Summary: In June 2000, I participated in the “trip of a lifetime.” Here are some thoughts about what I learned from being with the esteemed Monk and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, and about the deeper meaning of transformational leadership. Thay (which means teacher in Vietnamese) “became part of everything” when he transitioned at the age of 95 on January 22, 2022.
Memories From My Trip
He holds the small porcelain cup in both hands. He lifts it slowly, so very slowly, with both hands. I watch discreetly as he sips.
He sits cross-legged on the floor of the stainless-steel structure, which is the modern airport in Nanjing. Such a paradox of the shiny new airport sights and smells compared to the thick air, congested streets, and unfinished brick buildings that abound in the famous old city.
Above all, he smiles. He smiles as if to welcome everything in his view as he sips again.
Being a transformational leader means finding the core of what matters.
Most importantly, the Zen master models Zen: peel away the superfluous, stay with essence, say less, sense more.
Our plane is delayed. It will be late by several hours. He stands, rising in a smooth, graceful movement uncommon for most men in their elder years.
Consequently, someone in our large yet compact and relatively quiet group of almost 200 women and men from 16 different countries hands him a gift, a lychee plant.
He walks softly on the marble floor, as softly as he drinks his tea.
His dark eyes look deeply into mine as he says, in a gentle voice that sounds like a smile if a smile could talk, “Would you like a lychee fruit?” I return the smile, wanting to converse with my fellow traveler.
Transformational leaders communicate using fewer words with a clear intention.
I want to chat in my natural American trained style, to say a lot about a little. Instead, I become my most Zen self as I say less and sense more. “Thank you, Thay.” I say this quietly as I tug at the plant, trying to match his precision and release the fruit in one graceful motion.
He holds the plant steadily, as I tug again and yet again. I pull again as a small crowd surrounds us, wanting their turn. We are suspended in time; Thay, the lychee plant, and me. A final tug and the sweet fruit is mine to savor.
He walks slowly, stops, and offers the plant’s fruit to others. They bow, smile, tug, and bow again as they claim their bounty.
Oh, my gosh, I forgot to bow. A tingle of annoyance runs through my spine. “So what, who cares, enough bowing and politeness,” I say as if to defend myself.
Transformational leadership means riding the challenging waves of emotions and staying steady.
In addition, I wondered why I came on this intense, often uncomfortable three-week trip to China with a Buddhist monk.
In the same vein, I knew it would be both fantastic and challenging.
This trip was the first time the present communist regime permitted a Buddhist to share the teachings.
Thich Nhat Hanh, a world-renowned and highly respected monk, brought a small assemblage. My husband Herb Kaufman and I were in that lucky group.
Moreover, for me, it was to find a way to peel away the superfluous. The Western world provides so much stimulation, so much stuff. There are, in our western culture, so many advantages, so many choices.
On the other hand, looking deeply into the nature of what matters presents a challenge. The heart of the mind must peel away internal layers of memories and outdated ways of responding.
On this trip, the opportunities to create complex, dramatic stories abound. It would be so easy to complain about schedule changes, leaving too early, arriving too late, food too hot or too cold, plumbing that leaves one breathless, bus rides that seem to go on forever.
Leaders let go of what no longer works to build a better future.
Subsequently, there is loyalty to old ways of relating and thinking.
For example, I know how to rebel, to sow seeds of discontent; I learned early. By fourth grade, I questioned our teacher’s methods. I can feel the battle in my brain. The reptilian and the limbic areas want to stay in control; the neo-cortex waits patiently for the wars to abate.
Therefore, it is only with focus that the present moment comes alive.
All I know is that I have observed the determination for patterns, no matter how old-fashioned, how unpleasant, to want to remain.
Consequently, I breathe into the now, knowing I am breathing in; I breathe out, knowing I am breathing out. Then, I begin to chant one of the lovely Gattas, the small songs I have learned.
“I have arrived,
I am home,
In the here.
In the now,
I am solid,
I am free,
In the ultimate, I dwell.”
I think this to myself, and repeat the words as I sit on the bus, wanting to complain about the difficulties of this trip, feeling calmer as I stay with my breath. I see more.
Transformational leaders accept what is in front of them and make the most of each situation.
The burst of noise, like gunfire, makes me cringe. A tire has blown. We are on a narrow road well into the countryside. There is nowhere to pull over, so we coast for perhaps a quarter mile. The first shop, primitive by our standards yet still with what we need, is miraculously an auto repair shop. Within minutes, the tire is removed, and the spare is put on. It was the perfect scenario of synchronicity.
After that, we returned to the bus; the ride was still another four hours. It was the last full day of the trip. In this land of communist rule, with one-quarter of the world’s population, we were all attempting to make some sense and order out of the complexity of this nation. We sit quietly.
Thay has joined our bus for this last day. It was what I hoped would happen. He is not one to choose favorites; he tends to acknowledge everyone. He would rotate between buses throughout the three-week journey.
Most importantly, there is a request.
We are asked to share our impressions of the trip. It is my turn for the microphone. Microphones and cellphone communication between buses remind me that we are modern people also. I read a haiku. These short poems are the best way to distill the trip to its essence.
“MSG in me
Pollution as I breathe in
Buddha eyes see love.”
Thay turns to me and smiles. He has poured himself a cup of tea that he holds delicately in both hands.
Further, I read the haiku that encapsulated the essence of my journey.
“My love for drama
Flies away like birds go home
I am clearer now.”
After that, I turn toward the Zen master; I remember to bring my hands together and lower my head in a graceful bow. He nods the word “good.”
The depth of your inner journey determines the outcome of your outer journey.
I suddenly remember, as a kid, we would dig and dig in the sand, and we were told that if we dug far enough, we would reach China, on the other side of the world. For me, this outer journey to China and the inner journey to myself showed me how I have become more whole, as I see another side of who I am.
To sum it all up, whenever the desire for upset and drama enters my life, I often conjure up a memory from that trip and, in my mind’s eye, see the quiet, gentle man who drank tea slowly from a small cup and smiled into the world.
Sylvia Lafair
