This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Finding hope in what's hard with Gil Fronsdal. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Finding hope in what's hard - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on February 08, 2026. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Finding hope in what's hard

Good morning, everyone. Welcome.

On Thursday, I received an email from a journalist saying she was writing an article about how faith leaders in different religions can offer hope at these times. She wanted a quote, a passage, something. I didn't really have the time—I was taking care of an ill relative and had programs to teach—so I sent something brief, but I never heard a reply. Perhaps she had already finished.

But the idea stayed with me: faith leaders offering hope at these times. If I had more time, what would I have said?

I would say that we don't want to look for hope outside of our own hearts. That is the source of it. In Buddhism, it is really about finding the source of hope in our own hearts. That is where it begins.

This goes along with the idea of not looking in the wrong place for our well-being. Dharma practice suggests a paradigm shift, not unique to Buddhism, but a profound shift in orientation. The suggestion is not to find the solution to our life or our capacity for happiness and peace in our external life, but to find something very profound in our own hearts and to see that as the way forward.

It is a summary of Buddhist teachings that the world begins with you. The Buddhist word loka¹, for "world," is often used by the Buddha to refer to your own personal world that radiates out of you. Each of us lives in a world of our own experience, our own seeing, our own interpretations, and our own orientation. It is very hard to get out of our own immediate world that we live in through our senses and experience. To appreciate how much each of us lives in a personal world—that is certainly quite intimately connected to the world around us and to other people—is to understand that the world begins in our own hearts.

There are monks now who are walking to Washington D.C., which inspires a lot of people. I think they are arriving next weekend. In support of them, the San Francisco Zen Center is doing a march for peace through San Francisco this afternoon. I would go, except that I have to see my relative who is sick.

But I came down here today, and as I was walking past the library, on the table—coincidentally maybe—was this book that I read years ago called Peace Pilgrim. Some of you might know it. It is about a woman who spent many years, starting with the Korean War, walking across the country with almost no possessions. She had enough possessions to fit into her sweatshirt pocket—a toothbrush and a comb, maybe. She would just walk. People would mostly take her in or feed her, but she had no money. She had this message of peace.

In her book, which contains quotes from interviews and speeches, she describes how sometimes she wasn't given housing and had to sleep outside. She wore tennis shoes, not the hiking shoes we have now. People would see after a while that her soles had holes in them, and someone would buy her shoes. That is how it went for all those years. She was an inspired person.

It shows what one person can do with something as simple as walking. She had big letters across the front of her chest: "PEACE PILGRIM." That was enough to get people's attention. Now these monks are walking across the country, and they are getting lots of people's attention.

I learned yesterday that the head monk in the procession has a robe over his left shoulder that is full of sparkly silver things. It is dramatic to see. Someone asked, "What is that? It's kind of strange for a monk to have all this silver jewelry." It turns out it is a whole collection of sheriff badges.

What is a monk doing with sheriff badges? I was told that as they were walking through different counties across the South, there were Thai or Cambodian police officers and sheriffs. It is really moving for them to see a Thai monk walking the streets; it is one of the most sacred things for someone who is Thai. The police officers in full uniform would do what they do in Thailand—go all the way down and put their head on the floor, bowing to the monks. I guess there are enough Thai sheriffs and police officers in the South that they gave them their badges. Is that legal? [Laughter]

It is quite something that these messengers of peace are carrying the badge of a peace officer.

So, this book was there in the library, and I thought, "Certainly if I just open up any page, I'll get a quote I can use for the talk." This was the first one I opened, from the introduction:

"The simple yet profound message of Peace Pilgrim's life and words is urgently needed in humankind's search for peace. She has given us renewed hope in the future of this world—hope that enough of us might gain inner peace to make world peace possible. She has given us an example of a person who lived in inner peace and was filled with a boundless energy that grew rather than diminished with age."

Here is someone who knows that peace begins in one's own heart. One finds one's own peace, and then one can spread it.

In Buddhism, they have this analogy: if you want sesame oil, don't try pressing gravel. You have to know where to look. One of the ways to try to get sesame oil from gravel is to expect that someone else in this world is supposed to make the peace for you. Someone else is responsible—the people in government, the religious people, the faith leaders like me. You think, "They are supposed to do it." You are not going to get peace that way because you are not touching your own heart. It has to begin with each of us.

Some people live a life of being a consumer. In living from the heart, we are actually the producers. Live a life of being a producer, not a consumer. The consumer always wants something done for them, to receive something. Instead, let's offer, let's produce.

