The Art of Communicating
The Art of Communicating is a slim volume by zen master, Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh.
“We tend to think of nourishment only as what we take in through our mouth, but what we consume with our eyes, our ears, our noses, our tongues, and our bodies is also food. The conersations going on around us, and those we paricpate in, are also food.” (page 3)
If, as he writes, “Conversation is a source of nourishment,” (page 5), then even everyday, quite quotidian material is subject to traction and needs closer attention.
I was in a TexMex place, early Sunday-brunch-ish, and the waiter was overly consumed with a conversation, parts of which, I could easily discern. He wanted to paint his son’s bedroom a “cobalt blue,” and the cost – at the super-big-box-store was almost too much. Complaining about the price. Still, very much a family-oriented person.
It’s the snippets of conversation that I recall, those are what seems important as a backdrop, like a soundtrack, to a life.
I adore me some Marcus Aurelius , esepcially his Meditations, plus it’s really good for “dipping,” as in, pick up a copy and see where it falls open. The passage can accurately reflect the situation, providing an answer. Very zen-like at times.
Both authors, then, have this way of communcicating a similar, if not the same, message.
Listen to our conversations, try to mindful at every step. It can be done, and I’ve been leading this way for years, it’s just trying to figure out the last few pieces. Not sure how this one plays out, but I’ll play it through. Besides, it’s the same message couched in different terms, over and over.
That’s not a bad thing.
The last time I was in Port Aransas, stopped at a certain coffee shop on the way out of town, the place has distinctive sign, behind the bar, “Island Time,” which, as we all know, is highly mutable.
Standing in line, I noticed I was behind a gentleman in all black. I peered around the corner at his collar: he was a man of peace. I started by offering to buy him a cup of coffee. He is an ordained Catholic priest, and he radiated that beautiful, inward peace. Having just read parts of the book, I could easily detect, here was man who believed in the cause, and was truly deserving of the term, “Man of god,” although, “Person of the Faith” might be a better appellation in more modern times.
Father Lopez positively radiated that inward calm I can only hope to obtain one day. Amazing presence in a quiet, “I am a man of the cloth” way.
We had a very short conversation, well worth my dollar investment in his cup of coffee, and left me uplifted, with hope for mankind, human-kind.
We talked churches, parishes, see, on Mustang Island, there’s an Episcopal Retreat, and those guys, like many of the Catholics I’ve encountered, can be a bit tightly wrapped. Father Lopez wasn’t, but I wasn’t sure. Hence our short conversation, and hence me feeling rather hopefully for the spiritual community. I had an uncle who was an ordaind Episcopal high priest, so I was kind of thinking, they wore the same uniform.
Father Lopez? He was polite, respectful, genuine, authentic.
“I was just stepping in to give the morning mass at St. Joseph’s,” and that was fine. His previous position with the church had been one as, my term? “Fireman.”
One must, on some occasions, urinate on combustion.
Totally chance encounter, open minded, love to talk to people, and the Sagittarius pouring the coffee–
That’s another tale.
Pax vobiscum.
Or, in the vernacular? “Peace out, dawg.”
