It is a rare individual who can be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize by Martin Luther King Jr. and still maintain the quiet demeanor of someone who is just really good at washing dishes.

Thích Nhất Hạnh was a Vietnamese Zen master, poet, and peace activist who effectively rebranded the ancient concept of mindfulness for a modern world that was rapidly losing its mind. He didn’t just advocate for peace in the abstract; he practiced it as a granular, second-by-second endeavor. His life was a factual testament to the idea that you cannot stop the waves, but you can certainly learn how to stand very still until the water calms down.

The Logistics of the Present

Factually, Hạnh was exiled from Vietnam for nearly 40 years because he refused to pick a side during the war, choosing instead to assist the victims of both. He spent that time in France, founding Plum Village and teaching people how to walk as if their feet were kissing the earth.

This is a logistical nightmare for the modern urbanite. Walking as if your feet are kissing the earth is difficult when you are trying to catch a train, dodging a suspicious puddle, or wearing shoes that were clearly designed by a focus group that has never actually met a human foot. Yet, his insistence was that the “present moment” is the only time we actually have. Every other moment is just a memory or a stressful preview.

The Interbeing Paradox

Philosophically, he introduced the term “Interbeing.” He argued that if you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in a sheet of paper. Without the cloud, there is no rain; without rain, the trees don’t grow; and without trees, you can’t make paper.

It’s an airtight logical chain that makes reading a standard office memo feel like an act of cosmic communion. It turns a trip to the printer into a profound realization that you are holding the rain, the sun, and the logger’s breakfast in your hands. It makes the mundane heavy with significance, which is beautiful until you realize it means you are also technically “inter-being” with your quarterly tax estimates and your internet service provider’s automated hold music.

The Mindful Dishwasher

Ultimately, Hạnh’s most radical proposal was his stance on the mundane. He famously suggested that one should wash the dishes only to wash the dishes—not to get them clean, and certainly not to get them over with so you can go watch television.

It is a refusal to live in the future. In a world optimized for “hacks” and “productivity shortcuts,” the idea of fully experiencing a soap bubble is the most rebellious act imaginable. He lived as though the act of drinking a cup of tea was as vital as signing a peace treaty, a perspective that is both deeply comforting and incredibly annoying when you just want your caffeine to kick in.

He left us with the realization that peace isn’t a destination we reach after all the work is done. Peace is the way we walk to the fridge at 2:00 AM to see if there is any leftover sustenance that might survive the scrutiny of a truly present mind.