Practical Guide: Awakening Yourself and Others through Love

Can monastics also fall in love?
How to continue spiritual practice amid the storms of love?
Let's learn from the experiences of Thich Nhat Hanh and Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche—
awakening themselves in relationships while benefiting each other,
thereby transforming personal love into compassion for all.

■ Editorial Office

Thich Nhat Hanh: The Seed of Love Exists in Everyone's Heart

"Look deeply into the nature of your first love, and you will see the Buddha."
—Thich Nhat Hanh

When a monk falls in love with a nun, even in our modern era of open-mindedness, such an event would still raise eyebrows—especially when it involves a highly influential Buddhist spiritual teacher like Thich Nhat Hanh. Yet he once said:
"As a monk, you are not supposed to fall in love, but sometimes love is stronger than your determination."

The First Love That Wasn't Really the First

At the time, Thich Nhat Hanh was 24 years old, being invited to teach at the Temple of Complete Awakening in the Vietnamese highlands. One day, as he returned to the temple from the village and climbed the temple steps, he encountered a 20-year-old nun from Hue. "I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew that my peace had been disturbed."

How does love arise? He described it this way:
"When I met her, it wasn't our first meeting. Otherwise, how could love have blossomed so easily? The moment I saw her, I recognized in her everything I cherished and longed for."
"She appeared like Guanyin—serene, compassionate, and beautiful."

In the days that followed, they shared their spiritual journeys—his poetry, their country's struggles, the people's needs, and their shared ideals of monastic life, and also sat in meditation and chanted sutras together. He was aware of his love and hinted at it indirectly; she tried to resist but couldn't. "We both needed compassion. We were young, and we were being swept away. We had the deepest desire to be a monk and a nun—to carry forward what we had been cherishing for a long time—yet we were caught by love."

At night, he yearned  to stay with her, to keep conversing—but he never crossed the boundaries of monastic discipline. The key anchor was bodhichitta:

"She embodied everything I loved—my ideals of compassion, of bringing Buddhism into society, of achieving peace and reconciliation."
"Bodhichitta was our support and protection. Even the desire to knock on her door and invite her to the meditation hall was restrained. We didn't need to try to keep our precepts—we were already keeping them."

Soon, he returned to his monastery in Saigon. Following his advice, she relocated with another nun to an abandoned temple nearby, preparing to establish a small practice center for nuns, and also planned to study the Dharma together with the six monks. Thich Nhat Hanh's Dharma brothers in the monastic community as well as another nun sensed their feelings. While his fellow monks responded with tolerance, the other nun could not accept it. Knowing the moment of decision had come, he reluctantly suggested that the nuns transfer to a Buddhist academy in Hanoi. She agreed. With a final embrace, a bow, and a goodbye, they parted in sorrow.

All phenomena arise in dependence on one another, interbeing and interpenetrating
The taste of separation was bitter, yet they continued to share their spiritual practice and ideals through letters. After 1954, she returned to her original Buddhist college in Huế, while Thích Nhất Hạnh wrote several bestselling books on Buddhism, taught at Buddhist institutes, published Dharma articles in newspapers, founded a Buddhist magazine, and gathered hundreds of young monastics for a series of conferences. In just a few years, he became the spiritual guide of a new generation of Vietnamese monastics, bringing fresh vitality to Vietnamese Buddhism. All the while, he kept writing to her.

"My love for her did not diminish, but it was no longer confined to one person. I was supporting hundreds of monks and nuns, and since that time we have become thousands, yet that love is still here, stronger and larger. "I began to see her everywhere. Every monastic I met became part of our love."

Sadly, she eventually disappeared without a trace. He later learned that none of his letters to Huế had reached her. Feeling abandoned, she left the monastic life in loneliness and despair. This made Thích Nhất Hạnh realize how crucial it was to have a supportive sangha. He was grateful that his fellow monastics understood his situation and quietly supported him.

"When struck by Cupid's arrow, if you are part of a supportive sangha, you will be able to continue your practice, and your love will be sublimated"

Yet her departure was not the end of the story—just as their meeting at Temple of Complete Awakening was not the beginning. "She was made of 'non-she' elements, elements that stemmed from the flow of my life, originating even before my birth. I had already met her in my past lives. My 'first love' had always been there—it had no beginning. When I realized this, it grew into something even greater. The seed of true love exists in each of us." In some way, she remained a part of Thích Nhất Hạnh's life.

"Every glance, every smile, every word of yours reaches far into the cosmos, affecting every living and non-living being. All things are interconnected; all things penetrate one another. This is the Huá Zàng world—this is our world."

Thus, Thích Nhất Hạnh pointed out that his love story—his relationship with her—is no different from yours or mine.

