A Lesson from Ajahn Chah, and a Poem

"this glass is already broken"

Already Broken

The heart breaks
like the way a glass shatters
on a hard floor.

But, as Ajahn Chah said,
This glass is already broken.

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Photo by Sandip Kalal on Unsplash

I consider this to be the first poem I ever wrote - at least, the first proper poem I wrote, or the first one I thought was any good. It’s inspired by a teaching from Ajahn Chah, who was a Buddhist teacher in the Thai forest tradition. This teaching is recounted by Mark Epstein in his book Thoughts Without a Thinker: Psychotherapy from a Buddhist Perspective, and it goes as follows:

“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”

I first heard about this teaching from Tara Brach, and I like it a lot. Essentially, it’s about impermanence, the idea that everything we love will one day disappear, or else be destroyed, and thinking of that which we love as already passed - a loved one already dead, or a glass already broken - changes how we orient ourselves towards it, i.e. we cherish it, for we know one day it will be gone.

I found this a beautiful way to think about heartbreak: in a way, our hearts are already broken, right from the beginning. That’s not supposed to be a gloomy thing - although heartbreak is of course incredibly painful, it’s also, I think, the closest we can get to an experience which transcends time and space, and it can be an incredibly fertile state to be in, also.

Think about it: much has been written throughout history on how heartbreak persists over time; be it romantic heartbreak or the death of a parent, in a way we never get over these profound losses, we just become a different person who can contain that experience, we become bigger than it. But it doesn’t cease to be a painful thing. And the heart that breaks breaks open, like the glass as it hits the floor and is dashed to smithereens.

From our perspective the glass is broken, but from a quantum perspective it has just assumed new form, returning to the dust from which it was forged. When our hearts break, they are made anew. The accumulation of heartbreak over time is what builds our character, our inner resilience and fortitude - it is not to be feared, but to be welcomed. Letting your heart break, and I mean really break, can be incredibly liberating and an affirmation of life.

Ajahn Chah’s teaching is a reminder to love fiercely, but not forget about the death which lies behind everything, and is in fact the precondition for its existence. Remembering impermanence frees us to love timelessly, and release our grip on what we have for fear of its loss, and for the belief that holding tightly enough will prevent things from slipping through our fingers anyway.

Here’s the poem again:

---

Already Broken

The heart breaks
like the way a glass shatters
on a hard floor.

But, as Ajahn Chah said,
This glass is already broken.

---

Photo by Tom Swinnen on Unsplash

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Until next time.