Who Is Talking To You?

Ten years ago, I was on a meditation retreat with Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh at his monastery in California. I remember listening to a question and answer session with his monks and nuns. I can't recall the questions or the answers. What left its imprint on my whole being was the sound of their voices as they humbly, articulately and slowly answered each question. I sat in that room and it struck me that it wasn't just one nun here or there who sounded angelic, but all of the ones I heard speak. It's the kind of voice you hear that you want to keep listening to. Their tone radiated a gentleness, kindness and clarity. It was without any force or ego. I can still hear them. In that moment of being there, I remember wanting that, wanting to be able to hear myself in that same way and wanting it to be genuine.

Fast forward 10 years. No, I still don't have that angelic voice, but I have learned where it comes from and it has made all of the difference. I have come to understand now that when I am having a difficult moment or day that something in me is giving me a hard time. It's rarely obvious at first. It has a way of masking itself quite ingeniously. It seems, at first glance, to be some general sense of unease or discontent, nothing too specific. Sometimes the mask takes its appearance as anger or frustration and comes out in blame or the expression of irritation. Or, it may come out in despair or a sense of hopelessness over a situation. No matter what shape or form it takes, what is true is that I have believed it and have forgotten to gently ask who is under there. The instant I remember to ask, I am the monk or nun in my memory. The voice that does the asking is already kinder, softer, more compassionate. That voice speaks to me differently. She wants to know what is going on. She wants to hear what I am longing for, what I am needing. She wants to say "of course, that's what you're feeling." It is not the voice I grew up knowing, the voice that believed the masks were real, sending me on a wave of criticism and blame, usually toward myself. This new voice has more space, greater capacity to hold tenderly and to love. She literally sounds different.

Meditation instruction typically says that when thoughts arise, we should "observe" them without getting lost in them. What I have experienced in practicing meditation is that we have the potential to create the space, an almost palpable distance, between a thought or emotion and our reaction. That alone is significant and valuable. But, I think in this culture, there is another necessary step. It is not to practice simply observing and detaching, but observing and kindly regarding whatever is there. By that I mean literally saying an internal "hello, I see you are there and I welcome a space for you." The more we speak to ourselves with this kind of tenderness, the more we recognize those moments of judging, condemning or being hard on ourselves.

There is another way to be with ourselves and though I don't always get it immediately, I find it more quickly now and the sticky, difficult places that arise fade faster. They have much less strength. The trick is in remembering, remembering that I can speak in many voices, but there is a specific one that I can choose and she makes the world a different place, the world inside me and out. Maybe someday, I will hear, in my external voice, what I heard on that retreat long ago and what I know is possible. In the meantime, I will keep checking in to see who is talking to me and choose to listen to the one who speaks with kindness. That voice is beautiful. I wish for all people to learn to speak to themselves with a gentle tenderness. Imagine what the world would be like. What a beautiful sound it would make.