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The Deepest Peace: Contemplations from a Season of Stillness
While there is suffering in the world and in each of us, there is also the possibility and the experience of peace. As Zenju Earthlyn Manuel, a Zen priest who has written at length on race, gender, sexual orientation, and homelessness, writes in the introduction: "I have testified many times of my suffering. Before I die, I must speak of peace." The Deepest Peace is a poetic, lyrical ode to the ways contemplative practice illuminates daily life. It is at once a window into Zenju's personal practice, and an invitation to begin our own.
192 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
August 24, 2020
This book was everything I needed to read right now given the state of the world, my community, and my struggles to be part of it without falling into despair. Manuel's reflections aren't self help in the way some books of this type can be, they are just the thoughts of someone far wiser than me who I can learn something from. The best part about reading this book—I read a download of the eGalley—is that when the "real thing" is out in December I can read it all over again. And I will.
March 20, 2022
“How can we say we are not loved when the earth gives us our very breath?“
What I discovered very early in reading this wonderful testimony, is the term “Contemplation” in the title of this powerful text. A text that at its core can bring about a series of contemplations. I found that some connected more than others, but I would need to sit with those that didn’t, to really discover what they mean in my life; or maybe they will have meaning tomorrow. That’s the beauty of the “Deepest Peace: Contemplations From A Season of Stillness”. 🙏🏻
What I discovered very early in reading this wonderful testimony, is the term “Contemplation” in the title of this powerful text. A text that at its core can bring about a series of contemplations. I found that some connected more than others, but I would need to sit with those that didn’t, to really discover what they mean in my life; or maybe they will have meaning tomorrow. That’s the beauty of the “Deepest Peace: Contemplations From A Season of Stillness”. 🙏🏻
December 24, 2023
Many books I read change or deepen my perspective, this book actually inspired me towards decisions that are transforming my life. Beautiful as well as profound, on finishing this book I now deeply to Zenju Earthlyn Manuel.
December 22, 2021
Exquisite prose and poetry. Depths of marginalization, Mama Earth, and the healing of both. A profound experience of heart.
July 27, 2022
I really didn't like this book. It looked like something I would enjoy; writings/prose on buddhism and peace. I'm not sure how it turned out so bad.
First off, Manuel is completely full of herself. The book starts with this advice:
"These words are full. The digestion slow. Try a sentence or two every minute, pause, and resume. There is no need to rush. The experience of reading meditatively will create the silence needed to hear."
It feels pretty weird when an author tells you to take your time reading cause they're a really good writer. Now, at this point in the book I gave Manuel the benefit of the doubt; perhaps this is the kind of advice we can apply to many situations and books, and in that case it's sound advice. It's easy to consume thousands of words without getting any sort of "nutrients." If words exist to teach, then reading without learning is like eating without swallowing. Or something, I don't know. I'm not the writer.
So I tried to take Manuel's advice. I read this book slowly, at first because I was analyzing, highlighting, thinking, but later because I just did not want to read it anymore. But I felt I needed to finish it. After all, it's only 190 pages.
My first problem: Manuel's analogies are just... empty. Not good.
For example, near the beginning:
"Upon entering the sanctuary to meditate, we remove our shoes" - this is fine, she's going to explain the symbolism behind removing your shoes. I'm interested.
"...Because you're already barefoot, there will be no need to pull the shoes off your feet after you've drowned ... with thoughts of how you have no solutions to suffering." - Okay, first point of confusion. If I'm drowning, why would I be worrying about my shoes at all? I'm worried about staying above water. I guess shoes make it slightly harder to swim?
She closes this paragraph with "You discover you haven't drowned. You are walking." -What? What does this mean? How does this relate to why you don't wear shoes in the sanctuary? If this is some sort of metaphor, wouldn't I want to be wearing my shoes again? If I'm actually walking?
The structure and explanation just don't work. It feels like something a 14 year old would write and think that it's deep, or "full," as Manuel would say. Her metaphors are so messy. She'll talk about being connected to the earth, then mix it up and talk about being connected to the moon.
Speaking of teenage writing, Manuel writes about a time in school where the english teacher loved the poem she wrote for class. This part was particularly ridiculous. The teacher is about to read a poem to the class, and Manuel expresses disdain for the potential of hearing another Shakespeare or Keats poem. It turns out the teacher read her poem she submitted for an assignment. Afterwards, the teacher asks her how she wrote something so beautiful. She says "I don't know," but inside she's thinking
"The words can't be explained. In fact, they are not words. It's not writing. It's an exhale gathered and released on the page." -It's just silly and pretentious. And it just gets worse. That night she reads the poem to her mother, but instead of words she hears winds and storm, because she isn't the author - the ocean is.