It is like a little room heater that is cold. You might think, "Someone should turn on the heater in the house. Someone should turn on the furnace. Someone should get something going here. Someone should do this for me." But the little heater can turn itself on—in this fantasy world [Laughter], as a metaphor—and produce the heat for itself. Produce our own heat, and then our own heat spreads, and we can do it for others.

Don't underestimate how significant that could be. There are people in Minneapolis now who, a month ago, thought they would have no role. They are ordinary people, just living their lives, thinking other people are going to take care of things. Then it came to their neighborhood, and they stepped up. These neighborhood groups are very proud in Minneapolis for their spirit of caring for the neighbors, protecting the neighbors, and doing all this wonderful work. Just ordinary people who never would have thought they had a role.

Our politics might be very different, but can we take care of our neighbors? You might be asked to do that. You don't know what is coming in any circumstance. It doesn't have to be political; it could be something else that is needed from you. Are you ready to develop your own heart, to find your own peace, and let that be the source of how we act in the world?

Here is another quote from Peace Pilgrim herself:

"There is no glimpse of the light without walking the path. You can't get it from anyone else, nor can you give it to anyone. Just take whatever steps seem to be easiest for you. As you take a few steps, it will be easier for you to take a few more."

This is very nice for Buddhists who have this whole metaphor of "walking the path." No one can walk it for you. Just like no one can pee for you—there are certain things you have to do for yourself. You can't contract out meditation: "I don't have time for meditation, so I'm going to pay someone else to do it for me." That doesn't help. Some things you have to do for yourself.

"There is no glimpse of the light without walking the path." What light? The light in you.

One of the songs they have been singing for many decades is "This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let It Shine." It became a civil rights song. I was told yesterday that in the 1960s, before the Civil Rights Act was passed, the Black Caucus in Congress was not really given much chance to speak. The racism was such that they wouldn't get a voice. So they started singing that song on the floor until they were given a voice to speak in front of everyone. "This little light of mine, I'm going to make it shine." We all have a little light to make shine.

In the teachings of the Buddha, there is a remarkable little discourse that describes a story in which the Buddha teaches something similar to this. The Buddha was walking along a river, and there was a Brahmin going into the river who had this notion that if you go in the river, it will purify you of all your bad karma.

The Buddha said to him, "What are you doing there?" "Well, I'm trying to clean my karma." The Buddha said, "That is not how you clean your karma. That is not the river to flow in."

Then he gives a teaching that is an alternative. What is remarkable about this teaching is that it begins by talking about challenging, afflictive, painful emotional attitudes and relationships we can have in our social world with each other. This is where we are looking outside of us for something; we are engaged with objects out there rather than understanding our own hearts and caring for that first.

Sometimes that object is things we want; we want to have it. Sometimes it is things we don't want; we hate it, we want to get rid of it, we have aversion. Sometimes there are ideas of revenge, resentment, covetousness, envy, jealousy. There is this complicated world of relationships we have. The Buddha names, I think, seventeen different social relationships, emotions, and attitudes we can have. He says that it is important to see those. We have to know and see when these are arising in ourselves. That is hard to do because these attitudes usually have an object outside of ourselves that is the object of concern, preventing us from turning around and seeing ourselves well enough. We have to stop to see this.

But then he says something extremely important. He says you also have to see when they are not there. Because you can let go of them. If you have practice, you learn to let go. And if you can really let go of these things deeply, you see something significant in Buddhism: you see it is possible to have a heart without those. That is not a small thing.

If I am always holding something in my hand, if I think the whole purpose of the hand is to hold something—"Got to always hold something"—then if I really don't like that porcupine, I still have to hold it. That hurts, but I think I have to hold it. Of course, I prefer to hold soft cotton yarn, but unfortunately, I don't have enough of that around, and there are all these porcupines. Sometimes I am holding something that has no value, so I drop it and find something else to hold. I am always holding, and if I am not holding, I am looking for what to hold.

If you watch your mind, your mind is kind of that way. It wants to think about things, focus on what to think about next, concerns and preoccupations. Some of us are talented multitaskers, thinking many things and jumping around. It is amazing to watch the mind immediately look for the next thing to think about. There is no pause. It is like the hand is always grabbing.

At some point, someone teaches me: you don't have to be grabbing all the time. You can just hold your hand open. There is no need to always grab things.

And then I say, "Wow, really? Look at that. It's peaceful. It's at ease. It's restful. I feel the breeze across my palm. I didn't even know there was a breeze. It is so nice."

