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“We don’t teach meditation to the young monks. They are not ready until they stop slamming doors.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh to Thomas Merton, 1966
Fr. AMA Samy opened the doors of Kanzeon Zendo on December 21, 2022. I attended my first sesshin there the following month, in January 2023—thanks to my boss, Robert Meier. I had been on the verge of cancelling the trip to Perumalmalai due to urgent work commitments, but Robert kindly offered to cover for me and insisted I not miss the meditation retreat.
Since then, I’ve been returning to the Zendo nearly every month. Some visits lasted 8–9 days, others nearly 15. Robert had just one condition: that my work wouldn’t be affected. Fr. AMA also made it clear that I was expected to attend every meditation session—and to be on time. He’s very particular about punctuality. Often, he would arrive at the Zendo a few minutes early, and once the session began, the doors would be closed.
The Challenge of Timeliness
We primarily have two important Zazen sittings: 5:30 AM to 7:00 AM and 5:30 PM to 6:30 PM. The morning sittings were usually easy. However, the evening sessions were often challenging. Frequently, my meetings would end at 5:30 PM or slightly later, and I’d arrive to find the Zendo door closed. I would attempt to open it quietly, sneak in, and tiptoe to my meditation seat. Many times, I was quite pleased to have made it unnoticed. Except for a couple of instances when the door creaked loudly, I generally managed to slip in like thin air and reach my seat without being detected.
After a few such late entries into the Zendo, AMA once reprimanded me during teatime for being tardy to meditation sessions. I tried to apologize and explain my work pressures.
Later that day, during his Teisho (dharma talk), AMA shared something Thomas Merton had written about Thich Nhat Hanh. Father AMA also mentioned that he recalled this anecdote specifically because of my struggles with the Zendo doors.
Lessons from Thich Nhat Hanh and Thomas Merton
(Photo courtesy: Plum Village website, showing Thay as a 16-year-old novice monk.)
Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk at the Abbey of Gethsemane in Kentucky, is known as an excellent spirituality writer and a must-read, according to Father AMA. After hearing this, I downloaded Merton’s book on Chuang Tzu, which is now on my reading list. Merton reportedly wrote about Thich Nhat Hanh (often referred to as Thay) that he could discern Thay’s authenticity as a monk by the way he opened and closed doors. Merton observed that Thich Nhat Hanh closed doors quietly and with full attention, a testament to his monastic training.
To quote from Thich Nhat Hanh’s (Thay’s) article on the Plum Village website, “Memories from the Root Temple: Closing the Doors”:
“One day, when I was a novice monk, my teacher asked me to do something for him. I was very excited to do it for him, because I loved my teacher very much. So I rushed out to do it. But because I was so excited, I wasn’t mindful enough, and I slammed the door on my way out. My teacher called me back and said: “My child, please go out and close the door again. But this time, do better than you did before.” Hearing his words, I knew that my practice had been lacking. So I bowed to my teacher and walked to the door with all of my being, every step with mindfulness. I went out and, very mindfully, closed the door after me. My teacher did not have to tell me a second time. Now every time I open and close a door, I do so with mindfulness, remembering my teacher.
Many years later, I was in Kentucky with the Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, and I recounted that story to him. He replied, “Well, I noticed that without you telling me, I’ve seen the way you close the door.” A month after I left his monastery in Kentucky, he gave a talk to his students and shared the story of me closing the door.
One day, many years after that, a Catholic woman from Germany came on retreat to our Plum Village practice center in France. On her last day, she told us that she had come only out of curiosity. She had listened to a recording of Thomas Merton’s talk, and she had come specifically “to see how I closed the door.”
[This story is an excerpt from At Home in the World: Stories and Essential Teachings from a Monk’s Life by Thich Nhat Hanh, published in 2016.]
Compassion: The Core of Self-Realization
As I reflected on my two years at Kanzeon Zendo, my thoughts turned to the doors of my own heart—doors I had, at times, slammed shut on certain people. While not a vast number, it wasn’t insignificant either. This list includes some dear ones, friends, neighbors, bosses, organizations, and even individuals I knew only through the news. Although I feel no regret concerning those unknown to me personally, I often wonder if I could have closed the doors of my heart to the others with more compassion, slowly and with awareness, instead of slamming them shut.
One profound lesson I’ve learned from AMA over the past two years is that self-realization has no meaning without compassion. The crucial step toward self-realization is to be compassionate. I can genuinely say that he embodies this principle completely. AMA even speaks about those who have disappointed him with kindness and care.
Re-evaluating Maslow’s Hierarchy
Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is a model for understanding human motivation and behavior. It outlines physiological needs, safety, love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. By self-actualization, Maslow means realizing one’s full potential. I interpret this as realizing oneself or finding answers to one’s spiritual quest. Maslow also suggests that we cannot reach the top of the pyramid unless we address the foundational layers. He seems to have stated that humans can truly thrive only after meeting all five needs. However, I’m not entirely convinced by this. Many who delve into a spiritual journey don’t necessarily do so after ensuring their safety needs are met. It doesn’t always seem to be hierarchical. How else can one explain someone like Ramana Maharshi achieving enlightenment at such a young age?
Another point of contention for me is that while Maslow mentions love and belonging, he misses out on compassion. Many might argue that love encompasses compassion, but I believe they are not the same. Love and belonging focus on the self’s needs and include a range of emotions like affection and intimacy. However, compassion is entirely about alleviating another’s suffering. Undoubtedly, love is a positive emotion directed towards another person or sentient being, but compassion—empathy coupled with a desire to ease suffering and pain—exists on a higher plane altogether.
The Unity of All Beings
Unlike other spiritual paths, Zen practice begins with the realization of an eternal self in all sentient beings. Zen practice is a profound attempt to grasp this truth directly, without allowing the hypotheses created by words, images, language, and symbols to form a barrier between the knower and the known. The unity of all living things means that each of us is more than our individual being. We are all connected in this eternal self, even though we have taken different forms in the phenomenal world. This formless selflessness is the root of compassion. It’s as if we are all part of spheres of infinite diameter, with each of us at their centers.
Opening the Heart’s Doors
In this phenomenal world, for each of us, our most valuable and sacred possession is undoubtedly ourselves. And when that sacred self includes everyone else, why would we slam the doors of our heart on ourselves? Even if we do so occasionally, can’t we do it gently, with care and compassion? Better yet, we could open those slammed doors in our hearts, one by one.
Perhaps, who knows, those on whom I’ve closed the doors might be right there on the other side, with their smiling hearts.
Maybe then I’ll truly be ready for Zazen, Shikantaza, Kinhin, Samu, Dokusan, Teisho, and life.
Lead with Compassion: Elevate Your Coaching Practice
This journey through mindful doors and the power of compassion isn’t just for monks; it’s a profound lens for coaches and leaders too. Imagine the impact if every interaction, every coaching conversation, every leadership decision was rooted in the deep, empathetic understanding of compassion.
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(And now, a whisper of something new… If these stories resonated, if they stirred a memory or sparked a thought, you might find kindred spirits within the pages of the author’s recently released book, “Fallen Flower, Fragrant Grass – An Anthology of Life Stories.” Discover more of life’s intricate complexities, now available on Amazon.)
