In the West, Buddhism is often misunderstood, particularly regarding its teachings on suffering. Many people view Buddhism solely as a religion focused on the idea of dukkha (suffering/dis-ease) and how to eliminate it, interpreting it as a negative or pessimistic outlook on life. However, this interpretation misses the deeper nuance of Buddhist philosophy.

At its heart, Buddhism does not deny the presence of dis-ease—it teaches us how to be in relationship with it. Rather than turning away, it invites us to lean in with curiosity and compassion. Dukkha is not seen as a flaw in the system, but as a gateway to understanding. Through mindfulness and presence, we learn that pain and joy are not opposites—they are intertwined. The lotus, after all, blooms not in spite of the mud, but because of it. In this way, Buddhism offers a deeply hopeful path, one rooted not in avoidance, but in transformation.

Misunderstanding Buddhism in the West.

In the West, Buddhism is often misunderstood, particularly regarding its teachings on suffering. Many people view Buddhism solely as a religion focused on the idea of suffering and how to eliminate it, interpreting it as a negative or pessimistic outlook on life. However, this interpretation misses the deeper nuance of Buddhist philosophy.

While it’s true that Buddhism teaches that dukkha is an inherent part of life, it also emphasizes the potential for transformation and liberation through mindfulness, compassion, and awareness. The misconception arises on two fronts: 1) an inability to capture the meaning of the Pali word in other languages; and 2) when suffering is seen as something to be eliminated entirely, instead of something to be understood and transcended.

The Buddhist word dukkha is often translated as “suffering,” but its roots offer a more textured understanding. Many suggest that more accurate translations such as “dis-ease,” “distress,” “unsatisfactoryness,” “unpleasant feelings, e.g., grief, loss,” “imperfection", or “incompleteness” serve to convey the original roots of the Pali word.

Du conveys difficulty or dis-ease, and kha refers to the axle hole—the central space in a wheel. When that center is misshapen, the wheel wobbles. The ride becomes uneven. Life feels off.

I often think of this in connection with psychotherapy. In our work, we begin to notice what throws us out of balance—old attachment wounds, feelings of powerlessness, or the quiet ache of not feeling like we matter. Self-awareness, cultivated through this process, helps re-center that axle, restoring a sense of stability and movement.

In the Wheel of Wellbeing, there are eight spokes—physical, emotional, spiritual, vocational, intellectual, financial, environmental, and relational. When they’re intact, and the tire is properly inflated with rest, connection, and purpose, we move forward with more ease. Like riding that first bicycle, balance comes not through perfection but through attunement. But when the spokes are bent, missing, or the tire deflated, forward motion falters. We feel the bumpiness of dukkha. And yet, it’s in this uneven turning that the deeper work begins. The wobble invites our attention. It points to what longs for tending. And from there, real healing can begin.

In reality, Buddhism teaches that by acknowledging dis-ease and its roots, individuals can cultivate a deep sense of peace and freedom—often in the midst of life's difficulties. Dis-ease, in this context, is not a state to be avoided but a vehicle for spiritual growth and insight.

The Life and Legacy of Thich Nhat Hanh.

Thich Nhat Hanh was a renowned Vietnamese Buddhist monk, peace activist, and spiritual teacher, widely respected for his teachings on mindfulness, compassion, and the art of living in the present moment. Born in 1926 in Vietnam, he became a Buddhist monk at the age of 16 and later went on to become a key figure in the global mindfulness movement.

His approach to Buddhism was rooted in the belief that true peace can only be achieved through mindful living and deep awareness of our interconnectedness with others and the world. Thich Nhat Hanh was also a vocal advocate for peace during the Vietnam War, promoting nonviolent solutions and the power of reconciliation.

Throughout his life, he wrote over 100 books and founded several mindfulness communities, including the Plum Village Monastery in France, where he continued to teach and inspire millions around the world. Thich Nhat Hanh passed away peacefully on January 22, 2022, at his root temple, Tu Hieu Temple, in Hue, Vietnam, at the age of 95. His teachings have had a lasting impact on mindfulness practices globally, encouraging individuals to cultivate inner peace, compassion, and presence in every moment.

No Mud, No Lotus: A Teaching for Transformation.

Thich Nhat Hanh’s concept of “no mud, no lotus” is a powerful reflection on the interconnectedness of dis-ease and happiness. At its core, this idea invites us to understand that just as a lotus flower blooms out of the murky waters of a pond, the beauty and peace in our lives often emerge from the most challenging and difficult experiences.

The lotus represents joy, freedom, and spiritual awakening, while the mud symbolizes the suffering and struggles that are an inevitable part of life. “Without suffering, there’s no happiness,” Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us. “So we shouldn’t discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness” (No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering, 2014).

**Winterlandschap met paard en wagen,** Adolf le Comte, 1860 - 1921

Embracing the Mud: An Invitation to Presence.

In our culture, it’s easy to see suffering as something we need to avoid, escape, or fix as quickly as possible. We want to bypass pain, moving directly toward happiness or peace without acknowledging the raw, messy parts of our journey. Thich Nhat Hanh offers us a different perspective—one where we don’t need to shy away from the mud of our lives.

Instead, we are invited to lean into the discomfort, to understand that it’s not something to be feared, but rather a vital part of our transformation.

When we look at the lotus, it’s not the flower itself that’s extraordinary, but the way it rises above the murky water to bloom in all its beauty. The mud nurtures the lotus, and in the same way, our struggles and painful experiences can nurture our own personal growth.

Growth can take many forms: deepened self-awareness, increased emotional resilience, spiritual insight, creativity, boundary-setting, compassion, or renewed purpose. It often arises in the wake of life’s transitions—grief and loss, divorce, menopause, illness, aging, career upheaval, coming out, spiritual crisis, or becoming a parent or caregiver. These thresholds can feel like endings, but they also hold the seeds of becoming.

The mud, then, is not a mistake. It is the nourishment—sometimes even the fertilizer—that kick-starts our next burgeoning petals of self. Out of the mess and heaviness, something unexpected and beautiful can bloom.

Closing Reflection.

“No mud, no lotus” is more than a metaphor—it is a gentle yet powerful reminder that we do not need to wait until life is neat and manageable to grow, to love, or to heal. The lotus doesn't bloom despite the mud, but because of it. Likewise, our most profound transformations often emerge not from avoiding the mud, but from meeting it with presence, curiosity, and care.

As the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, in “Go to the Limits of Your Longing”:

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

In honoring the mud, we begin to trust in our own unfolding.

Notes.

Habito, R. (2022). Buddhist Praxis toward Global Healing—Cultivating Clarity, Wisdom, and Kinship. Religions, 13(4), 315. https://doi.org/10.3390/rel13040315

Hanh, Thich Nhat. (2014). No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering. Parallax Press.

Rilke, R. M. (1905). The Book of Hours. Trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy. Riverhead Books (1996 edition).