How to Love: Legendary Zen Buddhist Teacher Thich Nhat Hanh on Mastering the Art of “Interbeing”

Growing our hearts to allow a deep understanding and space where love for another person can exist freely and joyfully is a task that has become very personal to me as I have become a caregiver for my aging mother.  I, of course, had a relationship with my mother prior to our current situation, but, like many people, our relationship was more diffused as I tended to the demands of raising four children, work, and other concerns in life.  My relationship with my mom was second tier for many years as it is for many people.

In the last few years, as my mom reached her late 60s and started to encounter serious issues with her health (diabetes chiefly), it became obvious that she needed help.  I sought to provide that help and, for a time, things were in balance.  Then my family and I moved two hours from her to a larger area with more opportunities for work and education (the area we had been in is destitute and poverty-stricken).  I knew her situation might decline, but there was hope that others might pitch in and absorb the slack: that did not happen and her situation deteriorated without consistent, reliable supervision of her healthcare.  Several impassioned calls from her new doctor convinced me of the necessity of moving her nearer to our new home so we could provide for her needs.  A plan was made and a living situation in a seniors-only apartment complex secured.  We moved my mom a few months ago and our relationship has been in renegotiation since.

In this post I offer to you some of the wisdom that I have gained as a result of reflecting on the necessity of expanding my heart to allow space for real empathy to exist, for love to replace superficial ego concerns, and for the gentle words of Thic Nhat Hanh (from a post by Maria Popova) to inform us.

“To love without knowing how to love wounds the person we love.”

“What does love mean, exactly? We have applied to it our finest definitions; we have examined its psychology and outlined it in philosophical frameworks; we have even devised a mathematical formula for attaining it. And yet anyone who has ever taken this wholehearted leap of faith knows that love remains a mystery — perhaps the mystery of the human experience.

Learning to meet this mystery with the full realness of our being — to show up for it with absolute clarity of intention — is the dance of life.

That’s what legendary Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, teacher, and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh (b. October 11, 1926) explores in How to Love (public library) — a slim, simply worded collection of his immeasurably wise insights on the most complex and most rewarding human potentiality.

Indeed, in accordance with the general praxis of Buddhist teachings, Nhat Hanh delivers distilled infusions of clarity, using elementary language and metaphor to address the most elemental concerns of the soul. To receive his teachings one must make an active commitment not to succumb to the Western pathology of cynicism, our flawed self-protection mechanism that readily dismisses anything sincere and true as simplistic or naïve — even if, or precisely because, we know that all real truth and sincerity are simple by virtue of being true and sincere.

At the heart of Nhat Hanh’s teachings is the idea that “understanding is love’s other name” — that to love another means to fully understand his or her suffering. (“Suffering” sounds rather dramatic, but in Buddhism it refers to any source of profound dissatisfaction — be it physical or psychoemotional or spiritual.) Understanding, after all, is what everybody needs — but even if we grasp this on a theoretical level, we habitually get too caught in the smallness of our fixations to be able to offer such expansive understanding. He illustrates this mismatch of scales with an apt metaphor:

If you pour a handful of salt into a cup of water, the water becomes undrinkable. But if you pour the salt into a river, people can continue to draw the water to cook, wash, and drink. The river is immense, and it has the capacity to receive, embrace, and transform. When our hearts are small, our understanding and compassion are limited, and we suffer. We can’t accept or tolerate others and their shortcomings, and we demand that they change. But when our hearts expand, these same things don’t make us suffer anymore. We have a lot of understanding and compassion and can embrace others. We accept others as they are, and then they have a chance to transform.

Illustration from Hug Me by Simona Ciraolo

The question then becomes how to grow our own hearts, which begins with a commitment to understand and bear witness to our own suffering:

When we feed and support our own happiness, we are nourishing our ability to love. That’s why to love means to learn the art of nourishing our happiness.

