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Mr. Thomas recently came to Menomonie to speak at a presentation put on by the Red Cedar Peace Initiative. As a veteran of the Vietnam War who since converted to Buddhism, he offered a unique perspective. My next-door neighbors are organizers of the Menomonie peace group, and they hosted Mr. Thomas during his visit. I happened to be at the computer in my office, which overlooks the street, when Mr. Thomas and his assistant arrived. He was dressed in the traditional robes of a Buddhist monk, but I was immediately struck by the intensity with which he carried himself.

That evening, I arrived at the church where the talk was to be held. When my neighbor Warren introduced Mr. Thomas, I was again struck by his intensity. I’ve been to talks given by a number of Buddhist monks, and each one exuded the calm, peaceful manner that is the stereotype of any monk, Buddhist or otherwise I guess. Mr. Thomas, though, didn’t. When I described it to Kathleen later, the best description I could come up with was that he looked like an Army drill instructor crossed with a Buddhist monk. He sucked on an enormous jawbreaker through the entire talk, and he paced back and forth like someone who just didn’t have enough time to accomplish all he wished for.

After an average, but abusive, childhood in Pennsylvania, Mr. Thomas joined the army at 17, volunteering for duty in Vietnam. Upon arrival in-country, he became a helicopter mechanic, then crew-chief. In those positions, one of his responsibilities was to serve as the door-gunner on flight missions. If you’re familiar at all with the Vietnam War, you know that the people in those positions were the people in a position to do a lot of killing. Mr. Thomas was blunt about what he did during the war, graphically enough that some people in the audience squirmed with discomfort. They weren’t hearing, I’m sure, the kind of talk they expected from a monk.

When Mr. Thomas returned to the states from his tour in Vietnam, he experienced the difficult homecoming that so many veterans of that war did. Having been trained and encouraged to kill at will, he found himself in a society that frowned on that a bit. He got heavily into drugs and alcohol. Along the way he married, fathered a son, left, and wandered from job to job. After years of this, he finally began counseling, and during a session his counselor suggested he go to a Buddhist retreat for veterans. He did so, only to find that the retreat leader was Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk. With the shock of seeing a Vietnamese person in charge of his healing retreat, he got off to a rocky start. He stuck with it though, and eventually ended up living at Plum Village, the retreat center run by Thich Nhat Hanh. Over time, he decided to pursue ordination as a Zen Priest. Since that time, he’s traveled the world leading retreats and pilgrimages focused on peace and non-violence.

During the Q&A after the talk, I was surprised to find that there were a number of Vietnam vets in the audience. Mr. Thomas spoke very frankly about the fact that the war has never left him - since returning to the U.S. in 1972, he’s not slept more than 2 hours straight due to nightmares. My initial reaction was “Gee, that doesn’t sound like someone at peace,” but as he explained finding peace with yourself isn’t accomplished by fixing everything you don’t like, but accepting that some things won’t change, at least not immediately, and therefore finding ways to incorporate that into your life.

One last thing I’ll mention. One of the central precepts of meditation is focusing on your breath, letting your mind go free. In explaining that, Mr. Thomas performed a demonstration that impressed me for it’s simplicity in communicating the message. He talked about how it’s hard to remember what’s important in the rush of day-to-day life. He asked the audience “What’s the most important thing to you?” He got answers like “My family,” “my spouse,” “peace,” etc. He then had his assistant come up to help him, and he told the audience “Imagine for a moment you’re me.” His assistant covered his mouth and nose so he couldn’t breathe. He stood quietly like that for 30 seconds or so, then pulled his assistant’s hands away from his face and took a big breath of air. “In that moment, what was the most important thing to me? My next breath. The thing is, that’s always the most important thing - without that next breath, nothing matters, not your family, not your spouse, nothing. Take time each day to just take that next breath.”

Anyway, the book is just slightly longer than this entry, so pick up a copy and read it. He speaks of peace from the perspective of someone who knows what war really is. You can learn more about Mr. Thomas at his web site, http://www.zaltho.org/