And then I think, "Maybe I don't have to grab so much at things. Wow, I can do this." But then we think, "I should grab my pen and write a letter to the government telling them we need to pass a law that makes it okay for me to have my hand open, because no one else has their hand open." Now we are grabbing again.

Or, if your hand is open and it is so nice, the obvious thing to do is to grab it. As soon as you grab your open hand, you have lost it. You have to keep it open.

It is like that if you see that you are caught in revenge, hostility, greed, lust, fear, or anxiety, and you see that it is possible not to have it. It is not inherent in the heart. The heart can breathe and be open and available without that. That can be a very powerful lesson. For the Buddha, the hope is that with enough spiritual practice, meditation, and mindfulness, the lesson of the open hand—the lesson of the heart free of these things, even temporarily—is so impactful and inspiring.

"Wow, it's possible."

This is a different message than "you are supposed to have some great cosmic experience of oneness or bliss." It is a powerful appreciation of what it is like to have the hand open. Not to grab bliss, not to grab some cosmic experience, but rather the profound peace of a heart that is at ease with itself.

The Buddha describes that it gets to a point where it brings inspiration. Inspiration is something that flows from the inside out. We are the producers of it. There is a feeling of well-being, of being uplifted, that comes from the inside out. From that, a door opens to a lot of goodness—qualities that can begin flowing from the inside out, not dependent on the external world.

Just like the open hand: at first, because it has been used to grabbing, it actually aches a little to open. But slowly it thaws, it relaxes, and after a while, it feels like there is a nice flow of energy and openness. It feels restful and contented. The same thing happens to the heart. There is this inspiration: "Wow, this is possible. This level of peace in my heart, this level of freedom from afflictive emotions."

The Buddha says that with that inspiration, gladness is born. "Born" suggests something organic, biological, something that emerges from inside of us. It is not something we make or acquire from outside. The fact that our hearts are capable of this birth of gladness—and from gladness, there is the birth of joy. When there is this kind of joy, the body becomes tranquil. As the body becomes tranquil, a certain sublime happiness can come. From that happiness, the mind gets unified, gathered together.

What happens next in the Buddha's description is also very inspiring. Remember, we are supposed to be producers, not consumers. We are not looking for the world to provide answers for us; we want to become the answer for the world. What kind of answer do we want to provide? More anger? More hate? More greed? More conceit? More selfishness?

This process is waking up in people because they realize the fist can be open, the heart can be free, and all these wonderful qualities of joy and peace can arise. This creates the conditions for the heart to begin to sing, to smile. (That is my language; the Buddha didn't say that.)

In relationship to others, to this world of ours, we have the capacity to love. Love is not transactional here. Love is not something we have to drum up. Love is not dependent on how others are. Love is something the heart can do for no reason, just because it is at peace, at ease, and because it is now open and available.

The open hand can now put its light touch on our troubled friend's shoulder: "I'm here with you." The open hand can hold a newborn baby. You don't hold a newborn baby with fists; you don't convey love, care, and tenderness with a fisted hand. The open hand is what is needed—gentle and soft. You don't please the cat by rubbing your fist across it. There is something about the open hand that conveys so much.

The Buddha then says that for practitioners who really know how to be settled and at ease with the open heart, we allow something to begin flowing.

"They end up sitting, meditating, spreading a heart full of goodwill to the East, to the South, to the West, and to the North; above, below, horizontally, and everywhere. In all directions, they pervade this whole world with a heart full of goodwill—abundant, expansive, limitless, free from hatred and ill will."

This is a phenomenal description of what a human being is capable of. This is not a fantasy. It is an unconfused, unagitated flow of goodwill. We pervade the world of our experience in all directions—no direction is untouched as far as our personal world extends. The agitation and preoccupations of the mind are quieted enough that the heart is clear and can flow. The heart can be the small heater that gets turned on, and the heat pervades outwards.

He goes on to describe the same thing for compassion, rejoicing, and equanimity. It is worth repeating because it is so inspiring that this is a capacity of our hearts.

"They meditate spreading a heart of compassion to the East, the South, the West, and the North; above, below, horizontally, and everywhere. They pervade the whole world with a heart full of compassion—abundant, expansive, limitless, free from hatred and ill will."

"They meditate spreading a heart full of rejoicing [sympathetic joy] to the East, the South, the West, and the North; above, below, horizontally, and everywhere. They pervade the whole world with a heart full of rejoicing—abundant, expansive, limitless, free from hatred and ill will."

