"One of the most meaningful items to come to me via email after the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, was a poem attributed to Thich Nhat Hanh entitled 'Rest in Peace.' I have since learned that this poem was written by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, who were inspired by Thich Nhat Hanh's poem 'Please Call Me by My True Names.' Both of these poems are beautiful illustrations of nonduality and can serve as the basis for practicing the moral imagination. I have chosen the Brussats' poem here because their images are particularly challenging to me. As with imaging workshops, this practice can be done alone or with a group. I have, most frequently, used the poem with groups to demonstrate nonduality. However, I also benefit from meditating on it alone to practice nonduality.
"Preparation: First, it is helpful to recall the purpose of this practice. According to Thich Nhat Hanh's teaching, one does not meditate in order to withdraw from the world, but rather to prepare to engage it more fully. Indeed, such withdrawal is impossible because you, the individual, are made up of nonindividual elements. We always carry the world with us. Meditation does not draw us out of the world, but prepares us to live in the world. Thus, the first step of preparation is to remember: 'When you meditate, it is not just for yourself, you do it for the whole society.' This particular practice benefits society by alerting us to our own misperceptions, sensitizing us to the views of others, and fostering understanding and empathy.
"If you are practicing alone, take some time to prepare yourself for meditation. Find a quiet place and adopt a comfortable sitting position. Close your eyes and relax. If you are leading or participating in a group, recognize that people have various levels of comfort with public practices of spirituality. Some may be most comfortable listening with their eyes open, while others prefer a prayerful posture. Be sure that the purpose and context of the poem are clear to everyone.
"The Text: Below is a [link to a ]copy of the poem in its entirety. You may choose to meditate on one stanza at a time, committing it to memory and repeating it several times, or you may choose to read through the entire poem at once, reflecting on the variety of images. There may also be some stanzas that challenge you more than others, and you may choose to work with them repeatedly. If you are working with a group, you may choose to read the poem aloud to them or to take turns so that the group participates in the reading and hears each stanza in a different voice. Again, recognize that some people may prefer not to read, and be sure to give them the option to pass. . . .
"Reflection: Give yourself and your group time to reflect on the experience of reading, hearing, or saying these words, especially the first time you work with them. Were there some stanzas that were markedly more difficult for you? What makes them so difficult? What images or personal experiences does the reading trigger for you? Are there stanzas that you would add, given developments in the world or your personal life since September 2001? If you continue to work with the poem over time, you might reflect on how your reading changes. Do you focus on different stanzas, individuals, or details with each reading? Are there passages that gain meaning the more you read them? Do the difficult ones get easier? And perhaps most important, given the purpose of the practice, how does the poem affect the way you see your world? Does it make a difference in your interactions with others? Does it influence the way you receive the daily news? Does it prompt you to change your behavior in some way?
"Earlier, I suggested that one effect of this practice is that it humbles. Now that we have the practice before us, some further comments on humility might be helpful. Such meditation exercises teach us to live in awareness, a fundamental Buddhist principle. As I reflect on the 'Rest in Peace' practice, I become more aware of the perception of others and of the deep interrelatedness of all things. Although I immediately sympathize with the boy in New Jersey whose father will never come home, I am becoming aware that the boy in the faraway land has cause to hate us. I too would like to believe the political rhetoric that says, 'They hate us because they hate freedom.' Such reasoning restores my confidence in my nation as a good and moral place. But like many people, I have tried to examine our country more critically and to listen to others' perception of us as arrogant, imperialist, and hypocritical. This is a humbling lesson. But, again, it is not just the content of the lesson that humbles, but the growing awareness of the limitations of my own perspective and my tendency toward misperception.
"I have also learned from the 'loyal American' who stands 'behind any military action it takes to wipe terrorists off the face of the earth.' I believe that there is that of God in every person and that war is an act of violence against God's creation. And I believe that terrorism cannot be overcome with war because violence cannot overcome hatred. So, I do not believe that a war against terrorism is either moral or realistic. However, I live in New York City, and my husband has one of the many near-miss stories of that day. When I recall his shaking voice on our answering machine telling me that he is okay and a coworker screaming in the background as the second plane hit the tower, I am filled with fear and rage. And I know that I am related to the 'loyal American' seeking vengeance and reassurance through violence. This awareness of interrelatedness humbles me. I must recognize my own capacity for hatred and for harm. This exercise reminds me that I am the other and the other is me. In order to see that, I need to suspend my preconceived notions and enable the interplay between my sense experience and universal claims. This is an exercise of the moral imagination, and it fosters humility."
