"Engaged Buddhism is just Buddhism. When bombs begin to fall on people, you cannot stay in the meditation hall all of the time.“

Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monk (1926 – 2022), from an interview, documented in Lion's Roar, 2003

Last Saturday morning I was sitting with my coffee, reading the news – and my blood pressure shot through the roof.

The day before, Trump had met with Xi in China and publicly announced that he does not support Taiwanese independence – a statement in direct contradiction to the policy of every American president before him. At the same time, it became known that China is buying 200 aircraft from American manufacturer Boeing and is considering purchasing 550 more.

This is my personal interpretation, but I cannot help seeing it: Trump, weakened domestically and under pressure with the midterms in mind, needed a win. And he bought himself one – possibly at the expense of the people of Taiwan. That left me deeply concerned and, I'll admit it openly, briefly furious.

And then I sat there with that fury – and asked myself: How do I respond now? How should I deal with this? And perhaps you're wondering in particular how I, as a Non-Duality teacher, handle this kind of anger. How does someone respond who has looked behind the curtain of the limited ego-mind? Do I ignore all of this because it's "just Maya"? Or am I allowed to be angry?

This question – how do I deal with anger, frustration and disappointment – is what I want to share with you today. Because I believe it is one of the most important questions on this path.

The Trap of Spiritual Anaesthesia

There is a real danger on the spiritual path that we need to name honestly: the temptation to use Non-Duality as a retreat. To call the world an illusion in order to avoid discomfort.

That is not insight – that is avoidance dressed in spiritual clothing.

Non-Duality tells us that the world, and ourselves within it as independent, separate persons, is illusion. But that does not mean "unreal" in the sense of "not real." An illusion does not show the true picture, but it always has a real background. A beautiful example is the classic Advaita story: You are walking along a dimly lit forest path in the evening and see a snake lying on the ground. Your heart leaps. You freeze in fear. Then you switch on your torch – and realise: it is only a rope.

The snake was never there. But the rope was there all along.

That is precisely the structure of an illusion: not that nothing is there – but that you are misperceiving something that genuinely exists. The appearance (snake) overlays the reality (rope) until the light of recognition arrives. What is non-dual (not two) about this is that there was never a snake and a rope. There was always only one thing: a rope.

Applied to our existence, this means that we continually take ourselves to be an independently acting person, without recognising that this person is merely an appearance within universal consciousness – made of nothing other than thoughts, feelings and bodily sensations.

When meditators, after a long history of (misunderstood) teachings, proudly announce to me that they are not real but merely illusion, I like to invite them to give themselves a firm pinch on the arm. Then I ask whether they believe that this pain bears no relation to real experience. (If they say "yes," I let them pinch themselves again.)

The illusion of our person – the body and our thoughts (often referred to as the body-mind) in the sense of Advaita or Non-Duality – means this: it has no independent existence separate from consciousness. But on the level of appearance, it is completely real. A child who suffers, suffers truly. A war truly destroys lives. The people of Taiwan have truly good reason to be concerned.

Non-Duality does not change the ethical relevance of these facts: it changes the answer to the question "What is this world, fundamentally?" – but it is not the answer to the question of whether injustice may leave us indifferent.

What the Great Teachers Say

Rupert Spira makes an important distinction: the true Self is not the acting agent – but actions nonetheless arise from the Self, like waves from the ocean. When genuine recognition is present, action does not arise from fear or self-righteousness, but from love. Compassion, says Spira, is the natural response of consciousness to suffering. It requires no ego as its driving force.

Adyashanti is particularly direct on this point. He explicitly warns against what he calls "spiritual bypassing" – the misuse of spiritual insight to avoid uncomfortable truths. True awakening, he says, opens us to the world. It does not pull us away from it. Stillness is not passivity – from stillness, the most powerful response can arise.

In Mahayana Buddhism, one of the most beautiful answers to this question is the ideal of the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva knows that there is no separate self – and acts tirelessly for the wellbeing of all beings precisely because of that. The recognition of emptiness does not produce equanimity in the sense of distance, but equanimity in the sense of unshakeability – right in the midst of engagement. Not to be less moved, but to be more deeply rooted while being moved. The Dalai Lama embodies this daily: the deepest recognition of emptiness and tireless engagement for his people – not a contradiction, but two sides of the same recognition.

The Decisive Self-Check

So how does a Non-Duality teacher respond to injustice, war, political extremism, the climate catastrophe – or simply to the disappointment of a long-standing friend? They respond – but they first ask themselves:

"Is my reaction coming from what I truly am – or from what I fear?"

That is the one question that decides everything. Because Non-Duality does not resolve the question of whether to act. It transforms the question of what the action arises from.

I can ask myself:

Am I too absorbed in contemplating consciousness? Do I notice too much distance in myself – have I lost the world?

• I can observe injustice without being inwardly touched by it
• I call my silence "non-attachment," but it feels like indifference
• I justify passivity with spiritual concepts
• Compassion quietly dies – not as a reaction, but as a basic tone

Do I notice too much ego in myself – have I lost the true Self?

• My reaction comes with hatred toward those who act wrongly
• I need enemies in order to define myself
• There is no stillness left – only turmoil
• I can no longer distinguish between the action and the person behind it
• My engagement exhausts me chronically, because it comes from fear, not from strength

The healthy middle feels like this:

• Injustice moves me – without overwhelming me
• I can clearly name what is wrong – without demonising the other
• I act – and can let go afterwards
• Compassion extends even to the perpetrator, even as I oppose their actions
• I recognise: "This is not my true Self" – and can still say: "This is wrong, and I am naming it"

Holding the Tension

The most honest thing I can tell you is this: there is no clean resolution to this tension. And that is a good thing.

We live on two levels simultaneously. On the absolute level: pure consciousness, unchanging, untouched. On the illusory level of forms, of separated persons: a world full of injustice, pain and urgent questions. Non-Duality does not mean bypassing the relative level. It means inhabiting both levels at once – and holding the tension between them without tipping in either direction. Because ultimately we will come to recognise that both levels are one single truth.

In my view, Trump is acting wrongly. But he too is an expression of the same consciousness from which we all arise. That does not make his actions any less wrong in my eyes – but it keeps me from needing him as an enemy in order to define myself. I see the action. I name it. And I do not lose sight of the human being behind it.

I am still sitting today with my concern for Taiwan and the wonderful people I had the privilege of meeting there. It has not disappeared. But I have looked at it, asked where it comes from – and noticed: it does not come from anger and hatred, but from compassion. That feels different. Quieter. Clearer. And from there, it is possible to act.

Perhaps this distinction will be of help to you the next time you feel that the world is on fire – and you find yourself right in the middle of it.

With love,

Heiko