"They meditate spreading a heart full of equanimity to the East, the South, the West, and the North; above, below, horizontally, and everywhere. They pervade the whole world with a heart full of equanimity—abundant, expansive, limitless, free from hatred and ill will."

Equanimity² means to watch over in a balanced, non-reactive way. It is not indifferent or aloof. It is an ability to be present and available as needed, to respond in other ways with love, compassion, or rejoicing.

The ability to find hope for this world begins in yourself. If you are looking for hope by looking for things that happen in the world, let it be a mirror to what we can do, each of us.

Many of you might know that American saint, Mr. Rogers, who was also a great teacher of peace. He tells a story that when he was a small kid and would read in the news about horrible things happening—he grew up during World War II—he would ask his mother about it. She said, "Look for the helpers."

Rather than being discouraged by how terrible things are, look around for people who help. There are usually lots of people. The greater the tragedy, the more you can see people coming to help and support each other. Do not turn a blind eye to the difficulties, but turn a real open eye to how much goodness there is in the world. Not because there is hope "out there" that they are going to figure it out for you, but let it be a mirror for you.

I believe the call in Buddhism is for each of us to take responsibility for ourselves in a very deep way. So deeply that if there is hope for the world you live in—the world that begins with you and extends out across the globe from you—you have to find that hope in yourself. You have to find something in your heart that is worth shining into the world. This little light that you have—maybe it can grow. If you are ready with it and you know it, then you can join together with other small lights and create a big light for this world.

Perhaps you don't know what you are going to be asked to do. I am not asked by the universe to go to the peace walk in San Francisco this afternoon; I am asked to go to the hospital. Different things at different times.

I don't know if I responded to the journalist's request to offer words for hope, because I don't know how you feel about your own heart. But whatever your heart is, whatever difficulty you have, in this teaching that the Buddha gave—the alternative to going to the river to clean up your karma—the idea is that the river is the river of your own heart, your own life inside. That is where the work is.

The Buddha was very clear. He began this teaching by naming all these very difficult emotions and challenges that humans had back in his time, which are probably no different than our challenges. He acknowledged that. And it is possible to take a deep look, to practice, and to have a qualitatively special experience of a heart that is free of those.

If it happens to you, you will go, "Wow, I had no idea." Not because you are distracted from everything, but because of a heart that is clean. A heart that is free. And that is just the beginning. Then something can flow. Your love can flow. Your little light can flow.

Questions and Answers

Q: Do you have any tips or suggestions on how to find friends in this community?

I would love to have the question be different. Not "how to find friends"—I appreciate the question and understand the need and value in it—but I would prefer the question: "How can I be a friend in this community?"

If the question is turned around that way, what difference does that make? What change comes from that? It is like the saying, "Six of one, half a dozen of the other"—two sides of the coin. It is two separate questions, and we can look at one, but can we answer mine?

My mom told me it is not polite to answer a question with a question. [Laughter] But people who offer spiritual care will often answer a question with a question. If we were doing spiritual care together, I would be asking you lots of questions.

Q: There are those who have said that hope itself can be a form of grasping.

Yes, I have heard that often, too—that some spiritual people or Buddhists want to ban the word "hope" because it implies attachment or looking outside of ourselves. I think there is some truth to that; hope is sometimes blind, sometimes wishful thinking, or maybe based on fear. What needs to be looked at is the fear itself.

There is a lot of interesting care that goes around looking at the word "hope," for sure. But I think there are also very positive forms of hope that are beneficial and helpful. Maybe when hope is inspiration. Hope is a warm-hearted desire, a sense of purpose, a sense of value—a sense that "this is important for me, and this is possible." That could be hope as well. It is a bit of a semantic issue. I beg of you to interpret my use of the word today in the best way you can.

For some people, hope is a form of wanting or longing. To that extent, if your sense of hope is only that, I think you could be very frustrated.

One of the ways we get tangled in this is that we are relating to English words, and they came from Pali words. Thich Nhat Hanh addressed that; he preferred to translate it as "persistence," which is much more internal, but it can look much like hope. The point is that it is a "clean" kind of hope—"I still believe this, and I am still doing it."

There are two wonderful words in Pali that relate to this. Saṃvega³, which I like to translate as "inspiration to practice," and Pasāda⁴, which is sometimes translated as "inspiration" or "clarity."

May you find the inspiration in your own heart. You all have good hearts. You all have a little light in there. And you can make it strong. Find it, trust it, and the world will need it sooner or later.