're connected to what's best in you. Meditation is a preventative. Just like brushing your teeth every day, meditating every day is a good preventive mechanism for avoiding mental cavities.

So the first effort is to prevent yourself from getting involved with things that are unhealthy for you in body, speech, and mind.

The second is to stop. Learning to stop is fantastic. What it means is that if you find yourself doing something unhealthy, stop. If you have a train of thought that is not going anywhere useful—if it's actually going in a detrimental way—learn the healthy capacity to stop doing it, to avoid it, to drop it, to let go of it.

You might say, "But it's my mind! It's just what it's doing. It's repression if I stop it. It's not allowing things to be. I'm supposed to think that way, and I'm supposed to include all of who I am."

If you argue like that, I'd probably just get quiet. It would be like saying, "When I have a cut on my finger, I should still be able to do whatever I do. I should be able to put my hands into the compost pile and clean the sewer and not have to worry about putting a band-aid over it or keeping it clean or putting a glove on. That just seems like I'm being limited, and I want to just be myself fully." Okay, well, if you say that, let me know when your hand gets infected so I can take you to the emergency room. [Laughter]

Start learning how to stop, but do it in a peaceful way. The stopping itself is an activity. How do you do that activity so that it supports the best in you—so it supports harmony, beauty, peacefulness, and calm?

There is an expression, "whack-a-mole," that is sometimes applied to meditation. Every time a thought or a negative thought arises, you hit it over the head to knock it down. It's an angry, aggressive form of mindfulness. When I was a new meditator, I sometimes imagined I was playing a pinball machine—knocking that thought out of the way.

But how do you stop in a way that feels peaceful, not repressive, not angry, and not attacking? It's just a clear, "That's enough, no thank you. I don't have to do that anymore." Mindfulness—a clear recognition of what's happening—is a kind of stopping. It is a stopping because if your life energy goes into the mindfulness, it is no longer available to continue the trains of thought, ideas, and motivations that don't serve you.

The third effort is to start. There are things you can do that are healthy, beneficial, and supportive. You can start your mindfulness practice. You can start kindness. You can start generosity. You can start looking more closely at what's going on—to investigate. Sometimes you can start joy or start calmness. You can take a deep breath and relax your body. You can take a little walk, maybe just twenty paces, to get a little more settled, calm, and connected.

"Start" means to get involved and start doing the things you've learned are supportive and helpful. There, too, how you do it is important. If you're desperately holding on for dear life, maybe that's not the most conducive to getting the best out of it. If you're doing it in a greedy way—"I'm going to get these really good states of mind so I can be the best meditator on my block and let everyone know"—or if you're doing it as a form of aversion or hostility—"I'm going to get rid of those bad states of mind by getting good states of mind"—those are all actions of the mind.

Always in Buddhism, we're looking at the actions of the mind, body, and speech. We're looking at those actions and evaluating them: "Is the way that I do anything—the way that I respond to anything happening in the moment—beneficial or not beneficial?"

The fourth one is to protect. Some things are worth protecting. Some states of mind, some ways of being, and some activities of mind are worth protecting. If, after a lifetime of being anxious, you are finally calm, settled, or at rest, maybe that is good to protect.

How do you protect it? Not by resistance or stressfully holding everything at bay, but by valuing it and taking time for it. Don't rush off to the next things so quickly that you forget about it. Protect what is good. Protect the beauty. All of you have tremendous potential for inner beauty. There is a treasure inside of you. As you get hints of it through practice, it is worth protecting.

Protecting it is another action. The question is, how do you do that action so that it is beneficial, healthy, and brings harmony? You protect it by preventing unhealthy ways of protecting, stopping unhealthy ways of protecting, initiating healthy ways of protecting, and protecting yourself while doing so. There is always a self-referencing back.

As practice deepens and matures, there is a stronger reference point of well-being, ease, peace, and happiness. That gives us a clearer understanding of how valuable these four efforts, these four actions, are: preventing, stopping, starting, and protecting.

Responding to the World

As we go along with this, when we encounter all the horrible and beautiful things that can happen in the world, that reference point is available. If we encounter the horrific war in Ukraine, why sacrifice your own inner well-being in relationship to the war? Why sacrifice your peace and your harmony so that you can be angry, distressed, or afraid?

In choosing to do those things—and we do choose, which is the challenge of Buddhism; we don't necessarily see the choice being made, but we choose—why choose these stressful ways of being? Why not stay with our peace? One of the reasons people choose to let go of their peace is that they feel they won't be able to be responsibly involved in making a difference in the world.

For those of us here in California, is your being angry or despairing going to help anything? When you're sitting quietly and you see that moving into despair is a choice—that it comes with beliefs evoking that despair—why give into it?

This teaching I'm giving here is most suitable for people who do something like mindfulness meditation. When you are able to settle, you see there is a choice. There is a reference point where you see that it's okay. In fact, not only is it okay, but the world needs people who know how not to give into despair, anger, fear, and greed. If there is going to be any chance for world peace, it has to come out of that.

World peace, the greatest and most wonderful goal, begins with each of you. I can't begin it for you. It can't begin anywhere else. If you want to do something for Ukraine, stop the war in your heart. Find peace. Be that way.

Does that mean you ignore what's happening in Ukraine? No. My trust is that if you find the healthy, peaceful freedom within, the heart will respond appropriately. There are many ways of responding: some local, some indirect, some direct. It all depends on our circumstances.

But Buddhism is about action. So how will you act? Don't be a couch potato; that's not a healthy action. How do you act so that the very responding feels nourishing and beneficial for you?

Maybe you change your lifestyle. I can imagine there's going to be a call for us to change our lifestyle because it would be highly beneficial for those of us in this country, and all over the world, to consume less gasoline. For all kinds of reasons, it would be beneficial. (Though this is a sacrilegious^[2] idea in the United States; it's a way of getting voted out of office if you say it! [Laughter]) But how do we change how we live in a way that contributes to the world rather than detracts from it? How do we do it so we feel nourished, inspired, and gladdened by the very doing? That's the art of this. We shouldn't feel diminished; we should actually feel enhanced, more beautiful, and happier.

How do we make a donation to Save the Children? Not because Gil is expecting it of us—that would be diminishing and undermine your motivation. Is there a motivation that comes out of a subtle, peaceful place that's inspired, that makes you sing? It's tragic and heartbreaking what's happening in Ukraine, but here is a beautiful activity that I can participate in. It feels good to do this.

My hope is that as we learn how to stop the war by drinking a cup of tea, sweeping the floor, or talking to our neighbors, we will set up the conditions so that when what we have to offer the world comes in front of us, we will act accordingly. When we understand the situation and what is needed, we will be people who contribute to a better world. Not just because we're peaceful, but because that peaceful place empowers action. It empowers engagement in a way that's appropriate for each of us, so that the engagement is beneficial and not harmful. It enhances us, rather than adding to our stress, burdens, and diminishing us.

The Buddha was a teacher of action. How do we act in such a way that the heart can live actively in this world, fully participating, while remaining at peace?

The heart of the heart is sweetly still, sweetly unagitated, and unmoving. Here is where Buddhism emphasizes not doing—the place where the heart is peacefully still and not doing, while we act, speak, and think in beneficial ways for ourselves and the whole world.

May this practice give us the inner reference point of peace, stillness, and non-agitation that allows the best of us to come forth into the world. May it be for our own benefit and the benefit of the whole world. May this practice help us be peacemakers for this world. Thank you.