Understanding someone’s suffering is the best gift you can give another person. Understanding is love’s other name. If you don’t understand, you can’t love.

And yet because love is a learned “dynamic interaction,” we form our patterns of understanding — and misunderstanding — early in life, by osmosis and imitation rather than conscious creation. Echoing what Western developmental psychology knows about the role of “positivity resonance” in learning love, Nhat Hanh writes:

If our parents didn’t love and understand each other, how are we to know what love looks like? … The most precious inheritance that parents can give their children is their own happiness. Our parents may be able to leave us money, houses, and land, but they may not be happy people. If we have happy parents, we have received the richest inheritance of all.

Illustration by Maurice Sendak from Open House for Butterflies by Ruth Krauss

Nhat Hanh points out the crucial difference between infatuation, which replaces any real understanding of the other with a fantasy of who he or she can be for us, and true love:

Often, we get crushes on others not because we truly love and understand them, but to distract ourselves from our suffering. When we learn to love and understand ourselves and have true compassion for ourselves, then we can truly love and understand another person.

Out of this incomplete understanding of ourselves spring our illusory infatuations, which Nhat Hanh captures with equal parts wisdom and wit:

Sometimes we feel empty; we feel a vacuum, a great lack of something. We don’t know the cause; it’s very vague, but that feeling of being empty inside is very strong. We expect and hope for something much better so we’ll feel less alone, less empty. The desire to understand ourselves and to understand life is a deep thirst. There’s also the deep thirst to be loved and to love. We are ready to love and be loved. It’s very natural. But because we feel empty, we try to find an object of our love. Sometimes we haven’t had the time to understand ourselves, yet we’ve already found the object of our love. When we realize that all our hopes and expectations of course can’t be fulfilled by that person, we continue to feel empty. You want to find something, but you don’t know what to search for. In everyone there’s a continuous desire and expectation; deep inside, you still expect something better to happen. That is why you check your email many times a day!

Illustration from The Missing Piece Meets the Big O, Shel Silverstein’s minimalist allegory of true love

Real, truthful love, he argues, is rooted in four elements — loving kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity — fostering which lends love “the element of holiness.” The first of them addresses this dialogic relationship between our own suffering and our capacity to fully understand our loved ones:

The essence of loving kindness is being able to offer happiness. You can be the sunshine for another person. You can’t offer happiness until you have it for yourself. So build a home inside by accepting yourself and learning to love and heal yourself. Learn how to practice mindfulness in such a way that you can create moments of happiness and joy for your own nourishment. Then you have something to offer the other person.


If you have enough understanding and love, then every moment — whether it’s spent making breakfast, driving the car, watering the garden, or doing anything else in your day — can be a moment of joy.

This interrelatedness of self and other is manifested in the fourth element as well, equanimity, the Sanskrit word for which — upeksha — is also translated as “inclusiveness” and “nondiscrimination”:

In a deep relationship, there’s no longer a boundary between you and the other person. You are her and she is you. Your suffering is her suffering. Your understanding of your own suffering helps your loved one to suffer less. Suffering and happiness are no longer individual matters. What happens to your loved one happens to you. What happens to you happens to your loved one.


In true love, there’s no more separation or discrimination. His happiness is your happiness. Your suffering is his suffering. You can no longer say, “That’s your problem.”

Supplementing the four core elements are also the subsidiary elements of trust and respect, the currency of love’s deep mutuality:

When you love someone, you have to have trust and confidence. Love without trust is not yet love. Of course, first you have to have trust, respect, and confidence in yourself. Trust that you have a good and compassionate nature. You are part of the universe; you are made of stars. When you look at your loved one, you see that he is also made of stars and carries eternity inside. Looking in this way, we naturally feel reverence. True love cannot be without trust and respect for oneself and for the other person.