It's just stupid. As the book goes on, Manuel just further reveals how pretentious and judgemental she is.
In one section Manuel mocks people who throw away the "bad" parts of a pig, like the hooves and snout, saying they "[don't] know about scraping together a life." You heard it here, if you don't want to eat pig hooves, you don't know about struggle.
She writes "water running over my hands makes me wonder how gardenias feel in the rain and I don't know, so I don't say." So you can't write about anything you don't have direct knowledge of? She describes things she just described as "indescribable." It's just frustratingly messy.
This whole book Manuel writes about how holy she is, how hermitude is superior to interacting with other people, how she's earned the title of "Reverend" and "Venerable," and how hurt she is when her friends refuse to call her "Venerable." She's just so full of herself. She writes about how she hated her Christian upbringing because they would call for confession and repentance, but later in a Buddhist monastary, they called for the same thing, and she stormed out of the monastary in anger. I thought that chapter might show some personal growth, some admittance that she has in fact made mistakes like every other human, and that she has learned from them. But no. Manuel does not admit her mistakes, because she does not make them. She is perfect, and damn you for thinking otherwise.
Manuel wrote "My own chanting enters my heart as medicine." This line perfectly reflects my feelings towards this book. Maybe thinking, meditating, and writing this book served as a sort of "medicine" for her soul. But I doubt said chanting is helping anyone else, or at least me.
I had a lot of unexpected feelings for this book. I just kind of vomited this review out from my notes, but I felt I had to write it. I had to explain why this book bothered me so much. It isn't without any wisdom, there are some bits I liked, like the quote "alienation can appear as solitude." That's good. But so much of it isn't. And so much of it makes me feel like Manuel has more to learn than to teach.
First off, Manuel is completely full of herself. The book starts with this advice:
"These words are full. The digestion slow. Try a sentence or two every minute, pause, and resume. There is no need to rush. The experience of reading meditatively will create the silence needed to hear."
It feels pretty weird when an author tells you to take your time reading cause they're a really good writer. Now, at this point in the book I gave Manuel the benefit of the doubt; perhaps this is the kind of advice we can apply to many situations and books, and in that case it's sound advice. It's easy to consume thousands of words without getting any sort of "nutrients." If words exist to teach, then reading without learning is like eating without swallowing. Or something, I don't know. I'm not the writer.
So I tried to take Manuel's advice. I read this book slowly, at first because I was analyzing, highlighting, thinking, but later because I just did not want to read it anymore. But I felt I needed to finish it. After all, it's only 190 pages.
My first problem: Manuel's analogies are just... empty. Not good.
For example, near the beginning:
"Upon entering the sanctuary to meditate, we remove our shoes" - this is fine, she's going to explain the symbolism behind removing your shoes. I'm interested.
"...Because you're already barefoot, there will be no need to pull the shoes off your feet after you've drowned ... with thoughts of how you have no solutions to suffering." - Okay, first point of confusion. If I'm drowning, why would I be worrying about my shoes at all? I'm worried about staying above water. I guess shoes make it slightly harder to swim?
She closes this paragraph with "You discover you haven't drowned. You are walking." -What? What does this mean? How does this relate to why you don't wear shoes in the sanctuary? If this is some sort of metaphor, wouldn't I want to be wearing my shoes again? If I'm actually walking?
The structure and explanation just don't work. It feels like something a 14 year old would write and think that it's deep, or "full," as Manuel would say. Her metaphors are so messy. She'll talk about being connected to the earth, then mix it up and talk about being connected to the moon.
Speaking of teenage writing, Manuel writes about a time in school where the english teacher loved the poem she wrote for class. This part was particularly ridiculous. The teacher is about to read a poem to the class, and Manuel expresses disdain for the potential of hearing another Shakespeare or Keats poem. It turns out the teacher read her poem she submitted for an assignment. Afterwards, the teacher asks her how she wrote something so beautiful. She says "I don't know," but inside she's thinking
"The words can't be explained. In fact, they are not words. It's not writing. It's an exhale gathered and released on the page." -It's just silly and pretentious. And it just gets worse. That night she reads the poem to her mother, but instead of words she hears winds and storm, because she isn't the author - the ocean is.
