The Mindful Migraine

Today’s blog post is a book review for Thích Nhất Hạnh’s book “No Mud, No Lotus” which is a practical self-help guide published over 10 years ago in 2014. Before I started to read it, I knew nothing about the book or the author, other than I had heard the title and liked it – so reading it was a bit of a learning curve for me…

…so then, will you come along for the ride?

I often write about how I try to use mindfulness to increase my joy rather than eliminate pain. “Zero pain” was definitely my original motivation for starting out on my mindfulness practice, but I quickly realized that pain is part of living; even if I were to end my migraines, I might still stub my toe, lose a loved one or face a situation which fills me with guilt or shame – pain (physical, emotional, mental) is inevitable in life.

Around the same time I was shifting my perspective, I realized something else: pain and suffering were two different things. I could have chronic-pain, but I could choose not to let it pull me down too far…

That’s why the opening passages of Hanh’s book both immediately resonated with my beliefs AND made me feel a bit uneasy:

“We all want to be happy and there are many books and teachers in the world that try to help people be happier. Yet we all continue to suffer. Therefore, we may think that we’re ‘doing it wrong.’ Somehow we are ‘failing at happiness.’ That isn’t true. Being able to enjoy happiness doesn’t require that we have zero suffering. In fact, the art of happiness is also the art of suffering well.”

A long time ago I used to believe the adage “everything happens for a reason” – probably because my life was #blessed. It’s affirming to think that you won an award because you put in the effort, and manageable to imagine you flunked a test because you spent too long procrastinating in the day’s before hand. As I got older, however, I noticed more and more tragedies for which cause-and-effect was harder to identify, and as such, applying the platitude seemed lame, insulting, or outright delusional.

That’s why I find myself conflicted by the opening passage of Hanh’s book. YES, I really do believe that you can find joy despite your pain, BUT, I really DON’T like phrases that normalize suffering or even hint at the idea that it might be desirable.

Seek joy – and remember that pain and suffering do not have to be always entangled – but don’t slide into the assumption that suffering is somehow OK – never give up finding ways to improve your lot in life.

That said, life is filled with highs and lows, and healing tends to be tidal rather than linear. It was naive to image a pain-free life, equally, pretending suffering doesn’t exist would be similarly simplistic.

A couple of pages on, Hanh reveals what he means by ‘suffer well’: “The
way to suffer well and be happy is to stay in touch with what is actually going on; in doing so, you will gain liberating insights into the true nature of suffering AND of joy.”

I feel a little calmer now – now the importance of mindfulness in each moment shines through – now there is room for topics I have written about before: are you feeling a little too sorry for yourself, is your inner-narrative full of trash-talk, what is the reality of the situation versus some perceived conspiracy theory, compassion focused therapy, shifting your attention from triggers to glimmers, radical acceptance, and more…

I feel even better when he later writes: “Both suffering and happiness are of an organic nature, which means they are both transitory; they are always changing. The flower, when it wilts, becomes the compost. The compost can help grow a flower again.”

This is the sort of idea that I am becoming more comfortable with; the tidal, transformational nature of healing I have spoken about before – life in the ecotone and seeing myself as (dis)abled.

“Everyone knows we need to have mud for lotuses to grow,” Hanh goes on, “The mud doesn’t smell so good, but the lotus flower smells very good. If you don’t have mud, the lotus won’t manifest.”

The take-away lesson for me is not to pretend that the mud doesn’t stink – (and it really stinks to be chronically unwell) – rather, we need to acknowledge that pain and joy can co-exist. Whilst I understand that we need darkness to illustrate there is light, I’m still reluctant to make space for the idea that wellness requires illness to be made manifest. To be properly evident, perhaps, but I really don’t wish illness on anyone as a means of helping them identify happiness.

As the book kept going, flashes of who Thich Nhat Hanh might be began to surface. He references living through the Vietnam War, mentions he was a “young monk” and then refers to Buddhist teachings at length, and speaks of “our Plum Village practice centers around the world”… so I paused my reading and went looking into who he was on his Plum Village website. In many ways, those references summarize him pretty well (as much as any summary can), with the addition of extra snippets such as being nominated for the Noble Peace Prize by Martin Luther King Jr, and his passing away in 2022, aged 95. What became especially evident from the website is that Hanh was a PROLIFIC writer – here is the webpage that refers to his books: Key Books | Plum Village

Returning to the book, I realized that mindfulness was its core message. Over and over, he returns to its importance: “Mindfulness is the best way to be with our suffering without being overwhelmed by it. Mindfulness is the capacity to dwell in the present moment, to know what’s happening in the here and now. […] To be mindful means to be aware.”

And the best way to be mindful?

Stop and take a breath.

Throughout the book, he uses different affirmations to add to your single breath, but this is my favorite:

Breathing in, I know I am breathing in.
Breathing out, I smile.

The book then talks at length about different forms of suffering (from individual through to global, and even ancestral) as well as outlining several Buddhist teachings that illustrate his central thesis, but the section which jumped out to me was towards the end when he writes that there is a difference between joy and happiness:

“We can experience both joy and happiness, and Buddhist teachings do
make a distinction between the two. In joy, there is still some element
of excitement. Think of a person walking in the desert who has run out
of drinking water. If suddenly that person sees that there is an oasis
ahead—trees with beautiful shade and a lake of fresh water—he will
feel joy. When he arrives at the lake and actually cups the water and
drinks, this is happiness. You can experience both.”

I haven’t yet determined why I tend to emphasize “joy” rather than “happiness” in my writing and healing journey – perhaps there is a sense of anticipation, escape, and the excitement Hanh refers to… and yet as I read the example, surely it is the quenching of thirst that is more helpful to someone who is struggling than the anticipation of it…?

The book then details five practices for nurturing happiness, summarized as:

1. letting go
2. inviting positive seeds
3. mindfulness-based joy
4. concentration, and
5. insight

The book ends with practical sections of mantras, breathing exercises, ways to cultivate love and understanding, and a body-scan-styled meditation for deep relaxation.

The very last sentence is: “If you have mindfulness, concentration, and insight then every step you make on this Earth is performing a miracle.”

What a lovely thought!

Take care taking care mindfully – and therefore – miraculously, Linda x

PS – I found a short (3min) video for the book here: No Mud No Lotus | Short Film with the Words of Thich Nhat Hanh

PPS – there are a lot of free resources you can look into on Hanh’s websites, but a good place to start is here: Basic Practices – Plum Village Hong Kong