Illustration by Julie Paschkis from Pablo Neruda: Poet of the People by Monica Brown

The essential mechanism for establishing such trust and respect is listening — something so frequently extolled by Western psychologists, therapists, and sage grandparents that we’ve developed a special immunity to hearing it. And yet when Nhat Hanh reframes this obvious insight with the gentle elegance of his poetics, it somehow bypasses the rational cynicism of the jaded modern mind and registers directly in the soul:

To love without knowing how to love wounds the person we love. To know how to love someone, we have to understand them. To understand, we need to listen.


When you love someone, you should have the capacity to bring relief and help him to suffer less. This is an art. If you don’t understand the roots of his suffering, you can’t help, just as a doctor can’t help heal your illness if she doesn’t know the cause. You need to understand the cause of your loved one’s suffering in order to help bring relief.


The more you understand, the more you love; the more you love, the more you understand. They are two sides of one reality. The mind of love and the mind of understanding are the same.

Echoing legendary Zen teacher D.T. Suzuki’s memorable aphorism that “the ego-shell in which we live is the hardest thing to outgrow,” Nhat Hanh considers how the notion of the separate, egoic “I” interrupts the dialogic flow of understanding — the “interbeing,” to use his wonderfully poetic and wonderfully precise term, that is love:

Often, when we say, “I love you” we focus mostly on the idea of the “I” who is doing the loving and less on the quality of the love that’s being offered. This is because we are caught by the idea of self. We think we have a self. But there is no such thing as an individual separate self. A flower is made only of non-flower elements, such as chlorophyll, sunlight, and water. If we were to remove all the non-flower elements from the flower, there would be no flower left. A flower cannot be by herself alone. A flower can only inter-be with all of us… Humans are like this too. We can’t exist by ourselves alone. We can only inter-be. I am made only of non-me elements, such as the Earth, the sun, parents, and ancestors. In a relationship, if you can see the nature of interbeing between you and the other person, you can see that his suffering is your own suffering, and your happiness is his own happiness. With this way of seeing, you speak and act differently. This in itself can relieve so much suffering.”

As I came to know my mother’s suffering, which is rooted in many sources beyond moving to a new place not entirely of her choosing, I realized I could play a significant role in modeling a way of being that was less anxious, less egoic, and more attuned to valuing of her suffering.  By suffering here I mean not actual physical suffering, but more psycho-emotional.  Certainly her living situation and health have improved dramatically, I’m happy to report, but finding joy in living seems to remain elusive at best.  I have had to learn to know my mother all over again, this time as an individual for whom life has been fraught with anxiety.  She is a highly sensitive person who experienced a childhood permeated by abuse, trauma, and neglect, plus an adult life married to a domineering, at times cruel and manipulative husband.  Her education stopped at eighth grade, though she has remained curious about many things throughout life.  As I seek understanding of who she is as a person and not as it affects me I have found that this new understanding is more patient, compassionate, and not so different from my own.  

My ability to create spaces within myself that can extend to another person beyond my reality is partly rooted in a cultivation of my own happiness.  Happiness in this sense is more inclusive of the value of positive AND negative experiences.  In a fully formed realization of happiness one values both experiences equally and derives meaning from personal suffering.  Suffering here is universal as understanding of my Mom’s life reveals the interbeing that exists between us all.  My life isn’t so very different from your life, only in the details.  Deep listening has helped me form new conceptualizations of my Mom’s life as it retreats less from a place of fear of the unknown and begins to unfurl ever so slowly into a tentative embracing of possibility.  This is all aided by my experiences parenting my four children who are now nearly all adults.

There are moments of joy between us and I take those as they come.  I’ve also released any notions of intentionally trying to change my Mom’s perspective.  We all live in a time and place and are intensely shaped by our cultural conditioning, which varies from generation to generation.  Understanding that my mom inhabits a worldview informed by socioeconomic class, personal experiences, and a perceptual lens partly informed by those around her allows a space for her own understanding to grow and for her to venture forth in new surroundings with confidence that she is understood and loved.  

As we HSPs debate the role we should play in our world there is no more important role that we should fulfill than the role of healer.  Our world is surely rife with wounded and injured people who have been trampled underfoot by egoic individuals less interested in interbeing and more interested in “I” being.  Many of us have experienced emotional abuse as children AND adults and are still in the process of healing and finding wholeness.  Being an HSP MAY mean that we are capable of embodying love in ways that are unique to us if we are willing to release ego, nourish our own happiness, and grow our hearts.  Of course, not all HSPs will learn these lessons the same nor will every HSP be as capable of giving of themselves as others, but as individuals inherently predisposed toward high empathy, personal authenticity, and complexity we are in a position, much as shamans and healers in tribal societies, to serve in a capacity where our own personal struggles and suffering lead us to loving others in an expanded sense because we realize and subscribe to the interbeing of all living things.

If you are lost in the cares and concerns of the world and have lost your way as a highly sensitive person I encourage you to pull back from all of those worries and things you cannot control.  Take a walk, sit by the ocean and feel the waves; wander through the woods feeling the life force in the trees, the wind, the birds and forest dwellers; pull back from judgement and criticism (inner and outer) and build spaces within yourself where deeper understanding of others can exist, and where love can grow for those in your life who may so desperately need it.  There are many ways we may each express our sensitivity, our gifts, but learning to love by creating an expansive river within ourselves where the salt may disperse and not poison it may perhaps be one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves and others.


Should You Tell Others You Are An HSP?



You’ve seen the movie, you’ve read the books, and now you’re feeling confident in your new found appreciation of sensory processing sensitivity.  You have embraced what it means to be a highly sensitive person within your own self and now feel you are comfortable enough in this identity to tell others.  Here’s the scene: you’re with a friend having lunch and the conversation is going well.  She seems to be hitting on several points that tie in closely with your personality trait.  You think she might even be an HSP!  What better time to tell another person your newfound “secret?”  You blurt out “I’m an HSP!”  Quickly following that up with “That means I’m a highly sensitive person,” as your friend assumes a puzzled look on her face you’ve never quite seen before.  “What does that mean?  Are you gonna cry every time I say something?”  “Are you easily offended?”  OOPs!  This has all gone sideways in ways you never imagined and you quickly try to explain how being a highly sensitive person simply means you have a specific personality trait that encompasses a depth of processing of all experience (you prefer to thoroughly process all stimuli before acting); a tendency toward overstimulation in certain, highly individualized situations; you may be deeply empathetic and emotionally responsive (more so than those without the trait); and you notice subtleties others may overlook.  Your friend now seems a bit more interested, but you realize there may be a problem in divulging this “secret” to others.

To better examine this phenomena let’s look at a few of the complexities that may be causing us to misinterpret how revealing such an intimate aspect of our personality may be perceived.

When we divulge a major detail about ourselves to others we are separating ourselves from them.  This is especially true if the person we reveal our trait to does not have the trait, or if the person is not self-aware or knowledgeable about personality traits.  You would be amazed at how many people perceive personality traits as disorders to be classed in the same categories as actual disorders. People may react to this new information about you in ways that reveal disgust, surprise, anger, even happiness.  Whatever the case we are creating a space between ourselves and “them” when we feel we need to tell someone the way in which we are different from them.  It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that human beings do not like being “othered,” or made to feel that they are somehow less than another person.  This may be the case when we reveal that we are part of a unique 15-20% of the overall population.  No one wants to be part of the other 80%.  Everyone wants to feel they are unique and special in some way, especially in Western cultures where individuality is emphasized so profoundly.

Similarly it’s possible that the other person thought they knew you well and are caught quite off guard at this new information.  There may be some resentment at feeling you were withholding vital information, thereby damaging the relationship (at least through hurt feelings).  Not all people will react with horror at your revelation that “I’m an HSP!”  Some will be quite ho-hum about it, not quite engaging you in the way you intended, which you probably wished to be excited interest so you could tell her all the details about this journey to self-awareness and self-acceptance you’ve been on.  Others may be quite dismissive saying “you’ve read one too many self-help books!” In this case what they may be saying is at odds with your own deep need for self-awareness.

When we discuss anything related to mental health it is likely to be perceived through a deeply personal lens.  In many Western societies awareness and understanding of mental illnesses is limited with many people gleaning their knowledge from firsthand experience with a particular disorder (a family member or friend).  Often people will generalize based on one, isolated experience.  For instance, let’s say your friend had a family member with bipolar depression and witnessed non-compliance with medications or mistreatment at the hands of therapists, or worse, witnessed episodes of crisis in the affected person.  In some cases that single experience (with its intensely negative connotations) will form the person’s entire mental inventory related to all mental illnesses or anything related to personalities.  Good luck explaining what it means to be a highly sensitive person to that type.

People are subject to intense peer pressure to ensure conformity to group norms.  If a particular group (even an entire culture) is closed to acknowledging differences between people there may be tremendous pressure to deny or ignore scientific evidence supporting personality traits, even psychological research in general.  In a modern age of easy access to all information (good, bad, and questionable) people may also be very skeptical about entertaining new ideas: we’ve become very jaded about the reliability of any one source (and justifiably so).  The pressure to conform to group norms and beliefs is one of the strongest forces affecting behavior that is known.

So what?  You’re still a person like me who has to live her life!  This response may make you feel devalued, but is also a pragmatic response in that we do indeed have to go on living our lives.  The difference is HSPs may have slightly different needs that we must accommodate in order to function at our optimal level.  It’s not news that the economic changes since 2008, coupled with a declining purchasing power of many currencies (in the US since about 1970), has made scarcity a more prominent issue for many people.  When we operate on a scarcity mentality we are concerned with the basics of life: food, housing, clothing, transportation, and energy.  Things that complicate or seem to otherwise hinder the single-minded pursuit of difficult to obtain resources may be construed as pointless, without merit, or counterproductive, hence, the “so what?”

Why do we feel a need to reveal an intimate aspect of ourselves like sensory processing sensitivity and how can we approach it better?

We may be excited to reveal a part of ourselves that we feel explains so much of our behaviors!  This is a natural inclination and we may feel great joy at finally understanding this complicated aspect of ourselves and wish to share it with others.  Admittedly, sensory processing sensitivity is a complex construct and may take any of us quite awhile to fully understand and appreciate its influence in our lives.

We should be selective in whom we choose to confide such intimate details to acknowledging the lack of awareness and acceptance that exists in the general public regarding personality traits and a general distrust of psychology and all things related to mental health.

You are under no obligation to reveal your personality traits to anyone.  If you are an HSP it is likely that others already understand about you that you think and feel deeply; that you may be overstimulated in certain circumstances and situations; that you have a need to recharge in private; and that you are empathetic and sensitive to subtleties.  You might be surprised at how astute others may be: HSP or not.

Be who you feel yourself to be while feeling no need to explain that to others.  If you are capable of embracing who you are in a confident way it will invite others into your experience and let’s remember that HSPs do not exist in a void or vacuum.  Your personality trait is simply an evolved psychological mechanism that provides you with a broader range of possible behaviors.  Being an HSP does not mean you will constantly exhibit all of the possible range of behaviors, but at any point you may embody one or more.  

By accepting and espousing the label, highly sensitive person (or HSP), you are placing yourself in a box.  As I noted in my recent post The Homogenization of the Highly Sensitive Person it should not be our aim to think of ourselves in any one dimension, rather we should attempt to be all that we are capable of as human beings emphasizing that we are simply a segment of the species with a marginally rare personality trait evolved to meet the survival and reproductive needs of our species.  In modern societies it may not seem that we are valued, understood, or appreciated, but there is a need for this trait in our world where duality (extremes of positions) seem to dominate with very little compromise in actually getting things done.  As individuals capable of envisioning a broader range of complexity (coupled with our innate creativity) we are naturals for embodying complexity.  Whether that is appreciated in our society is a different matter.

As a researcher, consultant, educator, and author who has spoken to hundreds of HSPs I am continually awestruck at the beautiful humanity we HSPs seem to embody, just in our being us.  I’ve always been drawn to the eccentric, creative, deep-minded type of individual and I have never been disappointed in meeting an HSP.  We may vary a great deal in how we express sensory processing sensitivity, but make no mistake it is a beautiful personality trait that serves to humanize our coarser edges as a species; provide creativity propelling innovation and progress; and contributes to thorough planning through reflection, contemplation, and connectivity.  There is much more that makes us us, but each of us expresses that as uniquely as snowflakes in the winter.

Be yourself in the best way you can trusting that that confident embodiment is enough to invite others into your experience without any need on your part to “sell” the trait to others.

What have been your experiences in revealing to others that you are a highly sensitive person?  Have they reacted positively, as if your sensitivity is not that much of a surprise or have they reacted with disbelief as if you’re embracing a nebulous concept with no scientific evidence or validity?

My experiences, though you might think I would have no problem telling others (or a need to) due to my very public exposure in Sensitive – The Untold Story or through my book Thrive: The Highly Sensitive Person and Career, have been that I have felt the need to detail this aspect of my personality rarely.  Others who know me know either view me as “way too quiet,” or think of me as a creative type (with stereotypical behaviors).  Both are true, but the reality of who I am, and who you are, is so much more vast!  To reduce us to labels (quiet, artistic, moody, etc.) is to deny the oceanic possibilities inherent in each person.  Who would we seek to reduce people to mere labels, mere categories of people who will think and act in predictable ways?  I suggest part of the answer is in our Western orientation toward reductionism, which is, simply put, a way of learning about something through reducing a complex construct to its individual parts trusting that by knowing each part we can see the whole.

The truth is reductivist thought often mistakes the trees for the forest.  By revealing that I am an HSP (with the terribly unfortunate “highly sensitive” moniker) I would be projecting to others a narrow slice of my total being.  Of course, the truth is much broader and we know that HSPs are generally curious-minded, open to new experiences, creative, and complex individuals capable of a broader range of possible behaviors and feelings (with accompanying depth of processing) than those without the trait.

Choosing to reveal to others our trait is always a calculated gamble.  Perhaps they will be open to understanding, perhaps not.  In some cases the advantages and risk of confusing looks and quizzical expressions (or just the nonplussed, deadpan look) are worth the discomfort because being understood by others in certain situations may be key to an effective relationship that takes into account our greater sensitivities for many things as well as our deeper processing of all experience.  Understanding and allowing for those aspects can lead to better outcomes in some relationships (professional and otherwise).

If you DO choose to reveal sensory processing sensitivity I suggest you

  • use the scientific term sensory processing sensitivity and not highly sensitive person.
  • I also recommend articulating the fact that this trait has been well-researched by academically qualified scientists who publish regularly in mainstream peer-reviewed journals.
  • You might include the recent fMRI studies showing slight anatomical differences in the brains of HSPs with greater activation in the areas controlling empathy.
  • Certainly you would want to include that sensory processing sensitivity is a personality trait present in 15-20% of the total population and not a disorder of any kind with sensory processing sensitivity simply representing an evolved psychological mechanism that provides for greater survivability and reproductive success for the species.
  • Lastly, you might mention that the trait is likely heritable, though no one gene has been identified yet, and is moderated by childhood environment (very important because HSPs from unsupportive backgrounds with abuse, trauma, or conflict in the household experience often lifelong issues with anxiety, depression, low self-efficacy, pessimism, and other negative trends due to greater processing of intensely negative experiences).