It's just stupid. As the book goes on, Manuel just further reveals how pretentious and judgemental she is.
In one section Manuel mocks people who throw away the "bad" parts of a pig, like the hooves and snout, saying they "[don't] know about scraping together a life." You heard it here, if you don't want to eat pig hooves, you don't know about struggle.
She writes "water running over my hands makes me wonder how gardenias feel in the rain and I don't know, so I don't say." So you can't write about anything you don't have direct knowledge of? She describes things she just described as "indescribable." It's just frustratingly messy.
This whole book Manuel writes about how holy she is, how hermitude is superior to interacting with other people, how she's earned the title of "Reverend" and "Venerable," and how hurt she is when her friends refuse to call her "Venerable." She's just so full of herself. She writes about how she hated her Christian upbringing because they would call for confession and repentance, but later in a Buddhist monastary, they called for the same thing, and she stormed out of the monastary in anger. I thought that chapter might show some personal growth, some admittance that she has in fact made mistakes like every other human, and that she has learned from them. But no. Manuel does not admit her mistakes, because she does not make them. She is perfect, and damn you for thinking otherwise.
Manuel wrote "My own chanting enters my heart as medicine." This line perfectly reflects my feelings towards this book. Maybe thinking, meditating, and writing this book served as a sort of "medicine" for her soul. But I doubt said chanting is helping anyone else, or at least me.
I had a lot of unexpected feelings for this book. I just kind of vomited this review out from my notes, but I felt I had to write it. I had to explain why this book bothered me so much. It isn't without any wisdom, there are some bits I liked, like the quote "alienation can appear as solitude." That's good. But so much of it isn't. And so much of it makes me feel like Manuel has more to learn than to teach.
May 2, 2022
This book accompanied me through an unusual, sleepless night. After I'd finished, the thoughts it prompted helped me remember what it was like as child, to just exist in stillness, to enjoy the dark, the quiet, and the fact that I had nothing better to do than experience them. I was able to fall asleep and stay there deeply.
However, unfortunately, my ultimate experience with the book boils down one of confusion and frustration. The prose was too nebulous and artsy to connect well with a mind deeply-rooted in logic and reason. The many grammar oddities often suggested that the words had been chosen simply because they sounded good, and not for any more compelling reason. Actually, based on my limited knowledge, this kind of writing seems classically Zen.
Allowing for the fact that this is a memoir more than anything else, or perhaps a collection of lyrical essays, the way this book is written isn't necessarily a flaw. It can be seen as a reflection of the author's experiences and personal way of processing them. I can accept that, but it doesn't change the fact that it prevented this book from fully connecting with me.
However, unfortunately, my ultimate experience with the book boils down one of confusion and frustration. The prose was too nebulous and artsy to connect well with a mind deeply-rooted in logic and reason. The many grammar oddities often suggested that the words had been chosen simply because they sounded good, and not for any more compelling reason. Actually, based on my limited knowledge, this kind of writing seems classically Zen.
Allowing for the fact that this is a memoir more than anything else, or perhaps a collection of lyrical essays, the way this book is written isn't necessarily a flaw. It can be seen as a reflection of the author's experiences and personal way of processing them. I can accept that, but it doesn't change the fact that it prevented this book from fully connecting with me.
March 24, 2024
This is not a book for any day consumption. There's time for it. I started reading it, then had to set it aside for several months, only to come back to it when I needed it. It's a book of contemplation. There are no specific topics, it's more like a stream of consciousness, a flow of thoughts. It's quiet, serene. Exactly what I needed to calm down my mind...
September 30, 2023
The most unusual and one of the most inspiring books related to Buddhism that I've ever read. Zenju expresses herself in prose poetry in a way that can really grab your soul. Need I say - highly recommended.
April 27, 2021
Beautiful ! - such is The Deepest Peace.
September 9, 2021
Get very abstract, but in a way we’re the wisdom shines through. Perhaps more so than if it tried to be “clear.”
December 30, 2021
Of Zenju’s books, this is the one I like the best. A collection of quiet ruminations, it’s a nice read with my morning cuppa.
February 3, 2022
I read this very slowly, savoring 1 or 2 poems before bed. It was a great way to read this.
September 12, 2022
Reading this book is meditation. Just read it.
December 27, 2022
Perhaps the most beautiful meditation on nature that I’ve ever read.
December 31, 2021
Lovely book of poetry and prose about grief, peace, and healing.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews