01/29/2026
5 Life-Changing Truths About Peace and Suffering from a Monk on the Walk for Peace
[On Friday afternoon, the "Walk for Peace" monks stopped at the Jordan Lake education center to rest and share their wisdom with the assembled crowd.]
The background hum of modern life is one of restless anxiety. Our minds, fragmented by a thousand distractions, constantly strive for a future peace that never quite arrives. We chase achievements, relationships, and possessions, believing they hold the key to a settled heart, only to find the lock changed once we get there. But what if this entire approach is fundamentally flawed?
Recently, a Buddhist monk, 90 days into a cross-country "Walk for Peace," has been stopping to share his wisdom with surprisingly large crowds. His message, forged through years of silent meditation and daily practice, offers a series of counter-intuitive yet profoundly simple truths about the nature of our minds. The lessons that follow challenge our most common assumptions about happiness, grief, and control, offering a practical path toward a more peaceful life.
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1. Getting What You Want Will Make You Suffer More
At the heart of the monk's philosophy is a startling argument: attachment is the root of suffering. The first part of this is easy to understand. When we desire something—a person, a job, an object—and cannot get it, we suffer. This is the familiar pain of unfulfilled want.
The truly radical idea, however, is what happens when we do get what we desire. The monk argues that our suffering doesn't end; it doubles or triples. Why? Because once we possess what we wanted, a new set of anxieties appears. We have to protect it and live in fear of losing it. He illustrates this with a powerful physical metaphor: "You are just like this holding your fist... loosely," he says, showing a relaxed hand. "But somehow when you married one person who you love a lot too much and then you hold it real tight... if you hold it tight you tire or not?" This constant, tense grip is a profound source of suffering. This flips our common understanding of happiness on its head, suggesting that the very achievement of our desires often brings more turmoil than peace.
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2. The Real Reason We Grieve is Often About Ourselves
The monk offers an equally provocative insight into the nature of grief, framing it first with a cultural observation. In some traditions, like his own Vietnamese background, people "cry a lot." In others, like in India, he notes, "when somebody pass away, they don't cry like us... because they think that oh he come he go with God." This contrast sets the stage for his core point: when we cry for a parent who has passed away, we are often not just crying because we miss them. We are crying because we love ourselves and miss the irreplaceable support, comfort, and help they provided.
From this perspective, our tears are for our own loneliness. We grieve because we can no longer lean on their shoulder, ask for their help, or find refuge in their presence. It is the loss of our support system that causes the deepest pain. The monk proposes a different way to honor the deceased. Instead of becoming lost in sorrow, the best way to help them is to manage our emotions and focus on creating "wholesome deeds" or "merit," which can then be spiritually transferred to them.
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3. Your Mind is a "Wild Animal," But You Can Train It
"Our mind is a wild animal," the monk explains. He calls it a "monkey mind" that is constantly jumping from one thought to another, getting sidetracked, and tending to focus on negative things. It leaps from a memory of the past to a worry about the future, never staying still in the present.
But this wild animal can be trained. The method is mindfulness, which he describes as simply being aware of your breath going in and out. The training is a gentle, repetitive process with explicit steps. "When you see that monkey jump," he advises, "we will note that oh that monkey is jumping now. But my job is breathing. So I will come back here." You don't chase the thought; you observe it, "note it. Think thought silently like that. And come back here" to the breath. He compares this to training his dog, Aloka. Before training, Aloka would chase any squirrel or rabbit he saw. Now, with patient repetition, he can be told to stay. In the same way, the mind, when trained, can learn to remain in the present moment.
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4. The Most Important Thing to Do in a Crisis is Breathe
When a loved one is facing a serious illness, we often feel helpless. The monk emphasizes that in these moments, the mind is "super important." Fear, he explains, can cause the body to decline even faster than the disease itself.
He offers two practical and powerful ways to offer support. The first is to remind your loved one to simply breathe. A calm, focused breath can change everything. If that is too difficult, suggest they focus their full attention on a single object, like one bead on a prayer bracelet. The second form of support comes from you, through the practice of radiating "loving kindness," or metta. This is a crucial two-step process. First, you must cultivate it for yourself. Sit quietly and repeat, "May I be well, be happy, be peaceful," until you feel a sense of calm. Only then can you offer it to another. As the monk explains, "That is when you have loving kindness within you. And now you think of that person... May my mother be well, be happy, be peaceful." You cannot give what you do not have.
when the doctor say you only have seven days left... most of the time we don't have seven days maybe two three days you know why it's because of the mind is pulling pull this body down rapidly. The mind is super important.
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5. A Simple Daily Sentence Can Reclaim Your Peace
Beyond deep philosophical truths, the monk offers a simple, tangible exercise for anyone to reclaim their day. It’s a commitment made first thing in the morning to set the tone for everything that follows.
The instructions are specific:
1. Every morning, get a piece of paper.
2. Write down the statement: "Today is going to be my peaceful day."
3. Read the sentence over and over to yourself.
4. Finally, "read it out loud with our mouth to tell the universe that today is our peaceful day."
He then adds a charming and crucial piece of advice: be patient with yourself, but be firm in your intention. "And please don't mess it up," he says with a smile. "No, seriously." If you do lose your peace during the day, it’s not a failure. You simply acknowledge it and start over. The goal isn't perfection, but the persistent, gentle practice of returning to your intention.
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Conclusion
The monks' Walk for Peace journey across the country is more than a walk; it's a moving demonstration of a powerful philosophy. Each of his lessons points to the same core truth: real, lasting peace doesn't come from controlling our external world, but from patiently and compassionately managing our inner one. By understanding the suffering caused by our own clenched fist of attachment, learning to gently train our "monkey mind," and committing to simple daily practices, we can change our relationship with suffering and discover the peace that is already here.
What is one thing in your life that you could loosen your grip on today?