"Immerse yourself in the river of your own life and see the tributaries that have nourished and sustained you. If you study the Diamond Sutra and realize that 'self,' 'person,' 'sentient being,' and 'life span' transcend their conventional meanings, you will see that you are me, you are her." "Look deeply into your first love to discover its true nature. If you observe deeply, you will see your true self and your real first love."

Reference: Thích Nhất Hạnh, Our Appointment with Life ("Cultivating the Mind of Love")

Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche: Lovers as Awakening Teachers

Not all Buddhist traditions strictly require celibacy. Some monastics, due to historical compromises under political pressure—like Japanese Buddhist monastics—are permitted to marry. Others, because of different practices or teaching methods, may take Bodhisattva vows but not necessarily the monastic precepts, meaning they are not monastics and thus not bound by celibacy.

Some might ask: Doesn't Buddhism teach detachment from sexual desire between men and women? Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche shares: "In Tibetan Buddhism, a teacher may manifest in many ways. So in this context—though some may find it uncomfortable—I'll say that I, too, learned something very precious and  profoundly awakening from a girl I once fell madly in love with." This was from a 2012 public talk in Singapore, where he spoke of his youthful love for a Dutch woman.

Love and Relationships Happen in a Borrowed Space

In his twenties, with his teacher's permission, Rinpoche traveled alone to London to study. During that time, he met a beautiful, free-spirited Dutch woman who had grown up in a hippie community. Once, while riding the subway, she nudged him and pointed at a passenger, asking, "What do you think of that guy?" Soon after, she struck up a conversation with him; within days, they were together—only for her to leave him a night or two later. "In her own way, she was faithful to me, but it was excruciating," Rinpoche said. "I was a teacher, supposed to embody freedom, non-attachment, and "do as you please"—yet this girl, who was happy and joyful at all times, taught me something invaluable. I had to see her as one of my awakening teachers."

Rinpoche then shared a metaphor using a scenario from a Korean film: One male and one female servant, working for wealthy families, fell in love. Their employers traveled often, leaving their mansions empty—so, it's the couple who actually live there, meeting in borrowed luxury, drinking champagne, enjoying candlelit dinners, and relishing their romance. "That is to say, their relationship unfolded in a borrowed space. In many ways, our love and emotional bonds are like that—and this is where Buddhist wisdom applies. We all depend on conditions and circumstances; no one can control everything."

Yet human suffering arises precisely here, because one greatest pitfalls of love and relationships is taking things for granted. When a loved one no longer enthusiastically connects with you, anxiety, insecurity, and doubt brew. Within the backdrop of "take it for granted", a mental storm erupts when the expected script goes off-track.

As Rinpoche thoroughly explains in "84,000 Questions", afflictions stem from the psychological factors of misperception or misunderstanding: seeing impermanence as permanence, parts and particles as a whole, interdependence as independence, and a completely transient existence, yet it mistakenly believes in a solid "self."

"But actually the "self" is almost like a homeless person—we have no real home, yet we refuse to believe that we are homeless." Rinpoche elaborates that in this denial, we even grow bold—printing business cards with someone else's address, making others believe that we live here. Terrified yet excited and thrilled, "we play this ego-driven game, which of course only deepens our loneliness."
Thus, we must awaken to the truth: namely that the self, love, relationships—indeed, all phenomena—rely on borrowed causes and conditions. We must accept the fact that we've never had a home, a foundation—not even the status of rightful occupants.

I'll Never See What You See
But another problem arises: love and the desire for relationships to a large extent often stem from insecurity. We compulsively seek reassurance of the other's love, feeling "complete" only when validated. Yet, unfortunately, as Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche says, true communication is impossible.
"As the Nyingma master Jigme Lingpa said: "The moment we think, we're deluded; the moment we speak, we contradict.'"

We can never truly know what our partner imagines, expects, or fears—we can only guess based on past events. However, emotions are like the weather, constantly shifting and changing according to all sorts of events and matters. We're completely dependent on and at the mercy of external conditions.

If successful communication is impossible, how do we share anything? Relationships are built on sharing—yet "in Buddhism, there's no such thing as sharing." Rinpoche notes that even if you and I gaze at the same flower, I'll never see what you see—not just the direction or color, but your thoughts about this flower and everything it evokes.

"That's why "Thus have I heard" is so crucial. Ananda was saying: "I don't know what he meant, but this is what I heard.""  Rinpoche emphasizes that relationships are the same: two lovers may believe they're sharing a sublime moment, yet what both parties hear, experience, and see are merely their own personal versions of joy, suffering, or any other sensation.

References:

• Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche's talk on"Love and Relationships"
• 84000 Questions

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Resource: Issue 431 of Humanity Magazine, Dharma Drum Publishing Corporation
Photo: 李東陽，周玉勳
Translation: Denise 
Editing: Keith Brown, YKL